Delicious Arrangement

The graphic scenes of this story are enhanced and the arrangement more formalized to make for a better story, but this is based on a true story.

Strange that the relationship would come to this point, I thought as I wet a washcloth and began to wash Heather's cum from my face.

Sometimes she seemed submissive in her role, blushing slightly as she stripped off all her clothes in front of me when she reached the top of the stairs. She would walk nude to the living room and drape that long, beautiful body across the sofa, one leg elevated over the back, awaiting my ministrations, which I enjoyed so much.

I fooled myself into thinking that having this engaged-to-be-married woman agree to strip for me and allow me access to her body somehow put me in a dominant position. Before long the sessions took on a different tone. I was merely the man made to pleasure that lovely body orally, bringing her to a sweet orgasm before she slipped away into the night, leaving me unsatisfied – up until this night, anyway.

I walked gingerly to the bedroom and stripped off the jeans with the wet spot in the front. The sticky underwear went into the laundry too and I started to wipe myself, thinking at least this embarrassing form of sexual release was better than having to do it myself as usual.

But the act of wiping myself and thinking about what had just transpired aroused me again. I finished stripping down, lay on the bed and took myself in my hand, thinking about Heather and that lovely body she shared with me - some nights seeming like my plaything, other nights me feeling like hers. Both feelings excited me, even though we no longer fully consummated our erotic encounters.

Strange how it had come to this, I thought, as I released and drifted off to sleep. . .

Just a few years out of college, Heather and I landed in the same small town in the middle of nowhere, she as a special education teacher, me as the editor of the weekly newspaper. The reality of those wild college days being in the past set in quickly. We were both a long way from home and a long way from our respective circles of friends, with little prospects for excitement or romance in this little town of 1,500.

I recall taking a picture of Heather for the "new teachers" article in the little paper. She seemed worn out and somewhat annoyed. That initial poor impression led me to dismiss her as a prospect – and I was really looking for prospects. Her figure was attractive, and her face pretty, but not beautiful, I thought. Her short hair was a light brown-blond color, doing her credit, but not stunning. And she didn't seem very friendly.

It was 12 months later, with economic realities of the times having us still stuck in this town, before I gave her another thought.

I ran into her at the Laundromat. She was already inside, reading a romance novel, when I came in with my baskets.

"Well, this is as exciting as a Sunday afternoon gets in Smallville," Heather said, flashing a smiling demeanor so much in contrast to what I saw when we first met so briefly.

"Hey, a spin cycle, tumble dry – the laundry bar," I joked, gesturing to the washers, dryers and soap vending machines. "It doesn't get any better than this."

"I'm Heather," she said. "I don't know if you remember taking my picture when I started at the school. . ."

Oh, yes, I remember," I said, not bothering to introduce myself. Everyone in town knew me. "I always wanted to apologize for that, too. It didn't turn out very well."

"Yes, I know! I was so embarrassed. I wouldn't even clip it out and send to my parents," she laughed.

"Well, I'm primarily a writer, not a photographer, but at a little paper like this you have to do everything."

She laughed and reached for the dirty plastic chair next to hers, swinging it around in front of her and propping her sandal-clad feet on it. I stuffed my laundry into three washers as quickly as I could and sat down, not boldly next to her, but a couple of seats over, placing the magazine I'd brought on the chair between us for cover.

I looked at her feet, as I always do when a woman has set them in front of me.

I am not a man with a huge foot fetish, but I always notice a pair of attractive feet. Heather's were clean and fair, with the high arches that give an elegant curve suggesting some of the other curves above that will prove more interesting. Her nails were neatly trimmed, and polished in a shimmering red – a beautiful pair of feet, I thought. They drew my eyes upward, as they were no doubt intended to do.

Heather's legs seemed to go on forever. Almost as tall as me at six feet, she owed her stature to those long, shapely, smooth-as-silk legs, as fair as the lovely feet below them.

I could tell she was a woman who did not take well to the sun, as most people had more of a tan by now, even in this northern climate.

The fact that she had on a pair of very short cut-off jeans accentuated her legs. Her hips were slightly broad, but her trim waist narrower. The short-cut t-shirt advertising a water park revealed a cute belly button.

All this, of course, took a half a second until I got to her breasts, where my eyes lingered. When I had first met her and when I had seen her around, I hadn't noticed that she had full, inviting breasts.

Her long, elegant neck led my eyes up to a face that looked all the prettier, after that lovely body teased me to attention. Her nose was probably more prominent than she would have liked, but her green eyes danced and fluttered a bit as her full unadorned lips spread to a sly smile.

As my eyes met hers, she looked down across her body, then back to by eyes and smiled a knowing smile that told me I was busted.

I got a little flustered, as I always do.

"Looking forward to the new school year?" I asked lamely, as if I changed a subject we hadn't been on.

"Well, we'll see if it brings any more excitement than the last one," she said. She was flirting and we both knew it.

We chatted through the washing, drying and folding of several baskets, covering what life decisions led us to this little town and an existence as monotone as the constant hum of the dryers.

She left first, smiled sweetly, and said," Ok, I'll see you around."

"I hope so," I replied, and winked her as she left.

I made a strong mental note to call her up and ask her to dinner at some restaurant at a town some distance away. I wouldn't have to wait that long to get a chance to take this to the next level.

The phone rang about 8 p.m. It was Heather, who invited me to stop down to Lil's and have a drink. She just lived around the corner, which I knew, and the bar was just down the alley from there. Lil's was the community's favorite watering hole and I spent a lot of time there picking up news tips, killing time and downing a few beers.

We picked up where we left off at the Laundromat, but only had a couple of beers, then set off back toward her place. At her front walk, we kissed and she shot her tongue immediately into my mouth.

We kissed passionately for minutes and my hands got busy feeling her full breasts through her light jacket and sweater, donned for the cool late summer evening. Since we were in front of her door, I was waiting for her to invite me in.

"Well, why don't you show me this plant you were talking about," she said, referring to something that had come up in small talk before. We walked, arm in arm, around the corner to my door.

My apartment is upstairs in an old lumbering baron's big house. The staircase to the upstairs is just inside the front door, and a new wall was built to separate the downstairs apartment from the upstairs quarters. Heather began the first of what was to be many trips up those stairs over the coming weeks, following right behind me.

The plant, of course, was a ruse. We sat on the sofa and continued our make-out session.

Her jacket was across the coffee table. I kissed her neck as I managed to go down the buttons on her shirt, with one hand, as the other arm was wrapped around her in embrace. She allowed me to slip a hand under her bra and massage a nipple erect as our tongues intertwined in a passionate kiss.

I reached behind and under her shirt but was mystified at not finding the clasp to her bra, which made her giggle.

"It's in front," she said. "Here, I'll do it for you."

She undid the clasp between the cups and opened the garment to show me her large, firm breasts. No expert on size, I thought she might measure 35". Her areolas were small, with both nipples erect with excitement.

I immediately started to kiss them, caress them, bury my face between them. I flicked her nipples with my tongue, nibbled on them, and gently sucked.

Her knee meanwhile was pressing hard into my crotch. My cock strained against my own clothing and I pressed myself back into her leg, rubbing myself slowly against her.

I love to touch a woman between her legs, while she is still clothed, and feel the warmth of her sex through the material. She pressed herself against my hand and we kissed passionately once more.

"Would you like to go back to the bedroom?" I asked.

"Sure," she said.

I noticed how little her breasts sagged as we walked down the hall, our arms around each other. In my tiny bedroom we were both naked in no time and were not shy about casting our eyes downward to check each other out. We each kept our legs slightly apart to allow the other better access to look and touch.

While Ginger's hair was more of a light brown, her bush was downright blonde, over a prominent mound. I loved how her lips were easily visible through the sparse yet untrimmed hair. Her inner lips, not yet aroused, did not protrude out between the crack of her outer lips, a look I prefer.

Her belly was flat, her waist curvy over broad, but not padded hips.

I cupped her sex in the palm of my hand, rubbed her gently and felt her warmth. She gently took my seven-inch cock in her hand, tugged on it slightly and ran the tip of a finger around the sensitive, circumcised head. She lifted my balls slightly as if weighing them.

I pulled her close to me, and kissed her neck.

"God, you've got a lovely body," I whispered.

Heather pushed me away a little, and with a broad smile launched herself with those long legs, landing bare butt first on the bed so hard I was surprised the box springs on the old bed did not collapse to the floor. Her legs spread she ran her hand over her pussy once and smiled up at me.

She was inviting me, and I was aching, but I knew if I plunged into her I would last only seconds in my highly aroused state. So I went in head first.

Casting my eyes upward to look into hers, I kissed her lightly on her lower lips, then started to use my tongue.

That was when the arrangement that would come later was born, for I love to perform oral sex on a woman, and I think I'm pretty good at it. If I wasn't, Heather never would have been back at my door to take advantage of the invitation I was to offer.

I kissed the insides of her thighs then traced up with the tip of my tongue to taste the salty sweat between her lips and the very apex of her inner thighs. I traced all around her mound with my tongue, then kissed her again lightly on the lips before my tongue parted them ever so slightly. I ran up and down the length of her vagina, the tip of my tongue barely between the lips, but going deeper as I continued to trace up and down.

Opening her with my fingers, I licked lightly in the area between her inner and outer lips, tracing all around. It was there that I tasted the first dampness of her arousal.

It was in an erotic movie once that I heard the lead actress tell a male character that he used his tongue all wrong, as if painting a fence. "Picture licking honey off a butterfly's wings," she said.

The honey clung to the edges of her inner lips. It took sooooo long to lick it off, and to collect the sweet residues that ran with her juices down each side. I placed the tip of a finger in the opening from which the moisture came.

Heather moaned and cried out as if in pain from the long process of removing stitches from a wound, but I knew it was not pain she felt.

I worked my way inside, running my tongue in circles around her opening until I had plunged it in as far as I could muster.

Then I worked circles around her clitoris. When I touched my tongue on the tip of her most sensitive spot, she let loose.

I was disappointed in being so quickly interrupted from my mission of drinking down the cream that came in torrents.

She released my head – I hadn't even noticed until she let go how hard she was pulling my hair - and grabbed me under the arms, leaning forward to reach me.

She pulled me forward with a strength I didn't know she had, and I knew I had no choice at that point.

I moved forward and plunged my cock into her.

We will never know what it is like for one another. The feeling for a man when he enters a hot, wet woman is indescribable. The heat of his cock is magnified. It's as if he wants her moisture to enter him through the skin of his member so he can absorb her essence, even as she must absorb his essence, which he prepares to shoot deep inside her.

Neither will a man ever understand what it is like for a woman, to have that need filled, to have that piece that is missing found and put back.

And so we join together, trying to meet our own needs, knowing that at best we meet our mutual needs at the same time.

This encounter, like this relationship, wasn't quite going all the way. Not knowing the birth control situation, I pulled out and sprayed my seed on her thigh.

Still, it was all well timed. Her orgasm began when she pulled me up to enter her. Mine followed seconds afterwards.

We parted as we began, with a long French kiss at her front walk, and parted with a promise to get together again.

I didn't have to wait long. The next evening, shortly after the supper hour, she came knocking at my door. We talked about our jobs, and the upcoming school referendum, which I was covering for the paper and directly affected her classroom.

It was preliminary small talk, of course. Soon she leaned back against the arm of the couch and put a leg up over the back. I leaned over toward her, kissed her, and took off her shirt and bra. I delighted at tasting her breasts, then leaned up and started to caress her face, running the tips of my fingers gently around her smooth skin. She closed her eyes and moaned, with a contented close-lipped smile.

As I outlined her lips, she kissed the tip of my index finger and I paused. She took it in her mouth and sucked gently, then encircled it with her tongue.

She released it, then smiled, eyes still closed, and said "I'll put your cock in my mouth," in a tone as if it were a warning rather than an invitation.

I had already changed into my sweats for the night, so it took only seconds to peel off the t-shirt and sweatpants. I moved up and positioned my cock over her mouth. She took it in eagerly, and made love to me with her mouth as she looked into my eyes.

I pulled out before I came. She beat me to her pants, peeled them off and threw them and we were quickly rolling on the floor naked and playing.

At one point she had me enter her from behind, then playfully started to crawl on her hands and knees away, forcing me to follow and stay inside her. I leaned over her back and we moved together, joined at our genitals, until she got to the stairs. She stood and leaned forward, hands on the railing. I stood and entered her once more.

We took a break after I came in her. She put on my shirt and we talked and looked at pictures and my CD collection.

When I started to revive she climbed on top of me, put me inside her, and intertwined her legs with mine. She pinned my hands to the floor and I felt a thrill at the idea that I was for the first time in my life being held down and fucked by a woman.

We made love in all kinds of ways before she left, three hours later, each of us exhausted, but satisfied.

She came back the next night, and the next, for less intense sessions, but we were still making love every night.

I asked her out for the coming weekend, with no fear of being turned down, only to get the old college excuse that she was going home to see her parents that weekend. And so she did.

I had a meeting on Monday night and worked late Tuesday. Still, she showed up Tuesday after I was off and we had more sex. And so it continued the rest of the week. I anticipated the knock on the door each night.

As the weekend approached, I learned that a friend from her hometown was coming to see her that weekend, so we couldn't go on the date I was trying to arrange.

He arrived in a big old Buick. I knew it was a man from the view of the interior of the car. I knew the local cops well, and had one run the plate. His name was Frank, no wants or warrants. A little research told me his family was in the construction business back in Heather's home area.

I was hearing Marvin Gaye singing "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" in my head the rest of the weekend.

And I was stunned. There had been no rival in sight.

He left, and Heather returned to me. I asked about her visiting friend, and she said his name was Frank. From the way she described it, there had been no relationship between them prior to her visit back home. He appeared at a family gathering and they talked. My guess is a lot more happened.

"And he's telling me that he loves me," Heather said, as if in a lament. "But I don't know what to do. I like having sex with him and I like having sex with you," she said, frankly.

We had sex again that night, and she continued to show up at my door most nights – except when the weekend came. Then Frank's car would be there, or she would be away.

Her visits started to taper off. On one Monday after she had been away again she sat on the sofa and I put my arm around her and noticed a new necklace.

"What's this?" I asked.

"You can look at it, but you won't like it," she said.

It was from him – one of those coins cut in half with a jagged edge, half a Bible verse written on each side. They were popular back then.

I pulled my arms to myself and folded them across my chest. She said she never really chose Frank over me – it's just that it worked out that way, how they ended up spending weekends together and all.

I could not blame her, for if she was looking for something more serious than just our sexual escapades, I was not prepared to give it. All we had done together was have sex. I wanted to do more, but could not manage a single time to go out on a date with her, as Frank suddenly appeared and took all the weekends. I wanted to give the relationship the chance to grow beyond the sex, to see if my feelings grew beyond that too.

Frank apparently knew his feelings right away.

For the first time that she stopped over, we did not make love. When she left I did not ever expect her back. I was wrong.

A week later, she was back, and she sat close to me on the couch, leaned into me and put her head on my shoulder, as if inviting affection. I gave it to her.

I soon had her naked and had my head between her legs, making her moan once more. I had my shirt off, but when I reached for my belt to take off my pants, she stopped me with a movement of her leg. I took the hint, but tried again later, with the same result. After a third try she asked me to turn the music back on, since the CD had long since stopped.

When I got up to do so, she got dressed.

"I'm sorry. I'll buy you lunch," she said the next day when I ran into her at the post office and she could tell I was cross. We went to a Mexican restaurant that I knew wouldn't last long in this little town. I learned there that things were serious between her and Frank, as if I hadn't figured that out. She offered no explanation as to why she allowed me to lick her to orgasm the night before when she had a fiancée across the state. I didn't ask for any.