Wednesday Evenings with Babs Pt. 02

A Brief Recap of Wednesday Evenings With Babs Pt 01

A forty two year old female divorcee and a nineteen year old male are co-workers at a company. The woman lures the young man to her home after hours and successfully seduces him. He was a virgin up to that night. The story continues later that evening as he has gotten home where he still lives with his parents.

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Strange Smells and Sensations

Finally, I was 'safely' back in my bedroom. For a half hour or so I sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the wall while the events of the evening replayed over and over in my mind.

Questions began to take root, the first one being 'Why me?'. It was pretty obvious that the boxes were just an excuse to lure me to her house. Mind you I didn't resent that, but I could not figure out why she chose ME for this seduction. In a way, I didn't want to know the answer. But the why of it just hung there. It was pretty obvious that it was not the result of her becoming smitten with me. Barbara was so far out of my league that such a notion was utterly laughable. It wasn't physical. Though I was blessed with a boyish-looking face it was not as if I was some young, muscular, athletic stud type that had stoked her hormones. I was and still am all of five feet, nine inches, and at the time weighed about one hundred seventy, this too about the same as today. It wasn't about money. I had none. It wasn't about my social status or any working world connections I might have. Serving her body up to me for no strings attached fucking for career advancement was also a joke.

Seducing me was an unbelievable act of risk taking by her. And by giving in to it I had put myself in a situation whose consequences could potentially wreck my future before it even began. She might create just as much in the way of unwanted worries as those created by dealing with the draft.

Then there were the physical questions that were the result of my virtually non-existent sexual experience.

For example, there was still a tiny trace of a tingling, itchy sensation in the head of my cock. 'Gee, I've never felt anything like that before' I thought. When I took off my pants and briefs an unfamiliar scent rose from my crotch. 'Gee, what is that smell? I've never smelled anything like it before. My pubic hair felt matted down, its individual hairs stuck together as if they had been coated with hair spray.

I picked up the briefs and held them to my nose. The unfamiliar scent sort of reminded me of the smell of bleach. For sure it was not something that my body had produced before. At least as far as I could recall.

So why were these things so unfamiliar to me? The smell in my crotch and underwear? The hairspray-like substance on my pubic hair? Was the smell and the encrusted hair the result of something from Barbara's pussy? That tingling, slightly itchy sensation? Was it the first signs of some STD I had contracted from her that was already showing symptoms?

The reason I wondered about these things was very simple: Not only was this session with her the first time I had sex with a woman, it was the first time I had experienced an ejaculation! I was so ignorant, so clueless, so absent in the most basic knowledge of things sexual, that at age nineteen I had still not discovered the joys of masturbation! When I'd get an erection I'd fondle myself (which only made it worse) and after a while, it would go away, but until that night I had no idea of how to relieve it! No idea of how to enjoy it! I had never indulged in 'locker room' talk with other boys or anything that might have 'enlightened' me.

When I set about writing this account, I spent a lot of time digging up such details as were still buried in my memory. I had to decide what 'juicy' ones to include. When this particular item came to mind I pondered as to the wisdom of including it. 'No one would ever believe it' I thought to myself. 'Really, you are trying to tell me that before that evening you had NEVER experienced an ejaculation? How about a wet dream?' But it is true.

I got up from the bed and went to the hall bath to wash 'whatever this stuff is' off of me. As I did so I began to get another erection. I began sliding the soapy rag back and forth on my cock, and the light came on for me. The smell and the crusty hair had been produced by my load that had drained out of Barbara's pussy and onto me. How could I fail to recognize something so obvious? Answer: I was really that 'ig-nant'.

But what about that lingering tingle I felt in my cock head? Duh...I concluded that it was from nerve endings that had never been seen used before and were still in a state of 'shock'.

I quickly rinsed and dried off, then reached down into the vanity and retrieved a bottle of hand lotion that I previously used for more 'innocent' purposes, like dealing with dry hands. I returned to my bedroom and locked the door. In about two minutes that wonderful sensation, the one that I had felt with Barbara just two hours before was once again in complete control of my being. Cumshot after cumshot leaped from within me. 'Holy shit this feels GOOD!' I thought. This boy had a new toy to play with, and every night thereafter I used it to rock myself to sleep.

On that night my sex life, both 'interactive' and solo, had its unique and glorious beginning.

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A Slowly Closing Trap

I had a girlfriend named Elizabeth. She too had turned nineteen two months before I did in July of '68. We had a lot of fun with the 'older woman - younger man' bit. How she was 'robbing the cradle'. In light of my encounter with Barbara, this became an amusing if somewhat uneasy irony for me.

Known to all as Liz, she was still living at home with her parents and I'd visit there almost daily on weeknights. On weekends we were pretty much inseparable. Saturday nights would find us my car parked at one of the local 'Lover's Lane' spots making out. The usual heavy petting, tongue tangles, and getting a little free with the hands' stuff, but it never got out of hand. We were too chicken to go beyond that.

Epic as that first encounter with Barbara had been, I wasn't too concerned about its effect on Lizzie and me. For all I knew it would be the first and last such episode, and it would gradually fade from memory. It had happened on a Wednesday night, and I usually didn't visit Liz on that night, so I wasn't concerned about any questions about 'Where were you last night?'.

However, I did find myself hoping that when Liz saw me the next evening there would be nothing in my facial expressions, body language, or words that would raise a red flag. Even though I felt guilty I didn't want to act or look as if something unusual might have happened that she didn't know about. As we all have known at one time or another, guilt has a way of being worn like an article of clothing.

Having finally discovered the magic of masturbation my cock had become my new favorite toy. In the week following the encounter with Barbara I just about wore it and my wrist out. On Thursday and Friday, I found myself looking forward to leaving Lizzie's house so I could get to my bedroom and beat off. When we were together on Saturday and Sunday I found myself less focused on her and more on how much I was looking forward to teasing my tool. How could I have gone through practically all of my teen years and missed out on something so powerful because of sheer ignorance?

By Monday night I was already conducting experiments in edging. I didn't know that this was a common practice or even that there was a term for it. But on that night I thought 'Let me see how many times I can get close to cumming and just stop'. In the back of my mind, I was hoping to develop a little control so I could last a bit longer. I actually brought myself to the 'edge' once before giving in on the second attempt. I was not sure when I might be able to put this control to a real 'test'.

Masturbation's 'fuel' consists of the sexual thoughts and fantasies that invade our minds and keep working on us until they become a distraction. One that must be dealt with.

How many times have you masturbated, and upon getting the relief you needed, you found yourself thinking: 'That was wonderful. I needed that. I REALLY NEEDED that. And now I can get my mind back on doing what I really need to be doing'?

During that week my only beating off fantasy consisted of an endlessly looping replay of what had occurred between Barbara and me. It was the only one I needed, and it left me conflicted. On the one hand, I wanted to just put the episode behind me and move on. On the other, thinking about that night, and her, kept me reaching for that hand lotion.

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The Second Session - Wednesday, October 23, 1968

On Tuesday afternoon the phone rang at my desk. On the other end was Barbara, or as I will refer to her from this point forward, 'Babs'. She proceeded to put her best command and control voice into action.

Babs: "Hey it's Barbara".

Me: "Hey"

Babs: "Just answer yes or no, okay?"

Me: "Sure, okay."

Babs: "Are you free tomorrow night?"

Me: "Oh...yeah."

Babs: "How about an encore?"

Taken aback, I stuttered.

Me: "You mean of last Wed..."

Before I could finish the word 'Wednesday' she cut me off.

Babs: "Yes, that is what I refer to".

Me: "Uh... Well... Uh... Yeah... Okay... Yeah"

Babs: "Seven o'clock, okay?"

Me: "Yes... uh... will do... I will be there."

The phone clicked as she ended the call without so much as the words 'Goodbye'. Always in firm control, the woman was all business. Even when the 'business' was arranging an evening fuck session with a much younger male employee.

So much for 'Putting the episode behind me and moving on'.

Having an attractive, mature woman serving her body up to a young, chronically horny, and sexually inexperienced guy like me was an offer that was impossible to refuse. Like most young men at that age point, I didn't exactly think things through and consider what something like this could evolve (or devolve) into. In my excitement and naivete, I was placing way too much confidence in Babs's perceived maturity and wisdom. It never occurred to me that the fact that she had a thing for a young guy like me when she had more than enough appeal to attract men more in her age range might represent a situation that was not healthy. I was not capable of recognizing the hazards involved and the unrecognized strings that might be attached.

Simply put, she had me right where she wanted me, and frankly, she had me right where I wanted me. My brains were in my balls, precluding any possibility that I might be curious as to where HER brains resided. Between her legs maybe?

Babs met me at her door wearing a short, white terrycloth bathrobe and slippers. We made straight for her bedroom. She had prepared it in a manner to create an appropriate atmosphere for the planned activities. The light was subdued, consisting of just the lamp with a low-wattage bulb on the right side nightstand. Soft music purred from a radio tuned to a 'mood music' station. The bed was freshly made and the covers pulled back invitingly. She had even placed a couple of folded hand towels on the chair next to the bed to be ready for any personal, post-coitus cleanup either of us might feel a need for.

It was amazing how much more relaxed the atmosphere was this second time. The effects of this on me were immediate. I felt so much more in control. In control of myself, that is. How much more relaxed Babs was too.

As I reached for the top button of my shirt she grabbed my arm gently and said "Please... Let ME do this. It will leave your hands free to do with them whatever might tempt them". What she meant about whatever might tempt my hands became pretty obvious when she loosened the belt on her robe and let it fall to the floor to reveal that she had nothing on underneath it.

"Hmm... Whatever might tempt my hands eh?" Feeling emboldened by her comment, I replied "Well, I find this VERY tempting". I reached out and took both of her nipples between the thumbs and forefingers of my hands and began to gently tug on and knead them. Unfazed, she smiled at me and continued to work the shirt buttons loose.

Our foreplay was also more relaxed. The first time was just an impulse-driven orgy for two without a soundtrack. For my part, I was too scared to say a damn thing. This time it was different. This time... we took it slow. Now in bed, up on our knees and embracing, the soft music from the radio was mixed with words we shared that were barely above a whisper.

Me: "I've been thinking about this evening all day."

Babs: "Nice to have something like this to look forward too, right?"

I kissed her lips and then planted little kisses on both sides of her neck as we cupped each other's ass cheeks in our hands.

Me: "Holding you like this makes every bit of tension drain out of my body."

Babs: "Yes, isn't it amazing how something so... arousing... can be so relaxing at the same time."

Still cupping her left cheek with my right hand, with my left hand I began massaging her neck.

Babs: "Umm... I love having my neck massaged."

I then parted my fingers and ran them through her hair, pushing it up from the back of her neck. It had the most wonderful smell.

Me: "Your hair has such a wonderful scent. What shampoo do you use?"

Babs: "It's called 'Agree'."

Me: "I think I'll start using it myself. It will remind me of you every time I shampoo."

The pillow talk began to wane and the silent 'language' spoken with our hands, fingers, lips, tongues and those anatomical items positioned in our pubes began to demand our attention.

As with our first time, Babs asked that I lay on my back so she could straddle me. My cock buried inside of her, she then proceeded to grind, rock, and rotate her pelvis in search of the sweet contact spot she needed to drive her clit and pussy to orgasm. It was quite the show to watch. At first, she was fully upright, her eyes were squeezed shut. Once again her thumbs and forefingers were tugging feverishly on her nipples. But as she got closer to the magic moment she let go of her nipples and began to slump over in my direction. I took advantage of this by reaching up and cupping both of her dangling breasts in my hands as she finally erupted in relief.

While this was an amazing spectacle, the most amazing thing was that I had not lost my load while watching! Had my masturbation conditioning paid off?

When she had regained herself and 'unplugged' from me, she looked down to see (and probably feel) my still-raging erection. Smiling she says "Well, looks like it's YOUR turn! Here, take me! Enjoy me!

With that, she rolled off of me, onto her back and spread her legs. I plunged inside of her and began pumping away. As I did, she wrapped her legs around me and pressed her heels into my ass cheeks. For me, the resulting orgasm was so much more intense than it was our first time. This wasn't an accidental eruption. It sensations were not a surprise that I was unprepared for. This one was anticipated and even expected. I savored it down to the last drop of cum. The only thing I can point to as contributing to my suddenly remarkable control over premature ejaculation was the daily masturbation sessions during the week.

Being on top of Babs gave me this sense of conquest. It was as if my cock was an erotic spike being used to nail her to the mattress. To this day the memory of her digging her heels into my ass cheeks is a hot one.

I could have fooled myself into thinking that I must be a pretty good fuck and just hadn't realized it until this golden opportunity with her popped up out of nowhere. I hadn't gotten to that state of self-delusion, at least not yet. One thing that kept any tendency to get cocky (pun intended) at bay was the realization that each time we had one of these sessions it might well be the last one. It was about the only real, rational thought I was capable of. Babs was in total control of the if and the when of it. She could end it without her even feeling an obligation to tell me why, or even notify me that it was over at all.

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The Third Session... Wednesday, October 30, 1968

One extra 'benefit' of the second session was that, minus the element of surprise, I was more clear-headed and began to notice crucial little details I had missed the first time. One of these was Bab's smoothly shaved pussy.

I couldn't get the mental picture of it out of my mind. Thoughts of it would cause my hands to find their way to my pubes. I'd cup my hair smothered balls and brush my fingertips over the carpet of hair at the base of my cock. I wondered what it might feel like if these most private spots were free of all that scratchy hair. I fantasized about what my smooth pubes coming in contact with hers might feel like. I wondered what it might do for masturbating. Several times I locked myself in the bathroom and prepared to shave it off into history but for some reason, I would balk. I was afraid I might cut myself or worse. And how would I handle shaving my 'family jewels'? I'd smother my crotch in shaving cream, and when I'd pick up the razor I'd look at it for a moment and think 'No, not today'. Finally, I reached the point where I got tired of wondering and fantasizing. Tired of coming to the brink of dealing with it and chickening out. I had enough of such mental torture and went for it. Since the hair was thick and this was the first time, I had to do it twice. When the moment of truth came to shave my balls, I lifted my cock and very lightly passed the razor over them, letting the blade do the work.

After those first two rounds the hair surrounding the base of my cock was gone, and to my relief there had not been a bloodbath. The process of shaving was, in and of itself, so arousing that after wiping off the area I playfully draped the hand towel I had used over my rigid cock. Once I was dry my hands began to 'inspect' the results. If I had known how good it would feel I would have eradicated that scratchy shit hair long ago. It just felt so different, so unbelievably good. I took particular pleasure in cupping my balls when they were swollen with my load. From that point on I just about couldn't keep my hands off of myself. Even taking a leak at a wall urinal became an opportunity to savor the feeling. I'd look around to make sure I was alone, and in addition to whipping out my cock I'd pull out my balls and cup them in my hands. 'Getting a grip on myself' took on a whole new meaning. To this very day, I shave my pubes about once a week. Many times, as the razor goes through the shaving cream like a snow plow clearing a sidewalk, I will think of when, where, and why I started doing it. Already Babs was having a life-altering effect on me.

But now what? Would I get a chance to test drive my smooth pubes, literally drive them, right into Babs's? Would a third trip to her bedroom be offered? Sure enough, another Tuesday afternoon, another terse phone call of invitation. I had to be careful to not begin to expect them.

Babs: "Hmm... What have we here? Been doing a little extra work with shaving cream and a razor, have you?"

Me: "Yes I have, and I was inspired by your own 'extra' shaving!"

I nodded in the direction of her smooth pubes. She reaches out as if wanting to touch me.

Babs: "May I uh...?"

Me: "I would be disappointed if you didn't"

Babs: "Ooh nice. Really nice. Looks like you are going to need some therapy to relieve that swollen area between your legs. It doesn't hurt you when I feel it I hope?"

Me: "Oh, not at all. The warmth of your hand keeps any discomfort in check."

My 'sex education' continued on that evening as Babs introduced me to the joys of fucking doggie style.