Riding the Moonpath

Anita wriggled against the ongoing slow-motion penetration, sighed with pure pleasure, clung to his neck and whispered "I hope you aren't disappointed that I haven't much hair left down there. I tell you, I used to have such a bush you wouldn't believe it. But - well, better I should go bald there than on my head, I suppose. But you shave yourself, your crotch, so maybe you'll like me that way? Not that you have a choice. Do your women shave, too, like you do?"

"Anita, I simply love your pussy's lips the way they are, almost naked. I have a personal fetish, although it's not by any means a requirement... I like my women hairless from the collarbones down – I've already checked your armpits, you know, and they are simply delicious. The less hair down here..." and he stroked round and round the tip of her cervix while his palm cupped and pressed, the combination making more goose-bumps and yielding yet another prolonged urgent shiver – "... less hair here means more nerve endings are exposed for us to play with and that means you get more pleasure! Not bad, is it?"

She sighed and said into his ear "More fingering, please. It's best just as you are now, with them all the way inside, and your palm on my clitoris nice and firmly... that is, if I'm not being too forward for you? You don't mind my asking for things?"

He complied, reassured her.

"Herman, your hairless women, did they... well, who was their barber, I mean?" He nipped at her lips, nose, earlobes before replying: "Usually I do it the first time. And occasionally thereafter, as requested. I even do armpits and legs by special request. My fingers are the barber, and my lips and tongue are the inspectors who make sure the job was done right. Inspection takes a LOT longer than the shave itself!" He grinned lewdly at her.

That little aside brought up in Anita's mind a well-founded image and her imagination – reasonably accurate – made her belly quiver subtly. Would he really do such a thing? With his mouth? On HER? She answered herself: YES, of course he would, he had no inhibitions, he obviously liked what he was finding out about her body (!) and he wouldn't have made the comment if it weren't true, that she knew instinctively. She sighed deeply as a third finger slid into her, not into her pussy with the others but instead into her bottom. It entered smoothly, authoritatively, as if it had every right to be there and consequently needn't seek prior approval. It rested alongside the pair in her pussy – the double-dose of penetration was both unexpected and, once she sorted out the various sensations, delightful.

Herman finally made things absolutely explicit. "Spend the night with me, Judge Anita? Become lovers for real, not just playing about the edges as we are now? I'll treat you well, we will enjoy ourselves and one another enormously. I should be honored to have your company, and to teach whatever I can. Will you?"

In response she shifted to rise: he slipped his fingers from her body and helped her stand. She left her robe behind as she rose, stood naked facing him, illuminated well by the brilliant moonlight. "Of course I will. I thought you might never be going to ask, Mister Herman-almost-a-Jew."

As they stepped towards the doorway into the bedroom, Anita stopped, held Herman's hand tightly, turned to face him. They could see one another's faces clearly – her face showed strain, concern. He waited – she obviously had something important to say. Finally she began – "Herman, it seems like it is now True Confessions time, part two. So, I'm sorry to interrupt our progress towards the bedroom once again, but I think I really must. May I please tell you some important things about myself, just so that you understand?"

Herman nodded, said quietly "Of course... there is no hurry at all, and I'd be honored to be in your confidence. Tell."

"Herman, this is very difficult. Frankly, my darling new and very YOUNG man, I feel as if I have just barely in all my life had any sort of sex... I doubt that I have really fucked in the way most people think of it, because Morris could hardly ever actually get himself up inside me. And I most CERTAINLY have never actually done the big emotional and physical thing called "making love". My Morris, lifelong my one and only man, was positively asexual. Phobic even, maybe. Two, three, maybe a maximum of four times a year, always in the complete dark, he would approach me, and usually without warning. Most of the time he would just get up above me, me with my legs spread wide for him, and then even before he would get into me he would come, usually as soon as his cock touched me. Often, in fact, before even that. I have washed more semen off my belly and out of my pubic hair, back when I had such a nice bush, than I ever have received inside myself."

"Sometimes, very rarely, Morris would manage somehow to get partly inside me before he came – the fact that I was always completely dry and uninterested didn't help – My GOD, Herman, how unexpected it is for me to be so wet when you touch me, such a delight! Older women like me aren't supposed to be able to do that, you've turned me into a reincarnated teenager or something! In this ancient body, though."

"Anyhow, I don't believe he ever once in our lives managed to get all the way in. Then of course he would go POOF! - instantly all soft again – not that he was all that hard to begin with, I suspect - and done for the next couple of months. I truly believe he was actually afraid of my femaleness, and especially of my pussy. We never could discuss why, he just got angry and clammed up whenever I tried. So I quickly gave up. We never had kids not because I'm infertile – my OBGYN said I was just fine - but because Morris couldn't do things right. And besides, he had a very low sperm count anyway – I took a sample of his semen from my bush to the lab for analysis, he never knew it."

He waited through another deep-thought pause: "So, my almost-a-Jew, my new stranger-in-the-dark Herman, that is what you get here. I'm hesitating, I'm telling you all this, partly in self defense. I don't know what to expect from any man who is Not-a-Morris, and I don't want to repeat my Morris experiences, not the least little bit, not in any way. That's the self-defense part – keeping from being hurt. Morris died seven years ago, but the last time he even tried to have sex – and it failed of course, what else? – was ten years before that. Nothing whatever since then – I've even given up masturbation, mostly out of disappointment and frustration, I think – that's one reason I'm so happy to find your touches making me so wet!"

"Herman, you must believe me, within our little group of friends there is no possibility of any man making a pass at a woman not his own wife – none whatever, we are so conservative. Not that I would WANT any of them to try, they're all of them, our men-friends, just like Morris in too many ways, probably just like him that way also. Ick. And of course, men simply do NOT make passes at lady judges, do they? So – I'm worried and frightened and excited and all those things together. Do you understand?"

Herman took her face gently between his palms, and instead of saying anything simply kissed her as thoroughly as humanly possible. When they finally separated slightly, he nodded, said "Thank you for explaining, and for the trust. Of course I understand. Believe me, I'm NOT a Morris. Not in any way whatever – different universes produced us, clearly. Can you trust me enough to come with me into the bedroom, and then trust me enough more to take my suggestions, enough to relax and let your body produce enjoyment for your brain?"

She stepped back half a pace, scanned him top to toe and reached for his still-rampant cock. With her hand wrapped around it, she looked up at him, almost simpering, and replied "I can, and I do believe I shall. But first, mister Definitely-NOT-another-Morris, is this normal? You get incredibly hard, and very fast, and you seem to stay that way more or less forever, and you haven't even given a hint of needing to come from my touches. How odd that I need to ask, but since you haven't come yet, and I've touched you in several ways, should I be disappointed in myself, in my attractiveness to you, or should I be happy with this very strange situation? After all, sixty-seven minus thirty six is thirty-one..."

He shook his head gently: "Nope, you're doing the math wrong, Judge. It should be those two added together sum up to 103 years of collective knowledge and experience... surely after all that we are by now responsible only to ourselves, and knowledgeable and adult enough to be in control, to make our own choices? If we choose to do something together, who is more qualified than we to decide whether it's appropriate? Stay the night with me. Be my lover. Please?"

He led her towards the bed – she came along eagerly now, hesitation gone – he could feel the difference, and it went straight to his cock and his libido both. "Madam the Judge will simply have to take LOTS of evidence herself, and evaluate it for herself. Now – let me suggest how we should begin – and your job, your only duty, Madam Judge, is to enjoy yourself, to avoid at all costs saying "NO" to my horny-male suggestions, and to believe me when I say I will enjoy everything at least as much as you will. Everything. You simply cannot do anything the least little bit "wrong" so you are forbidden to worry about such a thing. Acceptable?"

She agreed as how it was. At any rate, she would certainly try her very damnedest to follow those instructions.

He lay her down on the bed, shushed her when she started to ask something. He spent entire minutes on each nipple, lavishing attention on the whole of each breast, brought her to breathless heat. Then when he spread her legs wide and knelt between them, she shivered, hoping, wondering. She found out immediately: his mouth, warm, hot, soft, descended, engulfed her clit, inhaled it, tongue-tip tip curling under and around the button, vibrating in her juicy, salty wetness. She gasped aloud, thought her heart was going to explode in her chest, and immediately lost herself totally in the sensations, hardly noticed when he spread her like a book and folded her knees up towards her chest, how he kept his mouth so active, how he slid one hand up her side to cup and fondle a breast, how the other hand slipped a finger deep into her pussy, then another, then another, this time into her bottom. All these things going on simultaneously.

Head thrown back, coming non-stop, bouncing rapidly from one height to another farther up the scale for several ecstatic minutes, she almost passed out, finally pleaded her case for a short halt, "...just for a moment, please, I can't breathe any more!" When her oxygen debt was satisfied, she stared down at him between her legs and whispered "My GOD, such a climax! Never, ever, never!"

Herman just smiled, muttered "Your Honor ain't seen nothin' yet!" as he slid himself upwards until his spring-steel cock was trapped between them. He shifted his hips, seeking, then settled the tip just at her slippery-wet outer lips, spread them slightly for access, wriggled slightly to get the angle and pressures right – and she stopped him, abruptly, with a gentle hand between them.

He waited.

She bit her lip, then staring up at him she whispered "Herman, stop for just a second, please? Herman, my special almost a Jew, please, please, PLEASE don't just push inside a little bit and come. I think I know for sure you won't do such a thing, but I have to ask. Promise me that? Please? I've washed far too much of Morris out of my pussy-hair, I don't need that any more, not ever again. I need you INSIDE! Promise me? Please!?"

He looked down at her, relaxed the pressure of his cock and smiled. She bit her lip again, waiting. He said softly "I absolutely promise. Positively guaranteed." He leaned forward, bent his head, nibbled each nipple briefly just hard enough to make her squirm and then kissed her long and wet again. "Just to make it crystal clear, Your Honor - about THAT problem you need never worry. I will fuck you, or rather we will fuck together, just as long and as hard as you need in order to be satisfied, at least for the moment. If it takes forty minutes and a full mile of hard cock, that's fine with me. Just for the record, Your Honor, you and I decide together as to when I come. We'll actually talk about it long before it happens. And then I'm going to do that way, way up inside you, so you can watch me and feel me, so I can feel YOU too. I'm never in a hurry, and what I really like is the journey leading up to our orgasms, especially seeing how much pleasure I can provide for you. Now – permission to enter?"

She hooked her arms around his neck, raised her legs and crossed her ankles behind his thighs and whispered "Oh, granted – granted with full access privileges. Come on inside, out of the cold. Please!"

He leaned forward, her eyes held his in a tight lock as he slid inside, slowly, gently, a long, smooth glide executed with a consummate firmness and confident self-control that let her relax instantly, left her breathless. The expansion in her belly stopped only when finally his cockhead bumped her cervix, slid past it to the actual end of her vagina: she fit around him like a size three glove on a size eight hand.

He paused as his cockhead settled snugly against her cervix – bottomed out, but only a little over half his length was yet embedded. He waited, watched as she studied her internal self, as her insides relaxed, things shifted subtly, and over the next few seconds she lengthened and expanded until they were solidly pubic bone to bone. He reversed, sliding back to the entrance slowly, like the plunger in a syringe, almost pulling a vacuum as he retreated, then slipped forward a second time, exquisitely slowly, using his weight carefully to help stretch her. Her body yielded, deliciously.

"Oh, my god in heaven, so THAT's what it's supposed to feel like. Never before has a penis, a cock, been so far inside my body, not even for a single stroke. So deep. So full you make me down there! So wonderful..." she giggled, delighted at the joining. "My Herman, you don't know it yet but I'm a Trekky... and this reminds me, I'm sorry, not trying to be funny in the midst of passion, but it does remind me of the line "Going where no man has gone before..."

He looked delighted, told her that she was entering into the proper spirit. And then they began to fuck for real.

It was, she told him later, like going over the top of a huge roller-coaster. Then, as he accelerated and began to play with angles and depth and rhythm, she murmured "I do believe I'll take that mile you spoke of, if you were serious, my Herman."

He allowed a full ten minutes of simple, vigorous momma-poppa and then rolled over to seat her atop him, a 67 year old virgin mounting her steed for her first-ever ride. She was surprised, then instantly delighted. He taught the lesson, controlled things with his hands and hips and words until in very short order she GOT IT, perfectly, and began to ride him on her own, an instant expert. His hands on her breasts were simply icing on her cake.

At twenty minutes, she paused in her long string of riding-atop orgasms, put her hands on his chest and stared down at him: "Thank you so much, my special Not-a-Jew Herman." She paused, sighed deeply, and muttered in a low, bitter tone, "DAMN that Morris of mine for a thimble-brained fool, may he rot in hell forever! All those years and years of opportunity missed, gone, evaporated..."

Herman shook his head, put a finger over her lips. "You mustn't mean that, Anita. Whatever his shortcomings, they weren't intentional, of that you can be sure. Sounds to me as if he treated you as well as he knew how. You had a good life together in most ways, and you did say it was he who suggested law school for you, and paid for it, and encouraged you. That's pretty fine behavior for someone so conservative and incurious and insensitive. After all, however you put things together, you and I are here in some sense because of your Morris. Rather than bemoan lost opportunities, it would be a better thing to look forward to the future, to all the opportunities that are opening up for you starting this very evening! To packing in as much experience as possible. Better way to go than drown in bitterness."

She gazed down at him, thought for a moment, then sighed and nodded, said "That's all of it true. And very magnanimous of you to think that way. So- I take it back, Morris. But I truly DO wish he'd been more interested!"

He smiled up at her, changed the subject, said "Sex is fun, or it should be. Or hadn't you noticed yet how much we're enjoying ourselves here?"

She kissed him long and hard and deep as she began to rock softly, gently on his cock, studying the delicate sensations, noting nuances. "Fun? Since when does "fun" apply to lovemaking?"

He pressed upwards against her in exact counterpoint to her rhythm. "And since when, Your Honor, was this process ever NOT enjoyable, hence fun? I'm having fun right now. Enormous fun. How about you?"

She considered the question, finally grinned back and nodded, said "Yes. No doubt about it. Fun and lots of other things."

Herman put his hands behind his head, continued to match her gentle motions with his pelvis and thighs, supporting her weight easily, watching her breasts wobble. Finally after a thoughtful moment he told her, "Sex is also a very Zen sort of thing, it exists only in the present moment. Can't put it into a bucket and store it up for tomorrow. You should really try to experience it that way..."

She interrupted him with a sly grin – "It sounds to ME, Mister Herman, rather as if what you are REALLY saying is "Dammit Woman, will you just shut up and get back to actually FUCKING!" – Am I right?"

He allowed as how perhaps she was, rolled her over onto her back beneath him, and pounded into her for another half-dozen Anita-climaxes, until he finally felt himself building to his own and asked her "Permission to come, Your Honor?"

"Granted. At your own pace. You've certainly treated me quite well!"

He let himself go totally, staring down at her wide-eyed and unblinking as his face went through its rictus, his body wracked itself with spasms deep inside hers.

When finally he settled down she hugged him fiercely to her and whispered into his ear "God, so strong, so hard you come, so wonderful and so different. So LONG it went on, almost forever it seemed like. I have never seen any human being so completely exposed, so vulnerable. I thank you for that level of trust, my honorary-Jew. Thank you over and over again."

For the next hour they made love in a remarkable assortment of positions and styles, until they arrived at near exhaustion, gleaming with sweat from head to toe. True to her promise, Anita paid close attention to instructions and demurred only on one item - when Herman slipped his pair of fingers from her bottom and asked permission to enter her that way with his cock she gently declined, said "I'm very curious about that, but not quite yet, please, eventually I'm sure..."

He nodded his understanding, said "Something as a substitute, then, a different adventure for Her Honor?" When she accepted, he put her on knees and chest, butt in the air, had her finger her clit at her own pace while he drove his tongue deep into her bottom, only to be repeatedly expelled by her climactic squeezings – to their double delight. When she was done again, she rolled over and accepted him between her legs, wrapping him up as thoroughly as possible, rocking them both back and forth child-like.

He grinned down at her and said "Lady Anita, you are so much FUN to make love with! Of course, you still have available the rest of that guaranteed mile of cock. I think you've only used a third of it so far, at most. It comes with the owner's compliments, and is fully renewable – free, yet! – on demand. Your Honor, I do believe that what we have here plastered so nicely around my cock is actually an unused seventeen year old pussy in a sixty-seven year old wrapper. Glad it isn't the other way around!"