Sarah's Story Ch. 02

"Wonderful, that's wonderful," he said, as I moved, sealing myself to it with my lips, doing to him what I like to do to my husband, playing with only the fifth penis I ever touched in my life, handling one of the few scrotums I'd ever handled in my life, having a man watch me have sex -- oh, but I don't know now how many saw that, I don't know how may were in the helicopter.

"Mrs B, please, not too much, I don't want this to end this way. . ."

Well, he was young, he probably didn't have the control an older lover might, so I lifted up.

"Is that what you wanted," he asked, "just that? Or. . ."

"No, Frank," I told him, "for me, that's just more foreplay. I hope it is for you, too."

"I hoped that's what it was," he said, reaching for me, pulling me beside him. "One of my girlfriends taught me to kiss her after she went down on me. Can I do that to you?"

He didn't wait for an answer: at least, not a verbal one, I moved toward him, our lips met, his tongue pushed into my mouth, just like Sam's often did after oral sex, searching for a taste of himself in my mouth, just like Sam always searched.

I let myself move flat on the floor, feeling the exotic newness of Frank kissing me, feeling his hands move to the buttons on my dress.

I let the kiss continue for a moment, then pushed him away.

Sat up, stood up.

He had a questioning look on his face, until he saw me reach for the buttons on the dress, saw me release enough of them so that I could, just like that, pull it over my head, and off.

A bra and high cut panties. That was all I was wearing now. A bra, and high cut panties.

I knelt down then lay down beside him again, not quite having the nerve to take off those last two garments.

I may not have the nerve, he did.

It was his turn to sit up, back pain no longer an issue.

It was his turn to kiss my neck.

To lick at my cleavage.

It was his turn to release my bra's clasp, then lift a cup away from my breast, kiss me there, tongue my erect nipple, pull at my bra until I moved so he could free it of me and me of it.

Then he did what I hoped, abandoned my breasts, moved his head down, making my belly quiver as his tongue touched me there. He sat up again, moved so that he was at my hip, reached for my panties,

and stopped.

"Mrs B, you take them off for me. I want to see a real woman do that, take her panties off for a man, I want that, to see you getting ready for me."

Yeah, sophisticated woman, worldly woman, a woman who's had only four sexual partners, many fewer than her husband, probably fewer than this young man, who is thinking that I am something very different than the real me.

But right now, I wanted to be what he thinks I am. I lifted my hips, pushed down, let my hips settle to the floor, legs together, pushed my panties to my knees, lifted my legs, still together, bent them so I could push my panties off, all the while looking at him, at Frank, as he saw me remove that last barrier.

I was now totally nude.

I turned to him, pulled him prone, pulled him to me, felt his body touching mine, and I did that thing that's so natural for me to do with Sam, to move my upper leg over his hip so my pelvis is hard against it. Why play with words? When I did that, the lips of my pussy were pressed against his hip. that's what I felt, that's what I wanted to feel.

"That's so nice," he said, "you feel warm -- more than warm, hot."

He broke that embrace, sat up, bent toward me again, his mouth on my belly. "I'm not real good at this, show me what to do," he said.

He moved again, I could feel his breath on me. On me, right there. Zeroing in on the targrt.

I sighed, muttered --" it's natural, what you're doing, just be soft, be gentle, be -- oh, like that." There was a whisper of a touch there, the softest touch. I spread my legs, granting him all the access he might ever want.

Another ever so soft touch, a butterfly kiss. . .

I reached down, touched myself, to assure myself what I was feeling was real, and felt his mouth on my fingers, pushing me into myself, felt his tongue move between my fingers, pushing into me.

"Just like that," I told him, now opening myself, spreading myself, a hand on either side, as he moved there too, put his mouth on me, tongue on me. "Just like that!"

It was a minute or an hour later, I wasn't sure, when he said "I can't wait. . .."

"then don't. . .."

". . .I don't have a condom. . ."

". . .you don't need one. . ."

And he was on me.

Then in me.

This inexperienced young man wasn't so inexperienced after all, he moved gently, then firmly, faster, then slowly, harder, easier, he was being an expert swordsman with me.

But he was always close, always in me, making me always wetter.

And he was young.

"I can't wait," he said again.

"Then don't," I said again.

He didn't.

His chest heaved, his body surged, I felt that completeness as he erupted.

Over. It was over. It was over, and it was good.

What I thought would be an awkward time wasn't, the last cuddling, the last touching, the last kissing, the getting dressed.

"After all of that, now I have to pay you," I said, "for the painting."

I wrote the check.

"About the furniture, I'll come back and put it in place, and maybe, uh, see you?"

"No, no, Frank. We'll move it back, my husband and me, you've done enough, and no, I don't think you should think about seeing me again. I do want you to remember me, though."

"I'll never forget," he assured me. I don't know if that's true, but I knew I wouldn't ever forget him.

It was 4 o'clock as Frank left, Sam would be home in an hour.

I cleaned some of the evidence from the great room floor, went to the bathroom, planning to take a shower, then stopped. No, what happened was as much Sam's as it was mine. No shower, not yet. I washed a little, enough to remove sweat, a little moisture.

I pulled on a robe, went to the bedroom, lay back, thinking about the day, must have fallen asleep, because I awoke with Sam next to me.

"How nice, finding you all set to welcome me home," he said, waking me with a kiss.

I reached into my robe's pocket, extracted a piece of paper, gave it to him.

"I used this today, honey, with Frank," I said, as he looked at it, at the certificate he gave me,

the "Get out of Jail Free" certificate.