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I did return, of course, and the relationship developed into something neither of us had expected. I wound up spending almost every weekend with Tony. Aside from our age disparity, we were much like any other student couple. We spent our time going for walks, playing games, sunning ourselves by his swimming pool, doing homework. Perfectly normal - asides from my clothes never leaving the hall closet . That was different, I guess.
And sex. Mountains and acres and kilowatts of amazing, imaginative, stupefyingly-satisfying sex. None of the boys I’d ever dated were even partway as good.
The relationship shifted again when Tony made a cautious offer to be my sugar-daddy, to support me financially through the remainder of my undergrad degree. It had taken me a while to overcome my moral and philosophical qualms about a modern young woman accepting money from an older lover. When I finally accepted, he presented me the ring, saying that pretending to be his fiancée might allow me to dodge the judgemental bitchiness of my peers on campus. It was a thoughtful gesture, one I was to learn was typical of Tony diRossi.
I wore that ring now with pride, a symbol of our agreement. The necklace was still reserved for the farm.
Since that day, he’d continued to push my boundaries, but never once had I felt threatened or shamed. The man was caring and protective as he was kind and handsome.
As time went by, while I was still spending 24 hours a day naked for Tony’s pleasure, our relationship had become deeper, more real. I realized that I had become more confident, more daring at times, more interested in exploring a truly powerful womanhood in all its implications. As well, there was no doubt I was entirely in love with the man.
I considered myself a very lucky young woman.
+
“So?” I pressed. “Would that please you, Tony?”
He made no move, so I reached around, began unbuttoning his shirt from behind.
“I said ‘off’, Mr. diRossi.” I paused, giggled, deliberately rubbed the back of his neck with my breasts.
He laughed at that, a low chuckle.
“You win, Stephanie.” He stood and turned, his hands at his buttons.
“I wasn’t aware this was a competition, sir.” I smiled my best, reached lower with my hands. “I was thinking more of cooperation.”
I knelt in front of him, could see a promising outline in his trouser fabric.
I looked up, smiled again. “If that pleases...”
He cut me off, swept his fingers through my hair. “You know it does, Stephanie.”
It took only a couple of seconds to unfasten his trousers. I worked quickly enough that they and his boxers fell around his ankles about the same time as his shirt fell from his shoulders.
“That’s better!” I smiled. I reached out, ran a fingertip very lightly over that sensitive triangle just under his crown.
Shifting my hands, I put my right hand behind his knee, pushed gently on his abdomen with the left. He got the hint and sat down again.
I shifted so as to be kneeling in front of him.
With my eyes fastened on his and a smile on my face, I put my hands on his knees, began to run them slowly up his legs, thumbs over his inner thighs. As my hands moved, his cock rose, became harder. I giggled as it seemed to stare at me.
My hands reached his groin, fingers flowing gently around his wrinkled sac, floating lightly up his length, thumbs circling his now-swollen helmet.
“You are so handsome, Tony, and this, ” and I squeezed it, “is so beautiful!”
I could see laughter in his eyes at that. He’d called me beautiful many times. I doubt he’d ever thought of his sex as that.
My hands moved over him, up, down, around, back and forth, lightly, gently, softly. He closed his eyes; his breathing was deeper; his balls pulled up further; his cock grew stiffer. I leaned down, kissed its head lightly, knelt back and continued to stroke him, slightly harder now.
There was fondness in his eyes now; what I dared hope might be love. Generous, kind, gentle, caring, he’d never actually used the word before and I was dying to hear it from him.
“Thank you, Tony.” I said softly. “You are so good to me.”
His eyes half-closed, I could see him trying to process a lot of things - me, my heels, stockings, gloves, silver, my teasing, stimulating hands, my smile and wide eyes, my thanks, so graphically expressed.
“I love you,” I whispered.
I could see that enter his mind as well. He stroked my head with a gentle hand, smiled, closed his eyes – in thought? in acceptance? in anticipation? I wasn’t sure, but I was certain that he was pleased.
I leaned forward, clasped his boys in my glove-clad hands, and rolled them softly, pulling gently away from his body. Looking up at his face, I began to give light tongue-stokes, as one might first savour a lollipop, little tastes, tip-of-tongue here, broader licks there, testing this place and then that, inquiring nibbles.
Tony’s hand came down, stroked my face, came to rest on my shoulder.
“You are a remarkable woman,” he said softly. “Thank you for trusting me, Stephanie.” I felt that settle in my heart, felt its glow.
I pulled a little way back so he could see me, kept stroking and fondling with my hands. I gave him my sweetest smile, bent back down.
I licked his abs, his thighs, behind his sac – my tongue teasing, playing, worshiping. Above me, I hear him sigh.
I took him into my mouth, further, then pulled back very slowly, my tongue moving back and forth under his length. I slowed as his head emerged, let it trail off my lower lip.
Holding him by his twins, I bent forward again, began to bob up and down over his length, my cheeks hollow with suction. I looked up at his face as I moved, saw the tension growing on his face, felt his arousal in the muscles tightening in his legs. His clean male odour filled my nostrils and I felt my body react to it, nipples hard as pebbles now, a hollowness inside me, a wanting, a wetness.
I rose on my knees, still clasping the boys in one hand, raised my face towards his for a kiss. As his lips touched mine, his tongue sweeping inside, I switched grips and began pumping the soft, soft skin over his length. His hand came down, gently brushed the hair off my forehead, caressed my head.
I sped up my pumping and heard a low sound deep in his chest. I pulled out of the kiss, leaned in, found I could surround his wet length with my boobs. I pressed them together with my hands. “Help me,” I whispered, my eyes on his.
Tony’s hips rose and the tip of his cock emerged from between the girls, then back out of sight.
“It feels good, Tony,” I whispered. “So good.”
And it did. I’ve always had super-sensitive breasts and Tony sliding between them was indeed stoking my own fires. I rolled my nipples with my thumbs and saw him grin at the sight.
I could feel his arousal growing, saw his abs begin to quiver. This was his turn, I knew. I dropped back onto him, sucked him between my lips, moved up and down his length as quickly as I could.
As he entered his final moment, almost ready, I pulled back, decided to give him something boys are supposed to enjoy. I aimed his empurpled cock at my boobs, began to pump his shaft faster and faster. One pearl necklace, coming up.
I was surprised when he pulled back, out of my hand. He stood, those immensely strong arms lifting me in front of him. I could feel his member banging against my leg, then he’d pushed books on the table to one side, sat me on the edge, knelt in front of me and buried his face in my sex.
I didn’t need this. Not now. I'd been ready to finish him, would have been happy to have given him that. For myself, I was already ready, already dying for him inside me. But this was Tony – always a considerate lover, always willing to go the extra mile, make sure of Stephanie. His teeth gently nibbling, lips and tongue teased, fingers exploring, Tony played his own music on me. His hands swept up and down my legs, traced their way along the tops of my stockings, caressed my abdomen, rose to clasp my breasts. They found my nipples and I moaned, growing louder as his tongue found my pearl, began to tease it with light flicking strokes. My chest was tight, my nips blazing, my ladybits swollen. I was half a second, one tongue stroke from coming, when he rose again, lifted me.
Holding me under the arms, he sat back on the chair, lowered me slowly. I reached down, found him, aimed as he lowered me slowly onto him. The chair was high; I could barely reach the floor with my feet. I stood on my tiptoes, bouncing my body up and down on him. I felt his hands clasp my bum, lifting me, letting me fall back onto his cock.
I held his head, kissed him as if our lives depended on it, gloried in the feeling of his stiff rim stretching me, sliding along my walls.
Tony’s eyes were half-closed. I squeezed inside, hard and they opened. He laughed, moved his hands to my boobs, caught stiff nipples between his fingers, pulled gently.
He growled again, low, needy and leaned in to flick my nipples with his tongue.
It was all I needed. I gave a shriek as bliss fought ecstasy in an all-out brawl for my lady parts. It echoed up and down my body, rippled, began all over again.
Tony’s hands left my boobs, fell to my hips, pulled me down against him, hard, unmoving. I could feel him throb inside me as he growled a third time, shuddering, panting.
I leaned forward against him, feeling the blaze fade slowly, slowly. I laid my head on his shoulder, felt his chest hair on my boobs and belly, felt his own heart pounding.
“I love you, Tony.” It was if I was listening to somebody else saying it, over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love...”
+
We slept late; Pi apparently being willing for once to share my side of the bed. After a small breakfast, we spent most of Saturday morning just sunning ourselves on his deck, enjoying the warm fall sunshine, talking quietly about nothing much at all. I practised my dives, played my flute a little, held his hand, enjoyed the way it felt as it moved across my skin from time to time. The time went quickly.
Eventually, Tony vanished into the kitchen. I knew enough not to offer to help; it was not for nothing that Tony had once remarked that I could overcook cornflakes. I had my place in this relationship; just not in the kitchen.
When he reappeared, he was holding a picnic basket.
“I thought a picnic might be in order, given the nice weather.”
It was a lovely day, one of those clear, sunny, very warm days which often slide in between the brilliant colours of fall and the damp cold of winter.
I smiled. A meal anywhere with Tony was fun and his picnics were real treats.
“Where?”
“Down the fields a way. I don’t think you’ve seen it yet, Stephanie.”
“Give me a minute.”
“You’ll probably need something on your feet.”
“OK. And I think I may need some sunblock.” A bare summer at the farm had given me pretty much an all-over tan, but the sun was still as hot as it had been at the height of the summer.
“It’ll be mainly shady.” He smiled and I felt my heart melt all over again. As I watched, he took off his shirt, folded it and left it on the table, leaving him in low walking boots and a pair of immaculate L.L. Bean shorts.
“I think you’re keeping me under the trees to keep me secret from your neighbours, Tony.” I giggled a little.
“Maybe.” I felt my heart turn over at his smile.
It had been something that I’d worried about earlier. Tony liked to take a bare Stephanie for long walks. I’d initially been concerned about other farmers, bird watchers and passing hikers, but Tony had always been careful in choosing our routes and, so far as I could tell, I’d never been seen.
Tony handed me the basket, leaving a small blanket for him to carry. He motioned with his hand and we set off with me in the lead. That too was typical of Tony. He’d been quite candid in admitting that my going first, without the blanket covering me, allowed him a better view of my bum as I walked. I’d blushed madly the first time he’d said that, had grown to accept his admiration as nothing less than my due.
The bottom line was that Tony was generous and gentle; he also liked to look at Stephanie and the latter cost me nothing. Knowing he was watching, I put a little more sway into my hips, heard a low chuckle.
We crossed one field with sugar beets almost ready for harvest. I thought we were heading to a place we’d been before, a low hill with a good view of the surrounding countryside, but he had me turn off a little early and we entered the large wood lot from another direction. I soon saw why he’d advised me to wear sturdy shoes, for the ground got damper, then wet and finally almost marshy. Tony was able to direct me to keep from getting seriously muddy.
“Stay a bit to the right, Stephanie, near that line of bushes.”
As I did, it seemed to me that a very small brook was forming, barely a foot across. It wended its way through the plants, very slow and silent. It got wider as we walked, but I could easily have stepped over it.
“Is this what...”
“Yup.” He smiled happily. “This runs into a larger brook, which feeds into another, then into a stream and, eventually, into Lake St. Clair.”
“That’s so cool, Tony!”
It was, too. I found it both interesting and impressive. And it was, as promised, shady. As the brook widened gradually, the trees on either side arched up over it, forming almost a cathedral of still-green leaves, with soft green grass on either side of the water.
“Most people – most city people – don’t realize how many little streams there are in the country. In cities and towns, the smaller ones have generally been paved over, turned into storm sewers, which makes things easier but not nearly as natural.”
He smiled again. “There are lots of little streams around, if you know where to look. But this one is mine.”
“We’re still on your farm?”
“Mmm-hmm. For a while yet. There's nobody here but us, Stephanie.”
The brook grew a little wider. I could still have hopped across it, but the banks were growing steeper. I looked back at Tony for guidance.
“The bottom’s getting sandy,” he said. “Not much muck anymore. Best to wade." He bent down and started taking off his shoes.
The ankle-deep water was clear and warm on my feet. With the sun-split trees overhead and the odd late-season butterfly fluttering about, I felt like I was in Eden.
I stopped, turned back to Tony, still following, his shoes hung about his neck on tied laces.
“Are we coming back this way? Will we need our shoes up ahead?”
He thought for a moment.
“No, we won’t need shoes and, yes, we’ll come back this way. Why?”
Without speaking, I hung my own shoes over a convenient nearby branch. When I turned back towards him, it was clear that he’d never thought of this before. He grinned a bit, hung up his own shoes.
“You’re pretty clever, young lady,” he smiled.
“Seemed logical, sir.”
I led the way down the brook, not hurrying, admiring the sights, appreciating the country stillness, enjoying the experience. It was indeed Edenesque and I felt so natural, so very much part of it. The warm breeze on my bare skin was a treat I’d never have had a chance to experience had it not been for Tony. I could feel its soft caress across my face and tummy, my breasts and legs. The creek bottom was all sand now, with the odd small rounded rock. I stopped, set the picnic basket down on the bank, closed my eyes and stretched my arms up to the sky. Smiling, I turned slowly, feeling the sun on my skin, happy as I’d ever been.
I opened my eyes to see Tony smiling back. “I like the pose,” he said. He stepped to me, took me by the hand and led me a few steps further down the brook.
“Look up,” he said softly. “See the branch?”
There was a wrist-thick tree branch running across the brook.
“Take it.” His face was gentle, but it was more than a request.
I reached up, but it was just out of reach. Tony smiled, stretched, caught it. His strong arms and weight pulled it down to me. I seized it with one hand, then the other. When Tony let go, the branch rose a little, stretching me just a bit. I found I could pull it down easily enough and my feet never left the sandy brook bottom, but I was gently pulled upwards, standing very erect, legs and arms and back and tummy drawn out.
Hanging the blanket on another convenient branch, Tony began to move around me in the brook, his feet making soft splashing noises as he stepped. His eyes swept over me, all of me.
“So very lovely,” he whispered, “Just beautiful.”
I felt him squat behind me, his face close to me. I giggled a little as he kissed the backs of my knees, then the dimples on my lower back. Still not touching me with anything but lips and eyes, he came around front, his eyes roaming over my exposed, tanned body. I watched his gaze start low, move slowly up, linger on my thighs.
He knelt, head in front of my sex. I could feel his breath on my mound and labia.
“Spread your legs a little more.” The branch above me sagged a little as I did so.
Smiling, without touching, he calmly examined my sex, then leaned forward, kissed my lower lips gently. I felt them swell just slightly, felt my nipples grow harder. “So lovely,” he whispered.
How many men say that?
Rising, his eyes were fixed on my stomach, then my breasts. He leaned closer, kissed each breast lightly and I felt them grow heavier, my nips become harder, more protruding.
Tony could hardly fail to notice; he chuckled, kissed each one again, let his tongue run lightly up between them.
Standing now in front of me, he touched me with his hand for the first time, his palm softly, tracing my cheek.
“I was amazed the first time we met,” he whispered. “In the lab. I couldn’t believe how lovely you were, how lucky I was to have you as a partner.”
His head moved towards me and he kissed my lips softly before pulling back.
Again he stepped back, began to circle me. This time, he touched me, drew his hands softly over my waist and hips. I felt my arousal soar, higher and higher with each touch.
Suddenly, he tripped on a rock, his feet slipping out from under him. He landed flat on his back in the shallow water with a great splash.
I managed to keep my grip on the branch, but wouldn’t have been human if I hadn’t laughed.
Tony diRossi rarely lost lose his aplomb and this was twice in as many days. Eyes wide, he scrambled to his feet, water pouring off his body, hair and shorts. It looked like his pockets were full and water continued to soak through.
He shot a brief indignant look at me and my laughter, then paused, began to laugh himself. It really was funny.
He combed water from his hair and beard with his fingers, ran his hands over his arms and chest. He thought for a moment, pulled off his shorts, wrung the water out of them before trying to pull them back on. He flinched a little; they must have been cold.
“Nobody here but us, you said.” I tried not to snicker.
He looked at me, shrugged. “True.”
The dripping shorts soon were hung on another branch. I took my own time admiring Tony, naked as me now.
And why not? I’d learned from him, I think, had come to enjoy looking at him as a pleasure in itself. Moreover, Tony’s truly masculine presence enhanced my femininity. Yin and yang are supposed to react with each other, strengthen each other and it's sad that so many of us have forgotten that.
Yes, I enjoyed feeling cherished and I treasured his warmth and support, but I also enjoyed his solid, caring masculinity. That too was empowering for me, although I doubt the cold, doctrinal covens on campus would accept my use of the word. Whatever. I’d never felt more alive than when I was here with Tony.
Yes, Tony had just turned 50 years old, twice my age and more, but you wouldn’t know it. He limped a bit, a souvenir of a helicopter crash years before, and sometimes used a cane on very cold days. His white-blonde hair and beard had gone almost entirely white, but his body was still youthful - not quite buff, but definitely reflecting the hours he spent in the university gym every week. There was no middle-aged flab on him; he had a good sixpack, broad shoulders and enormously strong arms.
