Camille Ch. 01

"Oh, Millie, stop it," I said to the woman in the mirror with a toothbrush in her mouth and toothpaste foam on her lips."

But I couldn't.

It wasn't that little pressure, the light tickle deep in my belly although that was part of it.

It wasn't the mindworm that had worked its way into my head, a constant irritation, although that was part of it.

It was my understanding, deep inside, that it wouldn't go away until I did it.

I was scared.

"David will understand," I said to that woman.

But deep down I didn't believe it. My husband is loving and gentle but I didn't really believe he would accept it. Or understand it.

But there was nothing for it. I had to do it or, well, I'd probably go crazy. I suppose I could go back on the meds, but then I'd be half living in a fog and I couldn't do that again. When I had that thought I laughed, spraying toothpaste foam on the mirror and that made me laugh more.

Yes, the word "hysterical" did pop into my mind.

But it was the thought that I'd "probably go crazy" that did it. I suspect that, if there was a test for such things, I'd probably show up somewhere on the "crazy" scale anyway.

"Well," I said to the mirror, this time aloud and giggling at the little dribble of foam that ran down my chin, "You'd better call Arlene."

I rinsed, spat, rinsed, did my makeup, light as always, and got dressed. I was in the middle of a project, a complex grant application if it matters, so I wouldn't be going to any meetings. My business casual outfit was appropriate then, light slacks, a pastel blouse, and those wide, almost "clunky" moderately high-heeled shoes that were in style right then. I put on small, almost delicate, earrings, my Fitbit watch, and the western-style belt with the big buckle that went with the slacks.

I looked in the mirror, fluffed my hair a little, and smiled at myself.

"Not bad," I said to myself, "for a broad pushing 50 pretty damn hard."

Ready to face the day, well, as ready as I could be since I knew the URGE wasn't going to go away, I went downstairs.

My husband was sitting at the kitchen counter, his laptop open, doubtless working on one of his papers. He's a graduate student, very serious about his schoolwork, and starting work on his master's degree in history. He's always researching something or other.

As always, when he was doing research, it was easy to sneak up on him.

He jumped, startled, when I laid my hands on his waist, just above the elastic waistband of his tidy whities. After three years of marriage, we were pretty casual about clothes. I still enjoyed looking at him, just a little past half my age, and giggled when I thought of how he had teased me mercilessly for three months last year when he was 24 and I was 48, exactly twice his age.

"What would you say if I told you I had time for a quickie?" I asked.

He said nothing, but his hand went to the top of his laptop and he closed the computer with an audible little clapping sound.

I giggled and said, "Oh, Honey, I'm sorry. That was a joke. I'm running a little late."

He turned on the bar-height chair, covered my cheeks with his hands, and said, "Nobody likes a tease, Bitch."

I giggled and said, "I'll make it up to you tonight."

He grinned and said, "I'll save up."

He kissed me then, a light kiss, not messing up my makeup, and then slapped my ass hard enough to make me yell.

"Just a taste, Tease," he said and I felt a little quiver in my belly.

At work, I made a couple of phone calls and started back on the grant application. I wasn't looking forward to spending a day with census data and federal regulations.

Before I dove in I made the call I knew I had to make.

"Hey there, Sluterella, long time," Arelene said by way of greeting.

Arlene, my best friend since we were roommates beginning with our freshman year in college and then shared an apartment for the rest of the four years, is my exact opposite. I'm small, shy, flat-chested, almost boyish. She is big and brassy, all boobs and ass, outgoing, and so perfectly female I was always jealous of her.

"I need a girl's night out," I said. That had always been our code for when the URGE was on me.

"Oh, Honey," she said, quiet now, "are you sure?"

I brushed a tear away, hating the tightness of crying in my voice as I said, "Yes."

"Friday night then?" she asked.

"Please," I said.

She sighed loud enough that I could hear it over the phone.

"Okay," she said after a pause, "I'll call David and set it up."

"Thanks, Leen," I said.

I sat and cried for a couple of minutes, my door closed, hating what I must do but unable to think of anything else.

I got through the day, although at lunch a couple of my co-workers asked what was wrong.

"What's wrong?!" I screamed in my mind, "What's wrong is that Friday night I'm going to be on my knees before a total stranger giving him the blowjob of his life. How's THAT for something wrong?"

What I said was, "Pollen, you know. A bit of hay fever."

When I got home, David, bless his heart, had a frozen pizza in the oven and a beer in his hand that he handed to me.

We exchanged the standard, "How was your day greetings." I liked that he still liked to watch as I stripped out of my work clothes. I giggled and did a spin, naked, and went to him where he sat on the edge of the bed

"Not bad for a half-century," I said, lifting my small breasts and using them to brush his cheeks.

I squealed and giggled as his hands caught my ass and pulled me to him and he buried his face between my boobs and blew a loud raspberry.

"Pretty damn terrific for an old broad," he said, his hands on my shoulder blades, holding me to him as he kissed each nipple before releasing me.

"God, I love you," I said, and kissed him before giggling and slipping away from his gasping hands.

I liked that he watched as I put on the flannel pajamas I lounged in, so old the material was almost transparent at the elbows and knees. I bent forward to get my fuzzy socks out of the bottom drawer, giving him a view of my ass and pussy that I knew he liked.

"Okay, my love," I said, taking his hand, "feed me before I faint."

We ate on our matching recliners, a console between them serving as a little table, the Schnauzers sitting politely, hoping for a piece of crust. The news was on the television, his Fox News making me wonder for about the bazillionth time how I had managed to find the unicorn. David was that rarity among college students, a member of the National Guard who had deployed to Afghanistan for a year, who was somewhere politically to the right of me which put him way to the right of, oh, say, Rush Limbaugh or Sean Hannity. So we watched and chewed and kibbitzed.

Finally, full, the Schnauzers happy with the small bite of crust they received, the dishes and napkins cleared courtesy of my thoughtful husband, the first beer in me and second in the cupholder, and sucking on my THC-infused lollypop, I relaxed.

"Soooooo," he said, drawing out vowel. I deliberately held myself calm, knowing what was coming.

"So?" I asked.

"Arlene called," he said and I could hear the distaste in his voice. He hasn't liked Arlene since he met her the first time when I asked her to be a witness when David and I got married at the local courthouse. He thinks she's a bad influence.

"I told her she needed to clear it with you," I said, putting my best simper on my face.

"Someday I'm going to follow you," he said, "and see what, exactly, goes on at your 'Girl's Weekend' retreats."

I laughed softly, happy that it didn't come out as a forced laugh.

"Oh, Honey," I said, smiling my best I'm-so-innocent-smile, "you'd be bored out of your skull watching two middle-aged women talking about men and reminiscing about college days."

"Well, anyway," he said, smiling, "I told her it was fine with me."

"Thank you, Baby," I said. "I think she's jealous of what I have with you and she's working so hard to find a man I think she comes off as desperate."

"With those boobs?" he asked, "I have trouble believing she sleeps alone."

I laughed and tried my best pout on.

I stood, quickly, and peeled the soft flannel top off.

"Do you want me to get an enlargement?" I asked, lifting my small boobs and squeezing them so my nipples, very pale and small on equally small, almost boyish, areolas, pushed forward.

He laughed and reached for me.

"No, Millie," he said, "big boobs would look ridiculous on my beautiful, tiny little elf."

My breath caught, as it always did, when he called me that. I am small but, well, "beautiful" is not something I ever thought of myself as. Cute maybe. Even pretty in a kind of girl-next-door way with my round face and button nose, but hardly "beautiful."

"Really," he said, turning serious, his hands on my waist, holding me still, "What do you guys do?"

I met his eyes, smiling, and deep inside I felt the sharp pain as a little part of me died as I lied to my husband.

"I told you," I said, "we'll drink and she'll tell me how lucky I am and I'll tell her her time will come and we'll skinny dip in that big pool of hers. We'll eat and drink, smoke a little pot, and pretend we're 20-something again."

He gave me one of his Groucho Marx eyebrow waggles and asked, "And experiment?"

I knew what he meant and I blushed prettily. Arlene and I HAD experimented some. It turned out, neither of us was inclined to be lesbians, but we had taught each other interesting new places and while I would sleep with her Friday night, that would be different.

"Maybe," I said, giggling my best little girl giggle.

"Are you sure I can't at least watch," he asked.

"Yes I'm sure, no you can't, and just for that," I said, pushing the soft flannel pants down, "get on your knees, pervert."

He smiled, as I knew he would, and dropped to his knees, well, he eased to his knees showing that athleticism that showed how much younger than me he is.

He blew, gently, and I could feel my soft fine pubic hair rustling in the soft breeze he was creating.

I'm one of those women with very fine body hair. It was like that even in my armpits and on my legs, where I had always shaved. When David asked me to quit shaving, well, it's hardly noticeable even after almost two years since I was touched by steel.

Between my legs, I've always been bare except for a light dusting right on my labia and that was what he was blowing on now, the soft warm breeze bringing me to full arousal almost as much as looking down and seeing the top of his head where he was so attentive to what he knew I wanted.

Oral sex had always been an important part of my "menu," but David brought it to new levels for me.

His hands were very light on my bottom, lightly caressing to hold me, while he blew lightly and then kissed, and finally, when he began probing with his tongue my fingers dug into his shoulders as he took me farther along.

I felt that wonderful, terrible pressure building low in my belly as he patiently brought me closer to my climax.

As it always did, I remembered the first time he did this for me. I never had, before I met David, received oral sex while standing. It was different, the tensions and balance were different than when I was lying back. It built so slowly and he was so patient. He took me beyond anything I ever imagined and then to another plateau.

In the end, that first time, what happened was so intense the word orgasm doesn't really fit. I've always been a pretty, you know, "wet" girl. But the insides of my thighs were slick before he finally finished me, something that never happened before.

When he finished me, his tongue a dancing thing, surrounding my clitoris and probing deeper than I thought possible, it was like every nerve ending in my body fired.

And what happened between my legs was beyond anything I ever imagined. I didn't "climax." I didn't "achieve orgasm." I didn't "cum" or "squirt." I exploded. I sprayed. His face right there, buried in me, made it even more intense. When he looked up it looked like I had smeared his face with a thick layer of Vaseline and then poured about a quart of yogurt over his head.

I think it was his smile as much as anything that persuaded me that he was the one for me. God, he looked beyond happy. Red eyes and all from where I had sprayed him, I knew, with perfect mathematical certainty, that he loved me and loved what he had just done for me.

And now, there he was, on his knees, his hands supporting my ass, his soft breath driving me wild.

"What a good boy you are," I said, my fingers lightly brushing his hair.

He looked up and smiled.

"Your good boy," he said before bending his neck to kiss between my legs.

In that way only he could do for me, the world slowly slipped away, leaving only his mouth and my pussy as everything else faded into irrelevance.

There it was, that pressure, that wonderful, terrible pressure low in my belly, building slowly as he used his mouth to slowly bring me into my full flower. It was David more than anyone I had ever known who could make me feel that there was anything but my mouth that was fit to be called female.

He slowed his movement, taking away the pressure I needed so desperately.

I fought the urge to beg. I knew it was hopeless, but I didn't want to seem too eager.

But I did, as we both knew I would.

"Please, Baby," I whispered.

He blew softly.

I strained, pushing, wanting, no, NEEDING my release.

He blew softly.

"Please, Baby," I whispered.

He blew softly.

"Oh, God, please, Baby," I could barely breathe, "please, please, please, I'm begging you now, PLEASE."

He finished me then and I came, explosively. I didn't care that it felt like I lost bladder control. My body finished, leaving me gasping and crying softly.

He pulled away and looked up at me and Christ, he looked like I had poured about a gallon of yogurt over his face.

And he was smiling, and supporting me since my knees had gone watery.

He grinned and buried his face back between my legs.

This time I didn't have to beg. He brought me to orgasm three times until my legs were so watery all of my weight was being supported by his hands.

"Oh, Jesus," I managed when I could breathe again.

"God I love you," I whispered.

He stood then, grinning, and said, "Your turn."

I kissed him, a slick, sticky kiss what with what he had all over his face right then, and dropped to my knees.

What I did then had no resemblance to what I knew I would be doing Friday. This was no compulsion, no uncontrollable URGE. I wanted that beautiful cock. I wanted to feel his pure maleness caressing my face. I wanted to make love to that core that made him essentially different from me.

I kissed it.

When I said "I love you," I was saying it to his cock. Oh, I love all of him, but let's be honest. Without the physical expression of love, there really is no love and that expression comes through that beautiful thing between his legs.

I used my thumbs to very gently open his urethra, that portal from which his love would emerge, and touched it lightly with my tongue. I liked the sudden tension in his body where my hands were holding his ass, holding him to me so he wouldn't pull away from the sensations I was giving him.

I used my lips to cover his glans, my tongue to trace the corona, that ridge along the top, and then the frenulum, that little delta-shaped opening at the bottom of the glans that terminates at the urethra.

I opened my mouth wide and bent forward, swallowing hard to override my gag reflex, and accepted him into my throat, pulling slowly off, swallowing, masturbating him with my throat as I slowly pulled off.

A quick kiss to the tip again and I buried my face in this thick, coarse pubic hair before using my tongue to lick the inguinal region, that hot, damp place where his scrotum met his thighs. I reveled in the sharp scent of his musk and the slightly sour, very salty taste of ballsweat. I licked all around, his balls nestling on my forehead as I licked the taint, that sweet spot between his asshole and his scrotum where, as the old joke goes, "T'aint ass and t'aint balls."

I used my tongue to separate his balls and slowly licked up his shaft.

I felt his body getting close, so I slowed what I was doing, burying my face in his thick pubic hair and nuzzling his beautiful cock for a while, waiting for the immediate urgency to pass.

I had both of his balls in my mouth, sucking gently, feeling them stretch as the skin of his scrotum loosened, and then playing with my tongue, separating and rolling them, enjoying the sudden little tensions in his body and the soft little moans when my tongue dug too deeply.

I love my husband, and I love being on my knees before him, giving him pleasure to levels he never imagined possible. I know this is true because he told me. He never asked where or how I learned the skills he enjoys so much.

But I wasn't thinking that as I made love to his beautiful cock. What he has never understood is that this is just as fulfilling, and provides just as much pleasure for me as it does for him.

I kissed and licked, taking his entire shaft into my mouth and throat and then wrapping my tongue around it, my lips sucking softly, as I slowly pulled off. I did it slowly, feeling him getting even harder, rigid in my mouth.

I took my time, pulling off to caress his scrotum with my cheeks, feeling him getting warmer. I swear I could feel his beautiful balls swelling against the soft skin of my cheeks.

I knew he was approaching the point of no return, so I caressed him with my face and hair. I rubbed my cheek and forehead against his shaft and then his scrotum. I laid my cheek against his belly and nibbled my way down the length of that beautiful shaft before accepting him into my mouth again.

This time I held him and when I felt that sudden trembling that marked his climax I tightened my lips, just below his glans, holding him in my mouth as he ejaculated.

His mangift was rich and delicious, loaded with his precious seed, oily and salty and wonderful in my mouth as I held it until he finished.

I sucked, gently, coaxing those last wonderful drops from him, savoring the feel and the taste of his pleasure.

I looked up, holding him, savoring him, meeting his eyes, and smiling with mine while he relaxed and slowly softened in my mouth.

I shivered when he lightly stroked my hair before he was so soft I couldn't hold him anymore. As he finally slipped out he jerked and a final precious drop of his gift landed on my breast.

I held his eyes as I swallowed his gift, savoring the feel of it sliding down my throat.

"I remember now why I keep you around," he said.

I giggled.