Courting Lydia

Her skirt, meanwhile had been riding up her thighs, and she kept opening her legs wider and wider apart. Eventually I had a good view of her white underwear, and I couldn't stop staring. I began to think about the last time we were together, about how she felt down there.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she said, bringing me out of my trance.

"No reason," I said, and quickly looked away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her look down at her legs and close them. She lay there for a while with her hands on her knees, perfectly still. I didn't know what to say so I just sat in my chair trying not to look at her.

"I need to talk to you about something," she said, finally. "It's about what happened last time."

"Okay."

"I know that I said last time was just a preview, and that we would do it for real, but I don't know if I still want to do that," she said. "You see, I don't really know you that well, and I'm supposed to be saving myself."

"Okay," I said again.

"Is that okay? Is that something are okay with?"

"Sure," I said, "maybe it's for the best anyway."

"Really?" she said, and I could hear an indignant tone in her voice. "You're not fighting very hard."

I suddenly felt exasperated. "What do you want me to say? I'm not going to force you, or coerce you. Who do you think I am?"

"I thought maybe you would want to take control of me, make me your little love slave," Lydia said, putting on her most quasi-seductive tone.

"You've been reading too many books," I said. "Besides, that's not who I am, and if that's what you want, you'll need to find somebody else."

I stood up and walked into the kitchen. I leaned forward against the counter and put my head in my hands. I felt sick to my stomach.

I heard footsteps behind me, and I glanced to see Lydia standing in the doorway, looking sheepish.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That isn't me. I just thought you would like that."

I turned around and faced her. "I think maybe I'm just too old for this kind of stuff. You don't want to waste your time with me."

Lydia stared at me for a while. Finally, she spoke. "I am glad that you respect me. I know it didn't sound like it, but I am. I think you're a good man, based on the time I've spent with you. I wish there were more like you."

She then returned to the living room, retrieved her shoes, and left without saying another word. I sighed and shook my head. I thought: well, that is that, then, I guess.

A few days later I attempted to contact my wife Margaret. I called her cell phone a few times without any answer, but that Saturday evening she finally picked up.

"Hi Kevin," she said. She sounded tired.

"Hi Mar. Listen, I..."

"Please don't," she said, and her next words were muffled. I knew she was covering the mic on the phone.

"Hello?" I said.

"I don't want to talk right now. Can we do this later?" she said.

It sounded as if there were someone there, someone she didn't want me to know was there.

"Okay," I said. "But can you answer me something quickly? Just something I can't get off my mind."

She sighed. "What?"

"What finally, you know, made you leave?"

She paused for a long time. Finally, she said, "Because after a while I got tired of trying to make a life with a man who was just waiting to die."

She hung up.

Honestly, I thought she would have said it had to do with the affairs, or the scandal at work. Apparently those didn't bother her as much as living with a man who had no hope of getting any better.

The following Wednesday night, Lydia showed up at my door again. This time I was genuinely surprised to see her.

"Can we talk?" she said. That was the first thing she said when I opened the door. Not even a "Hello."

"What do we have to talk about?" I said. I knew it sounded kind of mean, but I was in no mood to be toyed with anymore.

"Just let me in?" Her eyes were wet.

I opened the door for her, and we went into the living room. She sat on the couch again, and I sat in the chair. I didn't offer her anything to eat or drink this time. I just waited for her to speak.

"I want to apologize for my behavior lately," she said. "The thing is, I don't know you that well but I like you. I don't even know why."

"Wow," I said coldly, and I crossed my arms.

"I don't mean it like that. What I'm trying to say is that you're different from other men that I know. I can sense that in the way that you look at me, and the way you talk to me. You don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, even when I was acting like one."

"You weren't..." I started to say, but she kept talking.

"I think maybe I was testing you a bit, trying to see how you would react when I told you I didn't want to have sex. I didn't know if you would jump on me and try to force me, or if you would try to guilt me into it. I needed to know that you would respect me."

"I think maybe you're over-thinking this," I said.

"I have my reasons," Lydia said. "You see, there's a guy at church who wants to court me. Thomas. His name is Thomas. I've known him since I was a child, and my parents have told me for years that they wanted me to consider him as a potential husband. In August, he told me he wanted to court me, and he and my family have been pressuring me to make a decision."

I didn't know how to respond to this. The whole thing sounded distasteful to me, but I had no intention of telling her this.

"Anyway," she said, "I don't know if I want to marry a man like my father. I don't know if I want to bear a ton of children and devote the rest of my life to being his support. I want someone who I can support and who will support me back. I want someone who will be my partner and friend. Do you understand?"

"I suppose I do," I said, "I just don't know why you have to be pressured like this. You're only twenty years old. Can't you just tell him you're not ready to start thinking about this?"

Lydia shook her head and stared at her feet for a while.

"I still don't understand why you're here," I said.

"I want you... to court me," she said.

"Court you? I can't court you," I said. "I'm still married, for now at least. I'm not even a Christian anymore, much less in your denomination."

"Well, court, date, whatever you want to call it," she said.

I shook my head. "You don't want to do that. You would have no future with me. I'm old, I'm not suitable for you."

"You're not that old. And you're suitable for me because I want you and I don't want anyone else," she said.

"You don't know what you want," I said. "What you really need to do is get out of that culture and see the world a bit. Then you'll find what you're looking for, and you'll realize there are a lot of men who have my positive qualities but don't have the loads of shit that make up the rest of me."

Lydia began to tear up, but, instead of crying, she stomped angrily out of my house and disappeared.

Some time later, I found the flyer Lydia had given me. The Fall Concert at her church was only a few days away. I hadn't seen her in weeks, and I made up my mind to go to the concert just to see if she would be there. I didn't know why I wanted to see her again, but I had had trouble getting her out of my mind.

I arrived at her church for the concert and sat towards the back where I hoped I wouldn't be seen. Lydia was in the choir, and I watched her intently as she sang with the group. She was wearing a choir robe, like the others, but she stood out because of her hair being on her shoulders, while the others had much longer hair pulled behind their backs. She also appeared to be wearing makeup, while the others were not. She looked so beautiful up there singing that I thought I could feel my heart tightening up.

After the concert, when people were mingling, I watched her standing very close to a tall young man that seemed to be very fond of her, judging by how he was looking at her. They never actually touched, but even across the room I could detect that they were a couple. I sighed, wondering why I had wasted my time, and began to make my way towards the door. Before I left, I turned to see her one last time, and I was surprised to find that she was staring at me. The man she was standing with caught her staring and began looking in the general direction of her gaze. I didn't want to do anything that drew attention to myself, so I just stood there and stared back at her for a while. Neither of us made any sort of expression. Someone managed to distract her, so she looked away, and before she could turn back to face me again, I had slipped through the door.

A few days later, Lydia was at my door again. She was wearing the tan pleated skirt I had seen her wear before, and the blue blouse she had worn with it then. This time I let her in without a word. I had just returned home from work and I hadn't been sleeping well, so I was exhausted.

We walked into the living room, and this time I was the one who lay on the couch. Lydia sat in the chair. For a long time, we didn't speak. I thought I might fall asleep before anything was said.

"You came to the concert," she said, stirring me from my near-slumber.

"Yes."

"Why?" she said. I opened my eyes and sat up a little, and she leaned forward.

"I don't know. I wanted to see you," I said.

"I didn't think you cared anything about me."

"It's not that. I'm just going through a hard time right now, and you've been confusing me."

"I'm sorry," she said, sitting back. She looked and sounded glum.

"It's okay."

"Why did you want to see me?" she said, and she leaned forward again.

"Because I do like you," I said. "I was thinking about you and I missed you. I just wanted to see your face again."

Lydia smiled and began to look shy. I thought I could detect a hint of blushing.

"I don't mean to play games with you," I said. "I haven't been myself. I've been feeling sad and lost ever since my wife left. You've been the only bright spot in my entire life the last month or so."

"Really?" she said, and she smiled even bigger now. "Well, you've been my oasis."

"Your oasis?" I said.

"Yes," she said. "I'm not happy with my life right now, but I feel like I can't escape from it. When I come to see you, I feel the tension leaving my chest. I feel like I can be myself with you."

"I'm sorry about the last time you were here," I said. "I'm sorry I said what I said. I'm selfish."

"Well, I forgive you, if there's anything to forgive," she said, and she leaned to the left and rested her head on the arm of the chair.

"Was that Thomas you were with?" I said after a pause.

"At the concert? Yes," Lydia said.

"He's tall," I said, and Lydia giggled.

"Like my dad," she said.

"Is he good to you?"

Lydia frowned. "I suppose so. But, after we get married, that may change."

"Married? Is it coming to that already?" I said.

"Well, you know my culture," she said. She sounded glum again.

"You could do worse. I'm sure you'll be fine," I said.

Lydia looked back at me and neither of us spoke for a long time. The TV wasn't on, so there was nothing to break the awkward silence between us. I was drifting off to sleep again when Lydia spoke next.

"I'm sorry, you seem really tired," she said.

"I haven't been sleeping well," I said, vaguely aware that I was practically mumbling the words.

"Do you want me to put you to bed?" she said, and I chuckled.

"I think I might to rest upstairs on my bed. You're free to stay if you'd like. You can watch TV, or anything you want," I said, and, with a groan, I sat up and then stood. Lydia got up and grabbed my arm to support me.

Even though I didn't really need the help, Lydia insisted on helping me upstairs. Frankly, I was just happy she was there. I lay down on the bed. Lydia grabbed the remote control for the TV and sat beside me, in Margaret's spot.

The room became dark with the late Autumn twilight, other than the light from the TV, which illuminated Lydia when I opened my eyes.

Sometimes when I looked at her, she was watching TV. Sometimes she was looking down at me. She began to run her fingers through my hair, and ran her fingertips along my face.

"Kevin?" she said in a whisper. I opened my eyes to find that she was lying down beside me, her face only inches away from mine.

"Yes?"

"Ever since that night we... had sex, or whatever it was, I've touched myself while thinking about you."

"Really?" I said. Now she had my full attention.

"Mhmm," she said. "Mostly when I lie in my bed at night, or when I'm in the shower."

"I like that," I said, and smiled sleepily.

"Kevin?" she said, after a few moments.

"Yes?"

"I want you to lick my... my pussy," she said.

I began to sit up but she pushed me back down. She got up on her knees and straddled me. I looked up at her and she looked back down at me, biting her lip and holding her skirt.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't have any sexy underwear." With that, she lifted her skirt, showing me a pair of modest white cotton panties. She then nudged herself upwards by walking on her knees, until her panties were positioned just out of my mouth's reach. I could feel the heat coming off of her, and detected her scent.

She settled down, straddling my face, and my lips and nose pressed hard against her mound. I began to lick her through her panties. With a giggle, she let the skirt down over my eyes so that I couldn't see anything. I could only feel her warmth and smell her scent. Her thighs pressed against my ears.

After a few moments, I felt her warm hand travel beneath her skirt, brushing my face. She pulled her panties to the side, and when she brought herself back down on my face, I was completely enveloped in her pubic hair and vaginal lips. I breathed her scent deeply and began to lick between her lips. I felt her hard little clit on the tip of my tongue and began to tease it playfully. I could feel her tense up around me, then she began to push down harder on my face. I slid my tongue down to her opening, which was dripping with her juices.

Lydia tasted fresh, virginal. I began to eat her hungrily, thrusting my tongue as deep into her as I could, then sucking her hairy outer lips and small inner lips, then her clit. She would grind her pelvis hard against my face when my tongue was inside her, as if trying to help me explore deeper and deeper.

I began to feel like I was suffocating, so I grabbed her by the thighs and gently lifted her off of me. Instinctively, Lydia lay on her back and spread her legs for me. I knelt between her legs and lifted her skirt. I pulled her panties to the side and gazed for the first time at her thick patch of black pubic hair. She had quite obviously never trimmed or shaved it, but unlike some women I had been with, she didn't seem a bit embarrassed by it. She looked up at me longingly, and I smiled and began to devour her again.

As I licked her, I began to unbutton her blouse from the bottom. After I had clumsily undone a few buttons, Lydia helped me with the rest. I looked up from between her legs and she had opened her blouse, exposing a pair of surprisingly large breasts in an ill-fitting white bra.

I held her breasts in my hands for a few moments, just enjoying the feel of them, and then I reached beneath her to undo the bra. She leaned forward to give me better access. When I had undone the bra, she let me take it off of her, which I did slowly, kissing her chest as I removed it.

When I had removed her bra, I was stunned at the size and shape of her breasts. It had been a long time since I had seen such young and perfect ones. I began to suck on her nipples, which had grown hard since I removed her bra. Lydia was breathing heavily and struggling to remove her skirt and panties while I attended to her breasts.

Lydia pushed me away and removed what was left of her clothes, and then began to remove mine. She was breathing hard and there was a fire in her eyes. She pulled down my shorts and then pushed me onto my back.

"There's something I want to do," she said, and she turned around and then straddled me again, with her vagina and round bottom in my face. She began to suck on my cock, and I spread her labia with my fingers and began to lick her again.

For a few minutes we pleasured each other like this. She used her lips and tongue expertly on my cock, to the point where I felt dangerously close to ejaculating again. I began to flick her clit quickly with my tongue, and she began to moan.

"Oh God, yes," she said, and she began to quiver. "Lick me, lick me, quickly!" She reached behind her and spread her ass, and I knew exactly what she was talking about.

I put my tongue inside her, and her whole body shuddered. She began to howl, and a stream of liquid hit my chin and began to run down my neck and chest.

"Oh God!" she said, gripping my comforter and trying to stifle her moans.

"I need you inside me," she said, turning around and grinding her pelvis against the shaft of my cock. I reached down and put my cock to the entrace of her vagina, and she let herself down on it. Slowly I felt myself slide into the warm wetness, and soon all of me was inside her.

Lydia sat there for a few moments, gasping and looking into my eyes. Her reddish brown hair was disheveled and she had the look of a madwoman. Her large breasts hung down and touched my chest as she leaned forward to kiss me.

She began to move her body up and down, bringing me in and out of her. She didn't want me to do anything but lie there, and she held me down as if I were going to struggle against her.

She planted little kisses all over my face as she rode me. She would linger over my lips, kissing me repeatedly before moving to my cheek or neck. Then she'd move back and kiss me again, sometimes biting my lip playfully. I held on to her hips as she moved.

"Cum inside me, yes, please, cum inside me," she began chanting, and between the words and the way she said it, she pushed me over the edge.

I moaned and began to ejaculate inside her, and she began to grind even harder, gasping and moving her hands all over me. She bent down to kiss me and I felt her tongue in my mouth. She kept it there until I had emptied all of it inside her, then she lay there gazing into my eyes as my semen ran out of her and onto me.

"I'm not going home tonight," she said in a whisper. "Would that be okay with you?"

"Yes," I said, and she kissed me softly.

We slept in my bed that night. I held her soft, naked body against me and ran my fingers through her hair. She just smiled at me and occasionally kissed my cheek.

"I love you, you know," she said, which surprised me. "I'm going to marry you."

"Oh, are you?" I said in a mocking tone of voice.

"Yes," she said. "You think I'm joking, but just wait."

I smiled and held her tighter. I didn't know whether to believe her or not, but I believed she sincerely felt that way. All I knew was that it felt amazing to be with her, and it even gave me hope, a feeling I had not had in a very long time.

Before I finally drifted off to sleep for the last time that night, she whispered into my ear: "Don't worry. I won't ever let you feel lonely again."

I smiled and slipped into a peaceful slumber, content and warm.