I Am Mad About That Man

The snow in January poured down on the city. Traffic almost came to a standstill, cars moved slowly and silently. The snow absorbed all sound. The few who were out on foot moved slowly, it was icy under the snow. The snow removal service had not been able to clear the snow. Rachel pulsed her way along the street. She was dreaming of warmer places. She was certainly used to snow. The winters at home in Rochester could be both snowy and bitter. She had come to Sweden when she married a Swede five years ago. She had now been divorced for two years and has acquired Swedish citizenship. It was a challenging time in a new country. Luckily, she is a social person and can easily make contacts. But it is difficult to make new true friends when you are 35 years old. One way to do this was to participate in different projects and courses. Thankfully, she has some funds that her grandmother bequeathed to her, so she doesn't have to work. However, just doing nothing was no fun. She did some work in a café while she studied art history and architecture.

As part of her studies, now at master's level, she was about to start a course at the Open Lab at the Royal Institute of Technology. Luckily, she did her reconnaissance a couple of days ago, otherwise it would have been difficult to find the venue when everything was white, in the air, on the ground and in drifts against the building façades.

She entered the building where the course was taking place, brushed off the snow and walked up the stairs. Many participants had already arrived. Everyone seemed much younger than her, probably around 25. There were many foreign students, some spoke Swedish, but most spoke English. Still others came from Africa and spoke languages she had never heard before.

"Typical," she thought. "All the girls are clustered around a couple of tables. The Africans sit at their own. But there is also, strangely enough, an older white man. I wonder what he's doing there, not like a Swede."

She lingered in the doorway, then walked over and sat down at a table with boys. "Might as well start mixing a bit," she thought.

"Hi, my name is Rachel," she said in English. The language of the course was English, everyone was expected to communicate so that they all understood.

The others around the table introduced themselves and then there was silence, as is usually the case in Sweden. After a while, three teachers entered and started the course. Everyone was asked to stand along a wall, and they had to interview the person on the right. After a while, they would then present the person they had interviewed to the rest of the class. Rachel interviewed a woman from Ukraine, Natasha, a young pretty girl with big breasts, which she had squeezed into a slightly too small sweater.

Once the presentations were done, there were several other exercises to get to know each other. At the end of the first day, they were divided into project groups, six to seven in each group. Rachel's group was made up of a man from Kenya, one from Botswana, a girl from Sweden, a dark girl from Ethiopia and the older man who had sat with all the men from Africa. Their project was to investigate how an industrial area outside Stockholm could be developed and made more attractive.

At first everyone sat in silence. Then someone started talking. After a while, everyone talked, except for the older man, who sat and listened. Rachel became intrigued, wondering what he was doing on the course. He seemed to have a lot of experience, having been involved in many previous projects, she realized when they presented themselves. But he didn't make any fuss and let the others talk.

He would look at the person who was speaking, sometimes nodding his head. He had an open expression on his face and occasionally his eyes would sparkle. When someone said something that was a bit unusual, his face opened into a smile that spread to his eyes, sometimes he laughed when something was amusing.

On the second day of the course, most people brought lunch boxes with them. They warmed them and ate in an adjoining room. Rachel had noticed how the older man had disappeared the day before at lunch. She thought she wanted to accompany him.

"Where are you going to eat? Can I tag along?" she asked.

The man looked a little hesitant. Did he not want company, perhaps he preferred to eat by himself?

"Yes, welcome. I was thinking of going to a little pasta restaurant nearby." He didn't say more, but Rachel followed him.

Once they had ordered and sat at the table, Rachel started talking, telling him who she was and where she was from.

"Rochester? Hmm, I haven't been there, but I know that IBM had a big plant there. I worked for IBM several years ago, spent some time in the US, but never made it to Rochester. Was mostly outside New York, in White Plains. How did you come to Sweden; you are almost fluent in Swedish?"

The ice was now broken, and they chatted, told each other about themselves. Rachel was the one who talked the most. Her father had held a high position at the IBM factory, understood the company and its unique culture. The more they talked, the more interested Rachel became in Sten, the man's name.

In the group sessions, Sten was still quite quiet, but when he did speak, it was often worth listening to. He apparently wanted to give the others as much space as possible, he didn't want to be in the lead, as he had probably always done before in his work. Rachel tried to get him to participate more, asking him what he thought. Then he would say something, give some advice and input, without being intrusive. Rachel became more and more interested in him. She almost always joined him at lunch, it gave her a nice warm feeling to talk with him.

He listened to her a lot, nodding and looking at her when she talked. She mentioned her relationship with a couple of men, her mother, who wanted her to come home and give her grandchildren.

"I don't want children. It's hard to explain, but I just don't want to. My sister will have to take care of that."

"Yes, it is strange that it should be so hard not to want children, to choose not to have them," he agreed.

"I enjoy making babies, as long as it's not a consequence," she added.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, making love, having sex. Making love for a long time and enjoying each other. I like that part."

He looked at her, wondering what she was getting at, but didn't say much.

"Well, you're almost half my age. But I don't regret any of my three daughters. They are pretty much your age," he said.

Rachel had become increasingly fascinated by him. She wondered what she could do to make him interested in her. She began to dress a little more daringly. From previously wearing big sweaters and slightly baggy pants, she was starting to wear a tighter top and pants that were snug around her butt. If she had a cleavage, she would lean forward over the table when they ate, showing her breasts a little. He didn't seem to react.

Rachel thought of the old tune from the sixties, "I'm mad about the boy," but instead sang inside herself "I'm mad about that man," and "How am I going to get him." The latter with her own melody.

"There's an art exhibition that I'm going to. Would you like to come along tonight?" she asked one day in February.

Winter had not yet released its grip and both were dressed quite warmly when they met. They loosened up a bit when they arrived at the exhibition. Rachel had put on a rather short skirt and an almost daring top under her thick winter jacket. She saw how he gasped when he saw her.

"You are a very beautiful woman, Rachel; you're a natural work of art in your own right. It is an honour to be with you. It's great to experience this art with you," he said.

Rachel felt warm inside. "He notices me, he likes me. I want him. How to continue without being too eager, without being obvious?" she thought.

"Well, thank you. I find you handsome and very intriguing. And it's fun to do things with you."

They continued walking around. After a while they had seen and discussed the different works. They got ready to go out into the winter cold again. Just as they were about to wrap their warm jackets around themselves, Rachel took a step closer to him.

"Thank you for coming with me. It was an incredible time for me."

Then she got closer and hugged him. She pressed her body against his. At first, he did nothing, then he hugged her back. She felt her breasts pressed against his chest. "He feels so strong, so wonderful," she thought. She squeezed a little more into him and turned her face up to him, gave him a kiss on the cheek. He turned towards her, looking at her with that amazing smile. Then she put her lips to his. They met, lip to lip in the gallery's wardrobe.

It felt like an eternity, Rachel thought, an amazing eternity. When they parted, he was still smiling. His eyes watched her. Before he could disentangle himself, she leaned forward again, tilted her head slightly and kissed him again. She felt how his embrace became tighter, how he pressed her against him. She parted her lips slightly, he followed suit. After a while her tongue found its way between his lips, seeking his tongue. Both were now in a world of their own, only their bodies against each other, lips meeting in an increasingly intense kiss. She felt his body, how he got hard and how he pressed his bulge against her. She thrust with her hips. Rubbing a little back and forth.

He broke the kiss, looked at her, still smiling.

"Oh my God," he said. "What happened? Thank you, you are amazing, taste and smell so good. I'd like to eat you in many different ways, but you're almost half my age, I'm an old man."

"Thank you. Want more of you. To feel you against me. Is that a crazy thing to say? Can a woman say that? Oh, I got all jittery. Let's go somewhere and sit down?"

"Yes, a glass of wine, I feel like I would need it. I need to collect myself. And, to answer your question, of course women must be allowed to say what they like. I really appreciate it. But think about what you do want; you're playing with fire. You know that don't you?"

"It's a fire I want to both play with and be warmed by. I don't know what's gotten into me, but I want you. I want you now! Never mind the wine, come home, come home with me."

"What should a poor man do. No normal man would be capable of resisting you, you must know that. But is it right? Are we doing the right thing? To each other? I'm an old man."

"Never mind. Come on!" she said. He began to wrap his jacket around himself again.

They walked silently along the streets, hand in hand. They didn't notice the cold anymore, only the glow they had lit inside, the glow that warmed them. There was no need for words. She led him home to the flat she rented. When they entered the hall, threw off their jackets, they stood for a long time in an embrace. Their lips met again.

After a while she broke away. Looked at him and started pulling off his sweater and undoing his shirt. She saw his broad, rather hairy chest. She leaned forward. Kissing her way down from his neck to his small nipples. Bit them lightly as she unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. Pulled them down. Looked at the tent that had formed in his boxers. Pulled down his underwear and was greeted by a stiff, hard penis, standing straight out. It almost seemed to be pulsating. She went down on her knees, grabbed it, looked at it, now with a big smile, before kissing the top.

She rubbed her lips on his glans, slowly opened her mouth and sucked the top into her mouth. Played with her tongue. She felt the slightly salty taste of the pre-juice. She moved her mouth back and forth, letting the head of the penis sometimes be inside her mouth and sometimes outside. She looked up at him, saw that he still had a smile, but now more pleasurable.

After a while, he lifted her up. Held her at arm's length.

"Now my beautiful, it's your turn. Now I want to undress you, I want to see and explore your beautiful body. Then I want to make love to you."

He looked at her top, which tightened around her breasts. He grasped each of the sides and slowly pulled it up. She had a small, beautiful lace bra, which barely covered her breasts. It just gave them a bit of firmness. He reached behind her back and unbuttoned the bra; her breasts came free. He cupped them in his hands. They felt wonderful, firm and a little heavy. He looked at them, admiring their shape. Gravity had influenced them into a perfect shape, slightly rounded downwards. He seized a nipple. Rubbed it lightly between his fingers.

"Ohh, yes, oh. So good. More," he heard her whimpering. He put his face against one and sucked the nipple into his mouth.

"Yes, yes. Oh, my darling. Yes, more, more," she was saying.

As he sucked, lightly biting the nipple, his hands were active in loosening her skirt. It fell to the floor. She now stood in only a pair of stockings and a small, almost transparent panty. Sten detached his mouth from her nipple, got down on his knees, put his nose to her womb and drew her aroma into his nostrils. Put his nose close, close to her slit, almost so it penetrated the fabric. Breathed in again, and again. He licked the outside of her panties, wanting his tongue through the fabric. He felt how wet she was. Slowly he pulled the panties down, looked at her little bush, just above the slit. Stuck his tongue out and started licking her, from the bottom up. Rachel stood a little with her legs apart, giving him access to her female cave.

Sten licked and sensed how Rachel's juices flowed. He cupped the entire womb in one hand and caressed the opening with his fingers. Slowly, first one finger and then another slipped inside her. Angling his fingers, a little, he felt her slightly rough area at the front. Massaging her G-spot.

"Come, come, let's go to the bed, I want you now," Rachel murmured and pulled him into the bedroom.

She lay down on the bed with her legs apart, wanting him to enter her. He looked at her. Put his face and mouth on her womb. Started licking again and put two fingers inside her. Started pulling and at the same time licking around her clitoris.

"Ohh, what are you doing to me. Ohh, yes, yes, so lovely. More, I'm coming, oh, my darling. Now, now, now."

Sten felt her squeezing his fingers that were still inside her. His head was stuck between her thighs, as she came in an orgasm. He tried to keep pulling and licking through her orgasm, which just went on and on.

"Yes, yes, oh my God, yes, yes. So gorgeous. Oh, yes, yes," she continued to moan.

After a while Sten stood up. Spread her legs more and put his cock against her opening. Looked at her, questioningly.

"Yes, yes, come inside me. Now, now. Want you there in me. Want to feel your big cock filling my pussy. Yes, my darling. Take me, take me, fuck me," he heard her say.

He pushed his cock in. Her pussy was still tight from the orgasm, but she was so wet that it was no problem. He sank into her. Lying on top, he began to pull out with long strokes and then push back in a little faster. Again, and again. He notices how she is humping against. She moaned every time he got the furthest in. She squeezed her muscles around his cock, massaging it with all her insides. She felt how he filled her and how the veins on his cock rubbed a little extra. Both were completely in their own world. It was just the two of them, his cock, and her pussy, being stretched by his cock.

He put his hands on her tits. Increased the pace and at the same time pressed his hands against her breasts, which filled his palms. A nipple stuck up between two of his fingers. He bent down and licked it, pinching it with his fingers. He heard her moaning.

"Yes, squeeze my tits, bite the nipple, oh so good. Fuck now, harder, harder," he heard her moaning. At the same time, she had her hands on his back, putting her nails in his shoulder blades and pushing them into him. Scratching him a little. Felt him tense his muscles.

The heat built up again, Rachel felt her orgasm, which had only been dormant, begin to blossom again. Getting new energy. Sten didn't have long to go either. He hadn't had sex in over a year, there was a lot pent up in him. Rachel noticed that he increased the pace, how his cock, if possible, felt even bigger. As she got tighter and tighter, until she exploded in another orgasm.

"Nooow, nooow, I'm coming, coming. You must come too. I want you squirting inside me, now come on. Ohh, yes, yes."

Rachel squirmed wildly under Sten. The orgasm had taken full control of her. She could barely breathe, only spluttering with her mouth open. Sten made a few more quick jerks, and she felt his cock begin to twitch and squirt. Once, twice, three times. It would never end. But after a while, Sten just lay completely still on top of her. Both were completely exhausted. They just lay there, panting.

Suddenly Rachel started laughing and laughing.

"Oh, my darling. How I have tried and tried to get you here, inside me. You are amazing. I don't want to stop making love to you. At last, how I've longed1"

"What, you have? Why didn't you say anything?" Sten asked, a little uncomprehending.

"Oh, you men. You see nothing. What should a woman do to make you understand? But now, now, at last I have got you. Won't let you go. Now you're mine, mine. And when I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk. Will have blisters on your dick. Just so you know!"