Lady Libertine Ch. 05: More than a Wet Dream

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Todd offers Jeanette a new education.
2.6k words
5
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Part 5 of the 7 part series

Updated 10/30/2022
Created 11/13/2014
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I awakened to the faint scent of coffee, so I knew Todd had been up for awhile. Yet, I could not quite will myself to get up, because a new sense of well-being and contentment seemed to engulf me. But then, I began to doubt. I wondered if last night had been a dream. Maybe, it had all been a dream.

How could I have reacted so sensuously to Todd's body? Last night my body behaved in a way I had never experienced before with the one man I have made love to for over forty years. How could my body respond in a way that I did not even know existed? I am sixty-two, and I behaved as if I were a wanton whore moaning and screaming out in ardent love making and then giggling and laughing as cum came gushing and jetting out of me. Yes, it could have been an odd dream that brought out something sexually in me that I must have read about sometime during my life.

And then I remembered the towel. I rolled onto my side to look down at the floor. There was the rumpled bath towel. I picked it up and was surprised at its extra weight. "That cannot be full of cum," I thought. Suddenly, I was aghast as I realized that Todd had not been honest with me. "No, it had to be pee," I insisted.

I threw the covers off and walked naked over to our closet. I stood in front of the sliding mirror doors and smiled at the curves of my body. No, I was not a thin Barbie doll but had a voluptuous toned body. I always marveled how much it looked like the full-figured goddess body carved in stone by ancient cultures. Suddenly, my mind went back to several days ago when I had put on my most seductive attire to deliver my letter of appeal to Santa's helper.

"Such a silly idea and almost manic behavior," I said to myself. "No, it was manic and very unrealistic to write Santa for help in restoring passion to our marriage," I said to myself with a chastising look.

I put on my warm purple velveteen robe that tied around my waist. I enjoyed how it revealed my cleavage and draped open to expose my thighs when I crossed my legs. I went into the kitchen and found Todd rinsing the dishes from last night's dinner. "Odd," I thought, wondering why he was not in his office checking on the stock market.

"Good morning, Beautiful," he said with a broad smile as he turned to the sound of my footsteps. I wondered how it was that he did not get cold in his black tee shirt and black thigh-hugging briefs. Suddenly, I found it difficult to meet his eyes, and I realized that I had become shy around him. He must have sensed my reticence, because he immediately asked, "What?"

I reached across the counter for the glass carafe and poured myself a cup of coffee. Then I walked over to the little dinette table in the kitchen nook and sat down on a chair. Todd followed my lead and joined me. I stared into the black liquid for a few moments before speaking.

"I peed while making love last night. You behaved so gallantly, but I peed, and I am so embarrassed," I confessed.

"I will be right back," replied Todd.

I sat there wondering where he had gone. I thought about how he often seemed to excuse himself when I was almost in mid sentence. Then I'd find him checking the scores of some ball game or stock market trends. He would apologize for having become distracted. At times, I would become jealous as if some mistress that I could not compete against had once again seduced him.

Yet, Todd returned quickly. "Come follow me," he commanded. I did not dare defy that look of authority, which he rarely displays.

"What?" I asked.

"Just come with me," he repeated.

Todd took my hand and guided me into our guestroom that also serves as his office. "I want you to sit down and look at this," he instructed. I hid my frustration, because I was not it the mood to look at some chart to see how his investments have met his goal. A positive stock market was not going to take away my humiliation.

"Sit down and click at this arrow."

The photograph on the monitor surprised me. My eyes rested on a nude dark-skinned man with a huge erection preparing to place his cock into the slit of a slender young blonde who was reclining on a chaise lounge. "Why do I want to see this?" I wondered silently. However, I behaved, and I clicked the arrow, which turned a stationary picture into an erotic video.

"Now watch," said Todd.

And there it was. Suddenly a stream of liquid was spurting upwards from the woman's cunt. It happened over and over as the long hard erection teased the lips of her vulva as well as thrusting deeply inside of her.

"That is what you did last night. You squirted and gushed. You have always gotten wet, just not so profusely."

"How do you know about this?" I asked. "No, that is not what I mean. How is it you knew about this but never told me?" I asked somewhat irritated that such an experience had been kept a secret from me.

"I believe that lots of people know about this, even though it is almost a taboo topic for conversation," explained Todd. "However, I only thought that a few women did it. I did not understand how it was that women ejaculated like this, so there was no reason to ever tell you."

"As I said, you have always become wet for me, and I believed that was very natural," he added. "And then, I figured that after menopause, you would have less interest in sex due to the changes in your body. So, why would I give you this information about squirting?"

Todd's explanation made sense. But now I had to wonder how much there was to Todd that I did not know. After more than forty years of marriage, I am suddenly discovering that he not only reads erotica and but watches videos of women squirting cum all over her partner's balls.

"He always seemed to act like such a pure and gallant boy scout," I thought silently. And suddenly I began to realize something. Had I always responded to him sexually as if he were a pure and gallant boy scout? If such a thing were possible, could that mean that I responded to him all these years as if I were a pure girl scout? Is it possible that we each played some role of "proper sexual partners" (whatever that means), while desiring to explore more luscious titillations? Had my erotic writing really opened some new door?

Images of last night's love making flooded into me, and I broke into a belly laugh soon followed by a fit of hysterical laughter. "I squirted!" I exclaimed.

Todd was standing behind the chair. He reached from behind me and stuck his hands into my robe. He squeezed each heaving breast. I felt his warm breath on my neck as he began kissing me behind my ear while twisting my nipples. "Oh, God!" I exclaimed as an intense throbbing of my insides stifled my laughter. "No, we can't. You will be late to the gym," I protested.

Todd released by breasts and turned the swivel chair around so I was facing him. He lifted my hands and pulled me forward making me rise to my feet. He guided me into a quarter turn and then let go. I flopped down on the high bed. My purple robe fell away like an up-side-down V from my navel to reveal my landing strip. My butt was at the edge of the bed, and my feet hung down towards the floor.

I watched as Todd stepped out of his briefs and drew his tee shirt off over his head. He bent over towards me and pulled one tasseled end of the velvet rope that held my robe overlapped at the waist. The robe fell open and revealed my entire torso for his examination. Now, only long purple velvet sleeves adorned my arms.

I raised myself forward when I saw his erection. Yes, his delight was palpable as I reached for the swollen bulb on the end of his hardened shaft that stood straight up. It had been a long time since I had seen Todd so turned on, and his member looked menacing. Todd grabbed my calves and began spreading me legs apart. I attempted to twist to my side in order to bring my knees together in defense.

"Nice try," he said, standing in the nude at the foot of the high bed. He held my ankles in the crooks of his arms, which raised my legs up high. He thrust his cock at the lips of my vulva several times. My genitals reacted in protest to the dry scratchy assault on my clit and sent forth a gush of thick cum from my cunt. The feeling was sensational and beyond words, so I merely screamed out my pleasure, "Ohhhh God!" No I was not using God's name in vain, but in deep reverence of an experience that must be a divine gift.

"God, your cunt is gleaming!" groaned Todd. Quickly moistened with glistening cum, Todd trust his cock deeply into me several times and then withdrew himself to rub the plum-like tip of his shaft on my already swollen clit. "Stop!" I begged, my insides exploding as a fountain of elixir squirted all over his pubic hair and testicles. Then he began to rub his member up and down my swollen inner labia and clit. I cried out for mercy as my cunt squirted and gushed over and over as he rubbed himself upon me from the bulb-like tip of his penis down the entire length of his shaft to his balls.

He repeated the ritual over and over; penetrating me deeply and then almost driving me crazy as he rubbed his genitals upon my vulva and clit. Each time fluids spewed forth from me. "I am spent," I finally begged. "There's nothing left."

"There is your gorgeous red swollen pussy," Todd replied as he began pressing his weight against me while quickening the rocking motion of his hips. And once again I groaned as my body tensed as I emitted another stream of cum that drenched both our nether regions.

Todd finally announced that he would let me rest. "I am going to take a shower," he said. I lay there drained. I watched him back away with his member still hard and erect against his belly. I saw a new gleam in his eyes before he turned away and walked out of the room with a new spring in his step.

And then I remembered that he had not let himself ejaculate: not last night or this morning. Suddenly, he looked years younger, even though the streaks of grey were still there in his strawberry blonde hair. Something very different was going on. Something I dared to call pleasurable beyond measure.

I got up to do some of my own research on the Internet while Todd showered. I had done research on female ejaculation years earlier with little to report. I "googled" again and found a 2013 article in the Journal of Sexual Medicine from a medical doctor who did an extensive search for studies on this topic. I read the conclusion:

"Experts all agree that many women experience 'female ejaculation.' There are enough scientists that believe female ejaculation from lubricating glands to be a true phenomenon and far be it from me to say it isn't so. Clearly, women expel a variety of fluids during sexual activity and orgasm. I will say, I have yet to have a patient complain that she doesn't ejaculate, or that she used to ejaculate and would like to 'fix it.' So, if you do notice a spurt or gush of fluid at the height of ecstasy, it is nothing to worry about. If you do not, it's not something that needs fixing."

"Fixing?" I laughed. But then I remembered that I had been worried by the experience, and it was Todd who had educated me. No, I had never received any education anywhere else. I could understand how women might become quite inhibited by such a thing happening.

"The medical literature is so confusing," I decided. All I could believe is what was happening to me. I squirt a liquid, and the experience is extremely pleasurable for Todd and me. I gush a thicker substance, and the experience is extremely pleasurable for Todd and me.

The more important question on my mind was: How did this happen to a woman past menopause? But, in reality, the question is unimportant. What is important is that Todd is beginning to find me irresistible. Even more important, I am beginning to develop new sense of humor around sexuality and becoming more openly seductive around Todd. But, I do go back to the question: How did this happen?

*********

In another land, Santa was preparing to do his part with Jeanette. She had written her letter of appeal, and so far, Mrs. Santa had taken care of all the preliminaries. Yet, Jeanette had moved along more quickly than either he or Mrs. Santa had anticipated.

Santa had done his best to take naps during the day. When not napping he was reviewing his notes with Mrs. Santa.

"Are you ready for the predawn lesson?" asked Mrs. Santa as she sprawled on the couch looking over his notes.

"I guess as ready as I will ever be," admitted Santa. "Jeanette is a good student. In fact, we saw today that she uses her own self for research. I am beginning to wonder if she already knows what I am going to share with her."

"If she knows, it is only at an unconscious level," explained Mrs. Santa. "It is important that she understand on a conscious level. Otherwise, her progress might be stunted," warned Mrs. Santa. "We could not have better candidates for this experiment in moving forward.

"Experiment?" asked Santa. "What do you mean experiment?"

"You know it has been a long time since we have created a Lady Libertine. The risks are high. In the past, women have gone from being devoted wives to insatiable nymphomaniacs. Remember the times of ostracism and even death for such 'crimes.' We do not want to risk that with Jeanette even though today's society is much more open-minded."

"She and Todd have been through so much when they lost their son. They are devoted to their daughter and their two young grandchildren. We cannot risk any detrimental consequences. So seriously, I am asking you once again. Are you ready for your predawn lesson that you are going to give to Jeanette?" queried Mrs. Santa.

"Well, I know one thing; I am hungry. But, more importantly, I am not hungry for food but for you. It is amazing how sexy I find your mind to be. You are so cute when you take things so seriously. Trust me; I am ready," announced St. Nicholas.

"But so much napping has conserved my strength, and all I can think about is you," admitted Santa. "Oh, how I fear that thinking of your delights will distract my mind from remembering important details," teased Santa.

"Are you never satisfied; never satiated?" giggled Mrs. Santa.

"No, not as long as you squirt and gush the way you do whenever I touch you," admitted Santa. And she giggled as he knelt on his knees next to the couch and began lifting her skirt.

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AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Mrs. Santa

... and I thought Santa only comes once a year! Nice job; looking forward to the next chapter.

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