Fair Play, A Second Time

After a moment, Bette took a step back. She faced me with a big smile, and took my hands in hers. She leaned forward for quick kiss, then took my arm in hers and we went back to the table.

"You didn't tell me you don't dance." It seemed more like a question than a statement.

"Well I do now, if you could call that dancing."

"But why?"

"It sounded like something you enjoy, and I hope I'm not too old to learn new things. Was I that bad?"

"You did fine. And you're a sweetie, doing it for me. I won't make you do it again."

"I said I would, and here I am. And I liked it. Really." The next song had already started, so we sat it out. The one after was another slow one. This time, I stood up first and gave a little tug on her hand. She sat, giving me a quizzical look, and I tugged again. She came with me this time, and we held each other on the dance floor again. I was still focused on getting it right, so I can't say it was that much of a pleasure in itself. I was with Bette, though, holding her close, and that's what I really came for.

When we got back to the table, I tried to sound more positive about it than I really felt. "I think I could get the hang of this." That much was true. I might even learn to like it.

"You really never danced before."

"Never. Not even when I was a kid."

"And you're doing it for me."

"It's kind of fun." Yes, I was doing it for her, but any way I thought to say it wouldn't sound right.

She didn't answer, but leaned warmly against me and put her hand on my leg.

We danced two or three more numbers. I don't think I got any better, but I did get past feeling like an idiot. An inept klutz, maybe, but I could fix that by putting some work into learning.

"You know," she said when we got back to our table, "dancing has been called a vertical statement of a horizontal intent." She was leaning against me again, whispering, one breast pressing my arm.

"Is that an offer? If it is, it's the best one I've had all day."

"It's an offer." We paid our waitress and left, holding each other close.

Back in our room, I finished undressing before she did - my jeans and shirt could take being dumped in a pile, but she took the time to hang her blouse and slacks. She was just starting to unhook her bra when I reached. "Allow me. Please."

"It's all yours." She turned away, but looked back at me over her shoulder. I undid the hook-and-eye catches. Those things always remind me of my embarrassing first encounter with them, back when I was a teenager, but they opened easily enough. Then I slid my hands up to her shoulders and out toward her arms, pushing the straps aside with the backs of my hands. Even as wide as they were, I could see where they had dug into her shoulders. I started massaging the marks.

"Mm, that's lovely." I could feel her relaxing under my hands. I stepped closer, then pushed the cups off her breasts the same way, sliding my hands along her curves.

Bette has the most amazing breasts. I remember enjoying the firm, young ones when I was younger, but that was because I didn't know any better. An incredible, delicate softness comes with age. I had forgotten how electrifying it is to feel that - spreading my hands across them, the sensation drove everything else out of my mind for a moment. Then I lifted one breast and pulled the cup out from under, and did the same on the other side. Bette shook the bra down her arms and set it on the dresser. I went back to rubbing her shoulders.

After a moment, I said, "Would you like to continue lying down?" She answered in movement, bending to slide the last of her underwear off then moving to the bed.

She lay on her stomach, with her face toward me. "How do you want me?"

I suppressed a hundred eager answers to that question and said "You're fine like that." I knelt next to her on the bed, and went back to her shoulders. Gradually, I worked up to a deep pressure that seemed to squeeze happy moans out of her. I worked her arms, next, enjoying the strong, soft feel of her muscles, then returned to her back. My thumbs pressed into the ridge of muscle along her spine, then along her pelvis, where the muscles attach. I moved quickly over her bottom, saving that for later.

I turned to face her feet, next, and knelt with one of her legs between mine. I lifted one foot and flexed it for a while to loose it up. Then I probed the sole of her foot with my thumb, feeling around just behind the ball of her foot.

"A-ahh" I found the spot I was looking for. "Whatever you're doing back there, don't stop. You're hired." I did stop after a while, and kneaded the muscles in her calf. Then I did the other foot and calf.

I turned again, keeping one of her legs between mine, and worked my way up one wide, womanly thigh. It embodied all the best of a woman's beauty: curvy and soft, but with clearly defined strength just below the skin. There was that lovely warm spot too, at the top of her thighs and between the them. When I got there, I switched to the other side and did that thigh too.

I dismounted her leg and knelt next to her, starting on her bottom. That's where the body's biggest muscles are, and I gave them deep, loving attention. Bette had been purring the whole time, with little moans to emphasize the spots she really liked, but this treatment had her moaning non-stop. Then my thumb found that deep dimple near the middle of one cheek. It worked kind of like that spot on her foot, only more.

"My god, what you're doing!" Her hip lifted up, to return the pressure. I explored the whole, warm width of her bum, returning to that pressure point each time my hand crossed it. I climbed over her, then went to work on the other cheek.

She turned her head to look at me. I felt her hand flopping around my legs, and moved my knees apart. That let her grasp my erection, which had been streaming steadily for the last half-hour.

"You know," she said looking up at me, "I expected that when we got back to the room, you'd undress me and we'd make love. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

I answered, "Well, you were right, weren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is making love."

"How so?" She sounded happy, but a little puzzled.

"Making love is about nice body feelings, isn't it? That's what I'm doing. At least, that's what I'm trying to do." I didn't tell her, but I had actually studied for this part. I had dug out my ancient copy of The Massage Book and spent hours going over every page repeatedly.

"You sweetie, you're right." She relaxed into my attention, still holding my erection in a possessive grasp.

Bette didn't have an orgasm the first time we had sex, and told me she might not have one for some time to come. Despite her assurances that it was OK, that she really liked the feelings of what we did, I had come away with the sense that I hadn't done enough for her. I wouldn't argue with her, I'm sure she was telling the truth, that it really was OK and that she enjoyed it. I was grateful that she wasn't faking it for me, but I'm stuck with my male view of sex and orgasm. I couldn't feel right unless I gave as good as I got, and she had given me so much already. If I couldn't give her orgasms, I'd give her what I could, including this. It still didn't seem like enough, but she was certainly enjoying it. If I knew of more to do, believe me, I'd be doing it.

My touched lightened after a while, until I just held the curve of her bottom in my open hand. "May I do the front now?"

She opened her eyes with a sleepy smile. "You mean I have to move?"

"Just a little." She rolled over and closed her eyes. I started with a light touch on her face, a little pressure a the temples and above her ears. Then I worked my way down the muscle groups in her neck, to her pectoral muscles. I know how much those enjoy deep pressure. I had to work carefully, though, so as not to press too hard on her breasts. I drew slow, deep circles with my fingers, being extra careful as I got lower on her chest. Then I lifted her breast from the side, so it mounded on her chest, and did the same again but more gently. When I had covered the whole breast in touch, I started on the other side and worked my way down. Arms next, with attention to each finger and deep pressure on the palms of her hands.

The I scooted down the bed a little, so I could really lean into her thighs. The happy purring continued and she opened her legs so I could reach between. Her intimate folds unfolded when she did that, just a little, and showed a line of pink behind her pubic hair. I resisted temptation, for the moment, and continued on those long, strong thighs.

When I had finished with them, I lay down next to her. My hand found her mons, and started little circles of wide pressure on that lovely, soft swell. She opened her eyes and looked into mine. "That was incredible." She reached over and kissed the tip of my nose.

"`Scuse me for a second." Still holding her vulva, I backed away slightly. She shifted to a more comfortable position, then said "Now you come back here." I moved so our bodies touched almost whole length. She lifted the breast that was being pressed between us, then settled back. "Carry on," she said, "I love what you're doing."

I did too. My touch worked its way lower, into her pubic hair. She opened her legs a bit more, and I explored the valley between her thigh and labia. My touch continued: press, massage for a moment, then move on. Down one side, between her legs, and up the other. Across the top, again, where pressure might be transmitted in to her clitoris, and back to the side. Her hand hand found my erection again. She stroked it gently or squeezed it from time to time. Once in a while her thumb would cross the round top, collect a clear, slippery droplet, and spread it. Neither one of us felt any hurry - we wanted this timeless time to go on forever.

My finger found the spot in front where her labia began to separate. I knew that the pad of my fingertip would fit it perfectly, but the sensation was new all over again when it did. I pressed in, a little, and felt the clitoral ridge. I massaged that, too, as far up as I could feel it. It slid back and forth under my fingertip, against the solid bed behind it.

"Dan, kiss my breast." She cupped it for me, lifting it from the side up into her chest. I leaned up over it for a moment, awed again by the delicate tracery of blue veins barely showing, then leaned down to kiss. I pressed my face into that incredible softness and felt it envelop me. Then, with my fingers still exploring her vulva, I nibbled around the edge of the areola. It felt stiffer, thicker than the skin surrounding it, but yielded between my lips. After working my way around, my kiss moved to her nipple. I wiped it with a warm tongue, took it between my lips, and tongued again. Bette's hand behind my head held me gently in place.

Her clitoris had thickened too. My finger traced its way down to her vagina, where I felt slick wetness forming. I spread that around. My mouth left her breast long enough to taste her on my fingertips and to moisten my fingers some more. Then I went back to kissing that miraculous, soft breast. My thumb and middle finger spread her labia, and my slick index finger went back to massaging that delicate crease.

The hand behind my head shifted, guiding me to look up at into Bette's eyes. "Come inside me. Please, I want to feel you inside." I leaned up to kiss her, then climbed between her legs. She had opened wide for me, with her knees bent up and out. I spread saliva across my penis, then lowered myself onto her. Her hand found my erection between us. She used the tip to tease her labia apart, then lowered it to the edge of her vagina. I was already rocking against her, in small motions, when I felt that deep softness start to open before me.

She brought her Bette-scented hand to my face. I turned to catch her fingers in my mouth, and she let me catch them. That turned into a caress of my lips and face, then a touch that guided me back to her lips.

My penis felt the ring of muscle at the edge of her body, and felt it open around me. I stopped at that magical moment, to savor that delicate grasp, that most intimate of welcomes, then started rocking again. Some times, I would move farther in. Some times I would just feel the shifting tissues within her and feel her pressure around me.

Bette worked her hand between us again. I lifted up to make room for it, then lowered again when it had found her vulva. Her fingers moved between us pressing where intercourse couldn't press and touching what my arms couldn't bend to touch. I felt her lower body tense, all along her legs and through her pelvis. She had said she might not come, but I could feel the beginnings building inside her. The pace of her touch slowed, then sped again as another wave of tension built. After three or four more of those deep pulses, she moved her hand away. "It's not going to happen today."

"Are you sure?" I asked, "Is there anything I ..."

Her sweetened finger on my lips again, stopping my words. "I love what you're doing. Really, this is what I want." I squeezed her in another hug. "Do you think you're going to come again?" I had already come twice in the last twenty-four hours. At my age, she might not expect more.

Heck, I wasn't sure I could do it again either. "Let's give it a try. Even if it doesn't work I love the feeling of being inside you, being part of you."

I started pressing deeper into her. Bette shifted her legs up, and the change in position made her feel tighter inside. One hand on my hips, the other on my shoulder, she pulled me into her with surprising strength. I could feel orgasm starting to build inside me.

I leaned up on one arm and worked the other behind her, under her bottom. Each time I rocked in to her, I lifted as well. The feeling built and built. Bette looked up at me with that brilliant smile, touching my face and cooing encouragement.

Then it came. I pulled her close with all my strength, and felt my orgasm erupt into her body. The second wave came, and I pulled again, then the third. Even when my body had nothing left to pour into hers, the waves kept coming. It seemed as if they would never stop. The time between them grew, however, and they lessened in magnitude. Finally, I collapsed onto the softness of her belly and breasts. Even as exhausted as I was, I still felt occasional tremors of joy. That's really what I felt, joy. Joy and the passion of closeness that I could only feel when her body accepted me into it. I didn't roll off her until my erection shrank and fell out.

The hotel had tissues by the bed. Bette stood, grabbed a few, and wiped herself in an ungainly squat. She grabbed some more tissues, wiped herself again, and examined the tissue. "I'll be right back."

I cleaned up too, while she had her moment in the bathroom. My tissues ended up not too far from the garbage can, close enough for now. Then my silver goddess reappeared. She lay down beside me and nestled under the blankets. Then she leaned up on one elbow, with her breasts hanging, reached down to my penis again. Trying its best, it thickened a little in her hand. She looked at me and wagged it, saying "Doesn't this thing ever stop?"

I just pulled her down onto me for a kiss. Holding her in place, I turned out the light. I guess I'm not much to sleep on, because she crawled off a moment later and turned away. It wasn't an escape or rejection, though, but an invitation to cuddle. I hugged her from behind. My hand found her breast and supported its heavy softness. She wiggled her bottom, playing, pressing against my lap and settling my half-hard penis between her cheeks. Her hand held mine against her, and we slept.