Phyllis

" I, I, I..." I stuttered. "I guess I'm just having a hard time taking all this in. I stopped looking for you a life time ago. I just gave up. It was too hard to keep looking. Too many disappointments. So many hurts. Hope became a dangerous thing for me. But it was always you. I have been waiting for you all my life."

At this Phyllis reached out with extended finger tips and took one of my hands as she looked down at the floor as if to make confession.

"David and I met at a parents-teacher conference. He was a widower, fatherly, caring, handsome, employed, seemingly having his act together. It wasn't one of those instant connections. It was gradual for both of us. Well really, it was a desperation on my part. Perhaps you've never thought about it but once a woman graduates from college and begins a career in a local community school system, she has pretty much locked herself in to a very small room of opportunity. I mean, I never was one to shop at some local bar. I never did that even in college. I suppose I was never really that lonely. I loved my job. My desperation was different than that. I wanted a family of my own. Some find their mates within the system but men who become teachers are, more often than not, nerdy, though often nice. I guess, at least for me, if you work in a bakery all your life the last thing you want on your plate is another donut. So David was a convenience. . . and, as it turned out, he felt that way as well. He never fell out of love with his first wife. I don't fault him for that. Though he never betrayed it, I do think," Phyllis stopped confessing long enough to admit the reality out loud, "-no, I know there were times when he was making love to me that he was really closing his eyes in an attempt to make himself believe that I was her. I tried. I honestly tried to be her for him. But we're all unique and in the end we are all who we are. So our marriage became more a brother-sister affair, friendly but not true lovers. We were just two people sharing the same house while struggling to raise our family. I still loved him as a husband. Don't get me wrong. I guess it's complicated. And when I lost him, I thought the world had ended for me. Have you ever been on one of those single dating sites for seniors? The female to male ratio is like a thousand to one. You men are either all married or dead. So I guess, like you, I had stopped looking. I have grown content just to enjoy my life to its natural end. Financially I've never been more secure. Freedom? All my kids are married and living their own separate lives though we are close and stay in touch. Elizabeth, my youngest and most dear to me, lives the closest and she lives in Georgia."

Phyllis continued to finger my hand as I looked down at her, reaching out and caressing the top of her head. How quickly and thoroughly she was becoming precious to me all over again. I knew not what the future had in store for us -if it had anything at all. I only knew that she was here and for the moment, all other cares and concerns had ceased to exist. Within me raged a mixture of emotions. I felt the protector. Here was a delicate flower that had been long neglected. It needed a bit of cultivation, a little nurturing to make it strong enough to once again shoot forth a dazzling array of blossoms. I also felt a strange sense of calm with her. No need to rush it. No need to secure, claim, mark her as my own. She was here because she wanted to be. But there was still a strong desire to just tear her clothes off and fuck her like she had never been fucked before. So utterly fucked that she would curl up next to me after it was all over, just like a little girl and beg servanthood. So utterly fucked that every other encounter would be like just so much dross. So utterly fucked that the rising sun would no longer mean a new day for her but a new era in her life.

I pulled Phyllis to her feet, tightly drawing her near to me, squeezing the life out of her elbows, screaming at her without words as her eyes turned into big question marks, searching desperately to discern the answer as to whether or not I had, after all, turned out to be something altogether wrong for her. Me? I suppose I was having one of those "It's a Wonderful Life" episodes where Jimmy Stewart grabs Donna Reed at the bottom of the stair, letting the phone of one life drop to the floor as to grab another life never to let it get away ever again.

"Look here, Phyllis. I'm not a carpetbagger. I'm not a loser who sits every night like a fungus in front of the tv. I'm a man who . . . who cannot be played with. I must know the truth now. Are you playing me? Am I just a convenience to you like David was back then? I don't want that. I never want that again."

Phyllis's answer was probably the best. She tore herself away from me with fire in her eyes. I'd never seen that flame before. I'd never been ready to. As if to emphasize her resolve, she threw herself back into my arms. As tender and slow as had been the first kiss, the second was heated, each of us desperately searching for that little crevasse into which to hide ourselves; that vehicle which allowed two souls to become as one. My search had ended. Letting go of self, I wrapped her in my arms. It felt so right. It felt so amazingly right.

Phyllis was now a head shorter than myself. With two hands I pulled it back and looked once again into her eyes. Not allowing me to linger there for long, she stood up on tippy-toe as she brought my mouth down to her own, performing CPR on my soul. Her kisses overflowed with a hunger that caused me to fear my inability to match it. My freedom was not use to this sort of attention. Perhaps in part, it was due to her being such the aggressor. All of life's experiences prior to this moment had been ever and only the woman giving in to my own aggression. But here, at life's last light, came a woman unlooked for, hungry for every bit me as much as I for her.

My house was clean. The cat boxes had been changed that morning and all the dishes had been washed and put away that night. Clean sheets had been placed on the bed. I had showered and shaved just a couple of hours before her arrival. Windows were open while the unobservant whole house fan silently sucked in the refreshing late spring air.

Phyllis excused herself to clean up. By then we both knew that her rented SUV was going to spend the night parked in my drive. The two bedroom bungalow had but a single bathroom in it though. Both attic and basement were finished. To the latter I retreated while she 'tidied up a bit.' In the laundry room, next the washer and dryer were two oversized concrete sinks, large enough to bathe the dog in. But on this night, it offered a quick chance to freshen up a bit myself before returning to await my guest.

Phyllis had retrieved a small garment bag from her vehicle before locking herself into the bathroom. I could hear the running water and the flushing of the toilet. In arranging the house for her re-entrance, I left a single dim light on in the kitchen that washed out across the dining room floor while opposite facing security lights from the mall across the street dimly filtered their way through the front hedge of holly, privet and two sentinels of arborvitae. It was all enough to set the mood. Candle lights couldn't have done it better though I had lit two of them in bedroom. The door handle sounded; then a clicking off of the bathroom light. Like a cat out of the darkness, silently she stole back into the room.

Had I died and gone to heaven? Had I won the largest lottery in the nations history, garnering me femme fatales at my doorstep desperately wanting into my life? I had not anticipated the woman who stood before me. Where had she acquired that garment? And more puzzling still, why had it been packed only to visit her daughter?

"Do you like it," Phyllis enquired, performing pirouette for me to see all of it. "As I sat at the airport, trying to decide whether or not to chance finding you here tonight, I spied it in the front window of one of the little, overly expensive boutiques —and it just spoke to me!" She said it with the same youthful gaiety that had captured me so absolutely those many years before. "So I took the chance. Is it to your tastes?"

With a mouth hanging open, my answer was an unconscious licking of the lips and a nearly inaudible, "Oh my god, yes!"

Phyllis had clothed herself in an antique whale boned bustier. It was black as the night with horizontal rows of widely spaced stars. The garment made her breasts appear even larger than first imagined while revealing shapely thighs that were anything but fat. Its hem, gathered in tight, short ruffles, ended just where her black bikini panties began. Phyllis wore nothing else. Myself, only dressed in a pair of well weathered shorts and an emblematic polo shirt, stood up to meet her.

Phyllis was definitely one of those, rare-in-my-life, cup-half-full sort of people. She was confident about herself and her choices without being arrogant or demanding. Normally, all things being equal, I would have romanced a woman of this caliber. But this woman on this night, dressed in this garment purchased while making this decision begged forgoing any and all such genteel indulgences.

We met and kissed as her body movements directed me toward the back of the house and onto my bed. "Lay down," was her command after removing my shirt and pushing me playfully back onto the bed. "I want you to just lay there," she again commanded me as she drew off my shorts. My cock sprung out at rigid attention as she did so. "Hmmm," she sighed at the sight of it. Confessing but not inviting him into the room, Phyllis stood over me, "David never let me suck his. He said a wife didn't do those sort of things." In the dim candle light, the buxom shadow wraith towered over me.

"You'll never get that sort of thinking from me!" I surprised myself at the levity in which it was stated. My mind was all too serious about recording her every word and every movement.

"Turn around and lay up close to the edge of the bed," my dominatrix ordered me as she bent over to feather my rigid manhood in her cascading fingers.

"Dear god, tell me you are real!" I begged her. Releasing my fingered manhood, I watched attentively as Phyllis stood back up, withdrawing a single breast from the form-quenching bodice. It was massive, capped by a large dark aureola just slightly above center with a thick and long nipple at the center of it. "Pinch this to see if it's real or not!" she teased me.

I was fighting every emotion, every notion to rise up and capture this woman, ripping her panties from her and just brutally fucking her until we both melted into one nirvanic existence. Instead, I reached out and began to gently thumb the hardening nipple. She cooed before ordering me to pull it, "Harder. Harder!" If the baton between my legs hadn't been rigid before, now it was granite. "Bite it," she directed me, leaning over, offering the delectable nodule as I lay there like a slug. "Ooooh, yes. Use your teeth."

All that I had imagined of Phyllis Parks was evaporating with any hope of repair. Pulling herself backup as my teeth remained clenched to that mother's nipple, I allowed it to spring free as I watched her mildly sagging breast contort by the motion. Smiling back at me, never indicating that my teeth had just about severed the nipple from her breast, Phyllis slowly withdrew the second breast. Even larger than the first with the same umber sand dollar pasted on the end of it with an equally large yet not quite as taut nipple sitting dead center. "Are you a breast man, Ron?" Like she had to ask.

"Hmmmm, I guess you could say that," I replied

Phyllis leaned over and placed the head of my cock in her warm wet mouth, satisfied for the moment to just to suck on it. It seemed as if she was as satisfied with what had been withheld from her as much as I was looking at her breasts. Slowly Phyllis began tickling it with her tongue before deep throating its entire length a time or two without so much as a quiver. Briefly standing back up for air, she confessed, "Oh, you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this again! I hope you don't think ill of me. Laugh out loud, all these years and me now being the respectable grandmama! But there is just that something about having a man inside my mouth that I have truly desired. Please don't think ill of me."

I must confess, it was shocking to hear not only the confession, but her honest expression in such hungered fashion. As Phyllis remained standing beside the bed, I studied the mesmerizing woman. She caught my gaze and smiled a smile I shall never forget as long as I live. Cupping her right breast, she teethed it. Phyllis seemed briefly content to tease me with her tongue licking and sucking first one nipple, then the other before returning to kneel down and once again to take my dancing Doric column deep within her mouth.

Working first the length of it, then sucking and licking just the head, my aged angel lost herself in the enjoyment of circumcised man flesh. Slurping, mouthing, swallowing, gasping for air, she never resorted to handling it. Turning her head, first this way and then that, she continued to take all of me then only part of me, slithering down one side before skillfully twisting and sliding back the other only to then swallow me whole over and over again. . . and again. Truly here was a woman who simply loved having a man's cock at her disposal. And it felt good! It felt like I had never imagined it could ever feel.

Phyllis stood back up as I watched attentively the freed breasts swaying first one way then the other.

A wrinkled brow told me something was wrong.

"You ok?" I asked.

It was a slow, half hearted smile the crept across her face before answering, "Yes... and no. It's just that you're the first since... since David." There was a long silence which I thought best not to interrupt. Grasping her panties at the corner of her womanly hips, Phyllis removed the lacy article and crawled up on the bed to lay next to me . Suddenly the woman had become a girl. I held her close.

"You probably think I'm a nut!" she blurted out.

"Why would I think that?" I answered her, combing a bit of her hair out of my face.

"This is all happening too fast. I'm not as desperate as I appear to be."

"Women rarely are. It always we men who have the fox in the chicken coop mentality. But the sand is running out of the hour glass. I've gotten to the point where I take my happiness as it comes. No expectations. No regrets. I've been waiting for you nearly all my life, Phyllis. You're even more desirable to me now that you are older, mature, refined, wonderfully mature, than when we were mere kids back at the apartments."

Something must have clicked. For Phyllis raised up on one elbow while fingering my lips before slowly lowering herself back down to give me a soft, breathy kiss. It was a woman's kiss. Not rushed. Not juvenile. Just freely given.

"Funny how you never know where the river of life is going to lead you," she said, laying back down next to me, staring at the candle light shadows dancing on the ceiling. "I've come here to visit the daughter many times. Don't ever remember meeting anyone from those few years of teaching here. No one ever contacted me to grace a class reunion either. And then you seeing and remembering me while picking up Ricky. Do you ever wonder whether or not our lives are all planned out for us? Or is it all just mere chance?"

I let her ramble on. My head was spinning between it being way past my bedtime, having her here, laying next to me, all the while revisiting the same questions she was mouthing. This is where I was suppose to pinch myself. This is where I was suppose to wakeup and realize it was all but a dream. This was where a commercial break would intrude and bring me back to reality. I always hoped for finding a woman who filled all the necessary particulars. These sort of things happened to others; not to me. So many years of empty existence. Was there a good God? And was He finally relenting to allow me to have what I always wanted? To love and desire and so utterly enslave myself to someone who wanted, who themselves even desired to have me in their life? 'One day at a time.' 'One day at a time' I kept reminding myself.

She had stopped talking. I could hear her breathing. I could smell her hair. I could sense a change in the mattress.

Phyllis then rolled over, grasping my weakened cock in her hand as she closed her eyes and kissed me again. She kissed me slowly on the lips as I remained unmoving. Then she kissed the side of my face before briefly sucking on my earlobe. Strength was flowing back into my manhood as she slithered back down to once again place me in her mouth. It was different this time. It wasn't as heated as before and yet it wasn't tepid either. This time she was making love. This time she was lost in a world of her own making. She was a child enjoying a long promised ice cream cone.

Eventually the little engine that could brought me to the mountain top.

"Whoa there woman!" I warned her, gently nudging her shoulder. I wanted to change tracks and plow a while between her legs.

"Uh-uh," came the refusal. "This is my night. Just lay back and let me have my long awaited fun." Who was I to argue?
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Come morning we showered together, laughing, talking, enjoying the wonderment of a suddenly realize companionship that would this time truly last 'till death do us part.' It wasn't a movie and it wasn't a one-time occurrence. Phyllis's nature was as imaginative as it was impetuous. Instead of flying, I drove her back down to her home in Florida, sometimes with her seated next to me with nothing on but a smile. No one else in the world mattered to her. She loved me fingering her excitement in public places as much as she love having me in her mouth out in the boat as others flew past us. Phyllis Kucera was once again, the love of my life.