Paula the Perfect Pear

His fingers tickling my back and then lower, finding my ass, woke me.

I opened my eyes and immediately realized how cool it was. When I looked around I saw the shadows were long.

"Jesus," I said, "how long did I sleep?"

He kissed me.

"A couple of hours," he said.

I stretched and only then realized that I was naked. I instinctively reached for the edge of the blanket to cover myself but he caught my hand instead, not allowing me to.

"Paula," he said in that "serious" voice of his, "you don't need to cover yourself up. You are a truly beautiful woman."

I could feel myself blushing but I didn't dispute him. At that instant, I actually felt beautiful for the first time in my life.

I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the moment. His fingertips finding my nipple and then feeling how quickly the nipple and areola tightened were slightly distracting, but I kept my eyes closed and just reveled in the feelings I was having.

And they were nice feelings.

"Will I see you again?" I asked, not opening my eyes.

He laughed, a long, loud belly laugh.

That got me to open my eyes and look up at him.

"Oh Paula," he said, and couldn't finish because he was laughing again.

I watched him, not knowing how to take this.

Finally, he got himself under control.

"Oh Paula," he started again, "that is exactly what I was going to ask you. If it's my choice, then," and he stopped and bent to kiss me, "yes. Yes. Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes."

Each "yes" was accompanied by a little kiss.

And I was crying again.

"Goddamit," I said through my tears, "what have you done to me? I really REALLY am not a crier."

"No," he said, "you're the ugly duckling finally emerging as a swan, and you're being overwhelmed."

That stopped me.

"What are you, some sort of a shrink?" I asked.

And again there was that chuckle deep in his throat.

"Oh lord no," he said, "but I am a lover of women and you, my sweetling, are most certainly a woman."

That made me think.

"Do you always make projects of us ugly ducklings?" I asked.

And now he was serious.

"No Paula, I always try to make it a point to dance with the prettiest girl in the room and see what happens. I do find, though," and he leaned back adopting what I would come to recognize as his "professorial" demean, "that pretty women who can't fit into a size 2 dress are all too often ugly ducklings."

I couldn't help but smile at that.

"And especially women with big asses?" I said.

He grinned.

"Yep, especially women with big asses."

I play-punched him and stood up.

It felt funny, standing there in that beautiful meadow, naked.

I was aware of my nipples, so hard they hurt. And my pussy, a bit sore. And the way I was leaking down my thighs. And my butthole, also a little tender. And my upper lips still snot slick.

And I stretched, deliberately turning slowly, showing him what he was getting into.

"Take me home David," I said, reaching for my jeans, ignoring the ruins of my panties.

He smiled and began picking up his picnic gear.

It was fun, watching him going about his business naked. He had a swimmer's body. Lean and hard.

I put my jeans on and decided to go "commando" and just pulled the T-shirt over my head, stuffing the bra into a pocket. He watched this and nodded approvingly.

On a level I didn't understand then, that little nod brought a tingle deep in my belly.

He spent that night at my apartment. We made love again, slowly this time, and the orgasm he gave me was completely different. No hard climax. No hard muscular contractions. Just a slow building of pleasure and then a flowing of my release that kept going until I couldn't breathe. The sheet under me was soaked and I didn't care.

Later I woke and his fingers were at my bush, playing, probing, finding my clitoris, erect and ready.

When I started to move, to take him into my arms he said "stay still. If you move I'll quit."

I laid still then, feeling what he was doing between my legs. When the pressure built as he slowly masturbated me I squirmed and he stopped and I heard myself actually whimper.

"I told you," he said.

"Please baby," I said softly, my own hand moving down to finish what he had started.

He slapped my hand hard enough to sting.

"Ask nice," he said, his voice very soft.

"Please baby, please," I whispered.

"Nicer," he said.

"Oh god, David, please, please, pleasepleaseplleaseplease," I whispered again, holding very still for him.

And then his finger was there again, moving so slowly, bringing me along so slowly.

And I didn't dare move. If I moved he might not start again and might not let me and right at that moment what was happening between my legs was pretty much all that mattered.

Holding still as I started to cum was possibly the hardest thing I have ever done. I had to concentrate on not moving which made the physical reactions even more intense.

And he knew what was happening. He found that exact point where I was just starting to cum and he held me there.

When he finally finished me, with four quick motions of his fingertip, I came to the situp position with my pussy squirting like I was peeing. His hand on my back supported me while my body was just clenched with my release.

As the tension slowly ebbed I realized that I was crying again.

"David, oh god David, I'll never be any good to anyone again," I said as I laid back, spent.

But he wasn't done.

He mounted me, sitting on my ribs, his hands holding my breasts together.

"Hold them for me," he said.

And I did.

He put his again-erect cock between my boobs and gave me my first titty-fucking on that first night.

I had read of such things, and even watched a few videos, but it had always seemed to me to be strictly for the man's pleasure.

I was wrong.

The pressure on my boobs, the awkward position, the probing of his glans, peeking out from between my boobs, the way his weight held me pinned, all of these were working on me.

Of course, the fact that I was still tingling in my belly helped, I'm sure.

As his rhythm started picking up my own hands pressing hard on my boobs helped him.

And when he came, that spurt small and watery on my chin and face, I came with him, much to my surprise.

As he softened, which he did quickly, I reached around to grab his ass and pull him up further, allowing me to kiss and lick him as he softened.

Once again, wanton is the only word to describe what I was feeling as I did it.

We were both spent by then, and he once again moved to share a pillow with me, his lips barely touching mine. The taste and scent of his semen was between us, and his kisses were soft as I drifted off.