Flamingos Ch. 03

Those fake tits felt funny too. Almost rubbery under the skin. As my hands ran down her back, finding her ass, I let my fingertips explore, and found her too firm for her age.

But then Wilbur, bless his one-eyed heart, took over again and I nuzzled her too firm neck and nipped the soft warm skin I found.

As my fingers brushed her forehead, like the rest of her too smooth, I felt the very fine, almost imperceptible, lines of scarring that had to be from a facelift.

She felt where I was touching and said, "that smoothed out the wrinkles."

"How many times have you, well....," and I trailed off, not sure how to ask.

She giggled, an oddly girlish sound, and said, "had work done?"

"Okay," I said, "had some very excellent work done?"

She stood then, a moment of awkwardness as age showed followed by that grace of long hours of practice, did a slow turn, and said, "twenty-nine."

She closed the distance between us and took my hand, guiding it.

She used my fingertip to brush that line across her forehead and said, "forehead."

Then she did the same thing with my fingertip at her eyebrows. The very fine line of scarring was hidden completely. "Eyelift," she said.

A scar line running around her jaw was for "turkey wattles." Another tracing the line of her armpit for "armpit wrinkles," which was a new one for me.

She continued her inventory and, honestly, I was captivated. I had never imagined, for example, "arch enhancement" which she explained was to make her feet more attractive. I noted that it had worked very well. Her feet were pretty sexy actually.

When she finished, striking a classic pinup pose, her right arm straight up, wrist bent, left arm down by her side, left leg lifted and bent, standing on tiptoe, well, on a lifted foot with her weight right on the ball of it, and a wide smile, I said, "that's only twenty-seven."

She giggled.

"You were counting?" she asked.

I grinned and said, "Soooooooo, where are twenty-eight and twenty-nine."

She giggled and pushed down the panties, wiggling nicely as she stepped out of them.

She turned, backed toward me, bent, and spread her cheeks showing, surprising me not at all, a well-bleached asshole, a very tiny, puckered opening deep in her gluteal cleft, her ass crack.

"This isn't really cosmetic except that I told the doctor to make it as pretty as he could," she said, "but I was having, well, you know, 'control' problems, and Depends really didn't match my self-image so I had that reconstructed, and tightened."

I touched, and she squirmed and giggled. "Yes, it's still very sensitive," she said.

"And twenty-nine?" I asked.

She turned and the delta of her pubic hair was right there in front of me. When I touched it was thick and curly and very soft and fine.

"Hair plugs?" I asked, laughing.

She parted her legs and laid her palms flat on her belly (tummy tuck with liposuction had been number twenty-one) and pulled herself up. Her labia was very full, plump and round, making me think "botox" again. But then I realized what she meant. The slit of her vaginal opening was tiny, barely an inch long. She took my hand again, as she had done on many places on her body, and slowly ran her finger covering mine from the bottom of that tiny opening all the way to her anus. I could feel a line of scar tissue, something I had gotten used to feeling on her body.

"If there would have been a way I would have had the doctor sew the damn thing completely closed so I could be a virgin again and feel my cherry being busted," I laughed at both the crudity and the obsolescence of her turn of phrase, she giggled back, "but that wouldn't work so I settled for as tight as a young virgin."

I reached up and squeezed her tits, so hard there was barely any give in them.

"You look so good," I said, rolling her nipples (number seventeen to have them enlarged and lengthened with tissue from a cadaver), "why the boobs?"

"Why are they obviously fake, you mean?" she asked, a big-eyed innocent look on her face.

I chuckled. "Yes," I said, "this is invisible," I said, brushing my fingers across her armpit where she had her hands laying on my neck, "but these are, well, obvious," I finished, squeezing her tits.

"I know," she said, "it's the look I wanted. I want to look like a young woman who wanted bigger titties," she said, and again I chuckled at old-fashioned language.

As she had been leading me on this tour of her body and its enhancements I had felt her leaking, wetting my legs, and when I reached down to touch where she was so proud of being small she was flowing freely, a thick warm natural honey. Her womanscent was redolent of pheromones and they were working. My one-eyed friend was standing at rigid attention.

"Now," she said, kissing me, a good kiss with those overfull lips, "let's see the goodies."

She started unbuttoning my loud Hawaiin pattern shirt and I let my hand explore those interesting scar lines she had shown me.

I leaned forward to help her pull the shirt off, and enjoyed the feeling as she molded herself to me, kissing me with a desperate passion. She was warm and firm and those ridiculous breasts felt hard against me.

I liked it.

"Please, honey," she whispered, her breath hot in my ear and her tongue wet as it probed, "it's my first time, make me a woman."

My hands were finding softness and firmness and those sexy little scar lines, and when I grabbed her ass and squeezed hard enough to draw a little groan from her she followed with a softly hissed, "yesssssssssssssss."

So I squeezed harder and she groaned louder but her hips were working hard by then.

And I was liking, very much, the scene she had set.

"Are you sure you're ready, Estelle?" I asked softly, holding her close, nuzzling her neck, and saying the words very very quietly into her ear, "I know you've been saving yourself."

Her sudden intake of breath as my words registered can only be described as a gasp.

She leaned back enough to allow her to meet my eyes and said, "I'm certain."

She kissed me, desperately, hungrily, and I could feel tears on her cheeks as she whispered, a loud, hoarse, "I'm certain, Davey, I'm certain, I've never been more certain of anything, please, Davey, please, I'm ready."

I pushed her away, smiling my best, gentle smile, the one I had learned when my son came home with a stubbed toe or my wife was crying over a new message from her scales, and said, "Estelle, you know I'm not a virgin, don't you?"

She smiled and wiped a tear away, "I know, I know," she said but then rushed on, "but I know you're the one for me."

"Finish undressing me then," I said, pushing her away farther so I could stand with her.

She looked up at me, big-eyed, fully into her role play now, and said, "Davey, I'm scared."

"I know," I said, kissing her softly, "and we don't have to if you don't want to, but it's up to you to take this final step."

Her fingers were trembling so badly that she had trouble with my belt and then the button of my too-tight cut-off jeans.

I do not think she was faking, and I did nothing to help her.

She finally managed to get the zipper down and worked the jeans down, leaving me in my shorts.

I reached down and did the two fingers under the chin thing, making her look up and meet my eyes. She was crying softly, her eyes red, tears flowing, and her nose was running badly.

"You can still change your mind," I said, and kissed her very lightly, a slick salty kiss.

And there was that desperation as she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me hard, need clear in that kiss.

"I don't want to," she said, breathless and hoarse as her hands pushed down my shorts, freeing my erection, leaving no doubt about my interest.

I wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her into the bedroom but she was a bit too big for that so I settled for taking her hand and leading her. I yanked the top blanket off and helped her crawl into bed.

And then I made love to her, slowly, carefully, gently at first but then with increasing passion as she responded. I covered her face with kisses and she met me kiss for kiss. Her fingers were digging into my arms almost painfully and she nipped at my chin when we broke that kiss.

My fingers traced that thick, curly, oddly soft hair between her legs and then found the tiny portal to her body. She was very wet and slick with her need, and her clitoris was a swollen bud almost filling the tiny opening the plastic surgeon had left. When I touched and played and rolled and generally fiddled with that little bud of her pleasure she squirmed and made little mewing sounds. Her entire body was squirming with her desire but I made her say it one more time.

"Are you certain," I asked, moving around until my knees were between her parted legs.

"Please, Davey, please," she whispered, "I'm old enough now and I need to be a woman."

I reached down and guided myself, but I found her so tiny I didn't just slip in as I had with every woman I had ever been with.

"Do it," she sort of grunted in a hoarse, needy voice, "Do it," and the second time there was almost anger there, "DO IT," she said a third time, "pop my cherry, make me a woman!!"

She thrust against me and I pushed into her. She was so tight it was almost painful and she cried out a high pitched, "yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss."

As my full length entered her she sighed, a long, slow, exhalation, and repeated, "yessssssssssssssssssssss," this time very softly.

"Fuck me, Davey, fuck me, please, fuck me," she was almost chanting now, "fill me up as a man fills a woman, fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme," her voice rising with each repetition.

I pulled out, almost all the way, and slammed back into her, hard, making her grunt and cry out a quick "YES," and then she was chanting again, "fuckmefuckmefuckme."

She didn't stop her chanting while I set up the slow rhythm, very slowly out, almost all the way, then suddenly HARD in.

Well, she didn't stop until she came and then it changed to, "oh God, I'm CUMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG."

She came four more times, each one announced like that, before she relaxed, spent, with me still inside of her.

"Thank you," she sighed.

"Oh Estelle, you're not done yet," I said, "there's more to being a woman than being fucked." I deliberately used crude language, it seemed appropriate.

I pulled out, making her whimper, and laid on my back.

"I want your mouth now," I said.

She smiled and didn't hesitate. She squirmed around and took me into her mouth. She was swallowing hard as she did, and accepted my whole length into her throat.

She was very good with her mouth and I was enjoying it very much.

She surprised me by pulling off before I finished and working around to meet my eyes again.

"There's still another way," she said with an impish grin and then rolled onto her belly and reached back and spread her cheeks.

"You're sure?" I asked.

"Please baby, it's only one night, take what I know you want," she said, her voice a little muffled from the way her face was buried in the pillow.

She looked slick, with the way her vaginal lubricant had been running down her ass, and when I touched her with my finger and slipped it into her she hissed one of those "yessssssssssssssssss" sounds.

I guided myself with my hand, dragging my erection through the wet of her pubic hair before holding it against that tiny opening. If I thought her pussy was tight I was in for a real experience. She was SO tight, and obviously holding her strong muscles clenched, that as I pressed against her I made no progress at all.

"It's okay baby," she said, "take it."

I grabbed her hips, the sculpted softness fitting my hand nicely, and thrust hard. After that first tightness, I slipped in with no trouble at all, my entire length inside her in that first sudden entry.

She cried out, but her back arched and she pushed back against me.

I set up a slow rhythm and liked the way she started flowing, wetting my thighs as she started cumming in waves.

When I finished, my final thrust pushed her forward, and I held myself, back arched, hands gripping her hips hard enough to make her groan, until I softened and slipped out.

"Thank you," she whispered, kissing me as she rolled over to share a pillow with me, "thank you," she said again, her fingers digging into my back, holding me to her, "thank you," she said again, softly, as she drifted off to sleep in my arms.