Paula the Perfect Pear

I woke the next morning feeling sore from the way my muscles had clenched. I glanced at the clock and jumped out of bed.

I never slept late, but the clock read 9:32.

I could remember him saying "10:00 sharp" as I dashed into the bathroom.

God, I was a mess. My eyes were puffy and my chin was actually crusty where my nose had been running.

I jumped in the shower and washed myself, hurrying.

Face scrubbed.

Hair shampooed.

Body washed.

And out.

Deodorant, God, don't forget the deodorant.

Brush through the hair.

Glance at the clock.

9:54

No time.

Brush quickly.

Oh shit, what to wear.

Grab something. Oh no, not slacks, it's a picnic.

Jeans?

Shorts? Oh god, they make my ass look so big.

Okay, jeans.

Panties dummy.

Jeans.

Bra.

The doorbell.

SHIT!

T-shirt.

The doorbell again.

"Coming."

Grab sneakers.

Answer the door.

God, he looked good standing there. He was in a polo shirt that fit his trim body nicely. Jeans, just slightly faded. Worn sneakers.

"For my gorgeous date," he said and pulled one of those cheap bouquets you see on street corners and convenience stores from behind his back. And I was so touched I almost cried. I literally could not remember the last time someone had brought me flowers.

"Come in," I said awkwardly, taking the flowers and stepping back. "Give me a minute to find something to put these in."

He was doing a slow circle, taking in my apartment as I went into the kitchen and found the one vase I owned. I put water in and the flowers and brought them out to set them on my little table.

"Thank you," I said, feeling oddly awkward.

"I like your place," he said, looking around.

"Vinyl," he said, moving to my record collection, "really?"

"Yeah," I said. "I inherited a lot of them from my mom and, well, I think that the sound is better if you want to know the truth."

He was admiring my stereo system which was one of the few things that I had splurged on.

"Very nice," he said, flipping through the records. I was pleased to see that he knew how to handle the vinyl, much of it irreplaceable at anything short of usurious prices.

"Okay," he said, suddenly standing, "let's roll."

I smiled as he took my hand with an almost-little-boy eagerness and led me to the door.

He waited as I carefully locked my door and then took my hand again and led me to the parking lot.

His car was a little PT Cruiser Convertible. Bright blue with a black interior. The top was down of course, even though it was a cool day.

"Okay picnic boy," I said, smiling at him, "where are we off to?"

"A surprise," he said.

He was a good driver, driving fast but not recklessly.

We headed south out of Denver on I-25 and I assumed we would be heading for Castle Rock or maybe even Colorado Springs. The radio was playing an "oldies" station and he seemed to know all of the old songs. I was enjoying the top-down ride even though my hair was an absolute wreck and it was cool enough that I was aware of my nipples outlined against the T-shirt even through my bra.

The open top made conversation hard and so I mostly enjoyed the scenery and the music.

When Colorado Springs passed us by I asked "where are we going."

"A surprise," he said over the noise of the wind.

We got off at one of the Pueblo exits. I had been in Pueblo maybe three times in my life, and had absolutely no idea where we were.

Finally, we were out of town, heading west again, and it was a pretty drive. We passed the Pueblo Reservoir, very low this year, and kept heading west.

"All right Daniel Boone," I said, the lower speeds making conversation easier, "where ARE we going?"

He just looked mysterious and sang along with Frankie Avalon doing his "Venus."

The road started through a series of turns as we climbed into the foothills and he said "Paula, close your eyes."

"Really," I asked.

"Yes," he said, "come on, close your eyes."

I did.

It was hard. The movement of the car was suddenly exaggerated with my eyes closed and I was actually getting a little nauseated when I felt him slow suddenly and felt the bumps as he turned off of the highway. A couple of more bumps and the car stopped.

"All right," he said, "open them."

I couldn't help but gasp a little at the view.

Colorado has a lot of very pretty places, but what I was seeing was the classic alpine sawtooth mountain range viewed across a wide valley. It was spectacular. Even in June, the peaks were still snow-capped.

When I looked at him he was looking at me with a grin that almost literally made it from ear to ear.

"Okay hot shot," I said, returning his grin, "you got me."

I started to open my door but he said "oh, we're not there yet."

It was another 20 minutes, driving across that valley and then up into the mountains before we got to his picnic spot. We had to go through a gate, which he carefully closed behind us, and another mile or so on a gravel road before we made the final stop.

And, oh my goodness, the drive was worth it.

We were in a beautiful alpine meadow. The wildflowers, the Indian Paintbrush was the only one I could pick out, made a color palette that would have made Van Gogh jealous. The mountains, stark in their white-capped splendor, towered over the little valley. A real honest-to-god deer wandered into the meadow until I took a step and broke a stick, scaring him away.

I watched as David got the big picnic basket out of the trunk. He said he knew how to "do picnics," and he sure did.

When he was done spreading the checkerboard blanket and spreading out the feast I was amazed. He had five kinds of cheese, apples, oranges, grapes, a real wineskin, and four different sausages.

He laid a pillow down and told me to lay back and enjoy.

I had never been fed before and there was something so intimate, so personal, and on some level, so delightfully naughty about it that I just relished the sensation. I was laying back, eyes closed, and accepting whatever touched my lips, allowing myself to be surprised. A bite of a soft, rather tart, cheese might be followed by the tangy acid of an apple. Or a spicy piece of sausage.

I felt wanton.

Bacchanal was the word that drifted through my mind as he lifted my head gently to offer me some wine from the skin.

I felt pampered.

I felt, well, okay, I'll say it.

I felt loved.

That "meal" lasted almost an hour. Neither of us said anything although I could hear the occasional soft "mmmmmmmmmm" escape my throat.

Finally, completely full, I opened my eyes and smiled at him.

"God, you DO know how to do picnics," I said.

Then I rolled over, supporting myself on my elbows, and just took in the view while I relaxed.

I was aware of him and when I turned he was just looking at me.

"What?" I said, a little embarrassed.

He made that little chuckle, deep in his throat.

"Does a woman as beautiful as you are know how she affects a man?" he asked, his eyes on mine.

"Oh God, now I know you're just bullshitting me," I said, kind of flopping my head down to lie on the pillow.

"No Paula," he said, "I mean it. You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" I asked, hearing the sharpness in my voice and hating it.

He took his time, stretching out next to me so that his mouth was close to my ear.

"That you are beautiful," he said, his voice low and, I thought, deliberately seductive.

"Oh stop," I said.

"I mean it, Paula," he said, his hand brushing the hair from my face so his eyes could meet mine. "You are possibly the most beautiful, sexiest, cutest, hottest, foxiest," and he chuckled again at that old word, "woman I have ever known personally."

I lifted myself up onto my elbows again and started to say something but he put his finger to my lips, shushing me like a little girl.

"Annddd," he said, stretching out the word, then deliberately running his eyes the length of my body and back before he finished saying "you have an absolutely magnificent ass."

I couldn't help but giggle at that.

"Well," I said, batting my eyes a little, "I've been told it's my best feature."

He laughed at that.

"No," he said, "your eyes are your best feature, followed by your mouth and that cute little button nose," he touched my nose, "but that ass is truly world-class."

Now I was laughing, no longer just giggling.

"You are SUCH a bullshitter," I said when I had my breath back.

"Paula," he said, again with that oh-so-serious look on his face, "I am a bullshitter, but I am not bullshitting about this. You are a knockout, and I'm flattered that you're here with me."

I really didn't know how to respond to that so I let my head settle back onto the pillow and thought for a minute or two.

"David," I said, and I could hear the little catch in my voice and wished I could do something about it, "please don't tease me about something like this. I'm enjoying myself, let me, please."

His fingers were light as he brushed my hair back again and then his lips were soft as butterfly wings as he kissed my cheek. His breath was warm in my ear when he said softly "Paula, I'm not teasing you."

Then he laid his arm across my back and settled beside me. his face sharing the pillow, his lips barely touching mine so that each movement became a little kiss.

It felt like hours.

No.

It felt like an eternity as we lay like that, not moving, but with each tiny breath, each smallest movement a kiss.

I could feel my eyes fill with tears and I made no attempt to wipe them away, nor did he.

I felt my nose start to run and again made no attempt to wipe it, nor did he.

In that moment, that precious incredible moment, I surrendered to him.

And he knew it. I could feel the oh-so-slight shift in his.......

What?

Not his physical position.

Something in his posture.

Something in his..........

Attitude?

He knew that he had me and he was as excited as I was.

And I knew it.

And I had to have him, right then, right there.

I was kissing him hard now, my fingers busy at his T-shirt, trying to pull it over his head. I was laughing and crying and my pure NEED filled me like nothing I had ever imagined.

He was laughing too as he peeled my T-shirt up and reached around and expertly unhooked my bra, freeing my breasts.

I was on my knees then, working on his belt and zipper, and absolutely desperate for him.

I could see the streamers of snot running from my nose and I didn't care that I probably looked demented.

I had to have him.

And he was as anxious, unzipping and then working the jeans past my big ass and my thighs and I was kicking at them, frantic to be naked before him.

He tore the panties away as I got his shorts down far enough to free his erection.

And he was inside of me, just like that.

I was screaming my release and cumming before his first stroke was completed.

When I shook my head, gasping for breath, snot and tears flew and he was kissing me and the salt and slickness felt good and I was cumming AGAIN.

And his voice was insistent, urging me on.

"That's right baby, cum for me, don't stop," he was whispering.

"Don't you dare stop, push now, again, keep it going."

And I was screaming and cumming and bucking like a crazy woman and I didn't care.

His rhythm was insistent and his voice kept up, almost a chant.

"That's my girl, don't stop, keep going, push now, again baby, come on baby, again baby."

I was tiring but cumming again and gasping for breath and cumming again and starting to get dizzy and cumming again.

And suddenly I collapsed.

I was spent.

My body was exhausted.

I could feel, sort of distantly, his rhythm as he kept on, and then the sudden tension in his body as he filled me as only a man can fill a woman.

Then he was kissing me.

Soft kisses all over my face. I felt wetness and slickness where my tears and snot had covered my face and his kisses were there and I was in heaven.

Bliss. That's the word.

I was trying to catch my breath and he was still inside of me, filling me.

And kissing me.

I think I drifted off for a few seconds, but I was certainly aware when he softened and slipped out of me. The gush of his semen and my own natural honey just flowed down the crack of my ass and even that felt right and natural.

I felt him gently wiping my face and my nose with a napkin and murmured "thank you, baby."

When I opened my eyes he was looking at me.

"Spectacular," he said again and kissed me softly.

And then not so softly.

And I was aroused again and he was inside of me and I was cumming again and Jesus I was screaming and this time there was nothing gentle or tender about his rhythm. He was slamming into me and I was thrusting to meet him with every push and I was cumming and he was grinning down at me with a slightly feral look.

Suddenly he pulled out of me and grabbed my hips and rolled me onto my belly.

"Baby, no," I started but it was too late. His hands were spreading my cheeks and he was inside of me again, this time anally.

I had never done that before. I had always found the idea sort of, well, "icky."

There was an instant of pain as he stretched me, but then there was an amazing fullness and I was cumming again.

With each thrust, his belly would make an audible slap on my ass. It was almost like being spanked.

And I was cumming.

My face was buried in the pillow and I was screaming into it again.

And I was cumming.

And suddenly, again, I felt that sudden tension as he spent inside of me.

This time he softened quickly and slipped out and I was gasping as he started gently rubbing my back and my ass and my thighs.

This time I know I slept.

I was exhausted.