Dale's Women

Dale walked calmly back to the bed and extended an arm, urging Bethany to get up. She did so with a cheerful laugh, then looked sourly at her clothes on the easy chair. "Now

I

don't want to put those clothes on. They seem so—artificial!"

"I know what you mean," Dale said as he picked up his underwear from the floor. "But I don't think I care to eat dinner naked."

So they resigned themselves to being dressed and headed down the stairs.

The couple saw that Lois had returned from what appeared to be an extended shopping trip, as she had dumped many bags and packages on the living-room sofa. She greeted Bethany—whom she had known almost as long as Gloria had, although she had met her only sporadically—with enthusiasm. She didn't fail to detect the smell of sex that still clung to her, and she gave a wink to Dale over Bethany's shoulder as she embraced the no longer virginal young woman. She greeted Dale more soberly, and he found it hard not to place his hand on her bottom as he almost always did when they met.

As Gloria ushered the three to their places at the table, she saw that Bethany winced a little when sitting down on her chair. She flashed Dale a piercing look:

What exactly did you do to her, my man?

But he just shrugged with a rather annoying smirk on his face:

She wanted it, so what could I do?

She glared at him, as if saying:

We'll talk about this later.

Out loud she said:

"Bethany, dear, are you all right?"

Still writhing a bit as she tried to get comfortable, the young woman replied: "Sure, Aunt Gloria. Just a little—sore."

Gloria harrumphed and went back to the kitchen to finish the preparations.

Dinner—chicken marsala, roasted potatoes, and asparagus—was fabulous, and was topped off with strawberry shortcake. A light Sauvignon Blanc was the perfect complement to the food. Throughout the meal, Gloria, Lois, and Bethany kept up a steady stream of conversation on all manner of subjects, but especially on Bethany—her college career, her recent European trip, and much else. Dale, who realized with a shiver that he had been intimate with all three women—so different in appearance, bearing, and temperament, and yet so fundamentally similar in the essence of their womanhood—did not at all feel like some kind of pasha lording it over his harem; instead, he felt almost left out of the proceedings, as if he were a male escort who, having performed what he had been summoned to do, was now an irrelevancy amidst the bonding that was going on moment by moment among these females.

But in the course of the dinner, in which he was much more of a spectator than a participant, he came to grasp how different Bethany was from her peers. Aside from her absurd and now outmoded devotion to virginity, she was showing herself to be a self-assured, intensely serious, and clear-eyed young woman. The only thing that bothered him was that she seemed a bit humorless, having a little difficulty grasping the frequent cynical or parodic comments emanating from Gloria's lips. Maybe that was just a vestigial token of her youth.

They had an after-dinner liqueur, after which Gloria made a surprising announcement.

"Bethany, I think it's time for you to go home."

Bethany herself didn't seem at all taken aback by the sudden command. She merely nodded quietly and made sure to gather up her purse and whatever other things she had brought along.

"Gloria!" Dale whispered to Gloria. "That doesn't seem very nice! I thought we might—"

"Have another session?" Gloria said pungently. "I don't think so. She's been through a lot, and she needs some time alone to process what's happened. You can see her again in a day or two if you like."

Dale scowled resentfully, but didn't protest further. He went up to Bethany as she hesitated at the door, wrapped her in his arms, and said in her ear:

"This has been really meaningful to me."

"It has to me too," she said fervently.

"Can I see you again—maybe on Monday?"

"That would be great!"

"Maybe I can take you to dinner, then we can go to my house."

"Sounds wonderful."

They quickly exchanged cell phone numbers. Then they kissed for what seemed like minutes. Bethany pulled herself grudgingly away and left the house.

As Dale and Gloria were cuddling in bed that night, she said:

"I hope you weren't rough with her. She's a delicate little thing, by the look of her."

Dale chortled. "I did nothing of the kind. And she

isn't

a weakling—she's quite strong, in fact. Strong in body and strong in mind."

"But where do you get off doing rear entry on her? She's like a freshman in high school as far as sex is concerned—and here you are, inflicting graduate-level work on her!"

"She wanted it!" Dale exclaimed. "I didn't force her."

"I'm sure you didn't."

"And she liked it."

"Okay, okay, I'll take your word for it."

Dale lapsed into a pensive mood as he stroked Gloria's bottom. "She—she's a remarkable young woman."

Gloria didn't fail to pick up on the almost reverent tone of Dale's voice. "Oh, so she's not like all those 'silly' women you met in college?"

"Not at all!"

"So you admit that you may have judged females of your own age a bit hastily?"

"I thought I'd said that before."

"Well, I just wanted to hear it from you again."

Dale sighed heavily. "She's really quite amazing."

"So you'll see her again?"

"Yes—Monday evening. I hope you don't mind if I take her to my house for the night."

"I imagine Lois and I can manage without you."

"I have to get to know her better. She fascinates me."

"You do that." Taking his growing cock in her hand, she said impishly: "Are you too tired from your earlier session to have another go?"

"I think I can manage," Dale said modestly.

"Well, then, go to it," she said, as she mounted him.

She didn't really care if Dale indulged in a fantasy of sleeping with Bethany while he was servicing her.

It's all the same to me.

*

Gloria was right that Bethany needed some time to "process" what had just happened. She was already long past the phase of thinking that what she had done was lewd or obscene or degrading. In many ways it was the most elevating, transcendent experience of her life; and in spite of the fact that she and Dale had exchanged hardly a word during their coupling, she somehow felt she knew him more thoroughly—and certainly more intimately—than she knew any other person on earth, including her parents. As she drove back to her cheerless apartment, she felt a kind of glow that made her at times uncomfortably warm—and there was a strange throbbing in her genital area, both front and back, that made it seem as if Dale's long, thick member was still in her, probing her innermost recesses like a questing mole. Even her mouth tingled with the memory of engulfing that shaft between her lips and receiving the viscous fluid whose taste was so unprecedented.

She wondered if she could even wait for Monday evening to come—it seemed an infinity away, and she couldn't imagine what she could do to fill up the time. True, she had to find a job; but that seemed tedious and irrelevant next to deepening her relationship with that extraordinary young man named Dale Willis.

And yet, the time in fact passed quickly, and before she knew it she found herself answering the door to her apartment and finding Dale, dressed in an elegant blue suit, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. She herself was wearing one of her more formal gowns, a silky orange thing that fell to her ankles and encased her body softly but revealingly. She ushered him in with a kiss and put the flowers in a vase. Then, without delay, she let herself be led out of the building to his car.

They drove to a quiet French restaurant that Dale had picked out. Their conversation throughout the meal was subdued but intense, and they felt no compunction in revealing the deepest secrets of their upbringing, their feelings, and their attitudes on life. She noticed that he was devouring her with his eyes, but she didn't regard that as anything vile or despicable: she could tell that Dale was seeking to understand her very essence rather than merely copping a prurient look at her body parts. In fact, at one point she giggled without apparent cause.

"What is it?" he said, momentarily alarmed that she was somehow laughing at him.

"It's nothing, really," she said, trying to restrain herself. "It's just that we've done this a little backwards, haven't we? Most of the time, a man takes a woman on a date and

then

he—well, you know."

"Yes, I see what you mean," he said with a gentle smile.

Then he suddenly became serious. "Bethany, you have to tell me something—and please tell me the truth."

Her eyes widened. "Of course I will! What is it?"

He seemed to have trouble articulating what he wanted to say. She reached over and stroked his hand, saying: "Go ahead, dear. You can say anything to me."

He swallowed and said, "I hope—I hope you didn't feel any kind of compulsion at what we did when we first met."

A hot flush passed through her. "No, nothing of the sort."

"Are you sure?" he said insistently. "Absolutely sure?"

"Of course! You did nothing to—to force me. I did everything of my own free will."

He gazed at her so piercingly that she had to look away. "I have to know that. I—I would be horrified if I—"

"Please put it out of your mind," she said soothingly. "It wasn't like that at all. I know you would have stopped if I'd told you. But I didn't want you to."

"And you're not mad at your aunt for locking us in that room?"

"Well," Bethany conceded, "that was a little naughty of her. But it all worked out for the best, didn't it?"

"It sure did!" Dale said enthusiastically.

Dinner was soon over, and he drove her back to his house in Greenwich. It was now dark, and Bethany had trouble making out the contours of the place as they pulled into the driveway. It looked huge, and she wondered how he managed to live there all alone. (

Of course, he's spending a lot of time with Aunt Gloria these days—and with cute little Lois.

) As he let her in and turned on some lights, her amazement grew.

It really was an immense house. An expansive foyer led to a long living/dining room that seemed to encompass the entire length of the house, and she could see stairs leading up to a second story that no doubt had at least four bedrooms, perhaps more. The furniture was quite sparse but impeccable—rather old-fashioned in style, to match the colonial architecture of the house. She could see a kitchen off to the right, and what looked like a sun room beyond the dining area.

"This is wonderful!" she cried. "But it's so big!"

"Well, yes," he said deprecatingly. "Not one but me here now—and of late I haven't been spending much time here either."

Bethany did a kind of waltz around the living room, as if dancing would somehow help her in taking in the essence of the place. Then she stopped abruptly.

"God, I hate wearing clothes now!" she said. And with that, she picked up the folds of her long dress and pulled it over her head. She quickly dispensed with her shoes, her strapless bra, and her panties—and stood temptingly naked in the middle of the room.

Dale, stunned, couldn't stop looking at her. She was like a wondrous nymph who had, to his incredible good fortune, wandered into his life and made him the sole beneficiary of her magical favors.

She raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Aren't you going to follow my lead?"

Dale did so, peeling his light suit off a bit clumsily in his haste. She came up to help him at the end, kneeling in front of him and pulling his underwear down his legs. As she was conveniently situated, she put his organ into her mouth without delay. It had only started getting erect, and she experienced the singular pleasure of feeling it grow and harden within her mouth as she sucked and licked it.

Continuing to take charge, she all but pushed him backward so that he fell into a sitting position on the sofa. She knew she was already quite wet, and so she squatted over him and plunged his member deep into her, absorbing nearly its entire length in a single motion. She gasped at the feel of his cock filling her, and she leaned forward and took Dale's head between her breasts as he seized them with his hands, squeezed them together, and sucked on the nipples. She had never been in this position before, and it took her just a few moments to learn the right rhythm; but as her hips and thighs worked to generate the desired up-and-down motion, she felt the pride of courageous womanhood as she saw him moaning from ecstasy. In a matter of minutes, she was rewarded with his customary shower of fluid as it forced its way into her deepest recesses.

He clung to her, not letting her get up off of him even after the final pulses of his orgasm had subsided. He could now feel every part of her—her small but luscious breasts, her strong, straight back, her firm, cushiony bottom, her thighs and calves and feet. And as he continued—to his own surprise—to remain quite hard, he lifted both himself and her from the sofa and stood straight up, still impaling her with his member, clutching her bottom while she draped her hands around his neck. As she gazed at him in astonishment, he began pumping her in this new position, seeming to probe even more deeply into her than before. His actions became frenetic, and after several minutes he let out a groan from deep in his throat as he again showered her with his essence.

Now he was as weak as a kitten, and he let her stand on the floor as he pulled wetly out of her. He had to sit down on the sofa, as his knees all but gave way.

"Omigod!" she cried. "You came twice without coming out! I didn't know that was possible."

"I didn't either," he said exhaustedly. "I've never done that before."

"Really?" she said, her eyes shining.

I have that kind of effect on you?

He just nodded.

You sure do, my dear.

She gave him only a little time to recover before she dragged him upstairs. Not knowing which of the four bedrooms were his, she let him lead her to the right place. She saw a large king-size four-poster bed with a canopy—it made her think she was a humble milkmaid whom a king had just chosen for his bride. But she felt no sense of inferiority: if she was now the wife of a king, didn't that make her a queen?

Bethany took him by the cock and ordered him to lie down, whereupon she rode him—and herself—to climax. Later on, she demanded that he forge into her bottom to the fullest extent possible. After about an hour, she began to realize that she was experiencing a continuous orgasm that almost seemed like an out-of-body experience, as if she were watching herself from a great height entangled in his body, pleasuring and being pleasured all at the same time.

After four climaxes, Dale begged for relief; he'd about reached his limit. He didn't know what had possessed Bethany: he likened her to some recent religious convert, who was now more ardent in her belief than those who had been raised their whole lives in the faith. Her eyes were shining like diamonds, and she showed no signs of tiring or being sore. But she took pity on him, flopping herself on top of him and waiting with grudging patience to revive himself.

He decided to divert her with a little conversation.

"So tell me," he said between gasps, "how you came to think of yourself as asexual."

Bethany frowned at herself, as if recollecting some embarrassing faux pas of her girlhood. "Oh, I don't know. It just kind of happened. Seems silly now, but I once thought boys—and men—really horrible."

"So you didn't do anything in high school?"

"Not on your life! Anyway, with puny boobs like these, who was going to take any interest?"

Dale had to respond to that. "Why do so many women have an inferiority complex about their breasts? Lots of men like smaller breasts—and yours are so perfectly shaped that they'd drive any man wild."

"Well, that's nice of you. Anyway, when I got to college, things were pretty crazy. Maybe it was that people's hormones—boys and girls alike—were just out of control; and, of course, without parental supervision, some kids felt free to do just about anything. I heard all kinds of stories from my friends that I could hardly believe—girls getting drunk at frat parties and waking up in some upstairs room with no clothes on; girls lured into some boy's dorm room and getting pawed all over; even group sex and orgies here and there. And it wasn't just the boys. Some of these girls couldn't get enough: one of them told me she had to have an orgasm at least every other day—whether by herself or with someone else—or else she'd go crazy.

"And the

problems

these girls had with their boyfriends! Oy vey! Girls getting stuck with boys who made no secret of playing the field and fucking everything in sight; girls forced to 'put out' or get dumped; guys who kept demanding more and more from their girlfriends, including rear entry—which was becoming something of a fashion then, and which I regarded as pretty disgusting. (I don't think that anymore!) And of course there was just the general culture—sex everywhere, with a pretty clear message that if you didn't do it, there was something seriously wrong with you. I wasn't at all religious, but I got lumped in with these fundamentalists who believed such 'quaint' things as no sex before marriage.

"And so I figured I'd try to organize a kind of support group, and I called it the Asexual Club. Well, it wasn't exactly a rousing success. Most of the girls—and nearly all the guys—whom I approached just laughed in my face. There was even one very shy guy who I thought would be tailor-made for the group—but then he admitted to me, with blushes all over, that he played with himself every day (sometimes more than once a day) and that his highest goal in life was to find a girl who'd sleep with him.

"So in the end I ended up with only two other members, Bridget and Marcia. Maybe you can meet them sometime."

"I'd like that."

She eyed him askance. "Yeah, I thought you might."

With that, she seemed to think they'd done enough talking. She said: "Got any more in you?"

"Oh, Bethany, you'll be the death of me!" Dale said melodramatically.

"Come on, you can do better than that." She started sliding down his body to put his cock in her mouth. When he protested, she just said, "Don't worry—I'll do everything." And she did. That earlier experience of having her mouth filled with his seed had so tickled her that she wanted a repeat performance; and she worked hard to get it. Sucking on his member for at least fifteen minutes, with a few licks and sucks in the direction of his balls, she was at last rewarded with a gushing geyser whose every drop went smoothly down her throat.

Afterward, she saw that he had collapsed in exhaustion.

Poor baby, I wore him out!

She smiled benevolently at him and let him rest, snuggling up right next to him.

They both fell asleep at once.

The next morning, since neither of them had to go to work, they idled over a light breakfast. She popped into the shower, staying in there so long she came out bright pink, almost as if she glowed radioactively. She didn't have a change of underwear, but Dale managed to find an old but clean pair of bikini briefs that he no longer wore. They fit her well enough—and anyway, it pleased her to wear something that had once enclosed his own private parts.

Much as Bethany would have liked to see him every day—and every night—she knew that his responsibilities with Gloria and Lois precluded any such arrangement. So she agreed to meet him again in a few days' time. He walked her to her car, but just as she was about to get in he took her in his arms and held her tightly.