Dales Women Ch 02

Dale dutifully let her lead the way. She took him by the hand and marched up the stairs. There seemed to be any number of bedrooms on this floor, but she led him to the first door on the left, which he suspected was the master bedroom. It turned out to be a surprisingly small room, and he quickly understood that it was a guest room. Was this where Gloria always slept—perhaps because she could no longer feel comfortable in the room where she had spent so many years lying next to her husband? Or did she somehow regard that master bedroom, wherever it was, as sacrosanct in spite of her husband's dereliction, and wish to keep it pure and untainted?

He didn't know and didn't care. After he had been let into the room, Gloria went over to a spot away from the queen-size bed and near to a dresser and an easy chair. She calmly turned her back and began undressing, placing her clothes tidily on the easy chair. Not to be outdone, Dale himself got naked quickly, draping his clothes over the backboard of the bed.

After she had lifted her dress over her head, she paused for only a fraction of a second in undoing her bra and then slipping out of her panties. Dale gazed at her backside with admiration for her trim figure and luscious curves; but when she turned around, looking almost shy and virginal in her nakedness, he felt still greater admiration at her firm, large, heavy breasts, flat stomach, and the thick dark bush that covered her groin. She probably felt that her fifty-two-year-old body couldn't possibly compare with the college girls Dale had dallied with in years past—but he had a way of indicating that she had nothing to worry about on that score.

For as she gazed at his own nakedness, her eyes bulged at the sight that met them.

"That's . . . quite an endowment," she said.

His erect cock usually extended about eight inches, and somehow he felt that at this moment it was even larger.

"It's all your doing," he said.

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls," she said cynically.

He couldn't think of an answer to that, so he stood silent as she marched up to him and boldly seized his member with one hand. It was so hard that it was almost standing straight up next to his belly.

"I suppose you want me to get down on my knees and service you," she said pungently.

"Hardly," he said, a bit shocked. "I don't believe in women being submissive."

"Don't you?" she said skeptically. "Well, it's all right: you did me, so I should now do you."

Dale wasn't quite sure what she meant. He actually had no particular desire to come in her mouth: maybe later, but not right now. So he allowed her to fall to her knees and insert as much of his organ into her mouth as she could manage. She got about half of it in before she felt herself gagging and pulled it out at once. Then she started the procedure a bit more slowly and carefully, licking and sucking the shaft vigorously while gently fingering his balls. At times she put those balls into her mouth, engulfing both as if they were large gumballs.

Dale decided that was enough foreplay, so he lifted Gloria up from her knees and led her to the bed. She lay down on her back and promptly spread her legs, but Dale wasn't interested in plunging into her just at that moment. Instead, he paid homage to her splendid breasts, licking them, sucking the nipples, and even darting his tongue to the exceptionally tender underside. At times he squeezed the breasts together, creating two delectable mounds that stimulated him—and, it was obvious, Gloria also—almost beyond endurance. But now it was time to enter her.

Slithering up her body, looking down on her with a burning but gentle glance, he inserted the tip of his cock into her. It was evident that she was a bit out of practice, for she gasped at the mere contact of his flesh against hers; and as he went in inch by inch, her eyes boggled at the unusual length and thickness of his member. Her mouth fell open, and she grasped his bottom as if she didn't know whether to force him out of herself or encourage him to thrust himself into her even further.

At last he found himself fully in her, and the sense of physical and emotional union was complete. Gloria instinctively raised her legs and bent her knees to facilitate Dale's entry into her, and a curious kind of mewing began emerging from her throat, like a cat in heat being satisfied by a well-endowed tom. Dale stroked her all over with his hands—face, shoulders, breasts, thighs, bottom—as he pumped firmly and efficiently; at times he reached down between their bodies and stroked her sex with his hand, causing Gloria to emit a yelp of surprise and pleasure.

Dale wanted the experience to last forever, but found that the exquisite sensation of being in Gloria's warm, moist pussy was too much for him—and he came explosively in a matter of minutes. As his juices shot out of him in seemingly endless bursts, Gloria again stared at him wide-eyed, astounded that so much of his essence could be filling her.

Dale flopped over onto his back, his glistening cock covered with both his and her fluids. Gloria stared down at her sweat-covered body, trying not to think of how long it had been since she had been in this situation.

In fact, it has been more than three years. And then with a husband of twenty-one years who seemed to find my bodily charms increasingly less fascinating. And yet, here's a boy—he's really no more than a boy, even if he admits to twenty-four years—who had no trouble "getting it up" for me. Go figure . . .

"That was quite something," she said, still breathing hard.

"You inspired me," Dale said with as much enthusiasm as his exhaustion would allow.

But the overall unease that Gloria felt in allowing herself to become enmeshed in this peculiar scenario came forth in her next comment.

"So how many other old women have you bonked lately?"

Dale's reaction was not what she expected.

Initially he said nothing, and Gloria wondered if he had somehow not heard what she said. Then, with a horrible croaking sound, his face crumpled in misery and—

He started to cry.

Gloria was stunned. She took pride in not yielding to feminine tears at the least opportunity—but here was a young man (

no, a boy

) who seemed to have no compunction in violating the nearly sacrosanct "men don't cry" rule of standard male behavior.

Was this an act, or had she really wounded him that much?

Through his tears Dale managed to say, "Please don't say things like that."

Trembling with a whirlwind of emotions, Gloria stammered, "Dale, I—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."

As if on a synchronized cue, Dale rushed into Gloria's arms—or, rather, her breasts, cradling himself against their cushiony warmth as she wrapped his arms around him and rocked him gently to and fro.

Very much like trying to put a crying boy to sleep.

Dale clung to her with a kind of agonized desperation, plastering his head against Gloria's breasts so hard that it hurt her a bit. But she was past minding: she just had to stop these dreadful man-tears. She kissed the top of his head, stroked his back and shoulders, and even cooed a bit into his ear. She wasn't very skilled at this kind of work, but she did the best she could.

Eventually Dale got a hold of his emotions, sniffling a bit but continuing to nestle against Gloria's now dampened breasts. Instinctively he took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked it between his lips, sometimes letting his teeth rub against it. That sent a jolt of pleasurable pain through her that made her cry out.

He looked up at her, his face a mask of worry. "Am I hurting you?"

"No," she reassured him, a broken smile on her face.

For God's sake, I hope

I

don't burst into tears!

"It's all right."

He continued his ministrations on the nipple, a little more gently now.

"Dale," she said, "I really am sorry. I had no call to say that. You were wonderful, and I'm grateful—"

He interrupted her. "Don't ever say you're grateful," he said with surprising vehemence. "You couldn't possibly have gotten more pleasure out of it than I did."

And I didn't do it out of pity—please understand that.

"Maybe so," she said. Then, venturing again onto dangerous territory, she went on: "But I'm not the first, am I?"

"Well, I'm not a virgin, if that's what you mean!" he cried, with a derisive laugh.

"That's not what I meant. I gather you . . . do this regularly."

"Do what?" he said sullenly, although he knew exactly what Gloria was saying.

And she said it. "Pick up older women."

"Not as much as you think," he said ambiguously.

"What does that mean? I'm sure there are plenty of willing ladies on that commuter train."

"Other places too," he let out almost without intending to.

"Yes, I suppose so," she said slowly. "So which number am I?"

"I don't keep track."

"No? Well, that's something. Give me an educated guess."

"There've only been about six or seven others."

"Were some of them married?"

Dale took a few seconds to reply. "One or two." Then he added hastily: "But they wouldn't have done it if they were happily married. So I felt that I was bringing some enjoyment into their lives."

"You may have a point there. But it's pretty dangerous, isn't it?"

"Actually it wasn't. All very simple and straightforward."

"Was it really? How interesting." Then, truly trying her luck, she said: "And how long does it take for you to get tired of your middle-aged squeezes?"

Dale looked up at her straight in the face with an incredibly earnest look. "I've never dumped any of my women. It's always they who've called it quits. You may not believe that, but it's the truth. I'm loyal and devoted to my partners."

Gloria stared back at him for several moments. "You know, I think you are. But—"

"It's the women," Dale went on, "who get freaked out about the age difference, not me. It doesn't matter a damn to me."

"Oh, Dale," she said impatiently, "you can't possibly believe that. Whatever it is that leads you to fraternize with older women, you really can't think it's not an issue. A woman in her forties or fifties has been through a lot—with men and with other things—and while she may find a fling with a younger man engaging for a while, she must know that in the long term it can't lead anywhere."

"I don't know why anyone should think of the long term," he said defiantly.

"Oh, Dale, that shows how young you are! An older woman usually has an established position that she's work hard to achieve—and she's not going to throw it all away for an affair that could blow up in her face. You must realize that."

"Okay," he admitted grudgingly. "Maybe you're right."

They lapsed into silence, Dale continuing to nibble at Gloria's nipple absently, almost unaware of what he was doing.

"So now what?" she said. She didn't think Dale was ready to leave, and she wasn't at all certain she wanted to get up, dress, and drive him back to the train station. But she was also not at all certain she wanted this virtual stranger to be in her bed all night while she slept next to him.

"This is what," Dale said with a wink.

And he proceeded down her body until his head was strategically placed in front of Gloria's delta. Parting her labia carefully, he ignored the thick fluid dripping out of her and fastened his lips on her clitoris, nuzzling it very much the same way he had done to her nipple. His hands went behind her and seized her bottom, squeezing and stroking the firm flesh.

"Oh!" she said in a tone that sounded absurdly girlish to her ears. As Dale continued to use tongue and lips with skilled precision, she felt waves of unexpected pleasure coursing through her. Gripping the bedsheet spasmodically with both hands, she thrust her groin into his face and gave way to the sensation.

In a matter of minutes, the telltale signs of her climax washed over her, and her whole body shook as if electrocuted. Her legs had wrapped themselves around Dale's body, and now her feet did a kind of tap-dance on his bottom as she squealed out her orgasm.

Dale didn't cease his attentions right away, knowing that women can continue to feel residual pleasure even after the main climax is over. Gloria stared down at this supremely talented young man, her vision blurred and dizzy. Every gentle lick of his tongue sent an additional jolt of pleasure through her, and she wondered if he would ever stop—or if she ever wanted him to stop.

But he did stop. Saying, "Now it's your turn," he boldly climbed up her body and squatted over her chest. His erection was enormous and was now brushing against Gloria's nose. Moving forward still more, he gently slid his organ into her mouth, which opened almost automatically to take in as much of its length and girth as she could manage. He was careful not to choke her, but through patient coaxing managed to get well over half of it into her mouth. He himself moved it back and forth, in and out of her mouth, while she lay there passively, eyes bulging at how much of him she was able to take in.

After a while Dale reached down and took her head in both hands, increasing the pace of his actions as his own climax approached. His erection was now so hard that it felt like a stone pestle, and she knew that he would not pull it out until he was done.

When the first drops of his fluid shot into her mouth, as if coming out of a squirt gun, she knew she had no option but to swallow. It had been a while since she had done that, but she called upon her memory to let the thick, viscous fluid slide down her throat as Dale kept pumping more of his essence into her mouth. As before, she couldn't believe how much moisture was coming out of his member.

Only when he was completely drained did he pull out of her. Her mouth hung open as she gasped for breath; and she could feel the traces of the salty discharge on her glistening lips as he rolled off of her and flopped to the other side of the bed.

She was a little irked that he had given her no choice in the matter—

spit or swallow?

—but she figured it was a small point.

They cuddled some more, and Dale seemed unusually fixated on her bottom, if the repeated stroking of his hands were any indication. She wasn't about to say that she minded the attention, since she felt her posterior was one of her finest assets. But it was still a bit of a surprise when he began a new conversation.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?" she said dreamily, finding something delightfully soporific in the fine hairs on his chest as they tickled her face.

"Do you like it in your bottom?"

She looked up at him and scowled. "I haven't done that since before you were born!" she said tartly.

"Really?" Dale said, expressing surprise of his own. "Your husband . . .?"

"Didn't like it," she said crisply. "Early on in our marriage I asked him to, but he said no. It just didn't appeal to him."

Dale shook his head, as if someone had turned down a free chocolate ice cream cone. "So . . . it's been a while?"

"I'll say it has."

"Well, I figure it's kind of like riding a bicycle—you never really forget."

She gave him an acid look. "That's easy for you to say: you're not on the receiving end."

"Very true," he admitted. "But still . . . would you like to try?"

Gloria sighed. "Oh, all right. Better find some lubricant in the bathroom."

Dale almost leaped out of bed, not wishing to give Gloria a chance to change her mind. In a matter of seconds he had come back with a blue jar that he held out to her like some prize awarded at a state fair.

"Cold cream?" she said disbelievingly.

"Yes," he said. "It works best."

"You're an expert on the matter, are you?"

"I wouldn't say that," he said modestly, "but it does work pretty well."

"I'll take your word for it."

As Dale nonchalantly opened the jar, Gloria extended her hand. But he said: "I'll do it."

"You?"

she said in alarm.

"It's easier if I do it," he said calmly.

Gloria seemed on the point of protesting, but relented. Lying flat on her stomach, her face buried in a pillow, she let Dale apply the cold, wet substance.

I can't believe this is happening. Here I am, having met this very young man only a few hours ago, and now he's sticking his fingers into my . . .

After Dale was finished, he wiped his fingers on some Kleenex. Gloria prepared to get into the customary position—doggie style—but Dale urged her to remain on her stomach.

"I like this way better," he said. Placing himself at full length on top of her, he nuzzled her neck to distract her while inserting his long, thick member into that most sensitive spot. As the tip was inserted, Gloria let out a huge gasp and said quickly, "Gently, please! Better not go in all the way."

Dale dutifully obliged. He got about halfway in before he began moving very gently back and forth. The lubricant helped, but Gloria still felt stretched and expanded as she hadn't been for close to three decades. The last time she had had anal sex was with a transient boyfriend shortly after she had finished college, and she had done it only to oblige what she later discovered were his increasingly kinky tastes in bed. When the full scope of his idiosyncrasies became evident, she had peremptorily discarded him.

She had actually gotten used to rear entry at the time, but the long drought since then had made her forget most of the techniques that were required to make this procedure pleasurable. In all frankness, she didn't mind a bit of pain during sex, but right now she wasn't sure she could bear it much longer.

"Oh, Dale," she said, almost humiliated at having to say it, "maybe you'd better stop."

Dale didn't want to come out, so he merely stopped thrusting and remained motionless in her for a while. His arms had reached around to seize both of Gloria's breasts, and he did nothing more than to squeeze them and give her little kisses on her cheek and neck while she got used to the unusual sensation.

"Feel better now?" he said.

She didn't, but wasn't prepared to admit it. She was trying to relearn the art of letting herself go limp so that she wasn't fighting against his entry into her orifice. After a few deep breaths she seemed to be getting the hang of it.

"Okay," she said feebly, "you can keep going."

Dale interpreted that as permission to resume thrusting, and he did so—still slowly and gently, but with ever-increasing pace. After a few minutes he had actually entered her almost entirely. Aside from some strange choking sounds coming from deep within Gloria's throat, she seemed to be bearing up well enough.

As Dale had already come twice, he needed a fair amount of time to achieve his climax. Toward the end he was pounding her relentlessly, and Gloria was overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness. She prided herself on being a strong, self-sufficient woman—but this act made it abundantly obvious how a man with suitable equipment and suitable determination could tame her and make her the largely passive vessel for his desire. To top it off, Dale released his grip on one of her breasts and slid his hand down to her sex, where he stroked her mercilessly while exploding within her.

They both cried out inarticulately as their orgasms overwhelmed them like a tidal wave. Once again, Gloria couldn't believe how much of his substance Dale was pouring into her. His emissions seemed to go on for minutes, and they were matched by the shudders she felt as he kept his fingers locked on her sex. Even after he was finished, he remained in her, seeming to pin her to the bed like a butterfly pinned to a piece of cork.

At last Gloria said, "Dale, can you please come out?"