Daughters of Priapus Ch. 02

"I'm glad the story had a happy ending for you. But now I must go. Listen, if you ever get up to Cambridge, please call me or text me at this number." He fished a business card from a "man bag" he wore. I promised to do so, and he wandered off. I wondered what sort of man he really was, and whether he would ever find that happiness again for himself.

I switched the egg back on, and fantasized making love to all the nude young men I was watching on the beach, imagining what their cocks would look like when they were hard, and how they might feel inside me. So I was in a high degree of arousal by the time Dottie and I left the beach, and so was she. We spent the night at her place making love, trading orgasms, and cuddling (which, I suspected, had been her motive all along). But I kept thinking about Max.

The next morning, I called Tina at the sorority house, where she was staying during the summer. "I have a favor to ask," I said. "Here's the contact information on a man I met at the beach last weekend. See what you can find out about him." There wasn't much you can do with a computer that Tina couldn't do, whether it was programming or using the various search tools. When I got her report a few days later, I wondered how many private databases she'd hacked into.

Max, she said, was born in 1948 in Czechoslovakia. He left with his parents after the aborted revolution of 1968. He got a degree in computer sciences at MIT in 1975, worked at DEC and a few other places, and then set himself up as a consultant. Married in 1976 to a woman named Maria, a statistician, also from Czechoslovakia. Wife died in 2009 of cancer at age fifty-eight, according to the obituary. Two children, both grown. Four grandchildren. No police record. Clean driver's record. In good health, no serious medical problems or venereal diseases (and how on earth did she find that out?). Owns a late model Jaguar and a co-op apartment in Cambridge. Annual income $230,000.00 before taxes. Excellent credit score. No mention of him on any of the sexual offenders lists. And he did more than simply give that community theater a "few dollars here and there;" over the past seven years, he had donated over a hundred thousand dollars to them. He was also a member of several clubs devoted to the arts, two country clubs, and three music societies, and had published several short works of fiction under a pen name. Plays clarinet in a highly-regarded amateur jazz band. Appended to all this was a personal note: "Ginnie, I think this guy is a keeper! If you don't take him, maybe I will!"

After I got Tina's report, I gave Max my own contact information, and soon I received an invitation from him, for dinner and a concert by the Boston Philharmonic. I sent back a message: "I accept, but only if it includes a sleep-over at your place."

There was an interval of a day and a half, during which I was kicking myself for being too forward. But then there was a text that made my heart soar: "You would be most welcome here!"

I dressed carefully, choosing a silver gown with a daringly low neckline. My boobs usually had too much sag to really capitalize on the cleavage the gown was exposing, but I wore a lacy black demi-bra that pushed them up into view, white mounds with my areolae just barely out of sight. What I liked about this bra was that it left the nipples exposed, giving me the chance to attach the nipple clips that Max commented on. I must confess that I tightened the clamps more than usual and my nips, swelled and darkened slightly as the loops constricted the flow of blood, rubbed tantalizingly against the fabric of the gown whenever I moved. I considered slipping the vibrator egg into my vagina, but figured I wouldn't really need it. For what I had in mind, it wouldn't do to cum too quickly, and my nipples were already insanely sensitive to the touch and would remain so for the rest of the evening.

The dinner and concert went swimmingly. During dinner, I caught him stealing glances at my dÈcolletage, and pushed my boobs together to form more of a valley. I also leaned forward now and then, giving him opportune moments to glimpse the tops of my nipples. And during the concert I whispered, "Put your arm around me if you like, dear." He slipped an arm behind me and drew me close. So far, so good! But when I laid a hand on his crotch, I felt him tense up.

"It's all right, love," I said. "I want to do this." He relaxed then and let me stroke him lightly as we listened to the music. I felt his cock swelling as I traced its outline through the fabric of his trousers.

When we got home, he suggested a nightcap. And then I made a suggestion was well. "When we met, we were both naked. Let's be naked again."

He smiled and said, "You first!" My answer was to kick my shoes off and then slowly unzip my gown, let it drop to the floor, and step out of it. When he saw my nipple clips with their pendant pearls, his smile widened. I stood before him in my demi-bra and matching black lace panties. And then I stopped. "Your turn," I said.

He removed his jacket and tie, and then his shoes and socks. Next came the shirt and pants. He stripped off his undershirt, exposing a gray-haired chest. I unhooked my bra and let it fall. My breasts sagged down, but I lifted them up by their engorged nipples and gave them a little shake. And then I pushed my panties down and stepped out of them. His eyes were locked on my swaying tits and my vulva.

"Are you ready?" I asked gently. He nodded, his smile gone, and he dropped his shorts. His dick was just as I remembered it: of medium length and thickness, but now curving slightly upward from the gray hair of his groin.

We stood naked in front of each other. This was so different from the first time we'd met. Now the sexual excitement was buzzing through the room. I had not coupled with a man in twenty years, and in an odd way, I felt almost virginal. And I could read a variety of emotions in his face: lust, panic, and uncertainty.

I held him close and kissed him with utmost tenderness. "Oh, Priapus," I prayed silently. "Grant me beauty, grant me luck. Don't let me disappoint him."

"Ginnie," he said. "Don't expect much from me. I told you that my lovemaking days were behind me."

"I'm expecting nothing, except to give you a good time and show you how to give me a good time, regardless of what your penis is doing. Will you allow me to do this?"

"You may certainly try. But first let's have that nightcap. I need it. You may need it, too!"

He opened a bottle of a very, very good Burgundy. We drank to each other, and then filled each other in on how we'd spent the past few days. Within minutes, we were as comfortable about being nude in front of each other as we'd been at the beach. As we chatted, he played with his penis, keeping it hard. And I found myself fondling my slit as we talked, and playing with the pearls on my nipple clips. At one point, I pinched my already swollen nips lightly to increase the stimulation. I could feel myself sliding into serious arousal, and decided that it was time for the next step.

"I think it's time for bed, don't you?" I asked coyly.

He gave me a searching look, followed by smile. "Yes. Please."

His bed was huge. "I like lots of room; I'm a restless sleeper," he explained.

"So am I!" And I pulled him onto the bed. We hugged, chest to chest and groin to groin. My nips were on fire. His cock was hard. I stroked it. "Don't," he said.

"Why not?"

"I'm so close to cumming. I'll cum before I'm even inside you."

"Is that what's bothering you? We'll solve that problem right away. I'm going to give you a blowjob."

"But I'll cum even faster! And I'll be no good for later!"

"Let me worry about that," I said. "Right now, this is about your pleasure, not mine." And I proceeded to give him the first blow job I'd given any man since my husband left me years ago. I started slowly and lovingly, licking his shaft from base to tip, then pulled back his foreskin and ran my tongue around the ridge of the cap. I licked the pre-cum as it welled up from the hole in the cap. Whenever he seemed on the verge of ejaculating, I'd let off the licking and stroke his belly instead. I teased him mercilessly for about ten minutes, and then put my lips to the cap, sucked hard, and finished him off with a few quick strokes of my hand. His cum spurted into my mouth, that old familiar taste of semen, a blend of sugar and bleach and musk and that certain something that is like no other taste in the world. His cock instantly went soft, and he groaned. I contented myself with straddling his body and rubbing his limp cock against the folds of my labia as my tits dangled down, my super-sensitive nipples grazing his chest as I kissed him.

"Little Max lasted longer than you thought he would, didn't he?" I murmured.

"Because you are a goddess, my dear. You will not believe this, but that was the first 'blow job' I have ever received in my life. I have read about it often, and dreamed of it as I played with myself, but have never experienced it until now. My wife refused to do it, and my other recent partner never suggested it."

"Am I really only the third woman you've made love to?"

"Well, there were others, before I married, but they were all as ignorant of sex as my wife and I were. Remember that this was in the days before 'women's liberation.' You don't remember those days, I'm sure."

"Oh, but I do! How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know. In your forties, I'd guess. Forty-four? Forty-five?"

"I'm fifty-nine, dear. And, before you ask, I'm no longer fertile, so you needn't worry about that."

"But you had a tampon in you the other day. I saw the string ..."

"Not a tampon. A vibrator. Older girls like me sometimes need a bit of a buzz."

"But fifty-nine? You don't look it!"

"Thank Priapus for that!"

"Who?"

"Never mind. Private joke. But I lived through that era, too. We women weren't educated about our bodies and what we could do with them for pleasure. It took me years to learn that. And now that I think of it, most of my sexual partners were as ignorant as I was. It was all about jamming their cocks into me and squirting. I needed foreplay, and afterplay, too. They just didn't get it."

"I confess that I was just as ignorant, my dear. My wife taught me what she wanted from me, and I did my best. But she herself was quite conservative in our love-making. It is the culture we were born in. She did not like fingers inside her. She did not want me to kiss her below the waist."

"Well, I like both of those things. And you don't need a cock for them. Would you do that for me?"

"I don't know how, I'm afraid."

"Let me teach you," I said. And I did. He began by giving my slit some exploratory tonguing. He was somewhat at a loss about what to do with my inner lips protruding prominently from my cunt, as so many of my lovers had been, but when I detailed how I liked them sucked and nuzzled, he delighted in playing with them. And then I grabbed them and pulled them apart like butterfly wings, exposing my entrance and pee-hole and pearly clitoris. He licked the insides of my folds, and I was in heaven. Or, at least, at the gates of heaven.

"My clit is super-sensitive," I said softly. "Many women's clits are. I'll tell you when you're going too far. Just explore, and have fun!" I gave him a few more minutes to get acquainted with my genitalia, while I removed my nipple clips, allowing my nips the exquisite tingle of the blood flowing back into them. I coached him on how to tongue me while pinching my clitoral hood, forcing the clit back into its hood while sliding his tongue into the pinch to tickle my clit's underside. That has always driven me wild, ever since Amy performed it on me. I felt my sexual tension rise, and a frisson of energy rippled through me, but I was still nowhere near an orgasm. Not yet.

"I have something else to teach you, Max. What do you know about the G-spot?"

"Well, I know what it is. For 'Grafenberg,' right? A sensitive area in a woman's vagina. But I have never had the opportunity to examine one."

"You have that chance now. I have a perfectly good one that wants tickling. Now put your middle finger into me, palm up. Slide it in and out. Ooh, I like that! Now feel for a difference in the vaginal wall. With some women, like me, it's a little bump. For others, it's a slight roughness. And for others, you won't be able to feel any difference at all, and you're going to have to ask your partner to tell you when you've found it. Don't be surprised if she says she can't find it either, because some women just aren't sensitive there. OK?"

"Let me feel. I think ... yes, there it is. Am I right? About two inches in?"

"That's it. Now rub it, stroke it like it's the underside of your penis when you play with it. Like your penis, you'll feel it get bigger. There's a gland there that swells up with fluid, just like your cock."

"How fast? How hard?"

"Feel my cunt muscles squeezing your finger? That's the speed I want. Not too hard, sort of flick it, but wait until it swells before you start putting a lot of pressure on it."

He was a quick learner. My arousal went up another notch. At one point I asked him to put two fingers in. And then it was three. "Harder!" I panted. And he did. "Even harder! Now use your tongue! On my clit! Push from both sides!" And then I was cumming, cumming, my cunt muscles crushing his fingers and then releasing them in the next instant, clenching spasmodically. My hands grabbed his head, forcing his mouth onto my cunt. And then I closed my legs, squeezing his head between them.

The orgasm swept over me, and then subsided a bit without really going away. I relaxed my legs, his fingers slipped out of me, and he slid his body over mine. He kissed me fiercely on the neck. I came again. He played with my nipples as though he had never seen one before. "Suck on them, darling," I said. "Suck hard!" When he did, one after the other, I came a third time.

I kissed him. "Thank you, Max. That was wonderful. You've still got what it takes!"

I heard him chuckle. "I only did what you wanted. What you asked for."

"That makes you a good lover. The only difference is that I asked for more things than any of your other partners did. And you did well, for somebody who hadn't done them before. You'll get even better when you learn what your partner wants, when you can sense it even before she asks. Never be afraid to ask them what they want; sometimes they'll be too shy to tell you, or they'll assume you already know."

"Then I ask you now: is there anything else you want, my dear?"

"Just one thing. Your cock in me. It's hard again, I see."

"But it won't be for long, I fear."

"I'm not going to time you," I said, as I splayed my legs.

He crouched over me, his cock at my entrance. "Wait just a second," I said, and I fingered my clit to rekindle my orgasm. When I felt it starting to crest again, I spread my butterfly wings and breathed, "Fuck me, Max. Now!" And his cock slid in, the first cock I'd had in years and years. My climax swelled, a climax even more profound than the last one. As it coursed through my limbs in a delicious wash of ecstasy, he gave me three or four hard lunges, and then I felt his cock spasming as he pumped his seed into my depths. I could feel his cock softening inside me as I squeezed it. And then it slipped out.

"I'm so sorry, dear. I wish I could make it last."

"Listen to me, Max," I answered as I kissed him. "You are not responsible for my orgasms. I am. Sometimes I have a lot of them. Sometimes I don't have one at all. It has nothing to do with what my partners are doing, or aren't doing. Do you understand that?"

"Nonetheless, I would like to pleasure you with my cock. It is important to me."

"Then take one of those little blue pills we talked about. Not to make it better for me, but to make it better for you. And remember that this is not like before, when you thought that your cock was the only thing you had to please ladies with. Now you know that it's just one tool among many in your toolbox, and not even the most important one."

We cuddled and chatted lazily for a while and then drifted off to sleep, with my breasts pressed against his side and my head using his hairy chest for a pillow, feeling it rise and fall. In the morning, I woke up with my usual horniness and showed him how I liked to masturbate. It was the first time he had seen a woman bring herself to a climax, and the sight of it so aroused him that I had to give his cock only the slightest touch before it squirted its cream onto my thigh. We laughed as I scooped it up with my finger and licked it off, and then put another fingerful to his lips ... his first taste of his own semen, he told me. He no longer obsessed about having a hair trigger, I noted with satisfaction. After a quick playful shower, we went out for breakfast, and then I went home.

The next time I visited him, he had gotten some of those pills and enjoyed a three-hour erection that he kept planted in my cunt until I begged him to stop. I was out of shape for that sort of thing, and needed more stimulation than that, anyway. So he went to work again with his mouth and fingers, and he got me off without difficulty. After the orgasm he gave me from that workout, I was ready for more cock, and managed to get him to slow down to the easy pace I liked the best, like the rocking of a boat. I only knew he'd ejaculated again was when he groaned as he gave a final lunge; his cock was already softening as the effects of the drug wore off. But it was enough. He felt his virility restored, and I ... well, I lost count of the orgasms I had.

We drifted somewhat apart after a while, meeting only at the beach or at his apartment for sex. While we still looked forward to our mutual fucks, he sought out other partners as well, not content to confine his newfound lusts to me alone. I learned from Tina that she had become another of those partners; she really had really been serious about taking him from me! Or, at least, borrowing him for a while.

"Thank God you were able to get him out of his shell, Ginnie!" she texted me afterward. "I'll be forever grateful to you for that. You're a good teacher, too. He gave me the screwing of my life!" That didn't surprise me. Balling a nubile woman in her twenties must have done wonders for his self-image. And Tina was from a new generation of girls, who knew what satisfactions could be wrung from their bodies, and how to demand those satisfactions from their lovers. She was a perfect fuckmate for Max in that respect, and guided him adroitly through his next lessons in pleasing a woman. And of course, when they weren't balling, they had a common interest in computers, an interest I didn't share.

As for me, I was determined to seek out that nice young man I saw at the beach and see if I could get that beautiful cock of his to dance to my tune. And there was Greg from the theater, too; he hadn't found a new beau. The only limits now were those of my lust, and I had yet to plumb those depths. But there was a world of cock out there, and I was going to claim my share. Thank, you, Priapus! Thank you!