The Pluto Principal

The taste of her strawberry lip-gloss was intoxicating, as was the smell of her up close. With her pressing herself up against the front of my shorts, she had to be aware as much as I was of the gravity--defying effect she was having upon me.

Stepping back, she was so cute as she performed a classic curtsy. "Welcome to my humble house."

Behind her was a room unlike anything I'd conjured in my imagination, a mixture of sixties pop culture stylishly blended with taste and sophistication. Ceiling to floor windows ran across the far length of the room, offering a panoramic view of the blue Pacific. But it was she who held my attention.

She must have known I was taking her in as she struck a pose. Raising her right hand up with her palm to the ceiling and her fingers splayed, she placed her other hand on her hip and twisted slightly, peering back at me from over her shoulder.

With that smile as fetching as ever, she offered me a sultry, "Do you like Barbie's little Malibu playhouse?"

Like! Like? Forget the room. She was incredible! Beyond any mere fantasy. Her dress looked to be something a teen-aged debutant would have worn to an elite sorority mixer in the early sixties. A soft sunflower yellow with white lace trimming the edges of the puffy short sleeves, neckline, and hem, the skirt was full and layered, with silk or satin below and a gauzy sheer--white fabric above. The skirt's hemline came down to just above her knees, exposing the multitude of petticoats underneath and those silky long legs emerging from within. Accenting her tiny waistline, she wore a white belt with an oversized buckle, and her matching high heels were adorned with little bows. Her long blonde hair was up, styled so that it didn't cover her neck or bared shoulders. The plunge of her neckline was both alluring and demure, revealing enough of her breasts to make my mouth water, but leaving enough concealed so that my eyes craved for more.

Trying to think of something cool to say, all I could come up with was, "You said this was a party? Where is everybody?"

"It is a party." She dropped the pose, crossing her arms and facing me. "A private party."

While fantasizing about her, I'd envisioned many scenarios. Yet what was unfolding was something completely different. Always in my past relations with girls around my own age, I'd felt I was at least thirty percent in control. Yet here, now, it was obvious I was here for her purposes. Which was just fine with me.

Picking up the present, she poised her fingers atop the bow. "May I?"

"Please," I nodded. "And Happy Birthday!"

As adept with unwrapping the present as she was with transforming my Transformer, in a matter of moments she had the bow on the table and the layers of wrapping paper on the floor." Watching her face, she appeared absolutely elated. "You know?" she positively beamed at me, "I always feel like unwrapping a present is half the fun! That's why I like to wear so many petticoats and things. It make it so much fun to get undressed!"

Before I could respond, she plucked my gift from its box. Holding it up as if displaying a prize, she cooed, "Oooh! Champagne! My favorite! How did you know?" Then just as quickly. "You stay right here. I'll get us some glasses and be right back."

Watching her cross the room was a delight in itself. The way those legs moved within that fluff of petticoats, and the swish of her hips; I followed her every move until she disappeared from the room. Then stepping down into the sunken living room I ran my fingers over the zebra striped love seat, and couldn't believe the plushness of the shag rug. Actually, outside of a Brady Bunch rerun, I don't think I'd ever even seen a shag rug before?

Outside, the sun was setting over the ocean. Walking over to stand at the window, the view looked like something from a postcard. Above, the sky was a velvety violet with splashes of red and gold. Below, the sea stretched out cobalt blue, the clouds beginning to glow silver as the sun dipped down into the far horizon.

Suddenly, from behind me I heard the clink of glass, and there she was standing next to me and offering me a glass of champagne.

Taking a sip, she kept her eyes on the view. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

I wasn't watching the sunset anymore. Who could blame me if I only had eyes for her? Bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun she was so perfect, so beautiful, truly she didn't seem real. And her lips, the way they so gently touched the rim of the glass as she sipped her champagne was hypnotic. All I could think of was how those lips had felt when a few minutes ago they'd been upon mine.

Noticing I was staring, she turned her attention away from the view, gazing at me with that curious expression she showed me when first she appeared from behind that red curtain in her sop. "But you're not drinking?" She held up her glass. "The champagne really is delicious. Go ahead, take a sip, you'll love it."

My throat as so dry. Before I knew it, I'd drained half my glass.

Her eyes grew wide as that smile spread across those luscious lips. "My--oh--my ... what a thirsty boy." Her tone was so playful and teasing. "Good thing I brought the bottle."

Raising her right hand to show me she indeed had the bottle, she filled my glass, then topped off her own. Reaching over to place the bottle on a nearby table, she sidled back into me, the sensation of her dress brushing up against my bare leg so exciting as she put her left hand on my shoulder and held up her glass in her right.

"A toast!" She clinked her glass to mine. "Happy fiftieth to Barbie?"

Incredulous, my amazement slipped from my lips. "You're fifty?"

Taking a sip, for a moment she didn't acknowledge my question. But I could see her neck as she swallowed. "Does my age bother you?"

"Bother me?" I took another gulp. "Bother's not a word I could possibly associate with you. It's just that I'm amazed. You don't look fifty."

Playful, but still as if she was toying with me, her eyes were so intense. "Appearances can be deceiving. I work out. I watch what I eat. And my plastic surgeon is a Michelangelo. It's just amazing what can be done with plastic." Again, her laugh was so sparkling and totally disarming. "I'll dare you to find even the teeny--tiniest scalpel line anywhere on me."

Maybe it was the champagne, but before I knew it, I blurted out, "Just how closely can I look?"

"That," she winked, "depends on how keen are your eyes. Most young men I've known can see quite well close up. But then again, any man I let get close to me usually has other things on his mind. I don't know your exact age, but I'm sure I'm old enough to be your mother. So here we are, a much younger man with an older woman. A woman who has invited you into her house, we're all alone, drinking champagne and watching the sunset. Please let me know if any of this makes you uncomfortable?"

Incredulous, I shook my head. "No, I think I'm fine. In fact, I can't think of any other place in the universe I'd rather be right now."

"Okay," she winked, "don't say I didn't warn you." Finishing her glass, she held it up to the light. "The vintage you chose is wonderful. You obviously have great taste for a young man." Leaning away, she placed her empty glass next to the bottle, then brought her attention back to me. "It was so sweet of you to bring me a present. And you didn't even know it was my birthday."

"Hey," I shrugged, "I wouldn't ever come to a party empty handed."

Bringing her hand over, she lightly traced a finger up my wrist then over my thumb. Finally dipping a fingertip into my champagne, she brought her hand back and closed her lips about her finger. A moment later, slipping her finger from her mouth she offered a sly, "I can guarantee that you won't be leaving without my returning the favor of me giving you a gift, as well."

My heart was beating wildly, but I was doing my best to maintain control. Every glance, every touch, every word had me on the edge of believing my fantasy of making a universe--shaking discovery with my rocket might come true.

Nodding knowingly, she indicated for me to drink up. When I drained my glass she took it from me and placed it next to hers. Never having taken her hand from my shoulder she turned back to me. Now draping her right arm over my left shoulder, she pressed herself to me.

Her face inches from mine, again she smiled. "Do you know what my real birthday present is?"

In awe, I shook my head.

As if poised to blow a bubble she rounded her lips, paused, then whispered, "You."

It was all so unbelievable, the color of the sky, the distant sound of the surf below, and her, so beautiful, so alluring, and so entirely and incredibly real as she pressed her lips to mine. Not even daring to think, I gathered her in my arms.

With the sun setting about us my passion exploded, setting the night afire. From the moment of the first touch of our lips there was such a powerful presence to the way she made love. A real woman, a mature woman, one who isn't the least bit afraid in seeking out exactly what she wants, and at the same time giving all she has to give. How she purred when my lips and tongue sought out the soft spot between her neck and ear, and how she acquiesced to my every caress and nibble, she was enjoying herself with me by allowing me to enjoy myself with her.

With the room growing dark about us, I undressed her. As a permanent vision in my life I'll remember until I'm a at least a thousand, I'll always recall her standing with her back to me as I unbuttoned her dress, slowly one by one, then when the back opened fully to reveal the strap of her bra, slipping it down off her shoulders. Then each layer, each petticoat, as each piece of clothing slipped away, we would then share a deep and lingering kiss. Exactly as when she'd unwrapped my gift, I was entirely appreciative of the experience of unwrapping her present to me. When at last all that remained were her bra and panties my excitement was beyond anything I'd ever experienced before.

Wordlessly she turned to me, then unbuttoned my shirt and unzipped my shorts, getting down on her knees to slip them and my briefs down my legs. Naked and standing before her with my own eyes I witnessed the first touch of her fingers as she took me in her hands, cradling and caressing me. Looking up to meet my gaze, she smiled that smile, then amazed me by taking me into her mouth. The way her lips closed about me, my surprise was only overwhelmed by the sensation. So soft, so slow, so wildly erotic, always deeper and deeper, in no time at all she had me reeling on the edge of losing control.

"Barbara ... Barbie----" I warned. "If you keep doing that----"

Taking me from her lips, she wrapped her fingers about me, rubbing the ball of her thumb ever so slowly about the very tip as I began to shake and quiver. "That's why I prefer a young man." In the starlit darkness she looked up to me. "With a young man I know I won't be disappointed, no matter what I do."

Taking me again in her mouth, deeply, her lips closing about me and sliding me all the way in, for one long and exquisite moment she held me, tightening her lips and doing something incredible I'd never felt before with her tongue. The way she closed her lips about me and drew me in, that more than anything cast me hopelessly over the edge. Shuddering and quaking, almost losing control of my legs and falling to the floor, she didn't shrink away, surprising me by taking all I had to give. Yes, I'd experienced oral sex before, but never had I experienced a woman who was so intensely eager to consummate the deed.

When at last I'd regained some composure, still dressed in her panties and bra she offered out her hand, and I helped her to her feet. We shared another glass of champagne, taking in the view of the stars above the waves. Then I completed my unwrapping, removing her panties and bra and discovering in the light of the rising moon the hue of her nipples and the shaved perfection secreted between her legs.

Falling together on the rug there was no question but that I'd grown incredibly hard once again. Kissing wildly, touching her everywhere and marveling at the perfection of her breasts and the bare smoothness of the folds between her legs, soon I repaid her favor, bringing my lips down into those silky folds and seeking her out until I had her crying aloud as she arched her hips, bucking and raking her fingers through my hair.

Emboldened by her reaction, ravenous, kissing her all the way up her body, past her naval, I lingered on each nipple. As promised, her skin was perfect; not a trace of a scalpel anywhere to be found. Finally rediscovering her lips, when at last I lay atop her and penetrated her, the sensation of entering her was as wild as it was wanton. She was so incredibly tight about me; sliding into her only seemed possible because of how wet and willing she was. Just as she had with her lips, she completely closed herself about me, taking me deep inside her and consuming me as only a woman who craves the sensation of a man filling her up inside can.

Atop her on the rug, those long legs wrapping around my hips and her arms about my back clutching me to her, the way she kissed me so hungrily only further fueled my desire. My first orgasm behind me, it was my turn to give back to her. Truly she was gorgeous; every time I looked down to her I couldn't believe the woman I saw. The sensation of that body, those lips, and her gasps for breath every time I plunged into her was as erotic as it was thrilling. The power in my passion endowed me with a purpose, giving me the ability to pleasure her as I'd never pleasured any woman before. Then feeling it come over her, being aware she was losing herself because of me was all I needed. When she began to shake and quiver she took me along with her, both of us crying out from the shared intensity of the sensation.

At least five more times we made love that night, on the balcony overlooking the beach, in the hot tub, out in the surf, and finally in her bed. Whether it was her beauty or the eagerness she demonstrated for me, which drove me to heights of sexual prowess I'd never achieved before I couldn't say. All I know is that by the time she finally allowed me leave I felt drained as much as satisfied.

She'd asked me to stay over for breakfast, but I had an early meeting and regretfully couldn't. Driving up the highway before sunrise, the view into the heavens above along the coast was so much clearer than in the city. It seemed for the first time in my life, I was seeing the billions of stars in the sky. Yet there was one, very tiny and far off, which seemed to be twinkling at me. I'm certainly no astrophysicist, but not even Stephen Hawking or Einstein himself could hold a chance of convincing me the little bright dot just away from the tip of the moon was anything other than Pluto. After all, who could possibly know better than me? I'd just been there.