Horace and Billie

"It's very pretty -- and your . . . um, you're very pretty," he smiled holding his hand out to me, "you have a nice pretty pair of tits, too."

"Thank you," I smiled at him, climbing in beside him, "and it thanks you and my titties thank you," I snuggled into the warm and powerful feel of his arms. His soapy clean smell filling my nose.

We both heaved a long heartfelt sigh at the same time and he chuckled as I giggled. That night and for a couple of weeks after that, we didn't do anything other than just sleep in each other's arms, getting to know each other's bodies.

One warm afternoon, a few weeks later, his therapist had given his legs and back a thorough workout and he was hurting pretty bad, but he was a little more limber and good. He was walking around more and more and getting better every day. He was getting better so quick that I was both apprehensive and happy about his recovery. Apprehensive that he soon wouldn't need me anymore and would send me packing while at the same time happy that he was getting so much better. Anyway, he and Rhonda -- his cat, dammit, had just finished off a snack of sardines and crackers together and Rhonda sat happily wiping her face off, when Horace stood up. I was at the sink rinsing off the dishes, more or less getting geared up for our evening shower.

We had gotten to the point of taking a shower together, the pretext of helping him wash was still there, but we'd undress and it had become more of a pleasure for both of us rather than a chore for me. As for the dishes, it was just the two of us and Rhonda, and there just didn't seem to be that many things to wash, so I just used the sink. Anyway, there I stood, day-dreaming about the last few nights. We usually snuggled together when sleeping but lately I'd noticed his hard-on pressing up between my back-cheeks. It was hard not to notice it. He wasn't a humongous fellow, but he was nice-sized. His was about average-sized, still, it felt good laying along the crack of my ass, so I was day-dreaming about it and how good it would feel if he'd just slide it in me, just a little ways. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips to the back of my neck. He'd done it before, in bed, so I just sighed happily and leaned back into him, letting the flatware in my hands slide back into the dish-water and craned my neck for his lips. He pushed my long reddish brown hair to the side as he pressed his nose into the crook of my throat.

"You smell as marvelous as you taste," he whispered.

I reached up and cupped his stubbly chin in my soft palm.

"Umm," I sighed, "and you are so wonderful to notice," I smiled pressing my buttocks back into his hips.

Horace didn't shy away as he usually did when we accidentally bumped. I half-expected him to, but instead he pressed harder into my backside. I guess he was acting like his favorite expression, "in for a penny, in for a pound." He was in for it all. I enjoyed the feeling of his body pressing into mine wanting him so badly, wanting him to make love to me, wanting the physicality of his touch in my most private places, of his hands on my breasts -- aching to feel his hot semen flooding my throbbing colon. He pressed harder into me as I pulled his arms like a wrap tightly around me.

"I've never made love to . . . I mean, I never did . . . with someone, uh-h, well, I, I, I've never, um . . . with someone like you," he stuttered inanely, "but you are so lovely, so wonderful, and . . . and, uh," he'd run out of words, "well, um, I don't know how to act with you," he shook his head and buried it back into the side of my neck.

I turned in his arms and faced him, looking into his eyes as he pulled me in tightly.

"You make love to me just like a woman," I whispered, pressing my lips to his, kissing him and then caressing the side of his face with my lips, "just like any other woman," I pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"That's all I am, honey. A strangely shaped woman," he looked at me his eyes a little troubled, "I realize that you've never been with a man, and . . . well, you're still not with a man. I'm just a badly assembled woman."

"Well, uh," he stuttered a little, "could we . . .?" he tried to ask, "I mean, can we . . .?" he paused and pulled back a little, "I've never asked anybody . . . I mean, can you, uh . . . would you . . . show me? I mean, uh-mm, show me how to make love to you?"

I laughed gently and pulled his face back to mine.

"You're a man, honey, I don't need to show you how to do it, and there isn't anything about me that you haven't already seen . . . or touched."

He bent and kissed me again, this time sending his tongue exploring. I kissed him back with all the adoration and love that I could give him and wished that I had been born a real woman, just for him, for his peace. His kisses grew wild and hungry, gaining a passion that I'd never felt before, nor have ever felt since, with any other man.

"You're sleeping out here tonight, Rhonda," he smiled down at her as she wrapped herself around and around his ankles.

"Mr-r-r-rowr," she fussed.

He let me go reluctantly, "show me," he slid his hands down my arms as he let go, "show me how to love you."

He stood looking at me wonderingly for a few minutes before shaking his head and backing away.

"Finish up, I 've gotta go pot and I'll start the shower," he leaned in and gave me one last lingering kiss.

"Yes, sir," I whispered as he turned to go.

I quickly finished what little clean-up there was and almost ran to the bathroom. I heard the commode flush and the shower kick on. It would be a few minutes yet, so I undressed in the bedroom, dropping my clothes in the laundry hamper -- I knew where his probably were. I dug out my lubricant suppositories, no sense making it tough. Then, nude, I stepped into the bathroom. I was right, his clothes were all piled up -- neatly -- beside the commode as he stood like my beautifully handsome, imperfect god beside the shower. He had an adorable pot belly, as my handsome and wonderful man waited for the water to warm up.

He turned to me as he heard me, his eyes devouring me from head to toe and back again. I blushed -- well? What would you expect? I've never, ever, been looked at like that by anyone, male or female. It was the look of sheer animal lust and desire and -- and -- yes, it was there, too -- love. It startled me when I recognized the look. It was there where I least expected to see it. There where I'd never expected it. He looked at me with all the love a man could possess. I was so startled by it that I almost turned and ran.

I wasn't ready for it. I didn't feel as if I deserved it. I was only half a woman, not a real woman at all! But there it was. I stutter-stepped, almost falling forward as I literally forgot to step forward. I didn't turn and run like I thought of doing, as much as I wanted to. I couldn't turn away, I suddenly realized that I wanted his love, wanted it with all my heart and I was glad that it was directed at me. He reached for me as I half-stumbled and I flowed easily into his arms as he pulled me to him.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

We tired each other out and later lay spooning on our side facing a darkened TV, the only light was that from a waning half-moon silvering our bodies. Lying there with his body pressed tightly against mine, I felt so luxuriously wonderful. I lay half-asleep with his arms around me, his right was high and under my head, encircling my shoulder and loosely clutching my left breast. I held it pressed to me in my right, my left hand stretched back, resting on his bare left buttock. His left arm draped over my left hip with his hand tucked in my crotch. He held my little boy like a small cigar between his point finger and his index. His fingers curled around and under my vestigial peanuts. The best part of him was safely tucked between my cheeks, stretching in his sleep, to poke at those useless reminders of what I might have been.

I caressed his buttock and he shifted a little, sending his hardening delight burrowing further inward before it began to soften again and his baritone log sawing continued. I smiled and slept, thinking of how much I really loved this man.

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