The Tawdry Tangerine Farewell Pt. 01

Rick

I wasn't really sure I was ready to move on, even to something as innocuous as a date, but everyone had been telling me that you have to take the first step at some point. I knew they were right.

I wasn't missing Katie per se. It was more a matter of habit. For six years of marriage plus almost two years of dating before that I'd devoted my attention to just one woman and it takes a while to change gears.

But Leah was playful and funny and clearly had her mind on a long evening, and I had definite desires in that direction. I don't know if Molly had been telling the truth when she told Connor Thompson that she was in a dry spell, but I certainly was. It had been six months since I filed on Katie plus a couple of weeks before that when I knew too much to want to touch her.

"You're not drinking your wine," Leah observed, setting hers down and taking another bite of the cheesecake with extra raspberry sauce sitting in front of her.

"Hey, I've had two," I protested. "You really want to climb on a bike if I finish this one?"

"True. Good call, old man."

"Old man?"

"Pfft," she snorted. "You were probably fantasizing about Mila Kunis when That '70s Show wasn't even a re-run. I mean, a girl's gotta wonder if you're gonna need to take a nap soon."

"Well, if I'm so ancient," I asked, matching her smile, "why are you here then?"

"Maybe I've got daddy issues."

"Do I remind you of your father?"

"Well," she said judiciously, studying me, "except that his hair's blonde like mine, not dark brown, and a lot shorter than yours; and his eyes are kinda hazelly, not pale gray; and he doesn't have a scar on is chin ... oh, and he's about four inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier ... not to mention he's got this sorta round, Slavic face while yours is more long and Anglo-Saxon, plus he wears glasses. Aside from small things like that: spittin' image." She flashed a smile full of white teeth and reached over to snag a bite of my key lime pie.

"And," she teased with her mouth full, her expression merry as she pointed her fork at me, "you're here because all artists want to sleep with their models."

"Very funny," I said, "but you aren't my model. You're Molly's."

"Potato, potahto," she singsonged.

She turned to a waiter walking by. "Could you doggie bag this?" she asked, pointing to the desserts.

"Another glass of wine?" I asked when we got to my place.

"Sure. Can I play something?" she asked, walking over to my stereo. I nodded and, a minute later, Incendio's "Midnight for Maya" started up.

I laughed as I walked back in. "What, no crack about how you weren't even in high school when this came out?" She treated me to a few steps of Latin dance, arms up high and hips swaying, smiled and shook her head no.

I handed her one of the glasses. As she reached out to take it, I leaned in, just slowly enough that she could pull away if she wanted. That sounds confident but it wasn't. My heart was in my throat, the way it had always been when I opened myself up to rejection by a girl. She didn't though, and my lips touched hers a couple of times in light kisses before closing more completely. I felt her tongue meet mine for a moment and then she leaned back with a look of pleasure.

"Not wasting any time, are you?" she said with a dimple.

I grinned and shrugged. On a more serious note, I said awkwardly, "I'm sure this is where I'm supposed to pull some smooth move but—"

"Hey," she cut me off. "Molly filled me in. No worries." With her glass in one hand, she used her other to pull gently on my forearm toward the couch. "Let's just drink our wine and make out a little. We can take it from there in a while."

It felt strange to be kissing someone who wasn't Katie. Exciting, though. Really exciting. Leah preferred to give light, teasing touches with tongues exploring, the occasional sip of Chardonnay putting a sweet taste in her mouth.

After a few minutes of it, my hand slid down from where I was cupping the back of her head and I let the back of my index finger run down over the shape of her breast. Far from minding, she looked down to watch my finger's path, an excited smile on her face.

I wasn't used to a woman who went braless and I felt things shift in my pants as I traced the circle of her nipple. Leah reached down and imitated my move, trailing her index finger from just below my belt, down the length of my zipper, before sliding her hand to cup between my legs, finishing my arousal. She looked up and leaned in, her lips separating for a kiss that was more aggressive and demanding than what had gone before.

She pulled back, "Where's your bathroom?"

"Off the bedroom," I said and pointed to the door.

"Two minutes," she promised. She stood up and grabbed her purse. "Meet me in the bedroom and bring the wine."

I walked over to the kitchen area, grabbed the bottle and followed her. Quelling my nerves, I stripped down and slid under the covers.

True to her word, a minute later the bathroom door opened and she stepped out. Her pants were in her hand and she let them fall onto a chair and walked over to the bed. The contrast of the red t-shirt she was wearing and white lace that peeked out below sent a twinge through my groin. She looked down at me for second in the dim light from the living room, then reached over and flipped on the bedside light. "I want to see you."

When I made a face at the brightness, she raised one finger to say, "Wait." Without taking her eyes from mine, she grasped the hem of her shirt and slowly pulled it up, pausing for a second with it over her face while her arms arched up above her head — a view I'm sure she knew focused my vision entirely on her breasts — before dropping it over the lamp, turning the room warm and intimate. Sliding her thumbs into her panties, she gave an alluring wiggle of her hips to slide them down her legs, straightening to let me take in the sight of the neat, dark blonde triangle revealed.

She reached down and took the edge of the covers in her hand. She lifted them, pausing to see my reaction and, when I did nothing, pulled them slowly down toward the bottom of the bed, exposing me to her view. She made no bones about it: her gaze traveled from my face, paused on my shoulders and chest for a long moment with a smile of appreciation, moved gradually down over my waist, clearly savoring the act of teasing herself with slowness, until she was focused on my cock, eliciting another smile. Even in the half-light, I could see the flush on her chest and that her nipples were rock hard with anticipation.

She put a knee on the bed and, shifting her weight forward, placed both hands just to the side of my body as she returned her eyes to my face. "Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like blowjobs?"

"Of course."

"Good. Because I'm about to give you one you'll remember. Then, I'm hoping like hell that you're a guy who likes to eat pussy." I nodded and noticed that her breathing was getting heavy like mine. "After that, I'm thinking a boatload of fucking ... as many times as you can manage. Yeah?"

"Yeah." It was hard to talk with so much adrenaline pumping through my body.

I closed my eyes as I felt her hand wrap itself around me and slowly stroke up and down once, twice, a third time. Then I felt that indescribable sensation of a warm, wet mouth sliding down the length of my cock, her tongue sliding from side to side, until I felt the tip bump lightly against the back of her mouth. Then a tiny hesitation, followed by the merest increase of force moving her head down another fraction. I heard the slight catch of breath, felt the slight shudder of muscles, not quite a gag, just a little throat spasm that felt delicious, and she withdrew the entire length with her lips firm and her tongue softly molded around me.

She did it again. And again. Then a fourth time and I knew this was going to be the shortest blowjob since the first I ever had. I felt that little tremor in my thigh muscles of an approaching orgasm. She felt it, too, and pulled her mouth off me. Never letting go of me with her right hand, she used her left to pull gently at my leg, asking me to spread.

I opened my eyes and saw her looking directly into my face, clearly enjoying my pleasure, as she walked her knees over so that she was between my legs. She gave a little wink and said, "Don't warn me," which was absolutely one of the sexiest things I'd heard in years, and then dropped her mouth open and slowly lowered it to take me inside again, watching me watching her. She broke her gaze and slid her mouth down. I felt her left hand cup my balls firmly but gently, just a pleasant sensation of warmth and pressure. As she pulled her mouth back up, her tongue flicked back and forth across that super-sensitive spot on the underside of the shaft, then she went back down and did it again. On the fifth or sixth time, I surrendered.

As the orgasm ripped through me, I felt her lose her rhythm for a quarter-second, then she clamped her lips tightly and I felt her swallow. The sensitivity started to build and I reached down to gently push her head back, but she caught my wrist, holding my hand away from her head, forcing me to ride it through to the end in a state of overload right on that border between extreme pleasure and pain. Finally, the spasms stopped and I went limp on the mattress.

She lifted her head and stared at me. The grin was gone, replaced by a dark look of lust. Putting her hands down, she crawled on all fours up my body. "If you don't want tongue from a mouth that just swallowed, that's okay," she said, throwing one leg over me so that her mound landed on my thigh, her pelvis urging it firmly.

I ignored what she said and pulled her flat on top of me for a long kiss, loving the sensation of tits flattened against me and trimmed pubic hair grinding slowly but inexorably against my body.

When we broke from it, she pushed herself up and looked at me expectantly. I started to roll her over but she pinned my shoulders. "Stay there!" She walked her knees up, past my waist, past my chest. Lifting to set them on top of my shoulders, she leaned forward, crossing her arms on top of the headboard. "Please," she said huskily, rocking her hips forward.

I reached up and grabbed her firmly. I pulled her pelvis down and toward my mouth, and ran my tongue lightly over the lips. She was already soaking wet. I slid my tongue into her as far as I could manage, then drew it out in a long stroke upward ending in a flick. She moaned. I did it again and she moaned a second time. Every woman I'd been with had been different in exactly what she wanted during this, but I took those moans as clear signals.

I did it four or five times, then stabbed my tongue in and out as if fucking her for a few strokes while my nose pressed against her clit and transmitted the muscle movements as vibrations. Then started over at the beginning. Her deep breaths became panting. I pulled a hand off her hip and brought it up underneath. I slid my thumb inside her in time with my mouth's rhythm: in on the upstroke, out as it traveled back down. I let my middle finger play lightly around her ass, stroking the sensitive nerves around the opening.

"Not inside," she said breathlessly, jerking slightly the first time my finger touched her there.

"Don't worry," I agreed.

Long before my jaw could become exhausted, I felt one hand come down and grip my hair. "Right on my clit ... please!"

I obliged, softening my tongue for a few slow licks of her nub, then rapidly fluttering it directly against her. I slowed down for some more soft licks but she gasped, "No, fast like that. Don't stop!"

Ten seconds later I held on tightly as her legs and abdomen muscles slammed taut and she gave a low cry. Her weight came down on me and I felt shudder after shudder go through her before a final sigh and she rolled sideways off me in a boneless heap.

I twisted up onto my left elbow to look at her, expecting to see the teasing look back. Instead, her expression was still pure lust. She looked at me blankly for a moment, then down to my cock. "How long until that's ready?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm thirty, not eighteen."

She nodded and moved into me, raising her head to meet my lips. We explored each other's mouth for a long moment, then mine wandered down and I captured a nipple between my lips. I sucked and licked and nibbled lightly, then moved to the other one.

She broke off and rolled to face away, pushing her spine tightly back against my torso. She pulled my left arm underneath her body and planted it firmly on her chest, palm cupping a breast. She hooked her right leg back over my body so that she was splayed wide open, and took my right hand and guided it over her hip and down between her legs. I responded to the mute plea by using my middle finger to caress her.

Every few strokes I dipped my fingers lower and spread the natural lubricant up to where I was working her. As she began to mewl with pleasure, I tightened my other arm, my hand taking a firmer grip of breast, and hiked her higher up toward the head of the bed so that I had a better angle. I slid my middle finger into her and twisted my wrist so that it curled directly toward the front of her body. I kept my thumb firmly planted on her button as I made little "come here" motions with the finger inside her, stroking directly against her G-spot. My left hand played with her nipple, rubbing and pinching very lightly, while my mouth closed on the side of her neck, sucking and licking.

Seconds turned to minutes as her body got more and more stiff, one hand kneading the pillow at her head, the other reaching around behind me to clutch at my ass. Her breathing got more and more labored until, in one convulsive movement, she slammed her hand on top of mine to pin it and tore her torso away from me into almost a fetal ball. I'm sure her cry let my neighbors know what was going on in the Leland condo.

She caught her breath and looked over her shoulder at me. "Jesus, Rick, that was good!" She finished rolling over to face me and glanced down: still no smile, just hunger. She stroked her hand up and down my chest and stomach, watching my cock get a little firmer each time she neared it. Pushing me flat, she got up and straddled me. She reached behind her back, took hold and moved until everything was positioned correctly.

Slowly she dipped her thigh muscles down, just an inch or two so that I felt the head barely slide in, stopping at the first bit of tightness to rock gently, tantalizingly. Then she dipped slightly lower, letting me penetrate enough to feel her inner walls clamp on me. She put both hands on my chest to take her weight and teased me with short strokes, never quite letting me drop out of her. Looking down, I could see the wet leading edge of her juices on the side of my penis move lower and lower toward the base as each cycle went slightly farther down. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I felt her thighs relax completely and she dropped all the way, pubic bone to pubic bone.

Looking at me with eyes that didn't really see — her attention was focused on the sensations quite a bit lower — she began a slow, posting ride: up, down, slightly forward to scrub her clit against my body, back, up, down, slightly forward...

If it hadn't been the for the blowjob, I'd never have lasted. I managed to hold on through some small tremors for her, followed thirty seconds later by her third real orgasm. She stopped moving as it hit but didn't seem to mind that I drove my hips up into her to keep the sensation going for me. I was so close. Moments later, just as she was finishing, I came a second time, locking my hips upward as I pulled her hips down as hard as I could.

I guess three was enough for the moment because the sassy Leah was back. "Not too damn bad for an old guy!" she declared and she put her head down on my shoulder and gave me a small, affectionate kiss.

I must have dozed off because I awoke to see her sitting up, finishing off the cheesecake while watching TV with the sound off. When she felt me stir, she clicked it off immediately and looked over.

"Want some?" she asked.

"I'm not really a fan of cheesecake," I said.

"Oh my God! Really?" she gasped, as if I had said something utterly incomprehensible. Then she got a sly look. "Not even if it's served like this?" She took her fork and dragged it over her left nipple, leaving behind a smear of dessert.

"Hmm," I pondered. "Well, let me see." I leaned over and gave it a firm lick. "I'm not sure."

"Well, what about like this?" she said, re-loading her fork and dragging it over her right nipple.

"Don't know." Again, I leaned over. This time I captured her breast with my lips and swirled my tongue around the nipple. She squirmed a little and giggled. "That's a little better, but I still prefer key lime pie," I decided.

"Oh no!" she said despondently. "That's too bad. 'Cause I ate all the key lime while you were sleeping."

"You ate my pie, woman?" I said in mock outrage, grabbing her.

She shrieked and then yelled, "No, you ate my pie!" and dissolved into laughter.

I shook my head at the sophomoric humor and settled back. She reached over and set the mostly eaten dessert beside the bed and then laid her head on my shoulder. "What now?" she asked.

"Well..." I said slowly, "...maybe you should clean up the mess you made with that cheesecake."

"What?" She sat up and looked around, pulling down the covers. "There's not even a crumb on the bed!"

"Really?" I reached over and scooped up a finger full. I rubbed it down over my cock, which was showing signs of life. "I think you missed some."

With a totally straight face, she looked from my groin to my face. Back to my groin. Back to my face. Finally, she said, "I think you're trying to trick me. I think you're a dirty old man who just wants head."

I nodded.

"Well, you only have to ask."

And we were off to the races.