Carol Ch. 03

That last was poignant; it was the pose she took when she wanted to be fucked from behind, always her favorite way. He loved seeing her display the pink soles of her pretty feet almost as much as the flaring pink lips of her pretty pussy. He had her pull her plump asscheeks wide apart, exposing herself as obscenely as she could.

"How unladylike," he groaned, and she giggled into the carpet and stuck her hairy cunt out even farther. "Do you ever p-play with yourself?" he stammered.

"Oh, yes," she said, whispering the second word and hunching for him, her rawly exposed crotch on lewd display.

"Show me," he croaked, his cock sending him rumblings of the oncoming express train of his cum.

He watched, entranced, as her beautiful hand appeared between her thighs and stroked her upturned pussy, and then he listened as she gasped when her lovely middle finger disappeared inside it. Her hips were working rhythmically as she fingered herself, and she rolled over and looked up at him from the floor as she masturbated with him. "I don't have anything on, Chahlie," she breathed. "I'm completely naked..."

She dug her finger deep and rotated it, whimpering, then pulled it out and held her shockingly tiny pussy open for him. "Look at me, Chahlie," she whispered. "Look at my pussy. I want to make you come. Come for me...."

"I d-don't have anything to c-catch it," he stammered.

She slid closer and held her knees back, writhing naked on the floor, undulating her naked crotch at him, subtly shaking her full, heavy tits. "I'll catch it," she murmured with a smoky smile.

That did it for him. He groaned and let it go as she cooed and wriggled under his spurts and splatters.. His sperm did not fly as far as it did when he was 20, but it shot far enough to scatter drops on her from her pussy to her face.

"Ooo!" she squealed, delighted as she watched his distorted face and felt his sperm land warmly on her skin. Watching her smile and lick her lips, eyes twinkling as he shot all over her, broke something inside him, and he just kept on shooting.

When he was done, she lay there on the floor and posed for him as he watched, wearing nothing but his cum.

He took her to the bed and ate her lovely cunt for half an hour, with his cum still on her body. He kissed the all-but invisible scar of her C-sections--explaining her tiny baby pussy--and marveled at her delicate pink lips. He licked and sucked her tiny labia, tongue-whipped her clit, and sucked her there and fingered her to another series of shattering orgasms as she whimpered like a little girl above him. Then he let her come back down slowly, kissing her pussy tenderly, and she moved as if to kiss him back with it.

They showered together, and they scrubbed every square inch of each other with their bare, soapy hands, and delighted in the feel of their slick bodies sliding against each other. Charlie backed her up against the tiled wall and sucked her wet nipples as he felt her up and soaped her clit to yet another shuddering orgasm--and then another--and then she soaped his iron-hard dick till he spurted, and she kissed his bursting dickhead while he shot all over and into her sweetly opened mouth under the spray.

When they were done and dry, it was time for her to go. She changed back into her business attire, and once again looked the well-bred, dignified, and strait-laced middle-aged matron that she most definitely was not.

"Can I walk you to your car?" he asked.

She giggled. "In that?" He was still wearing only the robe.

"I can dress," he protested.

"Don't," she said. "Let me remember you like that."

He grinned. "I hope you don't mind if I remember you as you were--a little while ago.."

She twinkled at him. "That was the idea," she stage-whispered. They embraced--and kissed--and he walked with her to the door of the suite.

She settled her bag over her shoulder and looked at him. "Don't watch me walk down the hall, Charlie," she said. "You'll see me again. And soon."

He gave her a wry smile. "You know me too well." he kissed her again. "I'll miss you more now than I have, and that's not easy."

"Call me--what is today? Monday. Call me tomorrow, Charlie. That's not so long."

"And in a week or two--"

"Yes." She hugged him again. "I love you, Charlie. I'll see you soon."

And she was gone.

He couldn't help it. He peeked out the door and caught a glimpse of her as she got on the elevator; then he went to the sofa and sat down.

He looked at the bed, still rumpled; at the floor, where drops of his drying semen still speckled the carpet--except for where she'd been. He sat back and closed his eyes. What did he feel?

He smiled. Whole. He felt whole again. The world had light, and color. He existed. He lived.

The miracle undreamed of, unasked for, impossible and beyond all hope, had happened.

Carol loved him again.

-----

Charlie and Carol spoke the next day, as promised; and four more times that week.

They were, both of them, so filled with joy and love, so warmed by deep friendship and mutual trust, they could scarcely find the words to speak of them when they talked.

But they talked anyway. About nothing; it didn't matter. They were talking to each other, and that did.

It was three weeks before they met again, and then only for a couple of hours. Charlie took a room, and they just cuddled, fully dressed. They kissed and spoke of dreams of passion yet to be, and gazed at one another and whispered about "next time."

A few weeks more, and "next time" came. He slowly stripped her, kissing her mouth, her secret spot, her perfect breasts and belly, caressing her and stroking her pale, smooth body as he bared it; and by the time she lifted her hips so he could take her panties, she was pink-cheeked and breathing rapidly.

He was still fully dressed. She liked that, sometimes. It made her feel more vulnerable, more at his mercy, more given to his pleasure.

He kissed her deep, and she kissed back as he explored her pussy with his hands; and when he slid down to kiss her there, she spread herself for him with eagerness.

He kissed and teased her pussy for long minutes, touching her lightly with his tongue, opening her small, sweet lips with gentle fingers and blowing on her there. She was whimpering and begging for it by the time he licked her sweet and liquid opening and made her shiver.

He took his time. He sucked and kissed and licked her tiny lips, he drilled her tender hole deep with his tongue, he felt her deep with gently probing fingers, and he pulled her open wider and traced her every fold and crevice with his tongue and lips and hands, exploring and exposing her most intimate secrets--and still, he had barely touched her pinkly swollen clit, and she was gasping for it.

He made her wait while he undressed, and he took his time. She was aching for it when he finally resumed--but he only teased her for another moment before he licked her clit with one long, full-contact stroke.

Her hips rose off the bed and she moaned, a deep, gutteral sound from deep in her belly.

"UNNnngh.... Oh, Chahlie... I need that, give me more...." He licked her long and deep, his tongue delving deep into her hole and sliding upward, all the way, up the swollen shaft hidden beneath her tender pussy-flesh, up and across the bare and sensitive head, and up into the inner edges of her pussy hair. Over and over, in long, slow strokes that had her shuddering and humping at his mouth.

He took his time. He dug his tongue into her clit and rubbed it in small circles with the tip; he whipped her there with rapid flicks and flutters till she was gasping in amazement at the intensity of feeling.

And he sucked it like a nipple, working his lips around it and squeezing it with his tongue, sucking out not milk but Carol's grunting, grinding orgasm, drawing it to the surface and out into his mouth.

She came, and told him, as he'd taught her; but he did not stop. He kept on sucking her, whipping and squeezing and rubbing her swollen clit with his tongue and lips--right after she came, when she was supersensitive and trembling from her climax of one second before.

"Noooo," she whined, "Nooo, stop," but he sucked another orgasm from her gushing, tender hole--and then another, and another, as she pounded weakly on his shoulders with her fists and sobbed in ecstasy. And then he slid two fingers in and sucked and licked her more, driving her to near-madness.

She pulled her knees back to her chest and gave herself up to it, and he pushed her to a cyclonic climax so intense she saw white dots behind her eyelids and shook in animal convulsion, broken down to nothing but her drooling, spasming hole and her bursting, white-hot clit.

Her mind was gone, she was a cunt, a cunt in boiling climax, and nothing more--and then she was nothing at all.

He held her as she came to, shivering and shaking in his arms. She gasped for breath and finally found it, her pounding pulse slowed down, and slowly, very slowly, she came back to herself, and him.

She could not speak for long minutes, but clung to him and kissed his chest and shook with aftershocks. She trembled in his arms and tried to speak, but still could not.

"Chahlie," she finally gasped. "Oh, Chahlie..."

"Are you all right?" he asked softly. Perhaps he had pushed her too hard, too far.

She nodded, her cheek pressed to his chest. He felt no tears. He stroked her gently, soothing her, calming her, bringing her back from wherever she had been scattered. He pulled a blanket up to cover her, and in a minute, maybe less, she was asleep.

He held her for an hour before she stirred. She moved, and jerked, and stretched her arms and legs, then looked up at him blearily, sleepily--but smiling.

"Oh, Chahlie," she breathed. "Oh, Chahlie--that was--" She could not find a word and dropped her head back on his chest. "I never came like that in all my life. I never knew I could."

"Did you like it?"

He felt her cheek against him as she smiled. "I couldn't take that every day," she breathed, too weak to giggle. "Or even every month. But it was wonderful." She rested against him without moving, every muscle slack and limp.

He stroked her as she rested. "Thank you, lo--Chahlie. Don't do that to me again--please don't--till I can take it--but thank you."

"You didn't cry," he said.

She nuzzled him. "Nothing left to cry with. You took all I had."

"It's almost time to go," he said.

"Is it?" She rolled over, weakly, and took her watch from the bedside table. "How long did I sleep?"

He watched her sitting naked on the edge of the bed, her back to him, her upper body twisted round to speak. "About an hour."

She smiled at him, apologetically. "There's no time left for you," she said.

He stroked her lovely back, brushed the side of her swelling breast with the back of his fingers. "Next time," he said.

She lay back down. "Hold me," she said.

They kissed and stroked each other as she regained her strength. She looked at him. "You have more to show me, don't you?" she whispered.

"Oh, yes," he said. "You know how I love to read."

She laughed, weakly. "Where did you read that?"

He grinned. "That one, I came up with on my own."

They showered together; they always would, after. They both knew why, but spoke of it only once or twice. She did not dare go home with his scent on her. He never wore cologne or after-shave; he hadn't from the start. She had no need to tell him.

The next time, a month later, they played naked for hours. They snuggled and kissed and touched, planning or hoping for nothing more, till they found themselves craving what they could not have.

He felt her up until she came in his arms, and she stroked him sweetly--then kissed him and brushed his face with her softly swinging breasts while he finished, stroking himself as she caressed him with her nipples and whispered sweet obscenities and promises, just to encourage him.

The time after that, they had dinner and went to a movie, and snuggled in his car after. "I have a surprise," he said.

She was lying in his arms in their old, familiar way. "What?" she asked.

"Next week I'm moving here."

She sat up and looked at him, her face alight. "You are? Where?"

He named a nearby town. "I applied to teach there last time I came up here. I got the job, and I've picked out an apartment, and I'm packing."

She hugged him, then looked doubtful. "You know we can't meet more often," she said.

"I know. But I won't have to drive so far, and when we talk it'll be a local call."

She kissed him, eyes sparkling. "This is wonderful! We won't have to get a room, either. I can just come to your place."

"That too."

They kissed a while, and snuggled. "It's wonderful," she said again.

"It's the best that it could be, Carol," said Charlie. "All the thrill and passion of a new love, and all the trust and closeness of an old one. We have both." She nodded against his shoulder.

"I love you, Chahlie," she whispered. He smiled, as always.

"I love you, too."

He closed his eyes. Thank you, God, he thought.

"I have another gift," he said after a while. "But this one is for me." He took an envelope from the dashboard. "Here."

"What's this?"

"A gift certificate for Glamour Pics. That place at the mall, where they make portraits? I want you to go there and have some made, and give them to me. I want some pictures of you for my apartment."

She smiled at him. "Okay. Next time I see you."

He touched her face. "You are so beautiful, love of my life. I want those sparkling eyes and that sweet smile where I can see them every day."

"You'll have them." They kissed some more, then it was time to go.

----

They continued to talk on the phone several times each week. Carol had changed her "alone time," when she met Charlie, to weekends in preparation for his move and the upcoming school year.

At the appointed time, he moved, and in short order had set up his apartment. He bought new sheets and towels; his old ones were threadbare. He bought a VCR so they could watch movies; he bought wine and Pepsi and a box of her favorite cookies. And one day she came to his door.

She greeted him with a hug and sparkling eyes, and then gave him a gold-toned gift bag.

"What's this?"

"My pictures, silly! See if you like them."

He unwrapped them eagerly, and gasped. "Oh, Carol! They're perfect!"

One was an 8x10 in a gold-colored frame; Carol smiled out at him from it, with her special smile and a twinkle in her sea-green eyes that he knew was just for him. One lovely hand was placed beside her face, a natural pose, and the dress she wore was low-cut enough to display a hint of cleavage.

Charlie was entranced. He placed it on a table near the sofa, so he could see it from anywhere in the room or his small kitchen.

"Would you like me to sign it?" she asked.

"No, no! You'd have to sign across your skin. I want to keep it unmarked. Here, sign this one."

The other picture was smaller, perhaps a 6x8. It had Carol in a demure blouse, her head thrown back and smiling with sleepy eyes. She was dressed more modestly, but it was somehow a more sensual photo.

She took out a pen and thought. Then her eyes lit up. "I know," she said, and quickly wrote something, a secretive smirk on her pretty face. She gave it to him with a tiny smile.

He looked. "To the biggest, best dick in the world. Hope it won't be TOO long-- Love, Carol."

He laughed and hugged her as she giggled. That one, he placed beside his bed.

He had prepared lunch. Chicken pie with mushrooms with a nice German Gewurtztraminer wine, and hard meringues with vanilla ice cream and strawberries for dessert. They ate it sitting on the floor beside the coffee table; he had not yet bought a table and chairs for his dining nook.

"That was fantastic, Charlie," she said as he took their plates away. "Where did it come from?" He smiled and nodded toward his kitchen. "You made it all yourself?" she asked, surprised.

"From scratch," he said. "Even the crust."

"The meringues, too?"

"Sure. Egg whites and powdered sugar, dry 'em overnight at 200 degrees on baking parchment. Those are easy."

She looked at him with a bemused expression. "I learn more about you all the time. Now I know you're also a very good cook."

"Thank you. ...What do you mean, 'also'?"

She smiled knowingly, eyes twinkling. "I think you know," she said.

He smiled. "How do you like my place?"

"It's lovely," she said. "Just right. May I use your bathroom?"

"Certainly not."

They laughed. She disappeared into it, with her purse.

Charlie rinsed the dishes and out them in the dishwasher, then covered the leftovers and put them in the fridge. Carol was still in the bathroom when he was finished.

"Are you okay in there?" he called.

"Just one more minute," she said from behind the door. A moment later, the door opened.

"You can look now, Chahlie,'" came a familiar whisper, a voice from long ago.

Charlie looked up, and his jaw dropped. Carol was standing in the doorway, posing prettily. She wore a pair of beige bikini panties and a matching half-cup bra.

Charlie frankly stared. The upper curves of her breasts were bare almost to her nipples, and quivered liquidly when she moved. Her soft, bare belly beckoned him, and her lovely legs and pretty feet were bare. Her creamy, perfect skin was two shades lighter than the pale panties and bra. "Do you remember, Chahlie?"

He nodded only. He could not speak.

She smiled, invitingly. "Why don't you show me your bedroom now?"

It was two steps away.

----

"God, I love you, Carol. I love you so much..."

The panties and bra lay on the floor, and he lay in her arms, between her legs. Her smooth legs were wide open for him, and his dick was pressed downward between them; it was nestled in her warm crotch, his leaking dickhead almost at her asshole, the top of his dick lying pressed against the length of her oozing, all-but-hairless slit.She rolled her hips upward--

"Carol, are you sure?" he whispered.

"Yes," she whispered back. One word only. She opened herself wider--

And his cock slowly levered upward, entering her by itself as if it knew the way.

This, too, was the same. Exactly the same.

"Oh, Chahlie..." she breathed. "Oh, Chahlie, it's just like before... You're going inside me..." She was so smooth, so slick, so warm and wet as her tender membranes parted for his smoothly sliding dickhead...

She hissed and rolled her hips even higher as he slid deeper inside her. "Chahlie, isn't this what you wanted?" Her voice cracked then, at the edge of tears. "Please tell me this is what you wanted..."

"Oh, yes, Carol," he whispered quickly. "I've wanted this so much, I've wanted you... I have for so long, so long..."

She whimpered and embraced him, arms and legs, clinging to him as he began to fuck her, slowly, tenderly, hardly believing it was real. "Oh, Carol... It's really you..."

They fucked like the old lovers that they were, kissing deep and knowingly, holding each other close and moving in unison, as if no time had passed at all. "Oh, God, Carol... You are my heart..."

"I'm the only one you want," she breathed, rising toward the fulfillment of her aching need. "I'm the only one you want..."

"Oh, yes... I love you, I've loved you all my life, my only love... I've loved you for a thousand years..."

They worked for it together, hips pumping, slowly, but so urgently, their souls as open to each other as their mouths, his cock plunging smoothly in and out of her heart, her pussy encasing and caressing and slickly slurping at his own.

They fucked with the passion of two lifetimes, with the hunger of a broken, healing heart, with the deep love that found them far apart and brought them back to come together, to come hard together, to come and cry together in the refuge of each other's arms and hearts.