Flamingos Ch 04

Chapter Four

In sleep, she was an odd combination. All of that work she had done held up, and there was that surface appearance of a young woman. But she slept the sleep of an old woman. Her mouth was open slightly and she was already drooling a little. She was snoring, a deep throaty snore. As I traced the line of the very fine scars in her eyebrow she let a long, sonorous fart. As I say the sleep of an old woman.

As I nuzzled against her breast, finding that long thick nipple and taking it into my mouth, she made a low humming sound but didn't wake. Okay, I do have a breast and nipple fetish of sorts. Maybe I was a bottle baby or maybe it was a reaction to Paula's tiny titties. I don't know and it has never bothered me. Hell, I enjoy boobs and, as I had read once in some journal of psychology or sociology or something - finding breasts to be erotic is universal. Every culture has some version of it. So I guess I'm in good company. Anyway, I latched on and nursed.

And drifted off to sleep myself.

I woke briefly when I felt her get out of bed. She was moving too quickly for me to grab and she didn't look back. I watched her carefully sculpted ass disappear and I thought about getting up, but figured I was done for the night and relaxed. I felt the little vibrations in the trailer as she dressed and then heard and felt the door open and close as she left.

I smiled, relaxed, and went back to sleep.

I didn't sleep long.

I felt the tremors in the trailer again, heard the door open and close, and felt the bed move as she crawled in with me.

"Are you awake?" Paula whispered, a bit of a giggle in her voice.

"I am now," I said, still facing away from her. I was trying to put a little grumpy into my voice but in reality, I was thrilled. We had started this experiment because we were afraid our sex life was getting predictable and might get boring.

This was the exact opposite of boring.

Her hands were light on my chest and belly as she caressed and nuzzled my neck.

To my surprise, my body responded.

"I did something new tonight, baby," she whispered, "wanna see?" and with that last, there was that bit of a giggle in her voice.

I rolled over, finally opening my eyes. It was still dark, making it very early. Daylight started before six at that time of year.

There was enough light scatter from the bathroom nightlight that I could see her and she was a mess of smeared lipstick and running mascara.

I smiled, kissed her, and said, "rough night?"

Her smile made me think of the phrase "ear to ear."

"Welllllllllll," she said, and that smile seemed to get even wider, "I am a bit sore."

She took my hand and guided it down between her legs. And she felt different somehow.

"Hold that thought," I said and rolled off the bed. I peed in the bathroom, washed my hands, and left the light on. That way I could see her clearly without actually turning on the overhead light.

And what I saw was different. Paula's pussy was normally a very fine line, a slit if you will, between full nether lips. Right then, though, well, the word "gaping" from my enjoyment of porn sprang to mind. She was open and delicate pink inner lips were clearly visible. Maybe "gaping" is too strong a word, but she was clearly open. And those inner lips were, well, dangling and she was leaking. I thought about kissing her but she was obviously wanting to talk.

She laid, legs spread, showing me.

"And what's this?" I asked.

"David," she said, "he," and she giggled a little. I thought there might be a shade of hysteria in that sound.

"Tommy, well," and that giggle again, "he opened me up," she said.

When I didn't respond, hell, I couldn't think of how to respond, she giggled again and said, "come here, honey,"

When I got to her she said, "give me your hand," so I gave her my hand.

"Come up here," she said, patting the bed, so I climbed up on the bed and sat back, my butt on my heels.

I watched, saying nothing, as she slowly worked my hand into the shape she wanted. My fingers were straight, the tips together, forming sort of a cone with my thumb laid inside the cup of my fingers.

"Now put it in me," she said, a sort of weird smile on her face.

"My hand?" I asked, feeling an odd combination of confused and aroused.

"No," she giggled, that hysteria back, bubbling just below the surface, "my Kindle. Of COURSE your hand."

"You're serious," I asked.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah," she said, and I thought I heard some desperation there, like my son might have sounded at 5 or 6 when he had something he just HAD to show me. She was rocking her hips, almost lifting off of the bed the way she was moving.

I laid my left hand on her belly, not holding her still but encouraging her to stop moving. When she settled I did as she wanted.

I was fascinated, oh, hell, that is FAR too gentle a word, I was mesmerized, watching as my fingers entered her. She was beyond wet to very slick, her natural lubricant very thick and white, coating my fingers as I went deeper, joint by joint. At the widest point of my hand, where the final knuckles and thumb joined, she was too tight. I was afraid I would hurt her, and I stopped.

"It's okay," she sort of hiss/moaned, "push, baby."

So I did. I felt a final stretch and then my entire hand was inside of her.

My fingertips were touching something very firm as I pushed past the resistance.

She gasped as my hand entered her completely and I felt her vaginal muscles squeeze on my wrist.

She worked muscles deep in her belly and I felt the firmness in my hand push against my palm.

"Do you feel it?" she asked.

"I feel something," I said.

She smiled then, the sort of smile you WANT to see on a woman's face.

"I used to think of myself," she said, a dreamy look in her eyes, "you know, the essential 'me,' the part that made me Paula, as being between my ears, you know. Behind my eyes, in my brain."

She paused and again I felt that odd movement against my palm, hot and wet and very firm.

"I was wrong," she said, her voice soft.

"You're holding the real me," she said, "my uterus, my womb, the central aspect of my very womanness."

There was that movement again, against my palm.

"Feel it, David," she said, and her voice was husky now, her eyes a little unfocused.

I squeezed, very gently, drawing a little gasp from her.

"That's right, baby," she said. Her hips rocked and her breathing got a little ragged.

I began massaging it, squeezing and relaxing, letting my thumb dig into it, making her groan, a sound accompanied with a softly hissed, "yessssssss."

"Hold me, hold me in your hand," she said, her eyes closed now, her breathing quick shuddering breaths.

I felt her working muscles, and what I held moved in my hand.

It was like I was holding a warm, slick, firm pear.

When I squeezed gently the only way to write the sound she made is "auuuuuugghhhnnnnnnnngggggggg."

And I wanted to see it.

I held her core in my hand gently squeezing and relaxing, massaging it, drawing those sounds of ecstasy from her.

She came, suddenly, and I felt her almost push me out, what I was holding pushing me toward the entrance to her core.

I held her, not releasing, pulling, gently.

She cried out and came a second time, this time it was like she tried to retract away from my hand. But I held her, not releasing, and she cried out again, her body shuddering, before she relaxed. Well, before she collapsed might be a better way of putting it. She was breathing in great shuddering whoops of air, but she was relaxing.

And I could see it. Her cervix showed, about an inch outside of the full lips of her vagina, a little opening, almost a very tiny mouth, at the end of her uterus which showed very pink and very shiny. I bent and kissed it and she shuddered again, almost another orgasm but not quite.

"I see what you mean," I said, and she giggled weakly.

"I never imagined," she said and gasped as I put my hand back in, reaching behind her uterus to support her but also to bring more of her out so I could see it.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, and it was. I had most of her uterus outside now, pink and shiny and very firm.

And very beautiful.

I had never imagined it, but it was gorgeous. I bent and kissed and licked and held her core in my hand as I did so. I touched her cervix, the opening to her core with my tongue, and then covered it with my mouth, sucking gently, feeling her swell in my mouth.

And she was hissing now, a sound I had never heard. She sounded like a cat getting ready to fight as she huffed out hard little grunts and growls and that weird hissing sound.

When she came it was very wet and very salty. Her love nectar was thick and white and very very slick. With a sudden jerk the pink uterus and cervix I was holding and kissing retreated inside her body. I had the quick image of the time I had been hunting pheasants in eastern Colorado and had come upon a prairie dog colony. When I had startled it, the one I was looking at had suddenly jerked back into its hole, just disappearing in a blink like a magic trick. That's how her body had been.

She was rolled onto her side, her entire body trembling, and I snuggled against her, my hand lightly on her hip.

"Get some sleep," I said, kissing her lightly on her back, right between her shoulder blades, "remember, it's moving day."

She murmured something unintelligible and I eased out of the bed, not wanting to disturb her.

I went ahead and made coffee on the Keurig machine and then got my little Chromebook out, signed in, called up Google Maps, and started looking to see where we would go next. We follow the rule of 2's. We try to not travel more than 200 miles in any run, arrive by 2:00 in the afternoon, and stay at least 2 days.

It was hot down south so we were looking to travel north and west. Paula wanted to see the mountains. I drew the 200-mile circle on the map and started looking for likely spots to stop. Google maps and its companion, street view, is a wonderful working aid for this.