I met Marie through mutual friends. She was a 42-year-old divorced mother of two pre-teen daughters. Her husband had left her three years earlier, running off with a 23-year-old, buying a Corvette, and leaving Marie with the house, their daughters, and a mostly celibate life.
The "mostly celibate" part ended when we started going out. Marie had reached a tipping point when her post-divorce men-are-assholes funk got outweighed by her raging hormones. I just happened to come along at the right time. It wasn't obvious to me why her ex had lost interest in her. Marie was very attractive to me, a cute, petite Eurasian with a shy personality that, after she'd felt comfortable enough with me to open up, was actually cheerful, funny, and warm. And horny.
In the beginning she would get a babysitter for her girls and meet me at a restaurant for dinner and a movie. "I don't want to confuse my daughters with my dates," she had told me. Regardless, we soon established a pattern. On the first date we held hands in the theater, and afterwards the date would end in the parking lot with a tentative hug and a brief touching together of our cheeks. I was maybe eight inches taller than her, and I had to lean over manage that chaste cheek-to-cheek.
On the second date we sat together in my car in the parking lot, exchanging an actual closed mouth kiss on the lips before she got into her car and drove home. The third date progressed to a few minutes of open mouth kissing. And two dates later she welcomed the addition of my hand gently caressing a breast outside her clothing as we kissed with increased passion. I kept things slow to not rush her and spook her. Her hardened nipples and her soft moans told me what I needed to know.
Eventually -- with her approval -- Marie was happy to have me follow her home at the end of the evening to make sure she arrived safely, then I'd drive to my home. After a several such dates, she had me wait in my car outside her house while she paid the babysitter and checked her kids, then she stood in the doorway and signaled me to come inside. I knew where we were headed -- upstairs to her bedroom -- since we'd talked about it at dinner. After closing the door behind us, she embraced me and whispered, "Remember, we have to be really, really quiet."
And quiet we were. She led me upstairs and into a bedroom lit only by small lamp on a bedside table on the far side of the bed. Marie closed the door behind us and locked it, then turned to me. Her hand found mine, and she led me into the near-blackness of the room until she stopped next to the bed, turning around to face me. Her body pressed against mine, and her mouth breathed hot against my ear. "Is the floor okay? My bed is creaky."
"Works for me," I whispered.
"Undress me."
I did. Button by button, off came her blouse. I unsnapped her lacy lowcut bra, then reached behind her waist to the back of her skirt, and she patiently waited for me to discover the sequence of buttons, snaps, and zipper that would allow her skirt fall to the floor. All the while she stood passively with her hands reaching up to my shoulders.
My next discovery was her thong, and that, too, joined her skirt and bra on the floor. I stood there, still fully dressed, and as we kissed with open mouths and teasing tongues with my left hand caressing the back of her neck and my right hand caressing her face, then down her warm, smooth skin to each breast, cupping each of them in turn and ever so gently pinching its nipple. Marie emitted a quick gasp and her breathing quickened.
From there my hand caressed down from her breasts to between her thighs. Marie adjusted her stance to move her feet farther apart, granting me better access. Her pussy was as aroused as her nipples. Her pubic hair felt soft, straight, and tidily trimmed. My fingertips brushed along the edges of her inner labia peeked out of her widening vulva. One of my fingers made gentle measure of her stiff clitoris, small and stiffening, and then descended the short distance to her vagina that was noticeably lubricating the bottom of her vulva.
I managed a single upward fingertip swipe of her slickness, and Marie cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "Wait," she whispered. She reached around me and pulled the duvet and bedspread and pillows off the bed and onto the floor beside us. Then she pressed her body against mine and kissed me again. Her tongue flickered against mine. Now my hands cupped her buttocks, and my erection, trapped in my pants, advertised its eagerness to come out and play.
Marie broke the kiss and stepped back. She eased her body down to the floor, and in the dim light I could see her lying on the crumpled bedspread. Silent. Waiting. My clothes came off faster than hers, and I joined her.
This first intimacy went the way most reasonably successful first times go. My mouth made the usual journey from her lips above her chin to her lips between her thighs, making stops at her neck, her breasts and nipples, and her soft, quivering belly. Marie's fragrant pussy was yawning open when I got there, and it only got increasingly splayed open and wet as my tongue swiped every nook and cranny and surface. One finger, then two, penetrated into her silky vagina to find her g-spot slowly roughening as I focused what I hoped was just the right pressure on her clitoris.
To her credit, Marie maintained almost total silence, with just the barest of soft grunts and quick breaths, even as her body squirmed and her hips undulated to match the rhythm of my mouth. Would she climax from my mouth? She answered that question several minutes later with a sudden acceleration of shallow breaths and an arched back, stiffened body, and frozen hips. Her only noises were four muffled, high-pitched squeaks.
Marie's body relaxed, and my mouth withdrew. I joined her at face level. She held my face in her hands and kissed me, unfazed by the fact that the lower half of my face was coated in her juices. "Do you want to be inside me?"
"Of course."
Marie pulled me on top of her, spreading her legs wide apart. I held myself above her on my elbows and we stared at each other's faces in the dim light. We had already discussed birth control -- after her divorce she'd stopped taking the pill, one brief lover had used a condom, and I'd had a vasectomy years earlier -- but I asked for a final confirmation. "Should I... put on..."
"If you don't need to or don't want to, then I don't need you to. Or want you to."
My cock found the slippery warmth of her open and now very wet vulva, and I stroked my erection in her inflamed cleft to ensure that my shaft was comfortably slick. Then I aimed my cockhead lower to find her opening and gently pressed inside her. Marie inhaled a big gasp when the head passed the slight resistance at her entrance, and I paused there, kissing her. Her kegels gave my shaft three small nibbles. "Ohh," I murmured, "I felt you. Are you ready?"
"I feel you, too," Marie whispered. "And yes, more than ready." Her entrance nibbled at me again. "I want to feel all of you. Please keep going."
Slowly I nudged into her slippery embrace, penetrating an inch, retreating a half inch, then another inch and another retreat. Marie's only sounds were her quick, shallow breaths as I slid deeper and deeper, and only when I bottomed out did her eyes close momentarily and she exhaled a guttural groan of pleasure. I held myself there, fully embedded, and we made slight adjustments legs and arms and torsos and angles. Marie's knees were now embracing hips, and that allowed me to push inward a final fraction of an inch until my pubic bone was pressed firmly against her vulva and my cockhead just slightly brushed against the tip of her cervix. "Oh my god," she whispered.
