Just recently, he has come to the realization that he may face the next 20-30 years (his health is perfect) without any sort of physical involvement with the opposite sex. This has caused him much mental anguish because he realizes that even though his physical needs will diminish with time and age, his mental and emotional requirements will not. There have been moments of panic in the past few months, but he has now begun a campaign of getting "as much as he can, as often as he can, as long as he can" in the hopes that his recent memories will serve him well when he reaches the point that females no longer even consider a physical relationship with him. Here follows the first in a series of events that have taken place within the bounds of that campaign. There will be future episodes as they develop and come to fruition. The stories will be told in the first person, simply for ease of writing. It will be up to the reader to determine whether these chapters are autobiographical or not. * * * * *It was not difficult getting her attention. She had been sitting at a table with three friends for nearly an hour while I sat at the end of the bar, nursing several vodka-tonics. She and I have coincidentally run into each other twice before in restaurants or other public places in the past few months. We have known each other for more than fifteen years. She had, at one time, been a School Board Director in the district in which I had served as high school principal. We had never quite seen eye-to-eye on issues. She had made life rather difficult at times for me, but we seemed to respect each other and remained casual friends outside of the educational arena. She had chosen not to place her name into candidacy during this past election and I had retired from my position just a few months before, after 35 years of service. My decision to make a run at her was based not in any desire for revenge or humiliation; it was simply a physical attraction that had been there for many of the 18 years of acquaintanceship.
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She was in her mid-40's and nicely arranged at some 5' 7" and perhaps 135 lbs. Her hair hadn't been cut, or appeared not to have been, for more years than I could remember and when she chose to wear it unpinned, fell below the middle of her back. The length of her hair was one attribute I could never have overlooked, and the color of it was absolutely stunning - a deep, dark, auburn-red that absolutely shined when she sat under a light source, as she was at this moment. Her eyes were as dark as any I've seen on a woman and while I could never say I'd seen them 'smolder,' I can say that they have always looked at me with a keen intelligence. Right at this moment, they were looking directly at me with more question than anything else. I had nodded in her direction a while ago, when she finally saw me sitting there and acknowledged my presence with a nod of her own. I had lifted my glass in her direction and had sent her and her friends a round of whatever they were drinking. At this point, I understood that she was curious, but I made no more moves except to be certain to be looking at her whenever she raised her eyes in my direction. Finally, she could not abide not-knowing, and excused herself to her friends and walked to the ladies' room. On the way back, she stopped next to me and said, "Hello, Edward. How have you been? I haven't seen you around lately. What have you been up to?"I swiveled around in my chair and looked at her. Tall, tanned, attractive enough, soft green sweater set and brown flannel slacks that tapered down her long legs as if tailored specifically for her (and perhaps they had been). (Allow me to insert here that the other important attribute of any woman, at least for me, is her legs. I have found that shapely, well-toned legs indicate more physical attraction than do breasts in any shape or size.
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Hers were most certainly well within the bounds of "shapely and well-toned. " They appeared to go on forever, and I had often sat opposite her during committee meetings where I could observe her legs under the table, crossing and uncrossing until I felt that familiar stirring in my crotch. ) I lifted one hand and touched her upper arm and said, "Hello, Valerie; how nice of you to stop to speak to me. Now that I am retired, I've been taking some time for myself. I've been satisfying some of those long-term fantasies and dreams that I could not devote either the time or the energy to while I was working. " And I gave her upper arm just a tiny squeeze before removing my hand. Her eyes twinkled just a bit and she smiled, crinkling up her nose, "What sort of naughty, nasty fantasies might those be, Edward?" Her tone was purely joking; but she had now opened the door to anything I might wish to take the chance to say. "Oh, Valerie, you know; the fantasies of an old man who has too long been denied what he truly desires in this life. The dreams of someone who has felt that a special talent of his has gone unnoticed and unshared as often as it could have been. " And I looked directly into her eyes. There was a momentary pause, as if to question herself as to whether she should continue the conversation or excuse herself; but she continued, very slowly, "I didn't know you had a special talent that you had not been able to share, Edward. I was always impressed with how much of yourself you actually gave away. Whatever might you be wanting to share with anyone now that you are retired?""My dear Valerie, I simply want to take advantage of the few years I have left, to share what I have learned over the years with a woman who might actually be able to understand and appreciate the sharing," I murmured to her. "Is this a line you throw at all unsuspecting women you meet in lounges, Edward? Or have you simply singled me out because you've resented my influence over the years?""Valerie, my dear woman," I laughed, "this is not a line for anyone except for you at the present time. I have never resented your influence.
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I have always respected the methods you employed to get what you wanted. And now, I am simply using my own personal methods to get what I want at this point in life. ""And what is it that you want, Edward?" she breathed. "If you'd like to have dinner tomorrow evening, we could discuss it," I put to her, quite bluntly. This time she did not laugh. She was totally uncertain as to how to react. So, I continued with a sort monologue about the dissatisfaction of always having to "…do the right thing…" publicly and socially, as I had been required to do as a high-profile principal. She was familiar with that situation, having been there herself for many years. She was also familiar with my wife, having attended myriad school-connected social events in her position and a short sketch of my marital relationship was all that was necessary. "Why me, Edward? Why pick me and why this particular evening?" she queried. Again, I reiterated my dinner invitation and with only a few seconds of hesitation, but with apparent discomfort and indecision, she agreed to meet me outside of town at a very small log-cabin-type restaurant we both knew of. I will not bore the reader with the emotional stress I dealt with over the next 24 hours, but suffice it to say that I felt like a 18-year-old heading for the drive-in movies. (Oh, that does date me, doesn't it?) It was not difficult to find an excuse to go out for dinner the following evening as my wife had announced that very day that she would be eating with her church 'circle' that evening in preparation for her usual Wednesday evening prayer group. When I appeared at home, I simply told her I had met the parents of a former student who wanted to treat me to dinner while the student was home for the holidays.
This was often the case and she didn't bat an eyelash at this small deception.
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Calling the restaurant and making a reservation was simple enough. Deciding what to wear was much more difficult. (Do I sound like a squiggly teenager?) But soon enough, the time came for me to show up and advance my steps toward a goal. The hostess provided me with a corner table outside of the view of the main dining room (which, in itself, only held six tables), and which was as private as one could wish for. Valerie arrived approximately fifteen minutes after our agreed meeting time (leaving me slightly damp in the palms for fear that I had made a fool of myself) and apologized by saying that she had been sitting outside for ten minutes trying to decide if she was up to this meeting. I reassured her that dinner was exactly that - dinner; and that she should not read anything else into this evening's menu. She laughed at the reference to a menu and we took a few minutes to order drinks and dinner. Over the meal, the talk was really old history…. what we had done for the district while we served, what the district was like now, where we saw it going in the future, etc. , just like old colleagues would talk under any circumstances. Finally, I broke the ice by asking if she really wanted an answer to her question of the previous day and she stared at me with those hugely dark eyes and said yes, she did. "Very simple, Valerie. First, why you? I have had more than a few snakes of lust for you squirming around in my stomach for the past fifteen years of our friendship. Didn't you ever notice my reactions when you dressed a particular way or spoke to me directly?""Second, why now? Because I know that your children are both away at school and you are 'holding down the fort' at home with Charles. I also know that he still travels much more than you would like him to.
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You complained to my wife several times about that fact when we were together and I noted it myself because you repeatedly told her how "lucky" she was to have me home every night. ""Do you remember how I chimed in on one of those occasions with the complaint that I was not home every night; that the Board of School Directors had made it almost impossible for a principal to spend any time with his own biological family because they demanded my presence at any and every event that was sponsored by my school family?""So, I took the chance to say something to you that would either have you thinking I am totally out of bounds or might pique your interest. Apparently the latter is closer to the truth, because he we are, 20 miles from home, sharing a glass of friendship. The opportunity is there for us to become better acquainted, or to share something of which I spoke to you about last evening. It is all a matter of you saying that you are interested in at least discussing the possibilities, that's all. "She actually didn't say much at all for a long period of time. We finished dinner and another glass of wine, turned down dessert, and waited for coffee to be delivered to our table. Finally, she looked at me and asked me a rather startling question: "Ed, what's in it for me? It is pretty obvious that you'll benefit from any relationship - and I assume you are hinting at a physical one - but I am not certain what I am going to get out of it. I have a lot to lose, you know. "I reached across the table and took her hand, turned it palm up and pressed my thumb into it lightly, circling it around a bit and told her, "Valerie, if I cannot make you forget that question in the first hour we are together, then the entire relationship is built on subterfuge and I was never much for that, was I? She smiled, because she remembered the situation I was referring to - one in which she and I saw eye-to-eye for once - one which involved not telling the student public the absolute truth about something that had happened in our community. She responded that, yes, she remembered and that she was just confused, that's all. I told her I was in no hurry, that we could meet and discuss this further if she wished. We did. We met twice more for dinner in the next few weeks and on the third occasion decided that an evening alone together outside of the view of anyone might allow her to better decide exactly how far she wished to go with this "adventure" as she called it. That first evening together - at a tiny motel between our town and the bigger city to the west - was one in which both she and I were exceptionally surprised.
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And so the saga begins…Having arrived at the motel a full two hours before our agreed-upon time in order to check in and arrange the room to my own preferences, I found myself quite nervous about what might come to pass in the next few hours. As I checked the bathroom, the shower enclosure, the closet area and the furniture for unattractive and unwanted dirt and stains, I realized I was thinking about what could go wrong, rather than what might be a pleasurable experience. Would I be able to perform? Would I be able to perform at the level of her expectations? What expectations did she have? What expectations did I have? Where would this lead us? Or would this be a once-and-done event? Was I going to be physically unattractive enough that she would change her mind and leave after a few minutes? Lord, lord, the questions that coursed through my mind!I had explained to her that the rooms at this particular establishment faced one of two ways – either toward the road (no longer a major highway since the Interstate was completed some years ago) or toward the rear of the property where a State forestland began. Of course, I had told her I would make specific arrangements for one of the rear-facing rooms. Part of our agreement was also that I would leave the door to the room I had reserved stand open an inch and would loop a necktie over the doorknob or handle (most likely a holdover from stories about college dorms, I suppose). When I heard a car slowly crunch through the gravel of the parking lot and come to a stop in front of this room, I took a moment to peek out of the heavy green drapes that covered the windows and saw that it was indeed, Valerie's silver Camry. I stepped to the door and opened it to stand silhouetted in the light so that she could see all was well. Damn!!! What if it wasn't Valerie, but her husband??? Who knows what might have transpired since last evening! But no, it was Valerie. I watched her as she stepped out of the car and went to the trunk, which she had released from inside the car, and retrieved a small leather satchel. She carried the satchel and moved toward me. I stepped aside and she entered the room without a backward glance. I closed the door and she stopped in the middle of the rather large room, next to the oversized bed, and dropped her satchel on it. She whirled around, making her hair flip outward and my groin flip inward, and said very softly, "I hope we know what we are doing, Ed. "I reassured her that we did, at least up until this point. I made a small joke about who knows what we are going to be doing an hour from now….
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maybe we'd be back at home watching "Who Wants to be a Millionaire"…or maybe we'd be lying there on that bed behind her trying to catch our breath. She smiled at the small attempt at humor and walked to the closet alcove and hung up her coat. I was dumbstruck! She had dressed in a soft beige-colored suit make of some knit material that looked like angora. Under the suit jacket was a dark brown high-necked sweater of the same sort of material, but lighter in weight. Her legs were spectacular, flowing out from under the hem, which reached just about to the center of her knees. She was wearing stockings, I could tell that much, and my mind immediately went to the coarse reaction of hoping they were not pantyhose. She wore brown leather heels that were probably a half-inch higher than would normally be called for with this suit, and complimented her calves beautifully. She smiled and spoke very low when she said, "Do I look ok to you? I wasn't sure what I should wear for this. " I reassured her that she was absolutely beautiful and I suppose she could tell from my breathless tone of voice and my stare, which was riveted, to her legs that I was serious. She reached out with her hands for mine. I took them and stepped close enough to smell her. Now, this was a woman! She smelled – not of perfumes, colognes, fruits, flowers or other false scents – clean. It was as clean a smell as a fresh shower and fragrant soap and shampoo can provide. God, how I loved it! I stood looking at her and she at me for almost a full minute without moving. She broke the momentary spell by asking if I had brought anything to drink.
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I had, and walked to the wall unit where I showed her a bottle of a nice little German Riesling in the motel ice bucket. She smiled and said she had something a bit gentler in mind and reached in her satchel to bring out a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream. We proceeded to drink it over ice cubes and I cannot think of a more erotic way to begin an evening. I had this idea that if and when I finally kissed her, I would be tasting chocolate all the way down to my stomach. We made small talk, she sitting in the one large chair and I on the edge of the bed. I played a bit of a naughty boy and tried to peek into the case she had brought. She jumped up and grabbed it from me, telling me I could not look inside. She explained that what was in there was for later, if there actually was going to be a "later" in this evening. I smiled at her and pulled her down next to me and asked, "What do I have to do to assure us of a very nice "later," Valerie?"She bent just a bit closer and kissed me on the lips. I responded very, very gently with a tiny bit of pressure and spreading of mine. She relaxed, sat back and said, "I am not sure I want this, but I am not sure I don't, either. There is a whole lot here that confuses me and I am not really sure why I said I would come here in the first place. I'm not sure I came tonight because I wanted something to happen or because I just didn't want to disappear without telling you first. How can I be sure that this is going to be ok?"Very slowly, I lifted the glass from her hand and walked to the credenza and sat it there with mine. I walked back, lifted her by the hands from the bed, picked up her satchel, retrieved her coat from the alcove and led her to the door by the elbow.
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"Neither of us is experienced in this, Valerie; but I want you to know that I was never more pleased about anything in my life than when you walked through this door just now. Over the past 24 hours I've come to the realization that I've wanted to make a most beautiful love with you for at least ten years. But if I have to let you go home now because you are not sure you want to allow that, then at least I will know I have come closer than any other man. That might be enough to get me through the next few years; but I know I will try again, so tonight is only a rehearsal then. I want you so much I can already taste you in the back of my mouth. I can already feel just how soft you are going to be under my fingers and lips. I can quite easily imagine how you are going to respond to my caresses and if I have to let that go, it will hurt deeply; but I am willing to let it be if you're not ready for it tonight. There will be another night. "She looked at me for a few minutes and smiled a laugh when she said she didn't know I was a poet. We both laughed at that one and she pushed the door closed again and put her arms around my neck. I dropped her coat and satchel and proceeded to kiss her softly and warmly. I could feel her heart beating like a damn native's drum in Africa – or was it my own heart in my chest and in my throat and in my ears?We stood like that, without moving, for almost five minutes – kissing and tasting each other to test our own reaction level, I suppose. Needless to say, I was tumescent with the first real kiss and rock hard before the second ended. I was, at least, going to be able to perform – or so it appeared at this point. I led her to the large chair and sat down, pulling her gently onto my lap sideways.
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She lifted her feet of her own accord and draped her knees over the left arm of the chair. She slipped an arm around my neck; I duplicated her move with one of mine around her back and we began to kiss in some serious connection. It became obvious that we were both sexually hungry. It also became obvious that I was already at the peak of physical excitement. It was directly under her ass and hard as it could be. She whispered something into my mouth about someone being very excited already. Sucking and nibbling on each other's tongues and lips led to tender and not-so-tender tongue battles searching each other's mouths, faces, ears. I did not allow my other hand to move anywhere except to stroke her thighs on the outside of her skirt. It was not really sexual in nature, but more a tender reassurance that this is where my hand was. I felt her move her feet and heard her shoes drop to the floor and she shifted her weight a bit more toward me. I opened my mouth and kissed her quite tenderly as I moved one hand to cup directly under her right breast. I did not hesitate. I did not creep up on it. I wanted her to know I was confident and that I wanted her. She caught her breath but did not move my hand away.
I opened my hand and placed the palm against the tip of her breast and moved it in slow circles, just lightly touching her. Within seconds, her nipple grew and hardened against my palm. I murmured into her mouth, "It looks like I'm not the only one who is excited. " And I flicked at her nipple with one finger before returning to my palm circles. She actually giggled. Like a kid when she has been surprised about something and is a little embarrassed. She giggled!Resuming my caressing and massage of her breast brought me to a level of excitement I had not experienced in a while. She was quite warm to the touch of my other hand on her back. I moved that hand to her neck and grasped a small handful of hair and tugged her head backward until she was actually lying back across the chair arm with her chest fully available. I looked directly at her while I touched both breasts, teasing at both nipples and stroking all the swells of her mounds. Our gaze never broke and she never said a word. I quietly asked her if she was sure of what she was doing. She answered, "No, I'm not; now touch me again. " And she lifted her face to kiss me, but I would not release her. I kept her there and moved my hand across her breasts and onto her stomach where I teased around the waistband of her skirt.
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She squirmed just a bit under my touch and that caused her skirt to ride up a bit higher until I could see a beautiful expanse of thigh. I was incredibly excited at this moment and was not exactly sure where I was going next. Before I could decide precisely what I was going to do, she took my hand and slipped it down to where her thighs joined. She pushed my fingers into the 'V' there and clamped her thighs together. I could feel the heat through her skirt and bent to kiss her as I slid my hand down and under the hem of her skirt to caress her silky-clad thighs. She allowed them to relax and there was just enough room between them for me to touch the inner surfaces of her tender-skinned thighs. I slid my hand back and forth from knee to upper thigh, but never passed the limit at which I might touch her tender softness. I did discover, very shortly after beginning my caresses there, that she was wearing lace-topped thigh-high stockings. I breathed a mental sigh of relief at that discovery. Pantyhose are the curse of every amorous male in the world!!!In the midst of another warm, moist kiss, her thighs parted to an extent that even a stupid man would understand was an invitation. So, I slowly accepted her invitation to touch her at the source of the warmth I felt on my fingers. I slid my left hand up and encountered an incredibly smooth, silky patch of material at the front of her velvet entrance. Well, she was wearing panties, at least, I thought to myself. I allowed my hand to move as far upward as it could, across the front panel of her panty-covered stomach and caressed every inch of her on the way back down to her heat. Once there, I turned my hand and slipped the fingers between her thighs to slide along the crotch panel of her panties and kept the thumb back to press on the very top edge of what I knew would be the outline of her clefted valley.
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To my surprise, as my hand slid inward, it encountered a decidedly wet spot on her panties. I could feel the tips of my fingers becoming coated with her emission and I smiled down at her, saying, "Now who's excited, dear thing?"She reached up and pulled my face to hers and kissed me as her legs spread to the limit of her suit skirt. This was quite enough to flatten my hand against her pussy and squeeze it gently with my palm while I pressed inward with the thumb. For the first time, she moved without specific control. Her back arched a bit and her breath gasped into her throat around my mouth. I did not release my hold and manipulated her now-very-wet crotch with my fingers while all the time pressing and rolling my thumb at the seat of her desires. The wet spot became a sopping mess in my hand and I found it easy to slide my fingers under the seam of her panty crotch to touch the very source of that stream of wetness. At my touch, she groaned a bit – almost sounding like one of those fake-orgasm artists in porn videos these days – and bit my lip. I pulled at the crotch of her panties and she lifted her hips to allow the movement she must have known was coming. I pulled at her panties, not gently at all, until they were below her hips and slid them easily over her thighs. The wet crotch was clutched in my hand and I pulled them as far down as my hand would reach. I stopped at that limit and she lifted her knees to allow me to fully remove them from her feet. Now, I had to make a decision. My usual move at this point indicates my own particular fetish about women. Normally, I would have released her lips from the suction we were applying to each other and I would have sucked the crotch of those panties directly into my mouth to gain a definitive taste of things to come.
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But I was not absolutely certain in my mind as to how she would react to that move, so I simply brought them up toward my face and turned to inhale their incredible scent. I say 'incredible' because while my main thrust in making love to a woman involves an extended period of oral manipulation of her pussy regions, this woman's female aroma was beyond description. Ripe. Heavy. Musky. Sweet-to-almost-cloying. All those and more, as my vocabulary for this particular event is limited. Then, I did release her mouth and flicked my tongue out rapidly and touched the tip of it to the wet patch of material. Now the sensation was totally different. Sharp. Tangy. Taste-bud-exciting. A bit salty. And I was in heaven. Without really thinking, I sucked the crotch into my mouth and savored every bit of what this woman was, internally.
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She lay there as if in shock. I think I actually blushed because I stammered when I began to tell her what I was doing. I tried to tell her that every man has a particular fetish fantasy and mine happened to be tasting a woman's deep secretions. I told her I just love the first tang on my tongue of what was but seconds ago, deep inside her. I told her that making love to a woman's most private region is the ultimate in eroticism to me. I told her that I often prefer that to actual intercourse, and admitted it was probably because I was a control freak and thought that this was the perfect situation to be totally in control. She laughed and reminded me that she had actually called me a control freak once in a hard-fought meeting about how things were going to run at my school. I smiled and told her that I had not remembered that particular incident until now, but it must have been propitious that I was here, now, trying to exert my control, over her specifically. "Do I taste good?" she asked with almost a whisper. .
