Gender: Male Age: 57 Location: London UK
|Introduction: without love, sex is just functional, fun perhaps, but functional|
With her knees clasped together; a finger touching her hard little nub through the fabric of her night dress while her hips gently rocked, Michelle discovered the satisfaction of masturbation, enjoyed the warmth of the glow it gave her after just a short while and the sleep it induced when she stopped; the sheets dampened and a light perfume of her sex.
It had been an accidental discovery, bathing her body, making sure her sex was clean. A touch of the soap laden sponge as the textured surface lightly rasped over her lips and brushed against her clit.
So it was that she often got herself to sleep after bringing her body to a quivering condition, bathed in a light sheen of perspiration, her heart rate more than double its normal rhythm and breathe being sucked in as if gasping in the rarefied air of altitude and her fingers slicked by the essences of her body.
Michelle, at eleven years old, never thought of the act as dirty or something to be hidden. How could something so rewarding and pleasurable at a fundamental be anything less than joyful? She didn’t associate the act with sex either, it was just something personal, something she did to get to sleep.
Although they had covered the mechanics of sex at school the teachers had stopped some way short of going into the finer details, of nerve endings or emotions and orgasm. They concentrated on just the male and female genitalia, how they connected in the act of procreation and the outcome of a successful mating. They completely missed the opportunity of sharing the pleasures that sex can bring; the emotions that are evinced or that it isn’t automatically going to result in a pregnancy. In the classroom, sex as just a function, a tool to propagate the population, nothing more.
The teacher instructed them on the use of prophylactics, even went to the length of demonstrating how they should be applied over an erect cock; it was the first time Michelle had seen a dildo. She remembered thinking that it was impossibly huge and something her small body could never accommodate. The idea that something so big was going to invade her skin was more than daunting and acted, as if it where necessary, as a preventative to any thoughts of experiment.
Despite warnings, from her mother, of being told that she would likely turn into a worm; Michelle pleasured her clit from the age of eleven or so and continued from time to time until an elderly age. It was more of a comfort thing; even when she knew it for what it was, if she needed to sleep, her finger would find her clit; her hips would rock as she lay on her side, knees locked together in a foetal position until a satisfying glow was achieved and sleep followed.
Her first foray into the experience of sex was at aged fifteen. While on holiday in Tenerife, she met a lad whose name she could never remember after the vacation. He was also on holiday with his parents, seemed to be quite nice, touching a switch in her developing body that had not yet been activated. He had a funny accent, coming from Newcastle as he did and a funny way of phrasing his sentences. The fact that he was a bit gawky, a year or so older and suffering with mild acne, was all ignored. They had a compatible sense of humour, laughing at the differences of language they had.
Michelle fancied him. Pure and simply fancied lying with him, naked, touching and exploring. She didn’t love him or even have a teenage crush, just wanted to see how he looked and felt with all of his clothes off. Towards the end of the two weeks, the hotel organised a disco for its younger patrons. The DJ spoke with a heavily accented and very loud voice through the mike, making it impossible to understand a word. The sound production was terrible with a distorted bass hum drowning out almost everything else. Michelle and her newly found friend decided to leave and go for a walk along the beach.
They held hands and looked at the lights shimmering across the wavelets as they walked under the shining moon. In another context or even with a few years under their belts, it might have presented a romantic scene and set the stage for a lustful conclusion, but neither of them had any experience of romance, were far too young to appreciate the finer points of love or the niceties of the prelude to lust. They were both aware though, of a heightened sense and awareness of each other. Their nerve endings jangled with a shared excitement for what might happen. They were aware of a sense of risk and of a previously un-experienced feeling that might ensue and engulf them. At some fundamental level, a tacit and unspoken agreement had been reached, nothing articulated, but an agreement none the less, that they were about to take this brief liaison to another level. Beyond any place they had been before.
Eventually, they found a beach hut, vacated and abandoned by the daytime hordes of sun worshipers. Wordlessly, he ducked under the timber lintel and gently pulled her in behind him into the gloom of the thatched roof. They stood facing each other, heat radiating from between them as adrenalin raced around their bodies, hearts beating wildly, hammering in chests, heaving for breath. The crowning moment of their holiday was imminent, all of the build up to this, this culmination, the wild flights of fancy imagined in private moments apart, all coming to a realisation of dreams.
He stepped closer, closing the small distance between them and then kissed her lips. Just a light touching of skin on skin, no more than that, it produced a shiver through her body. Automatically, her arms came up and wrapped around his neck. The second kiss, at her demand, was altogether something else from the previous chaste touch. Her mouth opened, breath joined as lip met lip in a crushing collision. He held her waist, drawing her ever closer as tongue met tongue and the fires of passion threatened to burn them where they stood.
He felt for the clasp of her bikini top under the gauzy blouse she had chosen to wear, his fingers uncoordinated and awkward in his attempt to undo the unfamiliar thing. Eventually, he succeeded; the garment slowly fell between them to land on the sandy floor at their feet. Slowly, his hand came around to her front, snaking up between their bodies to find her breast under the flimsy blouse. The first touch to her nipple, made it harden in anticipation, was electric; Michelle gasped at the unfamiliar touch of his hand, the first time she had felt a trembling exploration of her breast. Her nipples physically ached for his hands and fingers.
Along with the ache in her chest, was the first stirring of a pressure in her abdomen, a mixture of excitement, trepidation and lust all thrown together in a maelstrom, roiling in the pit of her stomach. Her sex began to produce its natural lubricant, using for the first time, glands that would help him enter her. She felt the wetness and thought for one wild moment, that she had begun menstruating, then realised that it couldn’t be that, not so soon since her last cycle.
She was aware of the aroma of her body too; an aroma she had not smelled before, but knew instinctively, that it was uniquely hers. Her body was making ready for sex, winding up nerves and heightening senses, inflaming her receptors, pulsing blood to her genitalia. She could feel everything and nothing, all at once and the only sound she was aware of was the rushing of blood in her ears.
The touch of his hands rubbing over her nipples with a slight rasp was sending her into delirium. She could feel the raised taste buds of his tongue as it fenced with her own, mixing saliva and tickling the roof of her mouth. His hardness, pressed into her stomach through the fabric of his Bermuda shorts, was like a hot poker, as yet unseen, but all too evident.
At last, she broke the kiss to lift his tee shirt over his head with his arms held aloft. She kissed his hairless chest as the shirt joined her bikini top on the sand. She slipped her blouse off, baring, for his inspection, her breasts with nipples pointing directly at him as if he was guilty of their current engorged condition and not the reactions of her own body.
He returned her kiss, brushing his lips over one nipple while cupping the other breast. She felt almost sick from the amalgam of senses that rushed around her veins, her heart thumped behind her ribs as if trying to break out. They joined in a kiss again while she frantically tugged at the waist band of his shorts. Unseen, she managed to get them over his hips, freeing his cock; she felt it slap, hotly, against the skin of her stomach. Without breaking the kiss, she pulled her own bikini bottoms down and stepped out of them.
He cupped a breast with one hand while the other travelled down the middle of her back, lightly slipping over the humps of her spine until he reached her buttocks; then, slowly, her felt around her hip on a journey to her sex. They parted slightly, creating a gap between them so that his hand could reach its destination; Michelle grasped his cock, mildly surprised that it was not anywhere nearly as big as the dildo used in the demonstration of how to apply a condom. This was a manageable size and didn’t worry her that it would be too much to take in her virginal body.
She spread her feet slightly, allowing his questing fingers free access to her sex. His first fumbling touch missed her clit by some way. Instead, he tried to find her entrance. He was a little clumsy; even, too impatient to get inside. Although she had been lubricating for a while now, he needed to be a little gentler, but his inexperience didn’t allow for the niceties of taking it slowly. His first finger inside was uncomfortable where her slickness had not been worked to her outer lips. She gasped at the intrusion and then gasped again as he forced another finger inside her.
She rubbed his cock, trying to block out the discomfort he was inducing. He was uncut; a glance down showed a purple head as she drew back his foreskin. Then, to the surprise of both of them, he shuddered and spurted his seed to splash against her stomach. He sighed as mini-peaks lessened, instantly satisfied and saying how wonderful it had been for him.
Michelle was still somewhere about six feet off the ground, but not likely to reach a peek or even really enjoy the experience that much. He had made her hotter than she had ever been and very ready for her first time, but he had let her down badly, interested in his own pleasure before anything else. She said, without feeling, that yeah it had been great; he missed the irony in her answer. She dressed hurriedly, wiping his come off of her stomach and hand with his shirt. On trembling legs, she left him in the beach hut with a few words of promise to meet again the next night. It didn’t happen, Michelle feigned a headache.
As a first exploration into the sexual act, it had been a huge disappointment. They went to their respective homes a few days later, promising to write, but not meaning a word of it. She would be his first and a lasting memory for him. She had forgotten him by the time she had arrived home and wrote it off as an experience only.
Michelle dated a few boys, but was not interested in sex with them, finding the youths somehow far too immature. She was considered frigid by her peers as she went through school, earning the nickname ‘Ice Queen’. It didn’t bother her too much. In fact, she rather liked the infamy of her status.
Michelle didn’t respond to the name calling, preferring to remain aloof; rising above it all. She furiously masturbated most nights, knowing it now for what it was, especially as her imagination became a featured part of the act and the gratification was no longer a means, solely to bring sleep on. Her body filled out over the next year or so, hips flared and breasts grew to a ‘C’ cup. By the time she reached her seventeenth birthday, she had developed in all ways but the one; her experience with sex had remained the single, fumbling event with the gawky kid in Tenerife, or the wild flights of fancy her mind concocted during her sessions of getting herself off with her fingers. Until, she decided that, perhaps, she would like to experience the sexual act in all its full glory. It would be her choice, under her own volition, her rules and to hell with convention.
She chose her partner with care. He was to be the one who would take her cherry as virginity was popularly called. Michelle wanted it to be with someone she could control, one who’s ego wouldn’t be an obstacle and was possibly virginal himself or even grateful for the opportunity.
Ray was one of those kids who go through school or college, excelling in all subjects except social interaction. Ray was a geek by any other name; someone who had intelligence seeping from their pores in abundance, but just did not fit with the rank and file. As so often happens with social misfits, he chose a style of dress that tended to mark him as different from the norm; sloppy tee shirts, baggy jeans and a baseball cap, usually pointing the wrong way. Without his glasses, she thought, he wasn’t that bad to look at. A bit on the thin side perhaps, but tall, with a well shaped body form. His hair hung lank and looked greasy, but he would do for her.
Manipulating a situation where they might be in the same place at the same time was not as easy as she first thought it might be. Although the direct approach, go straight up to him during the day and ask him flat out for a date, might have been the easiest. She somehow, didn’t feel entirely comfortable with that as an option. The shame of being turned down flat by him, especially if he had his small band of geeky friends around, would have been too traumatic to contemplate. So, instead, she contrived to join the computer club that met regularly after school, of which, Ray was a leading light.
The second evening, staring at a screen that held no interest for her whatsoever, was enough. There was no way she could go through another mind numbing discussion about sprites or the vagaries of ‘random access memory’. To her, a Gig was somewhere a band played and bytes where something mosquito’s did.
If she didn’t manage to attract his attention this time, she would be giving up on the idea altogether. She feigned a problem with the machine assigned to her and asked Ray to come and have a look. Before he had drawn up his seat next to her, she blurted out that what she really wanted him for, was to ask him out, in a voice barely above sotto-voce; more like a stage whisper.
His reaction surprised her a little. The enthusiasm of his acceptance was quite comical to observe. Ray nearly skipped delightedly, tripping over his words and visibly shaking from head to toe. Michelle wondered if she had made the right choice after all. A date was eventually settled on; she escaped the computer room with as much haste as she could, without it being unseemly.
‘Aliens;’ ‘The resurrection’ did nothing for her at all. It was far too predictable and special effect driven to inspire her imagination. She though Sigourney Weaver was trapped by a poorly crafted screen play. So far, their first date was not going terribly well. His car had given up the ghost on the way over to pick her up. The film was crap and his hands were covered in grease from trying to find the problem with the baffling array of wire and moving parts of his aged Ford Capri.
They walked to the restaurant, passing only a few pleasantries. She was losing the desire to continue with her plan until; Ray started talking about his other passion, music. He had been playing the guitar from an early age and loved the music of Jimmy Hendrix, Santana, Marc Knopffler and so on. Suddenly, he became animated, talking about the greats of guitar, spilling words over words trying to get his point across.
He almost missed the opening Michelle gave him to invite her back to hear him play. Perhaps it was his inexperience, but fortunately for both of them, just in time, the penny dropped.
His parent’s home was far from what she had expected. Set in a private estate, it turned out to be styled on a country mansion, complete with wrought iron gates and a gatehouse that Ray had to himself. It occurred to Michelle that his inability to mix looked as if it arose from the lack of a family bond. She could empathise with that, she and her parents might as well be on different planets for all the interaction they had as a family.
A glass of wine later had them semi-naked, lying on his queen sized bed. He was dressed only in boxer shorts; she was wearing one of his tee shirts and a smile. Although inexperienced as they were, mutually, they had decided to move along slowly; spending time touching each other, exploring with fingertips and lips. The choice of tempo had been hers, it was more than likely that he had no idea he was being manipulated, but even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.
His calloused finger pads, hardened from the friction of playing the steel strings of his guitar, rasped across her nipple, causing it to respond, infusing and darkening, her aureole pimpled, enhancing the delicious tingle that travelled through her body to centre in her lower stomach. She gasped as his skin snagged her rawness, producing a shiver to ripple up her spine. Michelle was being played, as she had so often imagined when her fingers had sought her clit on so many solo nights. So far, she had lain quite still, enjoying the sensations he was giving her, but she thought it would only be fair to return the favour.
Her hand sought his cock, finding the slit in his shorts, then shock; his rigid member was super-heated and way bigger than she thought it might be. Her mind’s eye had it measured as officially huge; without the benefit of sight, her imagination doubled its actual size. It was hard to concentrate where his fingers were tweaking her aroused nipples; it was almost painful, but he really wasn’t pinching them hard, just taking the sensation to a level, nearly too much to bear.
She shifted, turning her body while deftly flipping out his cock from the protective haven of his shorts. She looked down between them; his purple headed dick, held in her fist, pointed accusingly at her, its slit slightly agape, a pitch dark ovoid hole, surrounded by his engorged head.
Without thought, she rubbed his cock head between her pussy lips, upwards until she found her clit in its secretive folds. She pulled him slightly further so that her hood was forced out of the way; the friction of skin on skin distorted his head, prolonging the connection. The thrill of having his cock pushing her most intimate parts, albeit at her behest, was almost too much. She shuddered, a mini climax and felt her natural essences lubricate her canal in preparation for coitus. The next pass between her lips liberally coated his dick with her slickness.
Thought was left behind, sheer invention and spontaneity took control. Michelle scooted around to take him in her mouth. Ray, equally without thought, only reaction, shuffled in an opposite direction so that they were suddenly sixty nine. Her tongue flicked out, tasting her secretion on his cock as her perfume inflamed his sinus. She opened her mouth wide, sinking his length as far as she dare on the first invasion, then, pulling him back so that she could do it again.
Only this time, as her mouth opened to accept his throbbing muscle, his tongue found her clit, causing her to jerk unexpectedly. The sudden spasm brought her head up quicker than she meant it to, his cock, already passed her lips, buried its self, all the way to the back of her throat. She gagged and then laughed slightly shyly at the natural reaction. Ray, if he noticed, carried on flicking his tongue tip over her clit without pause. It was driving her mad. Either it was too soft a touch or not soft enough, either way, it was kind of tickling. She reached around the back of his head and pulled his face into her hard. His suckling, instead of tip tickling, was satisfying in a warmer, deeper way. Once she had him at the right pressure, sure to bring her off, she returned to gulping his dick as much as she could.
Time passed without measure. It might have been an hour or only a few minutes, but it came to a point that, if they remained in this position, satisfying as it was, one or both of them was going to go passed the point of return. Unspoken and mutually, they broke from their oral exertions, spinning in unison to end up face to face, stomach to stomach on their sides. Ray’s cock flipped up between her thighs to poke insistently against her pubic bone as if knocking at the door.
In synchronous unison, they adopted a missionary position. Michelle’s legs parted. Ray slide down, his cock rubbing over her clit in its passage to her private depths. Slowly, the head lined up in a natural angle, poised at her entrance and then, equally slowly, Ray pushed forward. Slick from her juices and Ray’s saliva, her body accepted him in an embrace that adjusted to his girth. He was deep into her canal when her muscles contracted, trapping and squeezing him.
Starting with small hip thrusts, ray began the coital dance. Slipping only slightly, so that the movement seemed almost negligible, the dance began. Her knees came up, opening her body to him, then, her feet crossed behind his ass, pulling him into her even deeper. Her need was such that the urge to set the rhythm was all consuming, she pulled him into her trying to increase his pace, but Ray was oblivious for the moment, enjoying the snug embrace of her body too much to want to speed up.
Gradually though, his thrusts became longer, withdrawing almost to the point of exit, then, pushing forward into her willing and needy body until his pubic bone mashed into hers. As the thrust became longer, so did the pace pick up. Little by little he sped up until his fucking was in almost sync with his heart rate.
Michelle’s hands snaked around his waist to meet at the middle of his back. The pressure of needing to climax was becoming desperate and in that desperation, her nails raked his skin. It had the desired effect, because Ray pushed into her now at a rate designed to produce only one outcome. It was the final lap to completion. He was harder now than he had ever been before; his unyielding rigidity was pounding into her, bringing forth gasps and cries from her throat as her first sexually stimulated climax rushed up to hit her. Suddenly, the constant stimulation overcame her nervous system; she came noisily, with a scream that escaped through clenched teeth.
Almost triumphantly, ray pressed up to support his upper body on hands either side of her body, putting space between their sweat soaked torsos and allowing him to look at her face as his own climax announced it arrival in spurts of hot seed into her depths. Shot after shot hit the back wall of her cunt while it milked him with contractions of muscle.
Later, after an hour of laying in each others arms as their combined essences leaked from her, they showered and dressed. Ray asked if he could call her, why not tomorrow, but Michelle, having calmed down now, was noncommittal, needing to analyse what she had experienced.
Perhaps it was cold, but as she drove home, she reviewed the events of the evening. It had been good, great in fact, but not the earth-shattering event that her dreams told her was out there. Michelle decided that she would blow Ray off. It had been an experience, pleasant, but nothing more than that. He wasn’t to get the chance to improve on his performance. And that was how she viewed the event, a performance, something to be reviewed and compared in time.
The transition from College, armed with all the relevant qualifications for a life in the drudge of office administration, to a job that promised just that as a future, was quite easy. Michelle enjoyed the freedom her meagre wage allowed; the freedom to buy clothes she wanted, rather than those chosen for her by a mother so far out of touch that she could be on another planet.
It was not long before the freedom she had tasted, became a desire to move on, leave her parents to their lives and make her own way. The break, when it came, was full of tears, promises of support and an open invitation to come home if it all went wrong. Privately, Michelle had no intention of allowing things to go bad and would only move back home if there were no other avenue.
She took up a shared flat with another girl also branching out for the first time. Sonia was trying to leave behind a history of abuse from her father; nothing sexual in content, but a constant haranguing and nagging as if she were in the way all the time; never quite good enough. The chance to be independent and free of the shackles of family life was too great to ignore. She jumped at the chance of sharing the cost of renting a small flat.
Their meagre possessions, even when pooled together, hardly made a dent on the storage spaces. The flat had only the basics in it, twin beds with dubious mattresses, a wardrobe each that had little chance of closing where the hinges had been stretched and no chance at all of locking. A kitchenette with a small two ringed electric hotplate and a sink that had seen better days long before the two girls were born. But, it was home, their’s to with as they pleased. An attack of paint and a few trawls around the second hand stores had the placed furnished to a reasonable level of comfort and quite habitable.
They got along well for a few months.
Then, Sonia fell in love, with a complete idiot. She seemed to attract the type of man who had his brains somewhere near his groin and had as much regard for her feelings as he might for a plank of wood. When she announced that she wanted to have him move in; Michelle hit the roof, especially as she had already spurned his illicit advances at a party they had all gone to, and point blank refused to allow it. The girls quarrelled bitterly, but eventually, it was agreed that he could stay over one night a week.
The affair lasted for a month before he was spotted with a short-skirted girl, coming out of a pub and jumping into a taxi. He was supposed to have been taking Sonia out for a meal that night, but didn’t call. Sonia found out about his alternative plans when Tracy, one of their few friends, gleefully told her what she had seen. Sonia was mortified and, inconsolably threw herself on the bed, promising to let her life’s blood. Michelle thought it a bit over dramatic, but made the right clucking noises to her flatmate until she calmed down.
Sonia was fine until Michelle made an inadvertent remark about how he had made a move on her at the party. Suddenly faced with a spitting and furious Sonia, Michelle backed off, fending blows as she back-peddled to the bedroom door. Alone in her own room, Michelle shrugged, thinking Sonia a bit mad. She undressed and fell into her duvet.
Perhaps an hour or so later, she was woken from the light sleep she had fallen into, at the sound of her door being knocked on softly, as if the knocker didn’t really want to come in. She called out and a sheepish Sonia poked her head round the corner, and then the rest of her followed, apologetic and mollified. Sonia sat on the edge of Michelle’s bed, waiting for the words of forgiveness she hoped her flatmate would give her. She squealed delightedly when she heard that it was okay and threw her arms around Michelle’s neck in an exuberant display of gratitude.
That was when things went very different between them and signalled the end of their friendship.
The hug turned into a kiss, chaste, only cheek against cheek, but then mouth to mouth. Michelle, somewhat overawed by the sudden change, kissed Sonia back, only to find that her lips had parted and a tongue sought entrance to her mouth. Thoughtlessly, she allowed the intrusion and enjoyed the little thrill that passed over her at the enormity of what was happening.
Without breaking the kiss, Michelle pulled her duvet aside to reveal her naked body under the cover and as an invitation for Sonia to get in. The kiss broke momentarily while Sonia’s nightwear was pulled over her head and thrown to one side. Naked, she lay next to Michelle and resumed the kiss. Their breasts touched as the distance between them closed until they were flat against each other, arms pulling as if to meld into one body.
Sonia’s free hand, the one that was not trapped under her, sought Michelle’s sex. A finger slipped over her clit to the slick lips of her opening. The touch was electric and so much different than that of a man’s roughness; very delicate, smaller obviously, but also very much more experienced at what feels good for a woman.
The kiss became more frantic as Michelle’s body responded to the stimulation. Somehow they breathed while tongues explored each others mouths. Sonia’s nipple became the plaything of Michelle’s finger tips, bringing it to an erect hardness as she gently pulled and twisted the sensitive nub. Michelle felt her wetness being brought forth by her sudden lover. Her body ached for release, needing to feel more than one finger tip inside her, even though that one finger tip was driving her to distraction. She wanted to be filled and fucked to orgasm, more than wanted; it was a primal need, an insistent demand.
She hooked a leg over Sonia’s thigh, spreading her hips and allowing Sonia a much better access to her body and was rewarded as first one, then two fingers, followed the already busy forerunner. Three fingers now worked their magic, rubbing over the ridged hardness of her “G” spot while a thumb pad rubbed her clit in circular motions.
Unable to maintain the kiss, Michelle rolled onto her back, her hips bucking at the delight Sonia’s fingers were giving her. Her legs spread wider while her hands gripped the bed sheet in claw like fists, scrunching it up as the first wave of climax approached. She was soaked now, her natural lubricants smeared over her labia and Sonia’s fingers made little squelching sounds. Then, a fourth finger joined the other three, spreading her lips wider than she could remember them ever being before.
The feeling of Sonia’s hand filling her cavity was so intense; Michelle was unable to do anything but lay there completely at the mercy of her lover. Sonia began to thrust her hand slowly in and out, just enough to create a friction against muscle tissue while her thumb pressed against a very hard clit.
Propped on an elbow, she could watch Michelle’s face, pleased at the twitching at the side of her mouth and eyes tightly screwed shut. She watched at breath, being sucked in between gritted teeth and parted lips. She lowered her head to take Michelle’s nipple nearest to her, in her mouth, sucking the dark pink nub between her teeth and gently biting on it. Michelle’s body arched off the bed at this addition to her sensory overload, a screech left her throat, and her climax gushed, soaking everything.
Sonia slipped her thumb inside Michelle’s soaking cunt and pushed hard until her fist passed the outer muscles filling her completely. She had to kneel to gain leverage so that she could really fuck her flat mate. The sight of Michelle, helpless below her gave her a small triumph. Michelle was normally so in control and level headed, but right at this moment, with a fist inside her, she was way beyond control, humping on Sonia’s wrist and squealing her climax as wave over wave coursed through her. Sonia grasped Michelle’s breast nearest to her and squeezed hard, forcing the beautiful orb to misshapen, her teat pushed out to prominence and redden as blood was brought to the surface.
Michelle couldn’t control herself, suddenly; her urine spurted in a golden shower, hitting the wall some feet away. She had reached a point of total release. She shuddered uncontrollably in complete orgasm. It was a total surprise to her, an orgasm that ripped through her body, leaving her bereft of sense. It felt like improbable masses were colliding in her brain, thumping and then spinning at tangents beyond description.
Sonia removed her fist carefully, twisting gentle as she prised it out and lay alongside Michelle, cradling her head in the crook of her arm while the shudders of climax gradually diminished. She kissed her mouth and held her tightly as if giving the hapless girl an anchor to the world. Sonia hadn’t come herself, but didn’t feel the need to. She had won a victory over Michelle who, up until now, had been the dominant of the two in their flat sharing.
They slept locked in embrace, safe in each others arms.
But it was the end of their relationship. Michelle, worried about the shift in the balance and in denial that she had enjoyed sex with a woman, decided that she would move on, leave Sonia to the flat, leave her job and travel to wherever fortune took her.
Sonia cried non-stop when the parting took place, but Michelle didn’t shed so much as a tear. She had analysed what had happened and, although the experience was the best sex she had had, knew that she was neither gay, nor in love with Sonia.
Armed only with a few suitcases, Michelle had returned home to her parents, but only to regroup and decide where she would go from here. She had a hankering to travel abroad, but her finances were not that great, so that was one avenue not open for the time being.
She took a job in the village nearby, serving little old ladies with blue rinse hairdos, tea and buttered scones in a tea shop owned by one of her mother’s friends. It didn’t pay much, but meant that she didn’t need to dip into her savings for the time being and would give her the chance to decide on her future. Life was passing her by and she knew it, but felt powerless to anything about it.
Then it happened. Out of the blue. With no warning. Her breath stopped in her throat, her knees wobbled and her heart tried to jump out of her chest though her throat.
Michelle was going about the daily mindless routine of teacakes and sticky buns, fending off questions about marriage and love lives, only a part of her mind occupied by the ritual. When he walked in she didn’t notice him, at first, her back was towards the door, with its stupid little bell on a spring, fixed over head so a new customer was always announced by the tinkle. She placed yet another scone in front of Mrs. Friar who had already polished off two. She didn’t turn around to see who the new customer was and ignored the sound of the bell.
But, then she did turn, her eyes caught sight of him and it felt like she just continued to revolve in a slow spin. He was beautiful, simply the best description she could come up with. At around six feet one or two tall, with an unruly mop of golden hair, broad shoulders and nice clothes, Michelle though he was just about perfect. Her whole body subtly changed, she stood a little more erect, enhancing her breasts, a smile played across her lips and her eyes sparkled. Unknown to her, she exuded pheromone laced scent as adrenalin whizzed around her veins, shortening her breath.
Unsteadily, she approached the table by the window, overlooking the high street, to ask him what he would like.
His eyes, when they focused on her face, having travelled from her feet up, were the bluest of blues, clear and sparkling with mischievous crinkles at each corner. His clear skin looked permanently tanned, but not in the weather beaten way of a sailor, just of someone who spent a lot of time n the open air. He looked... healthy... yes, that was the perfect word.
Somehow, she stammered out the question, what would he like and then felt foolish at her girlish incompetence. His voice dripped into her ear, a deep resonance that seemed to tickle her cochlea and ping at strings inside her she didn’t know existed.
Dazed, she managed to take his order, managed to convey it back to Mrs Giles who owned the teashop and then managed to totter back to his table when the tea he had ordered was ready. She placed the tray on his table, then, not knowing what to do, hesitated a little too long beside him, hoping he would look up and smile at her. It was stupid, silly even, but Michelle had never felt anything like this attraction for anyone before and didn’t know suddenly, what she was supposed to do.
He did smile eventually, giving her an indulgent wink before turning back to the paper he had carried in with him.
She scuttled away, feeling mortified at her childishness, thinking he probably thought her to be a little simple or something.
She watched him hawkishly from the safety of the rear of the counter burgeoned with cakes and flyers for local charities. Watched as his head nodded to something he was reading, watched as expressions flittered across his profile as he went from article to article. Her stomach was cramping a little from the elevated excitement he induced in her.
Then he was gone. Just like that. He had left money under the saucer of his tea cup, arose with the paper under his arm and shut the door, with the stupid bell over head and walked off left, down the high street and away from her life. Michelle wanted suddenly to cry at the lost chance. Mrs Giles couldn’t understand the sudden change in her assistant and quickly gave up trying when she couldn’t get any sense from the girl.
He had left a tip, not much, but a tip all the same. Michelle pocketed the pound coin as she cleared away the things from the table, smoothed out the cover and straightened the condiments. Wistfully, she glanced up through the shop window to see him climb into a car, the manufacture of which she didn’t recognise. A small “oh” escaped her lips as he drove away.
“Beautiful wasn’t he?” remarked one of the ladies sitting close by. Michelle replied that she hadn’t noticed, but the old woman just smiled and nodded as if in time with a hidden melody.
That night, Michelle’s masturbation was just that little more frenzied as imagination bore her to the heights of passion in his arms.
Several days passed. She looked out for him, for the foreign car or any trace, but she was unrewarded; nothing of him remained, not even tyre tracks in the kerb and she did look, berating herself for the stupidity, but unable to stop herself. It felt like bereavement, a sudden loss, with nothing to fill the void.
Then he came back and sat in the same chair at the same table as he had before. Michelle almost knocked over a cake stand in her rush to serve him. All of the feelings she had felt at his last visit, came in a wild tsunami, but this time, she didn’t feel quite as awkward as she took his order.
She placed his tea and cup in front of him while he stared out of the window. She felt like giving him a little curtsey as they used to do in Victorian times, but managed to curb the urge.
Then he turned and smiled, looking into her eyes. She thought she might faint suddenly and gasped, her hand covering her mouth. He had effectively reduced her to mush with just a smile.
“Who owns the hardware shop across the road?” He continued to smile and seemed to enjoy the effect he was having on her, seemed to be fully aware of what he had evinced in her.
“It’s closed.” That wasn’t an answer she knew, but rational thought was not high on her list at the moment; he was talking to her and she liked it very much.
“I can see it is closed, but who owns it?” His smile deepened, creasing his crow footed eyes a little more.
“Mr Lincombe I think, but he died a few months ago. I suppose his family do.”
“Where do they live?” He asked.
Sensing a chance, Michelle blurted out.
“I’m not sure of the address, but I can take you if you would like.” The slim chance of spending time in his company was too great to miss.
He finished his tea. Michelle dumped her apron and without a word to Mrs Giles, left the teashop, never to return.
They spent the afternoon, after he had found that Mr Lincombe’s family had pulled up stakes and left town, walking around the park, with its duck infested lake. Talking and getting to know one another, relating their lives. In her case, she gabbled on simply to impress him and keep his attention for as long as she could. Michelle thought she might be walking about six inches off the ground.
Alan was in property, hence his interest in the shop. Was unmarried or attached, lived in London in a comfortable riverside apartment and was only on the road to find new acquisitions for the company he worked for. It sounded exotic to her and probably would have done, even if he was an undertaker.
They ate at his hotel later that night after he had driven her home to change her clothes and get a shower. Michelle rattled through his background and details to her mother, announcing that, finally, she had found someone she could love. Her mother, sceptical at the speed with which Michelle had fallen for the guy, was noncommittal, but wished her a pleasant evening.
The food that passed her lips was chewed and swallowed with no thought or recognition of what she was eating. She didn’t taste the wine, even though it was one of the better from the vault. All consuming to her, was the sight of him as he spoke, relaxed and smiling, confident in his attitude and manner. Michelle was lost in a sea of emotion that roiled in her breast and jumbled her thought processes.
Then, they went to his room and to his bed. It was now that his confidence wavered a little. Instead of attacking her in lustful bullishness, he asked her what she liked, was this okay? Was that alright? As he explored her body with fingertips, tongue and hands in a gentle quest to find out what she desired.
Naked, she thought he looked even more beautiful than when she had first seen him. His musculature rippled beneath bronzed skin that had a light covering of downy hair. His large hands easily covered her whole breast, cupping her into his palm, creating a slight pressure on her enflamed nipple. His breath was sweet from the wine as they kissed, probing with tongue, the ridges of each others palate.
His cock, when she nervously found it in her grasp, was neither huge nor small, was circumcised and almost fully engorged. She wanted nothing more than to take him into her mouth to taste him and please him as much as she was possibly able.
Making the decision for her, Alan turned so that he could nuzzle her sex with his nose. Carefully, he prised her lips apart with his fingers and lapped at her as she took his cock between her lips and flicked a tongue over the slit. In their eagerness to please the other, their singular concentration on what they were doing, helped to keep them from climaxing as they mutually pleasured each other’s sex with tongues and mouths. Michelle had his cock as deep as she could, sucking and nodding, feeling the veins of his dick as they slid over her tongue. He in return, was sucking her clit between his teeth and then her labia in a delicious vacuum that suffused her lips.
“Oh that feels good.” He told her, raising his head to speak and wiping her essence from his lips at the same time.
“Ith ‘eels etty goog oo.” She tried to say without taking him from her mouth. It sounded so ridiculous and had them giggling helplessly, unable to continue momentarily. The tension broke of trying to be careful, they returned to each other’s bodies with an abandon. The ice was broken with the laughter and now it was business in earnest.
Alan shifted position, turning and breaking the umbilical connection of cock and mouth to kiss her lips and take her breasts in his hands. He sucked her lower lips between his teeth and gentle bit down on it as she writhed under him, manoeuvring so that he was between her parted legs. She passed her hand between their bodies to grasp his hardness and guide it to her waiting sex. The umbilical re-connection was made when he slid into her, filling her body with his manhood. Her knees came up to embrace his hips and urge him into her further. Alan thrust, driving his cock deeper. Michelle gasped, expelling air into his mouth where he still had her lip between his teeth.
Gradually, the pace increased. He had to support himself with hands either side of her body, lifting himself off of her so that he could watch the play of senses as they flitted across her face.
Michelle was approaching her climax, giving in totally to the pleasure and mounting need to come. Her muscles clenched, tightening around his cock, increasing the delicious sensations of friction as he slid in and out of her. And then, she arrived at that overwhelming point when nerve endings jangle and control slips from grasp. She gushed around his cock, soaking him with her warm liquid and screaming her climax, grasping him in a bear hug, then digging her nails into the skin of his back as the next few thrusts took her to an even higher place.
She had never come as hard, each spasm was gut wrenching in intensity, taking her breath away as muscles clenched and released. She shivered in small, quick movements that came and went in seconds repeatedly. Her hands bunched and released, bunched and released. He had paused, watching and enjoying the throes of her passion as they played across her eyes. He waited until she had settled a little before taking up a slower rhythm that was to bring his own fulfilment.
At first, Michelle hardly realised he had begun to make love to her again, hadn’t completed his own need. But, then, it filtered through her jumbled senses. Each slow, methodical almost, thrust was stoking the flames in her body all over again. She sucked her lip between her teeth, biting down on her flesh. She clawed at his shoulders and lifted her pelvis in time with him, using her back as a fulcrum. Each pelvic rock drew him into her body, to a place she wanted desperately, to feel him eventually explode. The pace quickened.
She felt delirious, borne on a wave of continuous highs, each crashing over the last to subsume the previous feelings. As the pace quickened toward his climax, so did her breath and the height of her arc as if she were trying to completely envelope him in her embracing sex. Desperately, she clung to him as if to never allow him to escape.
Alan shuddered with a final thrust. His come spilling into her, in spurts, driven by need and release. Smaller and smaller after-shocks rippled through him. Michelle felt every one of them and mirrored the spasms as she gradually managed to gain control of her body.
They lay, catching their breath, still connected and entwined. Heart rates slowed to somewhere near normal, eventually.
At last, Michelle thought, someone I can give my self to, take for myself and love. She realised that, without love, sex was just a pure function, enjoyable perhaps, but devoid of emotion which made the act something else entirely. Sex for the sake of sex was fine, but in the context of love, had a purpose far in excess of the physical motions.
She cried softly, replete in his arms and completely sated for the first time in her life. They may have only been making love for a short while in relative terms, but the whole experience had taken her breath away and removed the last barriers.
Later, they made love again, exploring even further, what their bodies were capable of. Using any and all methods open to them. Hands, tongue, fingers, even toes where she sat on his large toe, wiggling her butt to force him into her. She suckled on his cock, bringing him to hardness, tasting their combined juices, smelling the musky scent of sex on his pubic hair. She swallowed his spend, much diluted after their previous exploits. He returned the favour, savouring her arousal as his tongue flicked over her clit while his fingers brought her to a deeply satisfying climax once again.
They eventually fell into an exhausted sleep several hours later, joined in each others arms, never to be separated again.
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