Unleashing the Woman in a Woman

Chris Subritzky arrived at his Aunt Edna's home for two weeks' vacation expecting a loving but less than exhilarating time. Edna was his mom's older sister, exactly twice his age at sixty-four and husband Hugo was even older, deaf and paralyzed down one leg and farted with the enthusiasm of a jazz band.

Their house was small, about the size of Chris's garage.

Get it? Chris was expecting two wasted weeks of his life, though knowing his mom would appreciate his dedication to family duty.

Edna (he called her that because she didn't object to the dropping of 'Aunt') cautioned him when giving him cocoa and a dry biscuit before bedtime the previous night, she and Uncle Hugo didn't rise before 9:00, 9.30 at the latest.

At 6:30 next morning Chris left on a 10-mile run and 50 yards down the street was bowled over by a woman; literally. She backed straight out of the driveway, crossed the street and the vehicle mounting the sidewalk to a stop, but not before striking him just below the knee.

He fell, his agonizing cry heard by the motorist. She ran from her stalled vehicle, leaving it at right-angles to the street and disappeared into her house, slamming the door.

After ten minutes of massaging his leg, Chris tried it gingerly; it held his weight. So he walked across the street and knocked on the door.

His violator appeared. "Yes," said the woman, as calm as a pastor an hour before starting to write his sermon.

"You fucking ran over me."

"I don't know what are talking about. I've been home all morning and please do not use such trendy language in my presence."

The mousy, lying bitch, thought Chris, but noticed a wonderful pair of boobs and thought the face not too bad either.

"I cannot apologize because fuck is Old English, said to have been introduced in literature by Friars around 1500, I believe."

"That I do not believe. Please remove yourself from our private property."

Angrily Chris walked away. Then she called, "Are you all right?"

He turned, gave her the fingers as he reached the street. Her vehicle looked abandoned, half blocking the street, the driver's door opened and he found the key in the ignition. It couldn't be left like that. He'd have to help the stupid bitch.

Chris drove the vehicle up and into her garage. He knocked on the door and held out the key. She peered out beyond him to check that the car was in the garage and took the key, saying, "Thank you; you better come in and have coffee and let me check you out physically."

"Does this mean you want to fuck me?"

Her face darkened into rust-red, the blush running into the roots of her fair hair. "I've never met anyone like you before," she almost gasped.

"Where's your husband?"

"Across to the west for a month on business. I'm going out of my mind in loneliness; he's never left me alone like this for so long - it's being two weeks."

"Are you missing him or the sex or both?"

"I can't believe you can talk to a woman you don't know like this. It's totally unchivalrous."

"Chivalry began fading with the end of the dark ages, eroded by disbelief in romantic notions, emancipation of serfs and servitude wenches and the spread of universal education. Further, Women's Lib has effectively has stymied its

return.

"Did you mention coffee?"

"Yes I did, pardon my neglect of you and I sorry I ran-away that was unforgivable. Please sit there. I'm not myself at present but my awful behavior identifies me as a coward."

She looked almost distressed so Chris held out his arms, "Come sit on my knee, you look in need of a cuddle."

The rust-red complexion returned.

"Come on, I'm not going to fuck you."

"I wish you wouldn't use that term; I'm a married woman."

Chris was set to question the relevancy of that comment but decided to let it go. "Come on."

She came forward, stopping almost against his knees. He put his arm around her waist and spun her and pulled her on to his knee.

"You smell lovely."

"Don't." But she didn't squirm to run free. Instead she leant back on to him a little.

"Like flowers."

"What kind of flowers?"

"Let me get closer to the fragrance."

She bent her neck closer, and he buried his nose behind her ear momentarily and pulled away before she could object.

"Citrus, pineapple, roses, sandalwood, peach and berries. But there are more subtle accents."

"That's amazing – they are elements of the blend; my perfume is called Cool Water. Do you have a connection with perfumes?"

"No, but I have a lot to do with women and my mother has worn French perfume all her adult life."

"Are you unmarried, a seducer of women?"

"I wish. I'm separated from my wife, waiting for divorce. In the meantime ccasionally I find a woman wanting to share her affections."

"Why would she want to do that?"

"I'm almost handsome, with an excellent physique. That and I suppose her motherly instinct."

"I still can't believe a woman you don't know would be that kind and intimate."

"Could I please have my coffee – but come back and sit on my knee."

"Yes of course, coffee. But what should I sit on your knee again?"

"Because it's the easiest way to commence a seduction."

The woman hurried off, red-brick faced again.

Fifteen minutes later they had introduced themselves as Chris and Claire; Claire was on back on his knees, facing him, her face beautifully pinked tinged in fading embarrassment, shirt open and bra hanging down under her tits which were wet with saliva, the nipples looking like chewed clothes peg ends.

"I don't know if we should be doing this."

"I don't know either; it has been so difficult and excruciatingly slow."

"I'm sorry," Claire said.

Time to be chivalrous: "Don't worry your pretty head about it: I'm here to save you from sexual deprivation. Reach down and feel me."

"I can't."

Close to exasperation, Chris scowled, "Why not?"

"Because I'm sitting on it."

The pleasure flowing over Chris's face could only be described as depraved. "Then move you ass back and reach it by squeezing your hand between your legs – after pulling up your skirt, of course. You know how to pull a zip without instructions?"

She ignored that sassy final remark and followed instructions.

"It's big, isn't it, and ever so warm. Why is it leaking at the tip – do you need to go to the toilet?"

At that, and being held so daintily, Chris almost exploded but looked at the ceiling, thinking of being back at work, and the crisis of premature ejaculation faded.

"Have you not held a penis before?"

Frowning and chin up, she looked at him in a scholarly manner and said, "Cecil does that – he inserts it, does what he wants to do, then withdraws, wipes it on my nightdress and then rolls over and goes to sleep."

The depraved look returned to Chris's face; there was so much to teach her!

"It's two weeks before Cecil returns, right?"

She nodded.

"Kiss me, Claire, long and vary the pressure of your lips. Don't worry about dribbling – in fact the more the better. Let your tongue waggle and play with my tongue when it slips into your mouth and when my tongue is not there go chasing after it. All of this is terribly unhygienic but hygienists are more expert at advising on home and workplace environments than dealing with the primitive delicacies of sex."

A little later she pulled away, lipstick mashed all over her lower face, her lips full, saliva drips running down her chin. "That was amazing – I feel ready to burst."

"Good girl Claire. Now let's get these panties off…good God, I thought they don't make bloomers these days."

"I'm not sure they do. These were mother's – she purchased them by the gross."

"How gross," laughed Chris, taking Claire into his arms and stretching her out on the sofa.

"Shut your eyes," he instructed. "You are going to find this next bit unbelievably appalling, but before you panic and vomit in disgust, give it a chance. Wait and you will feel tingling sensations and, I'm told, it will make you feel as if you are in a ballroom dancing with a handsome prince with butterflies all around you and you'll only hear 1000 violins playing ever so sweetly. I can't believe that but apparently it's a female thing."

Chris had to restrain her body which was heading for the ceiling when his long hair fell around her thighs and over her belly and his tongue began battling the jungle. It finally penetrated making her body stretch rigid, but gradually it relaxed and as the butterflies appeared in her mind and the music commenced soft moans sounded and she shook into a succession of orgasms.

"That was so beautiful," she said dreamily, as his head came up out of the hot box, mouth dripping with pussy juices. What now?"

Straddling her on the sofa, he shuffled up on his knees until almost over her tits; he looked down and saw her mouth had opened instinctively into a very wide 'O'. Surprised, he asked, "Have you had a dick in your mouth before?"

She shook her head.

"Are you going to gag, vomit and feel devastatingly violated?"

She shook her head, though looking wild-eyed.

"You are an amazingly receptive pupil."

A pink blush swept her face and spread down under Chris and she looked at him like a keen pupil.

"You're rather liking this, aren't you, sweet one?

She squirmed, still bravely holding her big 'O'.

Grasping his jittery dick just below the head, Chris inserted the tip of it into her mouth, watching her eyes bulge.

"Flick your tongue over the tip of it – don't pre-judge the taste of any liquid."

He bit his lip and thought of being back at work as her tongue explored her tip with mouse-like delicacy.

"While we're going this, play with my balls gently – those things in that bag hanging below that far end of my dick. That's it. Oooooooh."

He felt hot and she felt perhaps even hotter, and her eyes had become huge. By now she'd taken more length into her mouth and her tongue flicked around it and she was squeezing it with her mouth. He'd teach her about bobbing at another session.

Chris reached back and hooked a finger on to her clit; her eyes widened and her thighs clamped hard around his hand either to imprison it, to make sure he stayed on that job, or she was attempting to immobilize his wanton finger. But the clit stiffened under his administration and the thigh pressure would only amplify the sensations he was generating in her as the finger, protecting by outer fingers resisting thigh pressure, continued on its mission which was to give her a real feeling of being fucked.

Claire bucked and sent a surge of new wetness over his hand.

Chris smiled encouraging and pulled away from her. He cranked his dick a few times. She watched intently and only her eyes changed when two steams of cum followed by a modest third, sprayed her tits and face; she neither moved nor looked afraid.

Chris scooped some cum in his left hand, not wanting to confuse her with a mix of pussy smells, and offered her the fingers to suck.

"It's a lover's thing to do," he said solemnly, initiating her into one of the finer sex practices that people either enjoy or spurn.

She sucked his fingers, smacked her lips, and said, "Salty and bland."

"More?"

She scooped some from her face and shoved it into her mouth, making obscene sucking noises.

"Are you sure you haven't done this before?"

Shaking her head she said, "Definitely not; previously I'd only seen it all over the hem of my night-dresses looking like a deposit of poison.

"Are we going to fuck now?"

Chris leaned back and gently pushed in two fingers. The outer labia were swollen and internally she was awash.

"Yes, you're ready to go," he said, withdrawing his fingers with a pop.

"Spread your legs.

"Raise your right knee and allow it to flop against the back of the sofa – as we get going you can lift that leg on to the top of the sofa or even wrap it round my back if you wish – just do what takes your mind, follow your instincts.

Are you on the pill?"

"Yes – until next year."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-six."

"I'd suggest you stop taking it as soon as your husband returns home. Don't leave trying to have your first baby too late. I've heard my aunties talking about that."

Chris lifted her left leg up on to his shoulder – she now looked beautifully open; he could see the dripping pink box through the jungle.

"Right – obviously you think I'm bigger than what you've been used to. Rub some of your pussy juices on to my dick and then insert it slowly. Take your time – even take a rest. Your pussy will adjust – vaginas are a wonderful piece of flexible anatomy."

They went at it – or at least they really got going after he told her to move her ass and catch his rhythm; she was such a novice. Because of her inexperience when he grunted and fired the canon he felt there was more to go, but he decided he should go easy as time was on their side.

* * *

Over the next thirteen days Chris spent time with Claire – not too much time because he didn't want to risk her becoming too attached to him. He brought her flowers and gave her no presents except for a slim viabrator.

He taught her numerous positions and encouraged her to begin shaving, helping her for the first few days. They went shopping and bought her heaps of sexy underwear.

Chris had seen photos of her husband, a thin serious-faced man who sold selling teaching aids to Sunday schools.

"He's going to be blown away when he comes home and you get him cumming all over you."

"He'll know I've had a lover and teacher."

"Hmmm. Let's go out and buy some sex manuals. You can leave them beside his beside, saying you've finished with them. Let's buy a few adult videos to get him going – you can always move up to the really hot ones as you upgrade him."

Chris introduced Claire to Edna and they took an immediate likening to one another.

"Claire is lonely and doesn't know anything about sex from the woman's perspective, and I think she wants to have a baby."

Edna's eyes lit up. She's had four children and had been a biology teacher at high school. Lesson one began as soon as Chris left the room.

* * *

For months afterwards he and Claire emailed each other twice a week. She and Cecil had a new bedroom built on to the house which she immediately named The Nursery. She wrote that she and her husband had a second honeymoon after he'd returned home from that month-long business trip and slowly Claire enticed him to throw aside his inhibitions. Like Claire, he'd not know much about sex. "Just put it in," had been the extent of his mother's advice, she wrote, and his father had offered nothing but silence on that subject.

Eventually the emailing ceased until one day Chris received a message and attachment of a photograph of Chris. "He's five days old, bonny and named after you know who," wrote Claire. "Cecil and I are deliriously happy."

Chris sent a reply, congratulating her and said he'd posted a present for young Chris. The attachment to his message showed a threesome: "Me with my new wife Alison and our darling Claire, aged two months."

THE END