The Older Man

He saw her online ad, and the hot pictures, and immediately responded. They emailed back and forth a few times, and then he asked if she would go to an office party with him -- that way they could meet in public and she could feel comfortable.

She agreed, and met him there. It was crowded at first, and they had little time to talk without interruptions from his co-workers. She had gotten a little bored, and just moved to the sofa by herself while he was engaged in a long discussion.

Suddenly, the partygoers from the office had moved outside leaving just him and her in the living room of his house.

They were almost a generation apart. He was 52 and she 35. He flopped down in an overstuffed chair sipping Jameson's Irish whiskey. She laid across from him on the sofa sipping a glass of wine.

She took a sip and dribbled a little down her chin, and giggled as she wiped her chin with her delicate fingers. "So, Here we are. You're being very quiet. What are you thinking about over there?"

He took a sip of his drink, and smiled. "You. Me. Things."

She laughed; tossed a pillow from the sofa at him. "You know, you sound so full of shit!"

"Well, granted. But this this not one of those times. All night, I've been watching you moving among the guests, flirting and charming, and I'm thinking how beautiful you are. And that I've never told you. I'm thinking that if I could just touch the soft skin between your breasts," he took another sip, "and bury my nose in your hair...I think that the weight of the world would lift from me for a moment in time."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, yeah; right. You are so full of it." But she looked back at him and he started to talk again. He talked quietly, in an odd mood.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was her desires stirring, because no one had talked to her like this. Whatever the case, his mood was contagious.

"To touch my lips to the back of your neck; to slowly breathe those words into your into your ear.

"To hold your chin in the palm of my hand, my thumb caressing your lips. You'd look at me but you'd say nothing. You'd slowly part your lips and slowly and gently lower them and surround my thumb with them and gently suck it into your mouth that feels as hot as a thousand suns....I'd close my eyes and hold my breath from the ecstasy."

His voice fell silent. He looked out the front window; took another sip of his drink.

She sat transfixed. She didn't laugh. Her breathing increased ever so slightly and started to shallow out.

He looked down at the floor and continued:

"To caress your throat, your collar bones, that soft delicate place where they meet. To take your breast gently in my hand and feel its firm softness and its weight, gently grazing your nipple with the lightest touch, and softly rolling it between my thumb and forefinger. To hear your breath coming in soft little gasps at the touch.

"To watch you as you close your eyes. Maybe feel you shift your weight, moving your hips forward, your thighs parting slightly as they press against my thighs, searching for something to press your pussy against."

He fell silent again. He took another sip, never looking at her, but at the floor. Maybe he was beginning to feel self-conscious. He was older. He was an average looking man, as several female friends told him, politely - he was "unconventionally handsome." He started taking Viagra on his 50th birthday.

After a long moment, and to her surprise, she found herself speaking.

"Ummm, so, what else? You know, what else were you thinking...about us - uh, I mean about me?" She felt awkward. None of her male friends had talked to her like this before.

He smiled, slowly looking up toward the ceiling and closing his eyes. "The softness and slickness and wetness between your legs; the scent of your sex. What it would be like to press my face into you."

"To taste you, smell you, run my fingers between the slick folds. Feel you move against me."

And then suddenly he was standing in front of her, holding out his hand.

"I want to be with you."

She was breathing in shallow, quick breaths. Her face and chest felt hot and flushed.

She looked up at him and took his hand. He led her upstairs to his room. They stood by his bed, facing each other. He reached for the bottom of her T-shirt, lifted it. She raised her arms willingly.

The shirt came off, and she looked at him, waiting. He touched the soft valley between her breasts, trailed his fingertips down to her belly to the top of her jeans.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply. He barely whispered, "My God."

She shivered at his touch. Giggled nervously, quietly.

"Take off your bra." She reached behind her, undid the clasp then bent her shoulders forward. The bra slid down her arms and then her breasts were naked to him.

Her gaze followed his hand as it came to gently cup a breast, thumb gently circling the nipple. She closed her eyes as the sensation spread through her. She felt her clitoris swelling already. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him, silently saying, "What next?"

He sat on the side of her bed. Took her by the hips and positioned her directly in front of him. Her hips were so slim, so delicate, her belly so achingly flat and beautiful. She offered no resistance.

"Take off your jeans."

She fumbled nervously with the button then pulled her jeans down to her ankles and stepped out of them. She stood before him in only her panties.

He took her panties at each hip and very slowly slid them down her hips. The first tug downward was only millimeters; he leaned into her and kissed the skin at the top of her belly, slowly breathing out on the sensitive skin at the end of each kiss. With each downward movement of the panties came another kiss, another breath, down her belly.

Then he was at her mound and the soft brown hair that covered her. The panties were rolled on down her thighs to her ankles. He gently gripped her by her smooth thighs, right below the inner hollow that lead to the entry into her. He gently nuzzled his nose into her pubic hair and inhaled deeply.

A wonderful chill ran through her. Her clit felt fuller and hotter with blood, and the wetness was palpable now.

She wanted to be filled. His pace was maddeningly slow.

He sat back, admired her in full. She didn't feel her customary desire to cover herself. She felt strangely relaxed, at ease. To have this man stare at her beauty was something she had never experienced.

"My God"he said again.

"Touch yourself. Please"

She giggled quietly, "I really don't like to do that..."

He took her hand, gently pressed it to her labia. She did not resist. Her middle finger went between her swollen lips quickly.

She watched every movement of her hand in his; felt it too. Wondering what would be next. He withdrew her hand, held it in front of his face, and admired the dew that had accumulated on it. He brought it to his nose, inhaling slowly. He took it gently to his mouth and ran his tongue down it's length.

She felt lightheaded. He stood, took her head in his hands, his fingers tangling in her long hair and gently kissed her forehead.

She felt him tremble. She searched his face, whispered, "What?"

He bent to her ear. "You are so incredibly desirable; so beautiful. I want to lick you; taste you. Torture you with pleasure until you can't take any more, to become a part of you..."

She moved her body to the middle of the bed. He found his robe at the foot of the bed. He took the terry cloth belt from the robe and knelt on the bed near her chest.

"Put your hands above your head." She complied without question or hesitation. None of her lovers had ever tied her. She had never even considered it, but she completely trusted him now.

He tied her hands to the headboard, ran his fingertips down her arms to the soft, sensitive flesh of her underarms and then he trailed his fingertips down the sides of her body to her hips.

She closed her eyes, stretched her body under his touch like a cat. If she could have purred she might have. The sensations were so blissful.

He stood and undressed, and she watched him silently, anticipation driving her wild.

He wasn't a chiseled athlete, and in other circumstances and would not have gotten a second look from her in a bar. But his words and touch had unleashed a desire that she had never felt before. She wanted him. She wanted to feel what he would do to her. She wanted some release for her body. It was crazy, being so out of control, but she did not want it to stop.

He lay beside her. Every kiss, every caress was gentle, slow. Her skin was in love. It longed for the next touch of fingers or lips. Her nipples longed for the strong suction of his mouth followed by the flick of his tongue and the gentle grip and scrape of his teeth.

She lost track of time. She was becoming impatient. He had not touched her clit again and it was swollen and throbbing -- she needed some release.

"Touch me down there. Please.........."

He was sucking a breast, rolling the opposite nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't look up. "Not yet," was all he said before he applied his mouth again.

He moved to her belly with fingertips, lips and tongue; the sensitive skin in the hollows of her hips, tracing the "Y" where her legs met, and the line where the soft hair of her mound met the naked sensitive skin of her lower belly.

She was panting, she had her legs spread. The perfume of her moisture filled the room.

Hot, clean sweat mingled with the sweetness of her musk. He kissed her at the top of her mound, burying his nose again in the hair, his chin pressuring her clit.

The delicate hairs were dewy with moisture; her clit was rising above her parted labia, engorged with the blood rushing form her brain, leaving her in a dizzying state of confusion and bliss. He gently grazed her there with his tongue. She shivered violently and moaned, "Oh, yesssssss..."

He moved between her legs, stroked and nuzzled the most sensitive flesh in the hollows of her thighs. He parted her lips with his thumbs and lowered his mouth over her clit, gently sucking and swirling around and around and around it.

He shifted position slightly and slowly slid a finger inside her as he continued to lick, and nuzzle and suck.

She became increasingly vocal as she pressed herself against his face, finding her rhythm, her body stretched with her hands tied above her head. Now she wanted them free so she could bury her fingers in his hair and pull him into her. Every nerve felt alive.

She lost her rhythm, gave several cries and then held her body rigid, her pussy pressed to his face as she felt the orgasm spread through her as she clenched tighter and tighter on the finger inside her. He could feel the ripples of her orgasm start, branch out all over her body, and then subside.

She was panting quietly now. Her body relaxed. He kissed the delicate skin around her pussy and inner thighs and hips and up her belly, over her breasts and to her lips.

She could feel his hardness lying across her mound, oh so near she wanted and needed it to be. She smiled up at him and then closed her eyes.