Plain Jane the Chameleon

Jane answered the door wearing a loose-fitting paisley summer dress. One which showed off much of her bosom, her thin arms, and her pale legs. If a had to guess, I would say it was all she was wearing.

"Oh my god Jane. You're so beautiful. You look...perfect."

"That's rubbish, and you know it."

"Not a single word of it."

"Come in then. Smooth talking American. Hang that wet rag behind the door and put those muddy boots on the mat."

Jane's home was a simple one. Old leather furniture with lots of colorful pillows tossed about. A big stone fireplace. Wide planked wood floors. A simple kitchen with lots of hanging copper pots, and what was probably the biggest, and most likely, the oldest butcher's block I had ever seen. I spied a cool stereo system, with shelves and shelves of albums. The trio of closed doors were more than likely leading to Jane's bedroom, bathroom and a spare room.

"This is the coolest place ever."

"I think so."

"Do you live here alone?"

"Not always. Sometimes I take in a feral dog or two."

"Am I one of those dogs."

"Remains to be seen."

Following Jane into the living area of her home, she motioned me to have a seat. Then she asked if I had a preference in music. When I told her I didn't, she pulled an album from what looked to be her go to pile. The music started, and it was like nothing I had ever heard.

"Who is this."

"Leonard Cohen. This song is called, 'Dance me to the end of love'. I love it. It makes me feel so...alive."

"It's sounds...strange, but I really like it."

"Every time I see the name of his album, I smile."

She was waiting for me to say something, but I had never heard of this Cohen guy.

"Sorry, what is it?"

"Various Positions. As in..."

Now I smiled. I had once told Jane about my lack of experience with anything other than missionary, the night we sat talking in my car.

Sitting back into the fluffy pillows, Jane sat beside me and pulled my right arm over her shoulder.

"Who do you listen to when you are home, Michael?"

"Billy Joel and the Boss."

"The Boss?"

"Bruce Springsteen. He's from Jersey. A hometown hero. And Billy is from across the river in New York."

"Well, I'm very sorry to say, I have neither of those guys on vinyl."

"Your loss."

"Is it, Michael?"

"I think so."

"What about Madonna?"

"What, about Madonna?"

"Do you like her? Because I really like dressing up like her. Maybe we can pretend to be Madonna and George Michael. I'll do your hair, so it looks like his."

"George Michael?"

"Yes. He's very popular with the ladies."

"If you'd like. I suppose I would go along with it."

Jane laughed quietly.

"You suppose," she said under her breath. "Not one single time when I've touched you, has your dick not been hard. So, in the heat of the moment, I suppose you'd do most anything I asked. And one day, I'll prove it to you."

There was a long pause in conversation as we sat looking at the fireplace. Jane pressed her body tightly against mine and pulled my arm even tighter over her.

"The fire is supposed to take the dampness out of the house, but on days like this, I have a hard time believing it does."

"I remember going to upstate New York one winter. We stayed in a cabin. It was so cold I thought I'd freeze to death. My father started a fire and sent us to bed. The old sheets were so cold, but when it warmed up, the weight of the old quilts kept us safe, and I had the best sleep of my life."

Jane's hand squeezed mine, but she said nothing for the longest time.

"Michael, can I ask you for something special?"

"Ask me for anything."

"Don't say 'anything' unless you mean it."

"Jane, just ask me."

Getting up, Jane left me on the couch. When she returned, she had with her a small green elastic band and a pair of pointy scissors. Her ask was that she didn't want to ask. Straddling me with her knees on either side of me, she put the things in her hands down and grabbed my face.

It was without a doubt, the best kiss I had ever had, to this point on my short life.

Jane held my right hand, moving up so as to give me permission to feel her breast. I slid the material to the side slightly and eased my hand in to feel only the second tit I had ever had the pleasure of feeling. When I tried to speak, Jane would press her lips harder to mine, and grind her lap over my protruding bulge.

When we broke apart, Jane's fingers continually twirled strands of my hair together at the back. Taking up the green band, she slid it to the middle of the length of hair she had twirled. Then, she picked up the scissors, and cut it off at my skull.

Sitting back in my lap, she looked at the hair she had stolen from me, held it up to admire it, ran the loose end under her nose, held it there like a moustache, and grinned. Getting up, she went over to a very old hutch and took out a wooden box. With a warm smile, she tucked the lock of hair away in a special spot, just like the pair of her favorite diamond earrings would be hidden in her jewelry box.

"You plan on keeping my hair for a while?"

"With any luck, I'll keep it forever."

Opening the door to her bedroom Jane momentarily disappeared from my view. Seconds later, I could see her reflection in a full-length mirror. Her hands held the hem of her dress as she lifted it. Pulling it up she proved me correct. Jane had absolutely nothing on beneath the summer cotton dress.

My first look at Jane's naked body was one dreams were made of. Tight, taut, stretched from her standing on her toes. Her breasts hung a bit lower than the only other pair I had ever seen, but they were bigger. And her ass was fuller and rounder, unlike Lydia's much flatter butt. And where Lydia had very short, coarse hairs covering her pussy, Jane had a full bush of curls.

The curl of Jane's lips as she smiled at me from the reflection of the mirror alone was more than enough to make me hard. But, when her fingers played with her hair and pulled it up into a bun, exposing the curve and soft indents of her neck, the view had me ready to explode. Jane knew what she was doing. Every motion and movement seemed to be planned. And the loose bun she tied up on her head was all part of the seduction.

Once again disappearing from sight, Jane left me staring at the blank mirror, only to reappear wearing a short, silk robe. The green material barely covered the curve of her butt and left her smooth legs exposed for me to view.

"I like your robe very much."

"So, I see," Jane said as her hand touched the hardness under my jeans. "It's actually a Kimono. It was a gift from a friend who travelled to Japan. I never want to see you wearing it. If you need one, my father's old robe is hanging in the closet."

"You make it look beautiful. And believe me, it wouldn't fit me even if I wanted it to."

Pulling my hand so I was standing, Jane touched my face.

"So, very sweet. Now, be a good lad and strip down for me."

"Strip?"

"Yes, as in, no clothes."

*****

The sound of water running took away any of the nervousness I had about stripping. It somehow made me feel a sense of comfort knowing Jane was running a bath.

Following the sounds of water, I made it to her bathroom. The tub she was filling was similar to one of the watering troughs my uncle used for his livestock. It's huge. But I was certain his trough had never had someone as hot, and naked as Jane bent over it swishing around the warm water filling it.

Jane's naked ass swayed from side to side, almost as if it were moving around with the sultry beat of the background music. The robe had lifted enough for me to see both of her round cheeks, and the gap between them. The gap containing her small patch of heaven. The puffy, pink, glistening slit of womanhood.

"Eyes to yourself, naughty boy. I can't remember inviting you in here."

"I...sorry...I..."

"You what? You thought you'd come in and sneak a peek at my kitty?"

"No. But, seeing you bent over was a...bonus."

"Bonus? I guess I'll take 'bonus' as a compliment."

Scooping a cup into a large bag, Jane poured the ingredients into the flow of the waterspout. Instantly foaming bubbles and the smell of lavender filled the tub. Turning to me Jane looked down at my straining hardon and smiled. She knew very well she had caused it. Her and her alone. Sexy, soft and semi-naked. Reaching over my shoulder, she grabbed at a large towel and a matching facecloth.

"You first, big boy," Jane told me as she pointed at the tub.

Getting in she motioned me to sit back. Then she hung her 'Kimono' over the back of the door and climbing in also, sitting in front of me, between my legs with her back to me.

My lips touched her bare neck. Kissing it softly enough to send shivers through her body.

"You're so pretty."

Without a word, Jane arched and pressed her naked form back into me. Resting against me, she lifted her hand to me. The facecloth and a bar of pink soap fell on her shoulder and my chest.

I knew what to do. I used the fragrant bar to lather the cotton square. Washing Jane's neck, arms, shoulders and every other part of her body I could reach without having her move. I tried to lift and pull her back, so her ass and pussy were touching my hard cock, but she resisted. At times, her head was on my shoulder, and I swear I could hear her purring like a kitten being stroked by its owner's hand.

"Switch," she told me without it being an option.

Jane followed my original path. Washing all she could touch, but she elevated the game by scratching my back and massaging my shoulders. When she was done, she put her small arms around my waist and pulled me back. Unliked her, I didn't resist, letting her rub her furry pussy on the crack of my ass.

"Stand up for me."

Upping the wash game, Jane rubbed soap over my balls and stroked my shaft with lathered hands. When she was done, she rinsed me with a wooden ladle. To be sure the job was done well enough for her approval, she put me into her mouth. Unlike the darkest of the orchard, in the light of the gray skied bathroom, I could see every single inch of my cock as it sank into Jane's face.

Resisting the urge to grab Jane's head, I watched her bob on me. I watched as her cheeks drew in from the pressure of her sucking me. I watched the "O" her lips made as they circled my shaft. I watched the small lines of saliva attached to her lips and my cock as they stretched and broke from the movement of her mouth. It was a visual sensation I would remember for eternity.

"My turn."

Jane stood and kissed me. Like that, it was over for the time being.

Wrapping us both with the large towel, we dried off enough to not soak the sheets of her bed.

Running through her small home, Jane playfully jumped on her soft bed and drew me to her with a curled finger.

"Michael, tonight, my pussy is your playground. You can do whatever it is you'd like with it. But, before you go rushing to put your cock in me, I want you to explore everything you have always wanted to see. Touch me. Taste me. Tease me. Open me up and lick me. Nibble and stroke my private parts. Put your tongue and fingers in me as deep as they will go. And when you have me to the point where I can't wait a second longer, then and only then, can you put your penis in me. I promise, it will be well worth the wait."

I nodded at my good fortune. My hands flew to her body.

"Gently."

Gently and quickly didn't seem to jive in my head. So, putting her hand on my forehead, Jane pushed me back, so I was paying my fullest attention to her.

"No need to rush. We have most of the summer. You have my promise, you will learn control. Until then, if I want you to go faster, I will let you know.

I liked Lydia, a lot. In fact, I loved her. She gave me a great gift. She took my virginity, and I took hers. And at eighteen, it made me happy. But, in her musty basement I had had my hands slapped on more than one occasion. I had been told 'no' more times than I cared to remember, but here, in a foreign country, on a shitty, yet beautiful, rainy day, an absolute goddess of a woman was open before me, offering me free access to each and every one of her treasures. Nothing I touched or wanted to taste was off limits.

I was lost in a sea of skin.

Licking, sucking and kissing everything I touched. My exploration had many reasons. It was a training session. A lesson of the art of pleasuring a partner and a lesson of restraint. Jane often coached me with the words of positive affirmation, 'gently, softer, harder and so good'. She had no problem saying what she liked or didn't like, but not once did she tell me to 'stop' when it was something she didn't like. She had given me permission to try 'anything', and the 'anything' I ended with was me on my belly, between her legs, face down, with my tongue buried in her saturated pussy.

"Just a bit more pressure on my clitoris, Michael. Like...oh, you little devil...so...good."

Her fingers pulled at the strands of my hair, pulling my face hard against her pussy. As her legs wrapped over my back, and her body trembled, I felt extremely happy. My first time performing oral sex was a success.

Sharing the same pillow, our faces were close enough to kiss, and kiss me she did. I was surprised. I could smell the sweet wetness coating my lips and considering where my face had just been, I thought Jane would avoid them, but I couldn't have been more mistaken. Jane held my face with both of her hands. Her lips and tongue tasted me. They tasted of her. She showed me what it meant to be thankful for the pleasure a partner gives.

"You're a dirty boy Michael, and I love it."

Jane moved slowly as she climbed over me. Pulling my hands up so they cupped the fleshy mounds of her breasts, she rocked her hips so I could feel the soft wetness and warmth of her hairy pussy. Moving, rotating, grinding, she pinned my hard cock between her body and mine.

Releasing my one hand, she reached down and lifted her hips.

I felt the tip touch heaven. I could feel the folds of her meat spreading as I pierced into the moist tunnel waiting for me. It was all so new to me. I was the one who usually did the work. I was the one usually standing at the edge of the table moving so I could get inside. But there I was, laying on my back watching as Jane lowered herself so she could fill her pussy with my cock.

My next first was having my lover move during sex. Lydia, who mostly remained motionless during the entire act, could have learned from Jane also. Jane wasn't about to sit still and let me do the pumping; instead, she moved her hips with the most sensual of movements. Teasing, tempting, and provoking my penis to erupt. Torturing me enough to make me believe life couldn't possibly get any better for me than it was at that very moment. She gave herself and me pleasure at the same time.

"Jane, why does it feel so good? It's...it feels...so incredible." Jane was using every muscle in her body to pleasure me. "What are you doing to me with your pussy?"

From deep inside, I could feel the clench and pulse of her womanhood as it controlled me.

"Cum for me Michael. Cum with me...right now."

The control and vice like grip she possessed was everything I hoped sex would be, and cumming for her, or in her, wasn't a request I looked upon lightly.

Every thrust shot another large glob of my juice into her and by the time my cock stopped throbbing, I could see a ring of frothy foam gathered at the base and around her lips. There was so much of a buildup of our combined juices, I was almost embarrassed by it. I wanted to wipe it somewhere. Somewhere where Jane wouldn't notice or be offended by it. But I didn't need to worry.

Jane's face looked happy when she saw the mess we had made, and it only took a few seconds before she was working diligently cleaning us up.

We made love three more times during the day. Soft, gentle love. Each time in a position I had never tried before, and each time it was as good as the very first time when Jane sat on me. Asking me to tell her which my favorite was, turned out to be difficult. I loved her on top of me and being behind her in 'doggy' felt so good, but there was no way I was going to choose. I wanted them all.

The rewarmed water was relaxing. It felt good, to clean off the sweat of sex, but when Jane got in the tub with me, my mind changed as my cock started to harden from the touch of her skin.

"Down boy. I think four times is plenty for one day."

*****

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed that this was always how our weeknight events ended. Her pushing me out the door and me begging her for more.

"Awe."

"Awe, nothing. If you feel up to it, you can come see me on Saturday night. We'll go dancing again."

"What about Friday?"

"I said Saturday. And remember Mister, Saturday is the night when you can have anything you want."

*****

Dancing wasn't what I thought it would be. Well, at least not for me anyway.

Apparently, Jane and her group of friends went out of town Friday night and during the day Saturday to see a bunch of different bands, and dance. I wasn't invited. Having to work, I couldn't have joined her anyway, but an invitation would have been nice. Instead, my 'dance' invitation was for the end of the night.

Jane had told me to meet her at 8:30pm. I was at her porch on time. Sitting by myself, I watched the sun go down and sat alone in darkness until just after 11:00pm.

The rattling sounds of her old bicycle coming from a direction I had never been, told me she was home.

The slur of her words, the whiskey and beer taste on her lips and tongue, the sway of her body. All these things told me she was tipsy.

Like every other weekend, Jane was dressed for a Saturday night. Jet black hair teased and spiked. Lots of black make-up and lipstick. Back were the boots, leather jacket and jeans. The only thing different from our first 'dance night' was tonight she was wearing a David Bowie, Aladdin Sane, t-shirt.

"Waitin long then?"

"You know I have been," My voice laced with venom and dripping with some sarcasm.

"Coulda left you know."

"I suppose I should have, but I didn't. Jane, if you don't want me here, tell me to leave, and I'll go."

Putting her hand to my face, she cupped my chin and grabbed cheeks. Squeezing my cheeks together, she forced my lips into a fish mouth and pretended to make me talk.

"You kept me waiting too long Janey. Boo Hoo. I'm a sad boy."

When she finished taunting me, she continued speaking.

"Don't you worry lad, when I want you to leave, I won't have to tell you, you'll know it."

Even in the darkness of night, I could see mischief in her squinted eyes.

"Do you remember what I told you a couple Saturdays ago?"

"Most of it."

"Do you remember the part where I told you at some point, I would want you to reciprocate?"

I nodded. I clearly recalled her saying so.

"Tonight, is the night, Michael. Tonight, is the night where you get to do naughty things to me."

"Has seeing a band made you a little bit horny?"

"More than a little bit, dear boy. More than a little bit."

Her lips attacked mine and my hands attacked her spiked belt. The metal edge of the buckle clanged as it dropped free. Seconds later my hands had fumbled enough to undo the button of her jeans and lower her zipper. When the palm of my hand pressed her flat belly and moved down inside of her pants, Jane moaned into my mouth.

I could feel heat rising from her lower regions as my fingers reached the curls of her mound. To get her attention, I pulled on the short, curly hairs enough to make her yelp.

"Yeah, rough me up."

Roughing her up was out of the question, but when I released her pubes and touched the wetness of her panty less slit, and sunk a finger deep inside her tight gash, I found she was as turned on as I was.