Thing Better Left Unsaid
I guess there was something nagging at me as unbuttoned this woman’s blouse. Even more so as I framed her face in my hands upon initial entry. But I was to distracted by the tight young body. It had been many years since I frolicked with a twenty something woman. No children had been thrust forth from this particular delicacy. Full immersion and a tightness that can rarely be regained once lost was all that was on my reptilian brain at this moment. The past few years of living as much as possible in the here and now has taught me how to enjoy moments of pure immersion and delight in a woman. Having known the pleasure of the more mature for many years, the problematic youthful emotions and recriminations on the nature of women are no longer a hindrance to me. Unlike back when I was in my twenties, today I can assuage that inner voice knowing that this was a totally unexpected, and might I add ,unsolicited treat.
I was just out killing time on an early summer Saturday evening. Watching a few games on the tube in the local pubs, and just generally enjoying the freedoms of no longer being one of the landed gentry, tied down to endless weekends of yard work, home repair, and honey do lists. Divorce can in someways be quite a liberating prospect. That state of affairs also came to me unbidden and unexpected, but much less pleasurable than the situation I found myself in on this particular Saturday evening. I ended up in a local establishment that I frequented back in my twenties and thirties, and much to my surprise was still owned by the same woman. Now you could say that a man of my years has no business in such a place, especially on a Saturday night were loud rock music was being played by some local up and comers. But having been a veteran of some garage bands in my day, I felt compelled to pay the cover for a listen.
I was happily chatting with owner and some of the patrons. Getting the bring out your dead list from the proprietor of people we knew that used to hang out there and now no longer hang out anywhere. I was having a nice conversation with a woman, of more respectable years, about kids, sharing photo’s of same, and generally talking personal histories. After an hour or so she was off with the friends she was meeting and we said our goodbyes . No sooner does this lady leave my side than this young lady rushes up to me, pinches my cheek, and demands a kiss. “Look at that smile” she exclaimed. She was a slender attractive girl next door sort. Not floozied up for a Saturday night stalk. After all this was just your local tavern, not the downtown club scene. Shoulder length light brown hair, with brown eyes. Tight blue jeans can do much for the female frame, and her youth made them fit just right. Now being unaccustomed to such directness and comforted with the fact that she had to be at least twenty one to be in there, I happily obliged. Now she did not seem excessively drunk, which would have been my first rationale for such forward behavior, or the effects of the new designer drugs upon the youth of today being unfamiliar to me, we began chatting. But with very close physical proximity. I am not immune to the fragrance and friction of body to body contact. One might say she was on me like a cheap suit. Many have told me that I look quite a few years younger than I actually am, but I figured with a little time and closer inspection she would realize she had latched onto a geezer. Either she didn’t or she didn’t care.
You may ask at this juncture, just what do a man and woman have in common with such divergent chronology. Well other than the usual mundane small talk that accompanies such initial encounters, the big three hundred pound gorilla in the room is always sex. Why this woman chose me that evening I will never know. I could spend pages speculating on the whys and wherefores of her motivations and they would be just that. Speculation. To tell you the truth, for the opportunity to enjoy the pleasure of a twenty some thing’s youthful body, I don’t care. It was clear and simple. That night I had something she wanted, and she had something I hadn’t had in a long long time.
The energy, flexibility, muscle tone of a healthy young woman are a marvel. Unleashing that energy in her candle lit studio apartment was awesome to behold. If I knew this was what awaited me within the cul de sac of my midlife crisis, I would have fretted less at the surprise of my legally devoid vows. She was light as a feather as we moved through positions that were only vague remembrances from my youth. But unlike my youth, these various positions were being worked through in a single session. The now is a wonderful place to stay. It was only upon flipping her over for the delightful humping like a dog portion of the evenings entertainment that as I was admiring the reflection of our lovemaking in her full length mirror did I notice the picture on the wall. It was of her and her mom taken a few years ago. As I gazed down upon the lovely shape of her behind bucking up to meet my thrusts, her slim waist, smooth shanks, and her profile sideways on the pillow did it hit me. There was no doubt. I had been in this same position some thirty years before with her mom.
OMG, I fucked your mother when we were in our twenties.
I did a quick math check to be sure that this wasnt a transgression of biblical proportions. It wasn’t. So being the dog that I am, rather than let this revelation make me feel guilty or awkward it only added to the shear lust, enjoyment, and celebration of this ladies delights. I began to breath deeply and shove into her ever tightening and quivering pussy till it was sopping. Her flowing essence dripping down both of our thighs. When I flipped her over to mount her face to face with her long legs resting on my shoulders and her firm round ass in my hands wildly reaching up to meet my every thrust it was just as her mothers had wrapped around me many years before. I felt I was reliving a long phantasmic déjà vu. But now with my time served in practice of full body orgasms sans the finality of spewing milky come allowed me the deep bucking with varied angles of penetration into this tight little body to continue with much flipping, flopping, tasting, teasing and more plunging. Her young yet familiar features twisted again and again in orgasmic whimpers of delight as we shuddered within, without, and against each other time and again.When I finally came with a firey gush of thick syrupy seamen it covered her sweat glistening breasts until they looked like a pair of glazed donuts with neat brown nipples posing as the hole in these winsome pastries.
As we said our goodbyes in the early morning light I saw no need to bring up my epiphany during the evenings festivities. Yet only one question came to my mind.
I wonder what her mom is doing tomorrow night?
Ricky and I were out in the parking lot playing our version of handball. Really it was just slapping a tennis ball against the factory wall and keeping a pseudo type of tennis score. Boy it was hot. Our shirts were off and our twenty year old muscles glistened in the high sun. In mid-match Ellen Joy, the freelance artist our company used, sauntered out onto the loading dock. Ellen Joy was in her thirties. Five feet five inches of Italian woman enigma . She had straight black hair cropped in a 1970’s feather cut with bangs that swept seductively over her left eye, perfectly tanned skin, and well formed breasts that stood up proudly in their bra-less state for the day. Today, sporting a floppy sun hat, a sheer peasant blouse over tight jean shorts and lace up sandals she caught my attention immediately and made me miss my shot. Ellen dressed as she pleased at work. With her long relationship as company freelance artist and resident Bohemian she had the freedom to do so. I do not think the boss, Sheldon complained about her attire either.
Even at this distance I could detect large brown nipples under the sheer white blouse . With my limited experience of skinny blonds and red headed Irish girls, those nipples were an endless focus of my attention. I think Ellen Joy sensed that. She would alway give me a big smile with her sparkling white teeth couched in full sensuous lips as she bounced through the dock on her way to meet with Sheldon. But that was only a teaser of the best part. It was the full round buttocks that wiggled through the loading dock that would grab Ricky’s and my eyes like super glue when she passed.
Today she watched a bit and then sent a big smile in our direction as she slowly looked our sweaty shirtless bodies up and down with a leer I had never seen on a woman’s face before, punctuated with a salacious wink in our direction. Since it was at a distance Ricky and I would argue the rest of the afternoon over who it was meant for.
That argument was settled when first thing next morning Sheldon had an assignment for me. Apparently Ellen had forgotten the product sample she needed for her design work and I was to deliver it to her studio at precisely eleven AM. The time was made clear to me, twice.
I was at her door at eleven on the dot. The studio was actually her apartment, so I was a little shy, but very curious to see how a thirty year old Bohemian artist lived. The door opened and there was Ellen Joy, hair wet and blacker than usual but still seductively straight and provocatively swept over her left eye. She had a blue satin robe loosely draped over her fragrant freshly showered body. I stammered a few apologies for being too early though I knew I wasn’t . She put me at ease quickly by waving me in and closing the door behind her. The view of her round booty was exceptional in that rather sheer robe as she led me into the room. When she turned her robe was perched perilously close to slipping beyond those extraordinary aureoles.
Ellen Joy held the package up to the light which streamed through the large apartment windows affording me a tantalizing silhouette view of her curvy womanly frame. When Ellen Joy turned she said, “I am going to need your assistance for a few moments. Can you pitch in for the company?”
“Of course,” I said eagerly not really knowing what I was agreeing to, but since the front of the robe was now revealing the dark brown edge of one of those brown disks of desire, I would have agreed to anything.
“I need you to photograph something as a font style I am thinking of using. I have tried but I cannot get focus or a proper angle for my needs.” With that she handed me a simple digital camera. I was momentarily disappointed but hope sprang eternal as did an erection when she turned and lowered her robe revealing her bare back with tattoo above her bulbous black thonged behind.
Ellen Joy peered over her shoulder to see the look on my face and then explained. “If you look real close at my tattoo and stop looking at my ass you will see that it is made up of very tiny script. I need you to get a clear picture of that for reference. If you do a good job on that maybe I’ll show you my tits.” For emphasis she had demurred and wrapped her arms to cover her breasts.
I set to the task at hand while still enjoying the scent of this freshly showered Italian beauty. I took a couple of shots and once satisfied I showed her my work.
“Good job,” she exclaimed and pirouetted around while raising her arms high above her head. She struck a pose that displayed the most perfect pair of large brown nipple crowned boobs with salacious delight. I basked in the vision of her straight black hair that framed her features, her flawless tanned bareness, and full womanly hips. Ellen Joy approached me and ran her arm along the ridge of my broad shoulders. My hand caressed her hip as I greedily reached for a handful of her firm round ass. Ellen Joy whispered in my ear, “Now see if you can write me story with your tongue in that tattoo font so I can really feel it”
With that Ellen joy pushed down on my shoulders bringing me to my knees as as I pulled her thong to her ankles leaving me face to face with her full retro nineteen seventies Italian black bush in my face. She draped one of her legs over my broad shoulders which opened the moist pink rose beneath the furry fringe. As my tongue made slow sweeping motions across the slick palette of Ellen Joy’s cunt I wrote of desires I had never told any girl before, but Ellen being a women understood. As I worshiped at her moist curly black haired altar with my young and resolute tongue I heard her say breathlessly “I think I am going to need you for the rest of the afternoon. Let me call Sheldon, He’ll understand.”
Her instruction and suggestions that afternoon paid dividends with many a skinny blond and red headed Irish girl for many years to cum.
I arrived and you were resplendent in your ruby robe and arm raised to your blond tresses revealing the open invitation of cleavage. So I dove head first into the open spaces.