SueFromDenver Ch. 05

Chapter Five

I woke when the breeze got cooler.

As I started to roll over his hand caught me, cat-quick, making me squeal a little and try to jerk away. But he's strong and I surrendered, giggling.

We rolled together, off of the blanket and onto the lush flower garden that was this meadow. He slipped inside of me and I locked my legs with his. This was somewhere between plain fucking and gently making love. We were both so damn horny, it was passionate but there was an underlying layer of tenderness.

We rolled again and I was on top, covering his face with kisses while my hips thrust with a life of their own. I nipped at the column of his neck hard enough that he yelped and rolled us again so he was on top. We were grinning at each other when suddenly my back was on fire.

I screamed. I pushed. He was grinning down at me.

"Wes, God, NO, LET ME UP!!!!!!!!" I screamed.

He got the message, pulled out, and stood. I JUMPED to my feet and turned.

"WHAT'S ON MY BACK?!!?!?" I screamed.

"Oh shit," he said and started slapping my back.

When I moved away he grabbed my hair, holding me, and yelled, "ANTS!" as he kept at my back.

I tried to hold still but my body flinched from each bite, and there were dozens, maybe hundreds of bites.

The worst passed and he walked me back to the blanket.

"Any more," he said and I screamed as a sharp bite hit between my legs where I was already sensitive.

I got bit four more times, low on my pussy, before he dug the little monster out of my pubic hair and then I rolled over and spread my ass cheeks as he got another one that was trying to eat his way in through that opening.

"Any more," he said again, his eyes holding mine.

"SUSAN!" he snapped, "ANY MORE?!"

I was feeling a little woozy and having trouble catching my breath. All I could do was shake my head.

"Oh fuck," he said and ran back to the ATV, jerked the trunk open, grabbed something, and ran back.

"Hold still," he said, holding my leg and hitting it with the thing in his hand.

"An EpiPen," he said, "you're having an anaphylactic reaction."

I knew I was in trouble since I couldn't seem to draw a breath.

He wrapped me in his arms, holding me, talking to me, calming me.

"Easy, now," he said, "try to relax, you're okay, Wes has you," and I tried to giggle as I flashed back to that first night we had met.

"Easy," he said, "don't struggle, go ahead, breathe now."

And I could. That first breath sort of whistled through my swollen trachea, but it eased pretty quickly.

He held me, calming me, while my breathing got back to normal.

"What the fuck?" I asked, well, I sort of groaned, my back and ass and pussy were still on fire.

"They're called fire ants for a reason," he said, "and you are in for a very uncomfortable ride home."

He kissed me.

"But you're okay, Susan," he said, "and I have things at the house to help."

He offered the wineskin and I sucked at it greedily, hoping for some relief. But soon I was just a little drunk and still in pain. I watched as he packed up quickly and efficiently, as he did everything. Soon he had his basket loaded and packed into the trunk.

He wasn't kidding.

It was a GODDAM painful ride back. Every bounce of the ATV drove a spike into my skin. Sitting sidesaddle only meant all of the pain was concentrated. I couldn't stop crying. Christ, I was being burned alive.

The road ride back was hardly better. Every expansion joint was a separate agony. Every dip was exquisite pain. I had him pull over twice so I could throw up, thinking, ruefully, "what a waste of a good picnic."

We finally made it back home, and it hit me, not for the first time, that I was thinking of it as "home" now.

I was still crying a little as he started undressing me. All I could do was stand there, helpless, trembling a little.

"Okay, beautiful Susan," he said when I was naked, "let's get you fixed up."

He stripped quickly and started the shower running. When it was warm, not hot but warm, we stepped in and he started washing my back and ass very VERY gently. Even that light touch was agony, but I stood it, knowing he was helping me.

When the shower was done he patted me dry, gently, carefully, but still causing me to cry out.

He got a pillow off the bed and put it on one of the kitchen chairs so I sat, very gingerly.

"Now," he said, smiling, "let uncle Wes fix up his magic potion."

As I watched he took a dozen aspirin pills (Bayer if it matters) and started crushing them on a plate with the back of a spoon. When he had them down to a fine white powder he opened a couple of capsules and added the pale brown contents to the small pile of powder. Next, he added a couple of spoonfuls of plain Arm and Hammer baking powder, continuously slowly stirring the mixture. He used an eyedropper to add water and milk, a couple of drops at a time, until he had a thick paste.

"Okay, beautiful," he said, and he always made me smile when he called me beautiful, "let's get you fixed up."

He led me to the bedroom and closed the door. Then he used a hand mirror so I could see my back in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Jesus, there must have been a hundred bright red bumps from my shoulders down to my ass.

"You, my dear," he said, chuckling deep in his throat, "are a mess."

He had me lay face down on the bed and started dabbing, each touch of the cold wet paste a separate little bit of relief. He finished with that bite deep in the cleft of my ass, almost at my anus, and then the last little spot of agony even lower, touching my taint (you know the old joke, that place between a woman's asshole and her pussy where "t'aint ass and t'aint pussy") with the paste.

"Thank you," I said, able to relax for the first time since that first bite.

"No problem," he said, smiling, "always happy for a chance to look at this beautiful ass."

I giggled, a little drunk and giddy with relief.

"Tell me a story," I said.

"A story?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, giving him my best smile and what I hoped passed for a little girl's simper. "Tell me about that grandmother who taught you so much."

He smiled at that.

"I'm looking for the word," he said and then snapped his finger.

"Okay, you salacious slut you," he said, and began.

Wes's Story - -

"Are you at all familiar with the Oneida Colony," he asked, catching me by surprise with the question.

"The what?" I asked.

He laughed at that and said, "okay, let me start at the beginning."

"The Oneida Colony was one of those 19th-century quasi-religious communist communes. A guy named Noyes started it, and it's called the Oneida Colony because it was started near Oneida, New York.

Noyes had a problem. Well, that's not quite right. Noyes had a solution. He believed that something as wonderful as sex was practiced by angels and if it was practiced by angels, then how could it be bad?

But the colony realized the need for some sort of birth control or, well, the women would always be pregnant. So he, well, 'they' I suppose, developed a system. When a boy started getting interested in girls he would be assigned to a post-menopausal woman to teach him what he needed to know."

I giggled and said, "I thought that came pretty instinctively."

He slapped me on the ass making me yell, the homemade salve was a relief but those bites were still DAMN tender.

"Silence salacious wench," he said, "or I'll spank your bumpy ass."

I made the universal sign of zipping my lip, pulling pinched fingers across the line of my mouth, and settled to listen.

"Noyes was a strange guy for the 1850s. He recognized that women can get pleasure from sex as well as men and they are not limited to that one brief flash of pleasure," he said.

I giggled again and said, "or two or sometimes three," earning me five quick slaps on my tender ass, forcing me to bury my face in the pillow to muffle my scream.

"Okay, okay," I said when I had my breath back, "I'll quit kibitzing."

"To continue," he said.

"So when a boy would show his interest in women he would be assigned to a post-menopausal woman for instruction. It was all very open and above board. They would live as a couple, as man and wife, I suppose you'd say, until she deemed him ready to join the colony's society as a full male member.

My great-grandmother hadn't been part of the colony, but HER grandmother had and she passed the story along down the generations. My great-grandmother, in turn, passed the story down to her daughter and granddaughter, my mother.

In the days of the colony, the, well, the 'training' began with puberty. But mom was aware of the law and, well, of society's norms which had changed, so she just kept a very close eye on me until my eighteenth birthday. On that day she delivered me to my Mamy Mama - what I always called my great-grandmother whose name was Mame - for my own training.

And that's how I got to be the great lover you see before you."

"Annddd," I said.

"And what?" he asked.

"And just HOW did she, as you put it, 'train you'."

"You want details, you salacious slut?" he asked.

"Right down to the color of her pubic hair," I said, making him chuckle.

"Okay," he went on, and there was silence for a few seconds while he thought. I could see his eyes looking up and to the right as he organized his thoughts.

"If you look in the dictionary under 'gramma,' you'll see her. She was such a prototypical grandmother she was almost a cliche. I was 18 and she was 70-something. She had had seven children, six girls, and a boy, and God only knows how many grandchildren and great-grandchildren she had by then.

Her face and body reflected all of that. Working from the top down - she had very curly hair, something enhanced by weekly visits to the beauty parlor. Her face was round, like the rest of her, with deep creases and a thick tracery of wrinkles and crow's feet around her eyes. She was very VERY heavy chested in that way of some thick old women. Her arms were thick and soft marred by those dark splotches she called liver spots. When I was delivered to her she was wearing a dark blue dress with a pattern of light dots, I learned later that on closer inspection they were tiny birds, that buttoned at the neck and ran to mid-calf. She had on heavy shoes with a moderate heel.

Mom took my hand and gave it to her. They sat, then, while I stood beside Mamy Mama while they talked about me as if I wasn't there.

'You're sure he's ready?' she asked mom and mom said, 'yes.'

'Is he still a virgin?' she asked and mom said, 'yes,' again.

'Caged whenever he leaves the house?' she asked and mom said, 'yes,' for the third time.

She finally turned to me.

'Pants off, Wesley,' she said, and I didn't hesitate. I knew better than that.

I stood there then, my pants on the floor, in my T-shirt, tennis shoes, and the cock cage I had worn every time I left the house for as long as I could remember.

'The key please, Mary,' she said and mom handed over the key.

She reached over, quite casually, unlocked the tiny padlock, and freed me. As always happened, I sprang erect.

She giggled and said, 'well, that works.'

'What have you taught him?' she asked mom.

'Nothing,' mom replied, 'I left that for you.'

'Well,' Mamy Mama said, 'let's see what we have to work with.'

And she took me in her hand and started, well, inspecting me is as good a way as any to put it. She cupped and lifted my balls, squeezed the shaft, pulled back the residual foreskin, and traced my little head with her fingertip.

I suppose, if I thought about it really hard I could imagine a more embarrassing thing than standing there while my mother looked on and as my great-grandmother studied my cock like it was a science experiment.

She took me in her hand then and began masturbating me, adding to my embarrassment. She was very expert at what she was doing and within seconds I was cumming.

Well, that's not quite true. Within seconds I was trying to cum. But my body's release was denied by her thumb and forefinger squeezing, hard, right at the base of my erection.

She held me like that, squeezing, preventing my ejaculation, her other hand on my ass, while I shuddered and gasped and my body tried desperately to finish, to obey the commands of a million years of evolution.

'Relax now, Davey,' she said in a soft, crooning voice, as my body strained.

I opened my eyes, hell, I hadn't realized they were closed, and saw her smiling up at me. When I looked over I saw mom smiling, kind of vacantly. I knew her well and knew she was thinking about getting a drink.

'Will you stay, Mary, or will you be heading back?' Mamy Mama asked my mom.

Mom stood and said, 'I need to get back. State inspection is coming up and I need to make sure the Home is ready'."

"Home," I asked, interrupting his story.

"Yes, Home," he said, "mom owned a small nursing home in Denver. She was an alcoholic but a very high functioning alcoholic. Now, do you want to hear about Mamy Mama or should I tell you about other things?"

"Sorry," I said, and did the lip-zipping thing again.

"I was surprised when she kissed me," he went on, "and it was much more than a motherly peck on the cheek. Then she left and I was alone with Mamy Mama.

She crooked her finger, beckoning me, and I went to her.

And she did it again, the masturbation and squeezing thing, leaving me aching and swollen.

'Your first lesson, honey,' she said, holding my eyes and my still hard dick, 'is that there is more to good sex than just draining the old dragon.'

She stood and kissed me, a real kiss, a man-woman kiss, lingering, her tongue seeking my lips and then my tongue. Her hand expired my back and then my ass and I was fully hard by the time she broke it.

'Now,' she said, and I was glad on some level to see that she was a little breathless, 'lesson two, undress me.'

By then, as you can imagine, I was pretty helpless to stop. So I started on the buttons of her dress.

'No,' she said, slapping my hand.

'Honey, when you undress a woman you do it one button at a time,' she said, 'and you take the time to kiss each little bit of skin you expose. Never hurry, and that's lesson three.'

So I leaned forward and kissed the soft skin at her throat, very warm and soft with tiny wrinkles. I did the same with the next two buttons and with the fourth the top of her bra was showing so I kissed that line where her bra met skin, loving the look of her very pale breasts, the tracery of blue veins was beautiful and sexy. I took my time there.

Just getting the buttons undone took time because I realized she was right. THIS was the way to undress a woman. When I had the buttons undone, including those at her wrist, I slipped the dress off of her. God, that's when I realized how sexy a woman in underwear could be. Her bra was very white cotton with six hooks in the back to support her large, heavy breasts. Her panties, what we call granny panties today, were just as white, and just as industrial strength.

But I remembered what she had said, and I used my hands to turn her and started kissing her back, figuring that was part of the skin I had revealed. Her age showed in the tiny wrinkles pretty much all over her, and I found that sexy. When I lifted her arm to kiss more skin I found out that she had never used a razor, anywhere."

"Susan," he said, breaking his narrative for an explanation, "those armpits, unshaved and VERY hairy, were SO different from anything I had ever seen before, were my undoing. I came, right there, standing behind her."

I giggled then, and took a deep breath. His tale was getting to me.

"Aaannnddddddd?" I asked.

"She smiled at that," he went on, "and said 'lesson four, honey. Good sex is often messy but it is never dirty.'

'I'm sorry,' I said, aware of my semen on her back and running down her ass and leg.

'Oh honey,' she said, 'don't be sorry. You just paid an old woman a very nice compliment. I thank you, sweety.'

Then she lifted her arm, deliberately, and said, 'here, kiss, tickle, play, get used to me.'

So I did. And I found it very sexy.

My fingers were struggling to figure out the hooks of her bra, and that took a while, but I was kissing revealed skin and enjoying myself very much.

Her breasts were large and saggy. I peeked at her bras later, of course, and she wore a 40DD. Her nipples were very big, her areolas very small, barely there under her nipples, and when I played with them, they were hard pebbles. She gasped when I tugged on them.

'I like it when my man is on his knees to finish,' she said so I took the hint and got to my knees. I rolled her panties down, kissing revealed skin until her amazingly hairy pussy was exposed.

'Don't stop now,' she said, smiling down at me and sort of stroking my hair, almost petting me.

So I kissed her mons veneris, that round, very prominent Mound of Venus, feeling her thick, coarse, curly hair against my mouth.

And for the first time, I inhaled the scent of a woman's arousal. I came instantly erect.

She took me to her bed, then, and in another first for me, I felt a woman's body against mine. And I loved it. She was soft and warm and big and wet as I slipped into her.

'Control, Wes,' she said as her hips started rocking in that way only a woman can move, 'control. Wait for me, honey.'

That first time, of course, I couldn't. I tried, but she had me cumming in just a few seconds.

So she grabbed me by the balls and squeezed until I was crying like a goddam baby.

She kissed me, while she was still squeezing and I was still crying, and said very softly, her breath warm in my ear, 'you HAVE to learn control, honey.'

I don't know how long she held me like that. It just seemed like forever, I know, but it damn sure DID seem like forever.

When she finally released me I wanted to curl up, you know, into the fetal position, but she held me. When I stopped crying she offered me her breast and then stroked my hair as I nursed.

We made love five times that afternoon. The first four times, when my control failed, she would grab and squeeze and I would cry and beg her to stop.

But that fifth time, when I felt her cum, when I saw her face during her orgasm, when I heard the soft keening sounds she made, when I felt her squeezing on me, the tension in her body, the wetness of her pleasure, and then the total relaxation when she was satisfied, I understood what she meant. I stayed on top of her, and inside of her, supporting myself on my elbows, brushing the hair away from her face, smiling down at her, kissing her, enjoying the way her face seemed slack in her complete relaxation, telling her she was beautiful.

And she was beautiful right then. That is when I realized how important it was to give a woman that level of pleasure, that pure ecstasy, that release from her years and her cares."

"And Susan," he said, breaking into his tale, "that's when I realized that any woman I was ever with would know that."

I smiled at him and said, "well, it works."

"That is how the next two months went," he went on.

"I learned, at least basic control pretty quickly, and she didn't have to squeeze my balls much after that first afternoon. I learned to make her cum with fingers and lips and tongue. I learned to play with her tits until she was having trouble breathing, to masturbate her until she was the one trying to escape, to use my lips and tongue on her asshole until her pussy ran with her thick white honey, to tickle her feet until she peed.

When I had that part of it mastered, and that took a couple of weeks, she turned me over to her friend, Kitty, for my 'finishing.'

Kitty was the exact opposite of Mamy Mama in most ways. She was one of those women who had lost every fat cell after menopause. She was bone thin, making me think she might be anorexic although I later figured out she wasn't. Her hair was very thin, and unlike my great-grandmother, she shaved every hair off of her body below her neck.