Les Désirs des Femmes Pt. 03

Young guys like me could start getting complacent after breezing into the lives of older women we really did not know, and finding their panties coming down in no time at all. I'd had two unforgettable recent visits to two very fine women... I had to be careful not to get carried away.

All their lusting after me could have made me get big-headed, cocky, arrogant. But I have a little wisdom, and when I was back home I left the amazing online list alone for a week, just getting on with my routines; studying a little, putting in a few kilometers on the bike through beautiful countryside and trying to get better at guitar, messing around with simple chords and melodies.

But of course my thoughts soon enough drifted back to "Les Désirs des Femmes", the treasure-box of promises that had fallen into my life by chance, offering up ways to meet all the women who had ever desired me (see part 1 of this series). There had been 44 names on that list, and as I sat down in front of it again, I knew that I just had to see... her.

They say never go back, but was this the same? Never go back to places where you had the best ever holiday or best ever restaurant meal, and all that, sure. But as far as the biggest crush of my teenage years goes, I had never actually "been" there, so how could I disappoint myself knocking on that door now?

Her name was Anne and she was by far my greatest teenage crush, roughly from when I first saw her when I was 13 to when I went away to college, although, of course, my awareness of her all-in-one gorgeous, sexy, homely, cheeky-cheerful, feminine, smart and ever so slightly flirty self never went away. I never could. She was special. If someone had offered me a night with her, even a kiss with her during any year of my life since then, I would have kicked the door down at the chance.

I will simply say that she was a married friend of my parents, but whose husband was a little full of himself, expecting her to be for ever in his shadow and never his equal, and so me aged around 17 got around to imagining that he was not treating her well and that it was just too unfair for her to be left uncared for and frustrated. And so I thought... what can I do about it?

I won't go into the details of those times, as I am sure you can imagine well enough the fantasies I cooked up: the sneakily arranged imaginary rendez-vous, the accidental brushing against her, the hilarious climbing up the drianpipe at her home, to be welcomed to her bed and to kiss her long-unkissed body. We've all been there... and we have almost all enjoyed the many, many times pleasuring ourselves alone, with our crushes playing the game to perfection right there in our mind's eye, stripping off for us, or being trapped together in the elevator, or dragging us behind the bushes and screwing us silly, time and again; and how simple it all seemed... Thank the heavens above for crushes and teenage fantasies!

Anne was just under 40 when I first met her, not quite knowing where to divert my eyes to from her curves and besides, she had great hair, eyes and lips, and I could never focus on her words, as I fell quickly into infatuation. She once gave me a lift in her car, into town 3 miles away, just to be neighbourly, and I can tell you I must have embarrassed myself with the halting, brainless handful of words I must have spoken to her then, just the two of us in her car, maybe 20 inches apart - her hand on the gear-stick beside my knee, and the car seeming to me more and more like some seperate country only we two existed in, and could it stay like that for ever, please? And can we stop sometime, Anne, please, and see about you letting me hold you... even, Holy Christ... touch you where I want to touch you, and you touch me, and kiss me?

Where would we be without crushes?

Even worse was the time my parents were out of town for one night and they did not want me being home alone that night, even aged 17, so they had asked Anne to let me sleep over at her home that night, when, coincidentally, she was also home alone, her husband away on business and her son away on some school trip or other. The most electrically charged and agonizing night of my life, in which, of course, I never got near to managing anything with Anne, but the possibilities were screaming at me from every direction as I first arrived with overnight bag and climbed the stairs right behind her, noting her perfume and skirt material and slippers (even they were sexy!) and the sweetest voice I knew.

Then later as I brushed my teeth in her bathroom, almost feeling her through the wall, and finally as I lay in her guest-room bed just after putting the lights out, praying and wishing that she would come in to see if I was alright, and did I need her to sit on my bedside, and did I mind if she just reached under my duvet for a minute, and...

That, dear readers, is a twenty page story in itself; how I nearly went to her room a half hour later that night, how I envisioned silently climbing into bed beside her, smiling before our first kiss, and hoping that she would lead me joyfully along the path up to teenager heaven. But I'll leave that to your endless imaginations, and get back to what I did about Anne now, three years later.

Anne B-------. She's right there, low down on the list I had stumbled upon, of women who had ever desired me, and I felt like the proverbial kid in the toy-shop, with just one big toy beaming back at me. Anne, my Anne.

She still lived in the same place, I knew that, and the great news from my perspective was that her shit-head husband had moved out after marriage troubles, unspecified, and her son, whom I knew a little and who was, unlike his mother, reserved and a little awkward, was off at college, so the house was now a palace and castle just for Queen Anne herself. I have to see her, I have to try something, but I do not want to mess this up, coming on too strong or arrogant - seeing as she is on my women with desires for me list.

It could go very badly. She might just have had a silly, momentary fantasy about me years ago and would now send me to hell if I even half-way suggested she might still desire me. I had to make a plan.

# # #

Lady Luck moves in mysterious ways, and I found my opening only two days later. My brother had been sent round to Anne's house by my parents earlier that day, to give back some baking dishes that had passed between our homes to do with a dinner party not long ago. When he got back he had a cheeky grin on his face and looked a little flushed.

"Well, Anne's in the Christmas spirit," he chirped, as he passed me in the kitchen.

"In what way?" I asked, immediately turned on to any chance to hear anything about the target of my new lusting.

My parents were not at home, so my brother was bold enough to put it into plain words:

"She's got misteltoe up by her front door, and she pulled me in for a kiss on both cheeks. And screw me, man, she nearly gave me a third, but stopped herself, and her hand brushed my hair, and her blouse was gaping a little. She might even have had a glass of something, she was... flirty, bro!"

I hope I was able to control my reactions to this, and my brother did not know about my ongoing crush on Anne, so I continued to do the dishes, chatting with him about this and that, then tidied up a little more in the kitchen before making a dumb excuse about going out for some fresh air.

No time to lose. I headed right over there, heart beating pretty solidly as I neared the house, with its familiar oak beamed front, roses climbing the walls, and her glistening red SUV in the driveway.

Flirty blouse gaping? Seemed a bit tipsy? Misteltoe kisses? This was like ten Christmases in one. So, please, please, please be alone, Anne! Please have a little free time... and please imagine that you can flirt with me, you really can. I totally wish for that and nothing else....

I rang the doorbell as soon as I stepped up onto the porch. Nothing screws these moments up more than overthinking and hesitating and wondering, and I looked down to see if I looked OK. I can never be sure about how I look, so for now, let's hope I look OK.

Anne opened the door. Beautiful, feminine, sexy Anne. My Anne.

What will happen in the next minutes, Anne?

And now. It's me - and her, right here, after I had lusted after her - for over six years. This is a massive moment for me. Go well, brother...

"Hi, great to see you," she began, her sparkly style already out there. "Two lovely brothers at my door on the same day? What have I done to deserve this?"

Her smile was, as ever, the best. Her all-embracing friendliness still a wonder. I adore this woman, I love her goodness, I love her radiance. And I love those open blouse buttons. And I love your amazing eyes behind perfect, almost too trendy glasses, Anne, and your style, and your hair, and your breasts, yes, let it be known, let me shout it from the rooftops - your breasts are too glorious, and your voice, your voice, a little squeaky and raspy, and seductive without even trying.

And what is her voice saying? Her mouth is moving...

I was almost in a trance, she was so magically hot, I could barely pull myself together, but I heard the end of her next sentence:

"... not every day of the year I have misteltoe up!"

And she ushered me into the hallway and closed the door slowly and silently behind herself.

I was about to go into my spiel about why I had gone round there, something about getting a recipe for the dinner party dishes my mum had liked so much, but we did not get onto that.

Something made me snap out of my semi-trance, and my self-determination kicked back in. It had to. I was not going to allow passiveness to take my moment away. I wanted to show her, and myself, that I had something in mind.

Anne was standing beside the small sprig of misteltoe, with a hint of cheekiness in her smile, and I took a bold pace towards her, stopped, paused a little, looking with meaning into her eyes and then I took the last half step forward and felt our bodies touch for the first time ever.

Her soft, adorable front touching mine, now my left hand holding her right hand, and I placed my lips gently on her cheek, delivering a blissfully delicate first little kiss, then slowly I moved to the other cheek and gave her another, slightly longer kiss there, all the while entwining my fingers as much as I dared, with hers.

After a heart fluttering pause, she leaned forward and kissed me on the left cheek, then on the right, slower again, and we paused again, body against body.

"Happy Christmas," she whispered.

Then, with a calm and real warmth in her face, she said six terrible and glorious words. Words of ice and fire, the all or nothing...

"I've always known about your crush."

# # #

"Then you won't mind me doing this." I said

...and launched into what was to be the most blissful two hours of my life. We kissed wildly from the first minute, raw passion, hunger and energy. She pulled me close and I just went for her body with both hands, shamelessly. Her skirt was up in no time and the irreversible momentum was upon us.

I left her ripped blouse on her shoulders but went wild again, hearing her moans of pleasure as I smothered her breast tops with kisses, then my whole face sought what I lusted after there, then swiftly lips returned to lips, fingers were in hair, bodies thrust together. I could not believe the sexiness of her half exposed tits; truly my fantasy, almost ballooning out from within her white lacy bra, one surely designed to push up and show off, the shadows and bulges there screaming at me to adore them...

And she was not slow to get me naked - my belt gave her no trouble, my T-shirt was too easy, the shoes were off, I don't know how, and we were away. I drank in the sight of her only in bra and panties. Oh, how I had longed for this! Lusted for this! Give me this! Give it now!

Yet something, maybe my good upbringing and the respect for her advantage in years on me, made me falter at my next move to get her naked. I cannot just pull Anne's panties down can I?

Surely I can't...

But she had other ideas and in a low, almost animalistic voice she commanded me forward.

"I've wanted this too! Now do me, for God's sake!"

But I wanted the place to be right, so I took her by the hand again and I pulled her as she pushed me up the stairs and around to her bedroom and I threw her down on her own bed.

My tongue went to her panty-front, let me, let me, let me... in a fantasy I have always had. Tease with the tongue, through the panties. Yes, yes, yes, yes... I was in heaven - then I have no idea how her panties came off, but they were gone, and it took amazing control from me not to try to beat her pussy up with my tongue, I was so turned on.

But I took half a breath and started to work her labia, adoring her wetness, her sweetness, her heat. She had my fresh erection in her hand and the noises from her mouth were all pleasure. The rounds of kisses, then mouths on bodies, her tits all over my face, my fingers failing to resist and gently pushing her legs apart and entering her as she muttered yes-es; her hair playing out on the bedsheet top, her legs spreading more in glorious welcome, my thigh muscles feeling the strain as I knelt between her knees to deliver the next kisses and touches, and me loving looking down at her wonderful face.

No words were needed, it was so natural to lower my head to work her labia and clit with my tongue tip, and to hear her breath tighten, as I shifted again to line myself up with her, and I entered her slowly... this moment, our moment... the moment to end all moments, our eyes alive, her hands back above her head, her belly twitching a little and my body lost in pleasure after pleasure.

To feel myself engulfed, so smoothly, so deliciously, and to see her naked body below me and to feel the years of lust, honoured and culminating in this...

She grasped by backside and pulled me deep with each thrust.

"Fill me..."

The rhythm we found was just right. Too raw, and we, or surely I, would have exploded in seconds, and too slow would not have done justice to our hunger, so we moved as one, eyes encouraging and lips meeting again.

Then she laughed gently.

"You often ogled my tits in the past - time to let the girls out..." I had left her bra on.

Oh, let me see them, let me free them... I had pleasured myself a hundred times in the past, imagining taking Anne's bra off, seeing her tits, delighted, bouncy, generous, almost attacking my eyes, demanding my kisses and promising the world...

She tried to sit up to let me at her bra clasp, but it was too much of a stretch, so, rapidly we disengaged and she was over on all fours offering her back to me.

I savoured the feel of the little plastic clasp and the slightly scratchy white strap, but soon it was open, and I did what I had wanted to do for ever. I kept the bra in place at first, then slowly reached round and eased her amazing bra barely an inch off her tits, allowing my hands to slide inside the cups to gently take the best tits in the world into my hands.

She let out another moan, and at that moment we both laughed again as we saw what had to happen next.

Beside her bed was a full length wall mirror, nearly three feet wide, and there we were, naked, so turned on, and still nowhere near finished, on her bed, staring into the reflection of ourselves with my hands still babysitting her tits, and my erection almost angrily side-on to her supporting thigh.

We moved as one to align me again with her hot pussy and I went as deep as I could, groaning with ecstasy, and we were off again, now more energetic, Anne urging me on, and soon I was pounding her from behind with all I had.

The jarring and clashing of bodies, the swinging of her perfect tits which I could not take my eyes off, in the mirror's reflection, the lusting, the journey to get here, it was all for me, for us, for her - it has to be, Oh, Anne, Oh, Aaaaaa-nne. Ooooooohhhh!!!

And when I exploded deep inside her and felt her tighten up around me, sending out a strangled wail of climactic bliss, it was just perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

# # #

As I left Anne's house later, after we had pleasured each other in other ways, after confessing happily to each other just how we had fantasized about making the other come - first me making her wish come true, then she mine - I left, after another long kiss under the misteltoe.

We decided that after that one time it was right to keep that day as an untouchable and glorious memory, and truly, we never touched each other again.

And before leaving I told her about the list, Les Désirs des Femmes, and she chuckled, admitting that she was damned glad I had found that list, as it had been a bucket list thing for her... to screw me stupid if ever the chance came along.

She admitted that she had touched herself thinking of me, often enough, and that she too remembers the night nearly four years earlier when I had had to sleep over in her guest room, just the two of us in the house.

"I did think about seducing you, and letting you have your wicked way with me that night," she said, as I stepped outside. "But you were just a little too young, and might not have performed as well as you did today. And you might not have been able to keep our naughty secret then. But no matter. Today was what we both needed. Now piss off, and get out there - find a good woman when the time comes, and look after her in all the best ways, and I mean all the best ways - including that last thing you did to me. You do that very well indeed."