Interlude with Ermintrude

The most sexually responsive woman I have ever known is called Ermintrude. Not quite the name for a female forever on the brink of coming? And she appears the image of the sourest puss of a cast-iron virgin schoolmarm you can imagine. Further, she has looked like that since she was eleven, she tells me, and she is now sixty-seven. But she is also, she says, as ready as ever to tip into a sequence of orgasms, and I can well believe it. She claims, too, that she always deliberately dressed to be taken for that sexless spinster who has never admitted a hint of desire. She even sports pince-nez, secured to her bosom with a black ribbon.

There are, however, little clues to her true disposition, and those who detect them may be abundantly rewarded. That bosom, for example, is prominent and seems to come at you, like the prow of an approaching ship. And when the vessel has passed, you may note that the shapely stern undergoes an intriguing jigging, circling motion.

Facially, too, she is at first forbidding, for her nose is thin and aquiline, her chin recedes and her cheeks are hollow. She uses no cosmetics or perfumes, other than baby-powder and lavender-water. But, again, there are signs she is not the dried-up dame you at first assumed. For her lips are full and prone to little secret smiles, and her dark eyes behind the round lenses are large and lustrous, contrasting agreeably with her short white hair.

She is in my mind because yesterday Trude, as her intimates call her, came to the gallery with her latest picture. She makes a modest living as an artist. I have sat for her when she needed a female nude, sittings always ending highly enjoyably, when she shifts her concentration from the painting to the sitter. She also amuses herself with erotic pieces from time to time. This latest presents the interior of a suburban house with its front wall removed, so we can survey its kitchen, sitting-room and two bedrooms. In each room, there is a couple.

In the kitchen, the housewife is bent forward over the table, skirt round her waist and her knickers round her knees, and a delivery-man, in uniform, with trousers down, inserting his enormous penis between the cheeks of her fleshy bottom.

In the sitting-room, the husband has what is probably the baby-sitter on her back on the sofa, while he kneels on the carpet between her legs, running shorts at his ankles, offering his organ, which she is guiding towards her gaping vagina.

In one bedroom, the daughter's, as we know from its décor and posters, a half-naked young man has lifted the girl, his hands clasped under her bottom, so that she can wrap her legs rounds his waist, ensuring that his penis is part-way into her shaven pussy.

In the other bedroom, that of the son, the young man is naked from the waist down while a girl-friend, naked from the waist up, has just gathered from him a glaze of sperm on her huge breasts.

The caption is born on the house's name-plate, 'Home-Coming.'

When I had admired, and accepted this opus, she took me in her arms and kissed me long and hard, tongue probing everywhere in my mouth. Then, as I expected, she said, 'Can you do me, Norma love? I need to get off, if you've the time.'

My answer was to lock the door and slip off my shoes. She did the same.

Trude is not only the most orgasmic woman I know but the quickest to come, and I enjoy greatly bringing her off. I can now reveal what she has worn for fifty years under the high-necked white blouse and dark grey skirt of her customary costume. For, when I had undone the little buttons and lifted off the blouse, there was the industrial-strength bra, with the straps like belts, and the thick cotton cups, permitting only an inch of cleavage.

'As usual, I see,' I said, wrestling with the tamper-proof fastener, 'Where do you get these vintage breastplates?'

'In the market, my dear, as ever. They have tougher ones than this, bullet-proof.'

I detached the cups, which seemed for a moment determined to cling round the beautiful breasts, for though Trude is in her sixties, her tits would be envied by women forty years younger. Her nipples are among the longest I have ever seen. They must be doubled up in those starchy bras. They sprang erect with their usual alacrity when exposed.

'There they go,' she said, 'Like little cocks. It's your looking at them - it makes them want to show off. Give them a suck, darling. You know what'll happen.'

I put an arm round her and bent to take the right one in my mouth. She came at once, hissing through her teeth, holding onto me. 'That naughty nipple,' she said, 'It's got a hot line to my acorn, that one.' That is her word for her clitoris. 'Try the other one.'

The moment my lips closed round the left one she came again, tense for a minute or so, then said, 'Another super-highway to the little oak. Now, dear Norma, you know I've got to see your nips. I just crave to see everything, as you know.'

This was the woman who could come watching a cock erect, and come again when it ejaculated. She loved breasts, too, and mine were soon in her hands and my nipples standing to attention. 'Let me feel in your pants now. Are you nice and wet? That's what I want. Here we go, up the leg and in. Lovely, so slippy, like mine. We'll get to that soon, but now I'm going to plumb that pussy-pie. Nice and hot round my finger. Perhaps if I tweak this little nubbin - yes, that stands up for me, too. There's a gasm ready, isn't there? I so much like it inside your knick-knacks. Let's have a look at them. Nice. Look at your brush peeking out. Now I'm going to send you over. Fingers and thumb, fingers and thumb, and here you come. Yes, darling, yes! Let me have it. A little flood - oh! That's done it!' And she came, too, as my climax flowed through me. 'Now finish undressing,' she commanded. 'I want to ogle your gorgeous bum.'

This was her regular procedure. Come with the nipples, look at my tits, put her hand in my knickers and bring me off, making her come again, then get me fully naked. And I was, of course, happy to oblige. She turned me round and licked my bottom, ran her fingers into and down my crack, fiddled with my anus and gathered my cheeks in her hands. 'You have a lovely bott, you know. I love to heft it like this, though there's plenty left I can't hold, I'm glad to say. I do like a generous botty. Do you know what this is called? This crease under the cheeks. The gluteal fold, and yours folds splendidly over my fingers. My folds are deeper, but then that's probably because my ancient arse is sagging.'

'There's nothing sagging about you, Trude,' I told her. 'I bet those folds are like they always were since you grew that super bott.'

'Well, yes, they seem much as ever, excellent for holding the knicker-legs. Your folds ought to do the trick, too, though these little girl panties you wear probably climb up your gluteal crease. They're going to climb up my crease soon. But now I want you to go into my knicks and have a rummage.'

Trude is a wonderfully knickery woman. She likes to finger off women, and men, in their pants, and to be tossed off in her own. I was soon, therefore, finding my way up under her left panty-hem and stirring her fuzz with my fingers.

'Good girl,' she said, 'Stroke pussy. Down the slippery slide, and dive in. Yes. Cunny is sucking your fingers. Can you feel it? Hovering on the edge now, dear Norma. Just a bit of a stirabout. That's it. Here it comes!' And she came, gripping my hand between her thighs.

There is hardly a pause in the proceedings with Trude, and on we went to the next stage. 'Take 'em off, girl,' meaning my panties. She took them and took a deep sniff. 'Lovely! I've been trying to find out for years whether the cun-cun smells different after the coming. Now let's have a look. Oh, nice. You're open, aren't you? Those tidy labia of yours are folded back. I can almost see inside. Sit on your chair now.'

I sat, legs wide apart, and she knelt between them, hefted a breast in her hand and guided its nipple into my vestibule, slightly shaking the tit to agitate its hard tip in my vulva.

'Don't you just love to watch that?' she asked. 'It feels so good. It's going to come me again, but I want you to be with me. Let's try something new. What if I touch your little bell-push with my nip-nip? Does that feel good to you? Will it come you? It will do me.'

'Yes,' I said, 'It's so delicate and beautiful to see. I'm coming!'

'Me, too!' And we came together, joyfully.

She stood and removed her skirt, and the waist-slip, and stood in knickers only. And these are probably a surprise to those enjoying her favours for the first time, for she always wears schoolgirl navy-blues, all enveloping, waist to gluteal folds.

'Still ready for gym, then?' I said.

'You know, they just aren't as sturdy nowadays,' she said. 'In the old days, they were much thicker and with proper elastic, which left a red furrow when you took them off. Boys used to love going up the legs and rubbing off. The gallons of sperm I caught in my bloomers! Now take them off.'

I knew from before that the best way was to put my hands under the waist-elastic and push them down, enjoying the view of her bottom, rounded belly, and, eventually, puss-fur, as white as the hair on her head. There is always the magic moment when the gusset comes free from the vulva as the pants travel on down the thighs, and I relished the revelation of her vulval crease which started high on her mons, like a young girl's slit. Both sets of labia were swollen from her coming, the inner ones also parted a little. But what I was mainly expecting, and then enjoying, was her huge clitoris.

No wonder she had her own name for it, because that is just what it looked like, though not in colouring, of course. Its rounded, glistening, pink glans emerges from the encircling hood, like the acorn protruding from its case. It pokes permanently out of the first folds of the labia, though not as far when dormant. Now, naturally, it was fully erect, and while most clits I have seen, including my own, point down and back, hers sticks straight out, like a little cock.

We were now approaching our last shared orgasm for this occasion, as she said, 'Change places and give me your knickers. You know where they're going.'

She sat in the chair, pelvis thrust forward and legs as wide apart as they would go, and then she began to cram my knickers up her vagina, wriggling and murmuring, 'Up they go, full of Norma, mixing our slimes,' and as they disappeared she drew her inner lips together and patted them into place. 'All gone,' she said, 'Right inside, up to the very top. Now suck my acorn, while I'm panty-fucking.'

I knelt between her legs, took her acorn between my lips and sucked into my mouth as far as it would go. Then I kept flicking it with my tongue, keeping my lips closed.

'Heavenly,' she said, 'Ready to go. Rub your quimmy with my knick-knacks. You'd never get them inside, but get the gusset on your clitlet. I want my oozes to smear you off.'

Nothing loth, I scrabbled about around me and found her knickers on the floor, sought the damp patch, and rubbed my clit with it. Her excitement was sweeping me towards climax. I could sense hers gathering in my mouth.

'Can you feel my nectar, Norma? Catch yours in my bloomies for me. I'm gripping yours oh so tight inside me. They're fucking me, fucking me, making me come. Here I come, darling. Come with me, come with me. Now!'

Yes, I did. Holding her knickers against my soaking slot, releasing her acorn and giving it a farewell kiss. Until next time.

She stood and commanded, 'Dress me, Norma,' and I followed the order she liked. First the bra, making sure the breasts were comfortably settled. Then the blouse, buttoned to the top. Then the skirt, zipped into place, blouse properly in place, pulled tight by reaching up the skirt and pulling. Then the slip, its elastic under the tails of the blouse. Lastly, I held the knickers, she stepped into them and I drew them up under the slip, ensuring they were correctly settled. The slip was actually to help shield the skirt from the damp in the navy-blues.

We embraced tenderly and held a long kiss. Then she slipped on her shoes, patted my bottom and went. I went into the little bathroom with my clothes and shoes, sponged myself off, combed my hair and dressed. Since I was now knickerless, and possibly still leaking a little, I put in a tampon, unlocked the door and resumed my work, wondering, as always, what she did with the knickers she took home inside her, for she always collected these souvenirs from her female lovers. Perhaps she had a special drawer full of them, fragrant from their owners' effusions, a cuntscent symphony.