Tasting the Forbidden Fruit

I shook my head partly as a technique and partly to clear the sinful thought from my mind. I let the wonderful feeling of her labia wrapped around my tongue displace the recollection of my evil deed.

Up and down, around and around, with a firm tongue then soft I explored every millimeter of her vulva and then repeated. Varying the pace, very fast for a few seconds and then slow to the point of being almost stationary I felt Mary's sexual tension growing. The moans were nearly gasps and her hips began to twitch as I sucked most of her inner lips and clitoral hood into my mouth. The shivering told me that it was time and I focused everything on her prominent love button.

She jerked and grabbed the back of my head emitting a long wail as the ecstasy of her climax overwhelmed her. I continued to lap up the delicious fluids that had been force out by the vaginal contractions, careful to stay away from her hyper sensitive post orgasmic clit, while she spasmed with the aftershocks.

When I felt her tugging at me I knew that she'd returned to planet Earth. Compliantly I pushed my way up on to the couch beside her and we kissed tenderly.

I had often wondered but never asked how she felt about tasting herself on my mouth. Prurient dreams of watching lesbian sex invaded my thoughts and suddenly I was envisioning Greta under the blanket on this very same couch. Curiously it was Mary and not Lisa sharing the cuddle with our German house guest, in defiance of the scene that I'd actually witnessed.

We were still kissing but I felt my wife's hand extracting my erect cock from my shorts. Moving up and down very gently with a slight twisting motion made me realize how hard and needy I was. As I said if you truly enjoy performing oral sex it is all absorbing. I, as usual, had forgotten my own arousal focusing all my attention on pleasuring the woman I married; gauging her reaction to every maneuver, every speed change and adjusting accordingly.

In a strange way, at some point it wasn't even really sexual for me. It was more like watching her reaction when she opened an expensive gift that I knew she was going to love as she climbed the ladder toward fulfillment. Now that she was satisfied—partially, for the moment—I permitted myself to wade into the warm glow of my own physical needs.

She moved sideways to get a better angle of attack and lowered her head to my lap. I held her silky red hair out of the way as she engulfed my organ and began sucking. She tugged ineffectually at my briefs so I lifted my hips and stripped them off for her. I opened my legs as she slipped her hand between my hairy thighs and cradled the family jewels. That's when the tension that had built up in my scrotum reasserted and I realized how horny I was.

I think Mary is good at oral sex for the same reason that I am. I lay back and let the wonderful sensations flow over me for a while. The building tension in my balls told me that it was decision time.

Lifting her head away from my throbbing dick I croaked,

"Sit on it."

Mary smiled and twisted around. With her knees straddling me she reached between us and guided my manhood into her hot tight slippery channel. The expression on her face, closed eyes, biting her lip and deep sigh as she lowered herself slowly onto my rigid prod thrilled me. When she began pumping her hips up and down in slow steady rhythm I couldn't help thinking that this had to be the most fabulous sensation a human male can experience.

I placed my right hand on her groin and pressed on the root of her clit firmly with my thumb. The pressure forced her clitoral glans out so that it brushed the bumpy texture of the back of my dick. The direct, if teasingly gentle stimulation of her pleasure center caused her to increase the pace. Watching her full round titties giggle and sway as she bounced up and down on my pole sent me higher and deeper into the sensuality. The heat in my loins began the inexorable exponential rise that forecast my immanent ejaculation.

Mary seemed to have lost her rhythm and was now pausing at the top of her stroke and then slamming herself down my shaft with long quick thrusts. She reached up and grabbed her breasts pulling hard on her distended nipples. I'd never known if she did it spontaneously, or because she knew that it drove me over the edge. When her head went back and all the air came out of her lungs the ecstatic sound of her orgasm was unmistakable.

I felt the hot wave that seemed to start in my feet gain strength and momentum as it rose up my legs and exploded in my crotch. It was like one of those huge Hawaiian surfing waves crashing into the rocky shore. My over filled balls spasmed almost painfully as the ejected their cargo deep inside my wife's pussy.

I lay there semi reclined on the couch trying to hold on to the fleeting ecstasy as the aftershocks and pure bliss enveloped me like a warm blanket.

The next moments are not entirely clear. When I was able to sense the world again I was stretched out on the rec-room sofa with my almost naked wife lying on her side on top of me; her head resting on my upper chest and her hand languidly stroking my hairy belly fondly.

The menu for the porn DVD was displayed on the TV screen so I knew it was over. I'm not sure how long we stayed like that basking in the afterglow and dozing.

What broke the spell was feeling Mary stir, plant a soft kiss on my upper chest and push herself to a sitting position. Noting her droopy eyelids through my own half closed eyes, I saw her wiggle her fingers at me in a parting gesture. Looking over the back of the couch I watched her mature rump exit the room, her thong panties dangling from her hand.

God save me! A vision of Greta's tight round honey dew melon bum invaded my mind. I shuddered with shame.

Hauling my sorry ass off the couch I stumbled on wobbly legs out into the hallway half asleep. I nearly tripped over the hall seat and stood looking at it as if it had maliciously attacked me. There was something wrong with what I saw but in my stuporous state I couldn't figure out what it was. The little bench was empty and looked just the way it normally looked. I put the weird 'something's missing' thought down to the same mental quirk as the auditory hallucination I'd had just as I was going down on my sexy wife.

My mind was as agile as frozen molasses and it took all the focus I could muster just to get myself into bed. I heard Mary's soft snoring for an instant and then I was gone.

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"I'm going to visit my mother today," Mary shared as she sat down at the breakfast table and I reflexively cringed.

When I realized the she'd said 'I' and not 'we' I felt a wonderful wave of relief.

My wife's father had died two summers ago and within months her mother had begun an Olympic Skeleton paced decent down the icy slope into dementia. Before the year was out we knew we had to get her into an assisted living facility where she could live out the remainder of her days in safety and as much comfort as we could afford.

The 'home' we finally chose was perfect except for one thing—it was almost a two hour drive away. Mary and I made that day consuming trek once a month for the next year. She often went by herself in between our Sunday excursions. Over the last six or eight months the trips had become less frequent. It had reached the stage where Gladys wasn't even sure who Mary was all the time. She rarely had any idea who I was.

"I convinced Lisa to come with me," she informed me as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

I glanced at my daughter across the kitchen table and saw the look of resignation on her face.

"I'd like to get an early start, so... do you mind if I leave you with the clean up?"

Hmmm let's see—twenty minutes of putting the breakfast dishes away or a six hour ordeal traveling to see a woman who barely had a fingernail hold on the planet—not a tough decision.

"No honey that's fine," I agreed.

She kissed me on the cheek and whispered low enough that the girls wouldn't hear, "thanks for last night... we must do that more often."

I might have responded but she was already on her way out of the kitchen.

I sat drinking coffee thinking about what I was going to do with the unplanned day of solitude. My vacationing brain wandered and drifted finding no focus.

I heard Mary sending Lisa out to start the van a moment before she appeared in the doorway, her coat on and pulling the suede gloves over her hands.

"Remember the girls are leaving tonight on the late bus," she reminded. "Please stay out of the beer and booze so you can drive them... you know how I hate driving at night."

"No problem hon' good luck with your mom."

I watched them back out of the drive through the kitchen window. It was a good thing Mary mentioned the late bus departure because I had forgotten all about it. It was Lisa's idea. She found out that after a certain time the fare was cheaper. I wasn't overly comfortable with her arriving back on campus after dark, but she'd have Greta with her—safety in numbers. I found it hard to argue with her frugal decision especially since I was still footing a lot of the bills.

Breakfast had consisted of fresh fruit, yogurt, toast and coffee of course; so clean up was a snap taking even less than the twenty minutes that I'd estimated. Walking out into the hall still having no idea what I was going to do; I contemplated whether I should get dressed or just stay in my lounging suit, one of the many Mary'd bought me.

"Mister Wayne... I think the tap's leaking again," Greta's voice gave me a start, I'd all but forgotten that she was here.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs she looked as adorable as ever in her skirt and top, but a little flushed I thought. Her eyes were a bit downcast in an expression that I was interpreting as guilt.

'Did she think I was going to hold her responsible for what could only have been caused by my shoddy distracted workmanship?'

The faint rumble in my loins caused by my daughter's college friend and the re-emergence of the plumbing issue brought back the shameful memory.

I just stood there looking at her and found myself reevaluating her facial expression. It wasn't guilt; there was a hint of a smirk under there—playfulness, deceit—I could figure it out.

"I better have a look," I finally managed and caught a hint of her soapy fragrance as I passed by her to go up to the bedroom.

I suppose I was aware that she was right behind me but I didn't pay it any mind.

Facing the vanity I saw no evidence of drips or leaks. I turned the valves both on and off a couple of times in case the washer on the tap I hadn't fixed had failed (which wouldn't be unusual). Opening the cabinet I peeked underneath. No sign of moisture there either. Exiting the washroom to ask the carefree little fraulein what it was that she had seen my whole world changed in the blink of an eye.

At first I thought I was having a heart attack—no my heart was fully stopped and so was my breathing. I could almost feel my eyes bugging out of my head.

She was standing there wearing the black garter belt and stockings (I assumed the same one's she'd worn Christmas Eve) and NOTHING else.

"I thought it would take you longer," she said with a smile that went straight to my groin.

What I'd seen of her before in the double reflected image did not prepare me for her true magnificence. It was like I had seen a thumb nail of her beauty and now here she was giving me the live life size version. There was no thinking or reasoning possible. The response of my manhood was immediate and affirmative.

It may sound absurd but there was shyness in her smile as she watched the bulge in my lounging suit pants grow and distend. A moment after I thought I was going to drop dead from shock, and that my heart and breathing had totally stopped, I realized that my heart was racing and I was gulping air like I was running a marathon.

"I know you've been looking at me all week," my German house guest revealed (so much for my trying to be discrete).

I hadn't really been looking at her all week. I'd been trying to recapture or conjure from memory the image from the day that I'd come up to repair the faucet the first time. There was no need for imagination now. May I be excused for the way my eyes were drinking in her perfect body. The high grapefruit sized breasts with the pebbly pale strawberries on top held my attention for several seconds but inevitably my eyes drifted down over her flat yet soft looking tummy to the narrow close cropped golden landing strip above the crease that defined her gender.

To my bugged out eyes there appeared to be the same light pink flush on her mons that I had seen on her face. Down the center of the plump peach the deeper pink of her girlish treasures peeked enticingly. The flair of her hips was very subtle; just enough to accent the pinch of her waist. The whole delectable banquet of her pelvis was framed and erotically enhanced by the lacy black belt around her waist and the ribbons extending down to the tops of the smoke colored hose.

My brain was trying to convert what I was seeing to permanent, high-def, 3D storage. Greta stood patiently allowing me to explore her visually. When I was finally able to get my eyes back up to her face the sweetness of the expression on her beautiful space went to my balls and squeezed.

"I thought I owed you something extra for being so nice to me and giving me a Christmas that I otherwise wouldn't have had."

'That was it?'

'This is a late Christmas present for taking her in during the holidays?'

It seemed to me that Mary had much more to do with making the young German girl feel at home and part of the family than I had. My wife would certainly not appreciate the thank you gift the way I was.

"I... uh, saw you and uh... and Missus Wayne together last night," Greta confessed and the flush on her face became a full unmistakable blush.

"I... I saw what you were doing to her."

My mind swam through the fog, back to the previous night's love making. The noises I'd heard; and when I'd started up to bed, the strange feeling that something was missing from the hall seat—Greta's coat!

The fact that the gorgeous voyeur had given clues seemed immaterial now. She had seen me go down on my wife. That would certainly have been disconcerting if I'd realized it at the time—not being an exhibitionist—but finding out about it now, the next day, was only mildly embarrassing.

"Could you... I mean would you do that to me?"

Just when I thought I was beginning to get a bit of a handle on this incredible situation she threw the high hard one. It felt like my heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration doubled instantly. They were far from normal before she made the request but they were now back to the 'call nine-one-one' levels I'd experienced when I came out of the ensuite bathroom. My jaw dropped and my dick nodded approval by bobbing its head repeatedly.

"I could do something for you too... if you want," she offered obviously focused on the lurid show in the front of my pants.

'IF I WANT!'

It would have been more comfortable if my balls had been in a vise. The pressure was intolerable.

She was moving toward me and for a moment I thought she was going to grab my aching cock. I suppose that was wishful thinking. She sat on the bed and spread her legs, just a little, not lewdly—invitingly.

'No heterosexual man could resist this,' I consoled myself as I sank to my knees.

Greta lifted her legs onto my shoulders. She crossed her ankles behind me and I felt her heel between my shoulder blades urging me forward. It was the baby fresh soapy smell giving way to her womanly musk that flipped the switch. Conscience and guilt disappeared like a puff of smoke in the breeze of the sensual offering.

Up close her vulva looked even more like succulent fruit that it had from a distance. Pulling me forward with her feet had brought her knees up until they were almost in line with her hips. The spectacular pink groove down the center of her puffy womanhood had opened enough for me to see the details of the delicate folds, blossoming like an edible flower with dew drops coating its petals.

The first contact of my tongue with the feverish damp labia was heavenly for both of us. I echoed the deep moaning sigh from my daughter's classmate while exploring the petals gently with the very tip of my tongue.

The cavalcade of vulvas that I had been privileged to orally explore, swirling in my mind, came as a surprise. Mary's of course was first and by far the clearest. My wife's labia were much longer and thicker than the German girl's. It had been twenty-five years since I'd even thought about having my mouth on another woman in this way. I would later be amazed that the comparison didn't ignite feelings of guilt and remorse. It was simply an observation; like looking at a work of art for the first time and comparing it to other wondrously beautiful sights in memory.

The images of other pussies from my past, before I fell in love with and married Mary, were fainter and less detailed but they were all there in some form.

Slowly and patiently I began to explore Greta's womanhood taking close note of her responses. I concluded that her clitoris was extremely sensitive. Whenever I went near the glans itself she jerked and yelped. Her greatest sustainable pleasure came lower down, around her vaginal opening, and from the 'legs' of her clitoris that extended along the top edge of her inner lips. That's where I concentrated my efforts.

Having identified where, I began experimenting with the other two main components—pressure and speed. She seemed to prefer a lighter touch with a soft tongue at least in these early stages.

That of course is the art; the most effective method changes as the arousal grows. You are tracking a moving target so variations in the technique are constant, as is monitoring the reaction. The challenge that inspired me was to take her to the plateau; the height of arousal from which the precipice can be seen—felt. Once that is achieved the woman will strive toward it, toward the launch point that will send her spinning into the other dimension where the only thing that exists is physical ecstasy.

My goal then becomes to hold her there on a plateau while encouraging and coaxing her to a higher elevation for her eventual trip over the edge. My mission is to take her to heights of arousal that she's never dreamed of.

Greta reached the plateau very quickly. I located the spot and identified the motion that would catapult her into orgasm and then stayed away from it.

Monitoring her sounds and movements I extended the incredible sensations that I knew were coursing through her as long as I dared. There is always danger of creating a stall. I always thought of it as a wall suddenly blocking the launch point, preventing ultimate release. Holding them too long on the plateau could cause that barricade to emerge.

Her spot was just inside and at the top of her vagina. It wasn't the 'G' spot, but it was probably less than an inch in front of it. I thought it had as much to do with her urethra as it did with her clit.

Her whole body went into spasm and the strangely muffled sound I heard made me look up across the heaving plain of her tummy and between the plump hills of her breasts. It looked as though she was trying to eat the pillow. There was no reason that she needed to stifle the vocal component of her orgasm—we were the only ones in the house—but I assumed it was habit formed because she usually came in much less private circumstances.

It was part of the art, knowing when to stop the stimulation. You never really knew when you got it perfectly right. I always preferred to avoid being pushed away, which is the quintessential sign that you'd stayed too long.