The Meal, Some Food for Thought

1.Amuse Bouche.

Vaginas come in many different varieties, some more beautiful than others. For me they are the most glorious part of any woman and I would gladly worship them all day. This was why I felt privileged to have what I considered the most beautiful I had ever seen just inches in front of me. I looked at it with awe. I hadn't expected to be so love-struck by the sight of it. I blinked several times to make sure my eyes were telling the truth.

There are shy vaginas and flagrant exhibitionists. There are those that simply take the middle ground and proclaim the function. Then there are those few exceptions like this one before me. With thighs closed they may belong to the shy and retiring, showing hardly any sign of their presence. But then the thighs part and slowly spread and they open like a red rose. The sort of rose one gives to a lover. A delicate bloom that my new lover is giving me,

But the gift that a vagina gives is not just for the eyes, it also comes with a scent. Once more there are good and bad. There are some, and I have met a few, that are, to be quite blunt, rank, and odious as there are with flowers. There is a species of cactus that very rarely blooms, I believe its once every twenty years, that gives off the scent of rotting carcass. In its short life as a flower it must attract as many flies and other pollinating insect as possible. Its scent serves a purpose, but it is not one that I would seek out nor one I would want to fill a house with. I will happily leave them to their remote jungle and desert habitats.

In contrast there are the floral essences extracted and carefully contained that encapsulate the parfumiers idea of what a flower should be like. I find them overpowering and they sting the back of my throat. They mask and overwhelm any natural scent. It is designed to hide rather than to enhance the beautiful smell of a woman. Like a plastic flower sprayed with an expensive perfume. Neither can compare to the real thing.

I moved my face an inch or two closer and breathed in deeply through my nose. I was not disappointed even though I feared I might be. As her scent filled my nostrils my desire increased. This truthful scent is like an aphrodisiac to me. The precursor to a heavenly meal at a great restaurant. It has no comparison.

Now comes the moment of delight that has been tempting me for so long. As with any dish at a restaurant, one has delighted at the presentation, bent low to savour the smells and have come to the crowning moment, the first taste. I could bear the suspense no longer and I crossed the final gap. With my lips closed my kiss gave only a hint of the joys to come. Tentatively I pushed out my tongue. What it found was beyond my wildest dreams. The texture was smooth and moist, almost like silk. The taste was divine with a piquancy that sent the taste buds reeling. It was both familiar and novel at the same time. As with all vaginas it had its own nuance of flavour, its own tang, its own succulence. It held the promise of more joys to come.

2.The Starter.

I had never met a prospective bed-mate more nervous than Louise. I could feel her trembling as I held her hand. We had only just met and at first, I put it down to the thrill of first night sex. She wasn't the only one feeling nervous. This was not my usual style, I preferred getting to know a new girl first but somehow this time was different. It felt right from the moment our eyes locked.

She was with a group of girls some of who I already knew, and I didn't notice her at first. This was my usual Friday night hangout, a dyke bar not far from where I lived. It was a safe haven and I knew I'd always find other women to chat to. There was also the chance of hooking up with someone and having a fun night back at my place or theirs. I grabbed a drink and headed over to the group, exchanging greetings along the way.

It was only after we'd done the usual round of kisses and hugs that I noticed her. She was stood behind a woman opposite me, almost in interloper but still obviously attached to someone in the group. Finally, one of them turned around to find her and pulled her in closer.

"Hey ladies, this is Louise," she said by way of introduction, "she's a bit shy as it's her first time here so be nice."

The poor girl had the air of a terrified mouse as she was passed round the group for the traditional hug and the kiss on the cheek. When my turn came, I smiled at her and a flicker of a smile flashed across her face before I did my version of the hug and kiss routine. When she was done, she shrank into the background once more. For some reason I watched as she did so, and our eyes met again. I grinned at her and raised my glass and she smiled back, a little less nervously this time.

Several drinks later we were all sat round a large table having a raucous time. I found myself sitting next to this new girl, whether by accident or design I don't know. She was still very quiet and not joining in, so I thought I'd make an effort. I turned to get a proper look at her. She was pretty enough, with lovely brown eyes and quite long brown hair that fell plumb line straight past her shoulders. She wore a pretty but quite conservative blue top. She was thin almost to the point of being skinny and I vaguely wondered if she was anorexic. Dark blue jeans and sensible black shoes completed her ensemble.

It was initially hard work, but I slowly drew her into conversation and began to learn a little about her. She worked in a dead-end job at a call centre where she suffered people shouting at her all day even though none of it was ever her fault. At one point I thought she was going to burst into tears, and I took her hand in sympathy and squeezed it gently. Somehow, I forgot to let it go afterwards and we continued to hold hands for the rest of the evening. By the time the evening was over, and the landlady wanted to kick us out she felt like an old friend and I had little hesitation in inviting her back for a drink at my place.

She went very shy again but managed a nod of her head. I said farewell to the others, grabbed her hand and walked off down the road ignoring the ribald comments from the rest of the group. We walked in silence the short distance to my flat. The silence made me even more aware of her nervousness. I had to let go of her hand to find my keys and I was scared she'd run away but when I'd opened the door and turned back around, she was still there. I took her hand once more and gently tugged her inside. She stood in the middle of the living room looking around her as if she were checking for escape routes. Finally, I broke the awkward silence.

"Drink?"

She nodded her reply and looked at me.

"Grab a seat. I've got some white wine in the fridge, is that ok? Its only cheap stuff, I'm sorry."

"That would be lovely," she said, her voice catching with the effort of disturbing the silence.

I disappeared into the kitchen and sorted out two glasses and the chilled bottle, already open and lacking the glass I'd had before going out. When I returned, she was sat at one end of the long couch which was the only seating in the room. I put the glasses on the low table in front and poured two generous drinks, then I sat with her on the couch, not in the opposite corner but in the middle. I handed her a drink and took the other for myself. I raised my glass and smiled.

"To you," I said with mock solemnity.

I held out my glass towards her but kept it just out of reach. As she leaned forward to touch hers to mine, I darted my head forward and kissed her on the lips. She pulled back but a lot more slowly than I had expected and there was a quick "Oh" of surprise.

"Sorry," I lied, "but I couldn't stop myself. You're very pretty."

Instantly she turned a bright pink and looked away. I smiled to myself, it was a very touching moment.

"I've embarrassed you, sorry," I said gently, "but I've been wanting to do that all night." I paused before continuing, "I'd love to give it another go ..."

I left my comment hanging in the air not knowing what reaction might follow. Would she make her excuses and leave? Or fling herself at me? A sort of middle ground happened. She finally looked up and back at me. A wan smile crossed her face.

"It was nice," she admitted sounding slightly guilty.

"Want to try again?" I asked her.

She made no reply which I took to be a 'yes'. I shuffled closer to her until our thighs touched. I theatrically put my glass down on the table and leaned forward. When she didn't turn away, I planted my lips on hers and kept them there. Slowly she began to respond. Hoping it wasn't too soon I slipped a tongue between her lips and started to explore. I put a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her even more tightly into me. Our mouths were now both open and I felt the first tentative explorations of her tongue. This was going better than I had dared hope. Eventually we had to come up for air. We both sat back and took gulps of our wine.

"Was that 'nice' as well?" I asked her, already knowing that she had enjoyed it.

"Much nicer," was all she said before she leaned forward again, offering herself to me.

Not one to decline such a generous offer I grabbed her again. I'd been wise enough to have put my glass down and so I had two hands free although the one behind her head was now unnecessary. My other hand started to explore her body. Her arm, her shoulder, drifting lower. I felt her stiffen slightly when I first touched her breast but then relax again with the tenderness of my touch. What my hand discovered under the flimsiness of her top was a breast almost unworthy of the name. Certainly, nothing like most of the bulging cleavages offered by most of the women at the bar. As far as I could tell they were small and soft and topped by nipples that were already hard and aroused. I took them between my thumb and fingers and played with them gently. I knew that anything else might ruin this night. We had to come up for air for the second time.

"I think we should take this into the bedroom, don't you?"

She immediately pulled back and shock and fear flashed across her face. It was then that I dawned on me. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have missed the blindingly obvious?

"Oh shit, sorry," I muttered, "I never realised. This is your first time, isn't it?"

She nodded and looked at the floor.

"It's no problem," I assured her, cursing myself for my lack of the obvious, "we can call a taxi to take you home. We may be lucky and find one at this time of night, or ..." I hesitated before going on. "... or we can go to bed and sleep and talk about this in the morning."

I reached across and lifted her chin forcing her to look at me. Her eyes were damp with the beginning of tears. I knew she was ashamed of herself for not finding the courage. It had obviously been her intention when coming home with me and she was disappointed in herself. I took her hand once more and stood up gently pulling her to her feet.

"It's OK, nothing will happen that you don't want, I promise," I said gently, trying to reassure her, "you'll be safe."

With her in tow I led the way into the bedroom. I let go of her hand and she stayed just inside the door still with a worried look on her face. I walked over to the chest of drawers and started rummaging through. I usually sleep naked but felt that tonight was one occasion when nightwear might be a good idea. I found my usual emergency stash of bed clothes, an old over-sized t-shirt, and a pair of shabby boxers that I kept for emergencies and tossed them onto the bed. More rummaging found a second set which I held out to her. She glanced from my face to my hand trying to make up her mind. I pointed to the door in the corner of the bedroom.

"You can use the bathroom if you want," I said, trying to be thoughtful.

After a long hesitation she reached out and took the clothes from my hand. She was shaking as she did so. She looked down still unsure what to do. Then, she was gone like a frightened deer, almost running into the bathroom, shutting the door quickly behind her. I smiled, finding the whole scene slightly amusing but forgetting what it had been like for me in my younger days. I shook my head to regain reality then I quickly stripped off and put on the boxers and T before climbing into bed. I propped myself up on the pillows and waited.

Her face appeared first, checking on the lie of the land. When she saw me in bed and discretely covered, she ventured further. Some people may rave about sexy lingerie and many spend a fortune on it but to me she looked like the sexiest young woman in the world at that moment. She emerged out of the bathroom like a beautiful butterfly from a cocoon. The T-shirt I had found her was old and faded and covered her like a well-worn tent. She was so small and the shirt so large that it reached almost to her knees and hid any sign of her feminine charms. I loved it! I smiled and pulled aside the bed sheets next to me, inviting her in.

"Well, talk about shabby chic," I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

She scurried to the bed and climbed in, pulling the sheets up to her chin. She lay rigidly right on the edge leaving at least a foot between us. I looked down at her and smiled. She glanced up and I was relieved to get a smile in return. I shimmied down into the bed and pulled the covers up in imitation of her before reaching sideways and turning off the bedside light. The curtains had been left open and the orange streetlights bathed the room with a dim glow. We both lay quietly allowing our eyes to adjust. I let the silence linger before breaking it.

"Could we just have a hug before we go to sleep?" I asked.

I could see her face in the pale light and was overjoyed when she nodded. I rolled onto my side and put out my arm. Groping under the sheets I found her waist and pulled her towards me. I felt her hand on me as we gave each other a hug. I would gladly have gone to sleep like that and dealt with more serious things in the morning, but it was her who made the next move. I felt her lips on mine and her arm tightened around me. After a short while we broke the kiss and I pulled back and looked at her.

"Thank you," she said in a whisper.

So much was said and left unsaid in those two words I had to fight back the tears. I leaned forward intending the lightest of pecks, but she changed it into a strong kiss, eager and willing. Instinctively I responded and it kept on and on. Soon we were kissing different part of each other's faces. She followed my lead, learning from me as we went along. Her eyes, her ears, the tip of her nose, gentle nibbles on her ear lobes, always returning to her lips. Her kisses like an echo following just after mine. Tongues began to join in with the general mayhem. From somewhere she had found her courage but even I was surprised when I felt my breast being cupped and massaged through my shirt. This was a new heaven and there was nothing I was going to do to stop her.

Feeling that permission had been granted, I let my hand stray to her breast. I had discovered them before but very briefly in the living room and now I renewed our acquaintance. They were small but topped with hard and eager nipples that caught on my palm through the thin fabric. I let a finger and thumb explore them and delighted in their glory. I felt mine pinched and plucked, a little clumsily, but it had the desired effect. I could feel a damp heat spreading from between my thighs.

Time to move on, I thought. I reluctantly let go of her breast and groped beneath the covers for the hem of my shirt. I tugged at it and began to pull it upwards.

"I think it's time to get rid of these," I said, "I don't usually wear this much to bed."

I glanced sideways and saw the return of the nervous look and I hesitated, stopping my actions.

"Sorry, is this too soon?" I asked her, "if you want me to stop any time you just have to say so."

I was relieved when she replied, "It's OK."

Looking away I pulled my shirt the rest of the way over my head and flung it onto the floor. The sheets had slipped down, and my breasts lay bare in the orange glow. It was a warm and humid night and what little breeze there was played over my nipples like soft, ghostly fingers arousing me even more. I let the sheets lie where they had fallen and looked back at her.

"Should I? I mean, do you want me to?" her voice full of doubt.

"Only if you want to," I answered, "it's what you want that's important."

With a sudden flash of bravado and a shy grin she reached below the sheets, after a bit of wriggling and thrashing about she slowly revealed herself to me. With her T consigned to the floor I had no more than a glimpse before she folded her hands across her chest. I rolled onto my side towards her and kissed her.

"Well done," I told her, "I know what that took."

Taking one wrist I pried it away and placed her hand on my bare breast where it lay unmoving. I reached for her less well-guarded breast and cupped it in my hand before resuming my playful tweaking of her nipple. Slowly she relaxed and her hand began to explore my breast. With nothing to cover me and her hand groping my nakedness, my pussy started to send me serious signals. I allowed my leg to wander and slowly insinuated itself between her thighs. There seemed to be little resistance and I wasn't sure but felt that I could feel her dampness on my thigh.

My lips left hers and I bent my head and began to kiss her breasts. Her whole demeanour changed, and she started to revel in the possibilities that were to come. Her nervousness vanished. One hand on the back of my head pressed me onto her breast and her thigh relaxed welcoming my leg into her privacy. My hand was now free, and I let it wander over her tummy and over the elastic waistband of her shorts. I eased my legs away and my hand cupped her sex. I expected her to shy away but instead her legs opened even more than before. I expected her to be slightly damp at best, but she was soaked. There was no going back now.

3.The Main Course.

There are many different forms to relationships between couples, and infinite variety both in intensity and duration. This is as true between women as it is between any other pairing. The older we get the greater the variety we experience.

There are those delightfully naughty one or two night stands. We have all been there. There is no shame in them but maybe just a twinge of embarrassment at admitting to them. You are out for a drink and she appears amongst your group of friends. She is new but you can feel that instant attraction between you. It's in her eyes. The way they secretly smile whenever your eyes meet and lock. As the evening winds down and wine has flowed of course you'll go back to hers for 'coffee'. Just a quick one before you head back to your place.

You hardly get inside her front door before you are on each other. A trail of discarded clothing leads across the hall and up the stairs, breadcrumbs for the forensic birds to nibble. Then, wow! what a night. She is, to your alcohol befuddled brain, the best lover you have ever met. After three orgasms you are determined to be the best lover for her. It is only the next morning, in the cold light of dawn, that things begin to clarify. Or the euphoria may have lasted a complete weekend before the truth emerges.

She snores, she picks her nose. She is a religious fanatic bent upon converting you. She belongs to some far-right political group determined to rid the world of unclean people. It may be all or none of these but there will be some trigger that makes you back off. You make your excuses and leave.

When you get home there is only a hint of regret as you wash her phone number from the palm of your hand. For the next two weeks you let her calls go to voicemail. They become fewer and fewer until finally she stops phoning you. You avoid meeting with your friends until one of them tells you that she has moved away, and you are safe to return to the fold.