Bobby and Helge Ch. 01

"Is this? I guess it is, but then I've been thinking that that was right last night, just having met again, but now everyone knows. Hm-hmm! I have my new reputation to maintain. They might think we had a spat, if we don't show that we didn't."

"Hmm? It's your reputation; whatever you want to think."

Her fingers grasped my arm again, and we entered the hotel. She let go of my arm before we entered the dining room, but I had to wonder if people had noticed us. We had breakfast and then spent the day listening to talks about various kinds of textiles: pictures and videos of how they were made; the symbolism of the designs for the natives who made them and how they used them. It was an interesting day. Some things we already knew, one or the other of us or both. A couple of times we disagreed with the speaker. During the lunch break, we visited the dealers' fair and were pleased to find things similar to items in our collections, more pleased when we discovered ones that were priced far higher than what we had paid for ours.

After the day's program, the dealers hosted a short reception in their area - generously, of course - hoping we all we be in a good mood to buy something. Bobbie and I were in a good mood after two glasses of wine, but more about being with each other. In the dining room, the couple from the previous evening immediately found us, and we ate with them again, discussing the talks and sharing the bottle of wine, which he then paid for.

After dinner, a major carpet dealer in Milan was hosting a reception for the group. We hurried to our room to use the toilet and freshen-up before the group set off, again on foot. She took my arm again, giving me a grin and murmuring: "Not just for my reputation." I grinned back with a nod and squeezed her hand against my side, like I had in the morning.

In the carpet gallery, there were also textiles displayed. The gallery owner welcomed us and explained that most of the textiles were from other dealers and that we could ask about their prices, and then invited us to help ourselves to drinks. Some people were already crowding around the table covered with glasses. Eventually, we also had glass of wine and looked at the textiles. Most of them were too big and probably too expensive for us, but very attractive, although our interests were more for Oriental textiles. We had a second glass of wine and compared impressions with people looking at the same piece with us.

When others were still going to have another glass, I suggested that we could, but Bobbie shook her head with slightly smirking smile and murmured: "Or else I might have to go, before we get back to the hotel." I nodded with a wink and agreed that maybe I would then would too.

Slowly, people started to leave, thanking our host, and then we did. She was holding my arm again, of course. As walked along, I asked:

"When did you get into textiles?"

"Hmmm! Early, diapers."

"You got to go?" I asked with smirk.

"Not yet, and I think they were Pampers - at university, after a course and going to a textile exhibition."

She chuckled and added:

"Of course, I was in textiles before that."

"I hope so!"

We both snickered softly. I had, of course, squeezed her hand again when she took my arm. Now she pressed my elbow against the side of her breast and asked:

"And you, into textiles?"

"Yeah, well, when my mother was still dressing me, but she was also interested in them. I have a few little things she picked up, when she was in museum work."

"Oh, that's nice. ... Uh, are you married?"

"Divorced."

"Children?"

"We separated before that."

"Oh," she replied softly.

"And you?"

"Never happened. Oh, maybe it could have, but ..., put it this way, he wasn't interested in a girl into textiles."

"Hm-hmm, just out of them?"

"Hmm! I guess you could put it that way. Oh, I was too. Twenty, of course, I was out of them."

She gave me a smirking grin in the street light. I returned it and clamped her hand to my side. She snorted silently and pressed the side of her breast against my elbow again. It could have been inadvertent the first that happened, this time it couldn't have been. Definitely not; when I moved my elbow against it; her finger gasped my arm. I chuckled at her last remark and replied:

"Of course. You studied textiles, know a lot more about them than I do."

"Oh, maybe, nice to have someone to tell."

"And the guys studying with you?"

"Hmm! Some of them weren't into girls in or out of textiles."

"Could have thought of that."

"But I wasn't a young spinster."

"I didn't think so, and not an old one, if I understood the word from the context last night. What does it mean?"

"A woman who spins, spins yarn or thread. I guess it got its present meaning, because that was about all, the most common thing an unmarried woman could do to support herself. I teach."

"I knew that."

We walked on in silence, a little faster, since we weren't talking. Bobbie had wanted to emphasize that she hadn't been a "young spinster," not married, but doing what married couples do, apparently with more young men than the one when she was twenty, when she "was out of them" - textiles - then with men later? I could well imagine that, now that I had seen her. She clutched my elbow closer to her again, but more to suggest that we hurry on.

We did, arriving in the hotel. The elevator was waiting for us. In it, she smiled wryly and said:

"Good thing we didn't have another glass of wine."

"Diapers, Pampers?" I replied with a smirk.

She nodded with a grin and wagged her knees, too demonstrably to let me think that she really had to go that bad, but that she didn't mind my appreciating her little girl's impulse. We hurried to our room. I unlocked the door and let her rush ahead. She just shoved the bathroom door close to the door frame, and then I heard her using the toilet, until she really closed the door.

I had taken off my jacket and removed my necktie - a different one - when she opened the door with a wry grin and asked: "Don't you?"

I did and quickly went around her bed to the bathroom, remembering to really close the door as I unzipped. When I opened it again, she had hung up my sports jacket and was reaching back to loosen the waistband of her skirt. She remarked: "Wash later."

I nodded and unbuttoned my shirt. Her skirt came off, and we had to change places for her to hang it in the wardrobe. I hung my shirt on the back of the chair. When I turned back, she was unbuttoning her blouse. We'd been like this before, no big deal. I took off my pants, and then we both were just in our underwear again, smiling at each other. When I remembered her Venus di Medici pose that morning, I wondered if her nipples had stiffened, thinking that they must have, but her bra was one that I didn't think would have let me notice. She didn't look they they were now, unconcernedly reaching back to unhook it - that unconcernedly?! I murmured:

"Your nighty first?"

"Oh! Yeah, I guess so," she replied with a blush, and got it.

She gave me a wry grin and slipped it over her head, letting it drop without putting her arms through it, and then reached back again. She gave me another wry smile as she took it off under her nighty and then pulled it up enough to be able to flip her bra on her bed. She shrugged with a smile and began to push her panties down, as she remarked: "The rest too."

As they dropped to her ankles, she asked: "Do you always sleep in them, your shorts? Seems like that would be like sleeping in a tight bra."

Was she drunk, were we both? She was flipping her panties up on the bed, as I replied:

"Not usually. Never thought about girls' sleeping in a tight bra."

"Why they don't," she replied with slight smirk, as she struggled to get her arms through her nighty.

Did she know that she had pulled it up almost too far? I hoped that she hadn't noticed that my eyes had dropped down to the hem of her nighty. Her arms extended and she grinned and said:

"Like having to change on some beaches."

"Just some?"

"Hmm! In Denmark on one, I was surprised when people, men too, just unconcernedly got naked and then put on their clothes."

"Really?! You looked like you were almost going to."

"Kind of forgot. You didn't want me to."

"I didn't want you to ..., want you suddenly not to forget," I replied.

"Might have anyway," Bobbie replied.

Had she blushed, or was our conversation or the wine just making me think her cheeks were rosier?

She shrugged and murmured: "Wash," and disappeared in the bathroom, half closing the door. I unconsciously reached down and jostled my balls and helped my cock slide around to the side, then realizing what I was doing, excusing myself with the thought: a man couldn't have such a conversation and watch a woman almost bare her breasts and then almost let him see her - I didn't want to use a word for it - the rest of herself , without "male thoughts," again to avoid putting them in words.

I just stood there, waiting for her to return, conscious that my cock felt like it was understanding "male thoughts." She returned, smiling sweetly, and got under her covers. I went in the bathroom, also just closing the door enough that she couldn't see me at the washbasin and turned on the water. I washed my face and hands, and then hung my cock over the edge of the washbasin and quickly rinsed it, before I brushed my teeth. As I dried myself, I wondered if I was anticipating too much, almost hoping I was - but just in case ...

Bobbie was lying facing my bed, when I returned to the room. When I turned off the bathroom light, the room was dark, and I stumbled a little on a corner of her bed, before I found mine. As I lay down, she chuckled and murmured: If you want to, make yourself comfortable, no tight bra."

I sure did, when she had said that. My cock wanted to be more comfortable, but I wasn't sure that was going to make me more comfortable. I chuckled and began to take off my shorts, knowing that she could hear the rustle of the covers. I was a little drunk. I murmured: "textilfrei," the German expression for nude bathing.

She snickered and replied:

"Don't have to know German to understand that."

"Shouldn't have said it."

"If it's more comfortable."

I was jostling my balls to loosen my sack from my thigh. I didn't have to jostle my cock to free it from anything, lying on my side, facing Bobbie. I wasn't going to reply to that question. The first thing that came to mind was to say:

"Now they all have the right idea. I mean: all of them now have the wrong idea."

There was a long silence. I heard her covers moving, wondering if she was turning over to finish our conversation and say good night. It had gone far enough, her suggesting that I sleep naked, like I always did at home. Where were my shorts? I was going to have to put them on, before I got up in the morning. Her covers were still rustling, then she snickered and replied:

"Maybe they have the right idea."

"How do you mean?" I asked, before it occurred to me what she could be implying.

"That we shouldn't fool them."

I had understood her implications - both of them, that we should do what people in the group probably assumed we did! I was at a loss for a response, but my cock wasn't. When I didn't say anything, she murmured:

"Don't you want to? I do."

My cock obviously did, but it took a moment before my mind caught up with it. Of course, I wanted to, just so surprised by her words. I flung back my covers and took the two steps between our beds, hearing her covers move. In the dark, I found that the edge of her bed was free and lay down. She moaned, and the covers and her arm dropped around me. My arm went around her. She was also naked! Of course, all the rustling of her covers that I had heard.

We embraced, both sighing with long moans, as our thighs drew up and overlapped. It was so familiar, as though we had lain together many times before. I moaned again and murmured: "I do too."

We kissed, just tentatively for a moment, and then our tongues were caressing as though they had been wanting to since we met, and I thought that I had too, and her hand on my back was rubbing as though she did too. It slid down, holding my hip, and then she murmured, her lips moving on mine: "I hope you want to do everything I do."

I nodded. Her hand slipped down between us and found my cock. I moaned, and she moaned, and her fingers discovered that I wasn't circumcised. She chuckled with moan, her fingers exploring, and murmured again: "The best kind, ... the better kind; I guess there are only two kinds."

I nodded with a chuckle, and she chuckled. Her thighs squeezed mine, and mine responded. What was everything she wanted to do, not just hold my cock? She told me: "I can't wait. I want to do that too, but now I have to."

She urged me to roll back. We had to move over so that I could, and then she was straddling me, her hand guiding my cock to her pussy. It slipped in so easily that I knew she was already moist, her "now I have to," but her pussy was almost as tight as the ones I remembered from my youth, much tighter than the last one it had been in, that of a mother of two kids. We moaned as her hips slid down it onto mine. We moaned again, when my cock twitched and her pussy held it tighter.

Then her breast was over my mouth, her stiff nipple almost probing to be sucked. I did, regretting that I hadn't let her take off her bra and let me see it first. Would she have let me? It didn't matter; it was so nice to suck and nibble, and she was moaning in response, then wanting her other one sucked.

Had I read in Master and Johnson that two experienced persons could have best sex their first time together? Her nipple slipped from my mouth, and then her hands were holding my head, her mouth again on mine, tongues taking turns trying to get as deep as they could in the other's mouth, being sucked, as her hips moved up and down on my cock. Mine rocked up to meet hers, and we both more growled than moaned, as my hands clasped her ass, encouraging their movement, not that they need any encouragement.

I was pleased that I wasn't the youngster I had been the first time a girl had wanted to be on top and made me come too quickly. She was panting and growling, her tongue no longer in my mouth, and I was groaning from the effort to slap my hips up to hers as fast as hers were descending on my cock.

Just fuck, I told myself, not liking the word, but it was the only right one, feeling my throbbing cock sliding in and out her still youthfully tight pussy. Then her knees were quivering against my sides, and she was gasping between whimpers, and I felt warm liquid on my pubic hair, and she began to laugh instead of whimpering. Then her hips stilled and she was lying heavy, delightfully heavy on me, still gasping and moaning with her head down next to mine.

Oh, of course, I had also had my orgasm, a little lost in my appreciation of feeling hers, now aware that her pussy was still contracting on my cock. When she stopped gasping, she rocked her hips to move her legs back, then lay still on me, our stomachs rising and falling against each other, as I embraced her. Master and Johnson had been right.

Finally, she raised her head and kissed me again, just friendly kiss, and then chuckled and said:

"Why didn't you tell me in all our emails that you were man?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a woman?"

We both began to laugh softly, kissing again. Then she murmured: "Is it still there?"

I felt her pussy contract again, but then it wasn't, and we both chuckled. She slid off me, and I rolled towards her, our thighs overlapping again, as we embraced.

"Why didn't we go to that other textile thing two years ago?"

"We didn't know each other well enough."

"Mmmm! We do now."

"And how!" she agreed, kissing me again, as we hugged and our thighs squeezed together.

We were silent and fell asleep. Hours later, I woke up, for a moment surprised to find myself lying like that with woman again. It had been a long time since I had. Then it all came back to me in a delightful rush of memories, but I had to go to the bathroom again. I tried to slip away from her without waking her, thinking that I had, when I heard her softly moan once, not moving.

I found my way around her bed and the door to the bathroom, almost closing it, before I turned on the light, only then thinking that I could have found the toilet in the dark and sat down. I did, anyway, to avoid making noise. As I was almost finished - it's a little hard to tell when one can't see or hear anything - the door opened again, and she was standing there in the light.

She smiled and ran her fingers through her tousled hair with both hands, which made her breasts rise most attractively. When she lowered her arms, they were still most attractive, hardly a crease under them and as firm as I remembered when I was sucking her nipples. They were nice too, just the right size and light pink. Then they popped out, even nicer, but she then chuckled and covered them with her hands and murmured:

"Don't stare. I have to go too."

"Should have let you take off your bra before we went to bed."

"Hm-hmm! I probably would have, not thinking about what I was doing, it just seemed so familiar. Hurry!"

I stood up, and she quickly sat down, shrugging with wry smile. I grinned and replied:

"Very familiar."

"Um-hmm. Oh, I wasn't thinking of anyone else, just that ..., well, ... oh, I wasn't thinking at all."

We both snickered, grinning at each other. I saw her eyes drop down, and she chuckled and remarked:

"You are a man."

"I thought we settled that at the airport."

"Not like we did in bed."

"Mmmm! And that you're a woman."

"What a delightful recognition for us both, once we forgot about our textiles."

We both snickered with smiles, and she stood up and flushed, and turned to the washbasin to wash her pussy. Very familiar, I thought, enjoying the view of back - slender waist - and round hips. She finished and stepped aside, apparently assuming that I would wash. I did, and we returned to the room. She looked at her bed and then at me and asked:

"Or do you want to sleep in yours?"

"Only if you do."

"If we can sleep; kind of out of practice sleeping with someone in a single bed - or a double bed."

"Me too, very much out of practice."

"Mmmm, it didn't seem like it," she replied with smile and went around to my bed, lying down and smiling at me.

When I joined her, she rolled over, and I curled up behind her, finding her firm breast with my hand. She put hers on mine and murmured:

"Just don't do anything. Good night."

"I'll try not to. Good night."

We were down late for breakfast, even though we agreed to save time by showering together, not that we did save much time. When we entered the dining room, I could only imagine that people must recognize how we had spent the night, suddenly recalling going to breakfast the first morning of my honeymoon. We ate quickly. In the elevator, Bobbie wrinkled her nose and said:

"Now they know for sure that they were right."

"What I was thinking, feeling," I agreed.

"Kiss," she replied, and we did, just a brief one, luckily.

When the elevator doors opened, there was a couple waiting to go down. On the way to our room, we chuckled and grinned, and she said:

"Worse than two teenagers."

"Better, and it was your idea."

"Because of what you said, agreeing with me."

"Hm-hmm! I'll try not to all day, if that's what happens."

"Just all day," she replied with a grin.

We did whatever we had to in our bathroom, then remembering to find my shorts and her nighty under the covers at the foot of our beds. Alone in the elevator, she grinned and said: