Valerie

Having arrived at the motel a full two hours before our agreed-upon time in order to check in and arrange the room to my own preferences, I found myself quite nervous about what

might

come to pass in the next few hours. As I checked the bathroom, the shower enclosure, the closet area and the furniture for unattractive and unwanted dirt and stains, I realized I was thinking about what could go wrong, rather than what might be a pleasurable experience. Would I be able to perform? Would I be able to perform at the level of her expectations? What expectations did she have? What expectations did I have? Where would this lead us? Or would this be a once-and-done event? Was I going to be physically unattractive enough that she would change her mind and leave after a few minutes? Lord, lord, the questions that coursed through my mind!

I had explained to her that the rooms at this particular establishment faced one of two ways – either toward the road (no longer a major highway since the Interstate was completed some years ago) or toward the rear of the property where a State forestland began. Of course, I had told her I would make specific arrangements for one of the rear-facing rooms. Part of our agreement was also that I would leave the door to the room I had reserved stand open an inch and would loop a necktie over the doorknob or handle (most likely a holdover from stories about college dorms, I suppose). When I heard a car slowly crunch through the gravel of the parking lot and come to a stop in front of this room, I took a moment to peek out of the heavy green drapes that covered the windows and saw that it was indeed, Valerie's silver Camry. I stepped to the door and opened it to stand silhouetted in the light so that she could see all was well. Damn!!! What if it wasn't Valerie, but her husband??? Who knows what might have transpired since last evening! But no, it was Valerie. I watched her as she stepped out of the car and went to the trunk, which she had released from inside the car, and retrieved a small leather satchel. She carried the satchel and moved toward me.

I stepped aside and she entered the room without a backward glance. I closed the door and she stopped in the middle of the rather large room, next to the oversized bed, and dropped her satchel on it. She whirled around, making her hair flip outward and my groin flip inward, and said very softly, "I hope we know what we are doing, Ed."

I reassured her that we did, at least up until this point. I made a small joke about who knows what we are going to be doing an hour from now…. maybe we'd be back at home watching "Who Wants to be a Millionaire"…or maybe we'd be lying there on that bed behind her trying to catch our breath. She smiled at the small attempt at humor and walked to the closet alcove and hung up her coat. I was dumbstruck! She had dressed in a soft beige-colored suit make of some knit material that looked like angora. Under the suit jacket was a dark brown high-necked sweater of the same sort of material, but lighter in weight. Her legs were spectacular, flowing out from under the hem, which reached just about to the center of her knees. She was wearing stockings, I could tell that much, and my mind immediately went to the coarse reaction of hoping they were not pantyhose.

She wore brown leather heels that were probably a half-inch higher than would normally be called for with this suit, and complimented her calves beautifully. She smiled and spoke very low when she said, "Do I look ok to you? I wasn't sure what I should wear for this." I reassured her that she was absolutely beautiful and I suppose she could tell from my breathless tone of voice and my stare, which was riveted, to her legs that I was serious. She reached out with her hands for mine. I took them and stepped close enough to smell her. Now, this was a woman!

She smelled – not of perfumes, colognes, fruits, flowers or other false scents – clean. It was as clean a smell as a fresh shower and fragrant soap and shampoo can provide. God, how I loved it! I stood looking at her and she at me for almost a full minute without moving. She broke the momentary spell by asking if I had brought anything to drink. I had and walked to the wall unit where I showed her a bottle of a nice little German Riesling in the motel ice bucket. She smiled and said she had something a bit more gentle in mind and reached in her satchel to bring out a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream. We proceeded to drink it over ice cubes and I cannot think of a more erotic way to begin an evening. I had this idea that if and when I finally kissed her, I would be tasting chocolate all the way down to my stomach. We made small talk, she sitting in the one large chair and I on the edge of the bed. I played a bit of a naughty boy and tried to peek into the case she had brought. She jumped up and grabbed it from me, telling me I could not look inside. She explained that what was in there was for later, if there actually was going to be a "later" in this evening. I smiled at her and pulled her down next to me and asked, "What do I have to do to assure us of a very nice "later," Valerie?"

She bent just a bit closer and kissed me on the lips. I responded very, very gently with a tiny bit of pressure and spreading of mind. She relaxed, sat back and said, "I am not sure I want this, but I am not sure I don't, either. There is a whole lot here that confuses me and I am not really sure why I said I would come here in the first place. I'm not sure I came tonight because I wanted something to happen or because I just didn't want to disappear without telling you first. How can I be sure that this is going to be ok?"

Very slowly, I lifted the glass from her hand and walked to the credenza and sat it there with mine. I walked back, lifted her by the hands from the bed, picked up her satchel, retrieved her coat from the alcove and led her to the door by the elbow. "Neither of us is experienced in this, Valerie; but I want you to know that I was never more pleased about anything in my life than when you walked through this door just now. Over the past 24 hours I've come to the realization that I've wanted to make a most beautiful love with you for at least ten years. But if I have to let you go home now because you are not sure you want to allow that, then at least I will know I have come closer than any other man. That might be enough to get me through the next few years; but I know I will try again, so tonight is only a rehearsal then. I want you so much I can already taste you in the back of my mouth. I can already feel just how soft you are going to be under my fingers and lips. I can quite easily imagine how you are going to respond to my caresses and if I have to let that go, it will hurt deeply; but I am willing to let it be if you're not ready for it tonight. There will be another night."

She looked at me for a few minutes and smiled a laugh when she said she didn't know I was a poet. We both laughed at that one and she pushed the door closed again and put her arms around my neck. I dropped her coat and satchel and proceeded to kiss her softly and warmly. I could feel her heart beating like a damn native's drum in Africa – or was it my own heart in my chest and in my throat and in my ears?

We stood like that, without moving, for almost five minutes – kissing and tasting each other to test our own reaction level, I suppose. Needless to say, I was tumescent with the first real kiss and rock hard before the second ended. I was, at least, going to be able to perform – or so it appeared at this point.

I led her to the large chair and sat down, pulling her gently onto my lap sideways. She lifted her feet of her own accord and draped her knees over the left arm of the chair. She slipped an arm around my neck; I duplicated her move with one of mine around her back and we began to kiss in some serious connection. It became obvious that we were both hungry. It also became obvious that I was already at the peak of physical excitement. It was directly under her ass and hard as it could be. She whispered something into my mouth about someone being very excited already. Sucking and nibbling on each other's tongues and lips led to tender and not-so-tender tongue battles searching each other's mouths, faces, ears. I did not allow my other hand to move anywhere except to stroke her thighs on the outside of her skirt. It was not really sexual in nature, but more a tender reassurance that this is where my hand was.

I felt her move her feet and heard her shoes drop to the floor and she shifted her weight a bit more toward me. I opened my mouth and kissed her quite tenderly as I moved one hand to cup directly under her right breast. I did not hesitate. I did not creep up on it. I wanted her to know I was confident and that I wanted her. She caught her breath but did not move my hand away. I opened my hand and placed the palm against the tip of her breast and moved it in slow circles, just lightly touching her. Within seconds, her nipple grew and hardened against my palm.

I murmured into her mouth, "It looks like I'm not the only one who is excited." And I flicked at her nipple with one finger before returning to my palm circles. She actually giggled. Like a kid when she has been surprised about something and is a little embarrassed. She giggled!

Resuming my caressing and massage of her breast brought me to a level of excitement I had not experienced in a while. She was quite warm to the touch of my other hand on her back. I moved that hand to her neck and grasped a small handful of hair and tugged her head backward until she was actually lying back across the chair arm with her chest fully available. I looked directly at her while I touched both breasts, teasing at both nipples and stroking all the swells of her mounds. Our gaze never broke and she never said a word.

I quietly asked her if she was sure of what she was doing. She answered, "No, I'm not; now touch me again." And she lifted her face to kiss me, but I would not release her. I kept her there and moved my hand across her breasts and onto her stomach where I teased around the waistband of her skirt. She squirmed just a bit under my touch and that caused her skirt to ride up a bit higher until I could see a beautiful expanse of thigh. I was incredibly excited at this moment and was not exactly sure where I was going next.

Before I could decide precisely what I was going to do, she took my hand and slipped it down to where her thighs joined. She pushed my fingers into the 'V' there and clamped her thighs together. I could feel the heat through her skirt and bent to kiss her as I slid my hand down and under the hem of her skirt to caress her silky-clad thighs. She allowed them to relax and there was just enough room between them for me to touch the inner surfaces of her tender-skinned thighs. I slid my hand back and forth from knee to upper thigh, but never passed the limit at which I might touch her tender softness. I did discover, very shortly after beginning my caresses there, that she was wearing lace-topped thigh-high stockings. I breathed a mental sigh of relief at that discovery. Pantyhose are the curse of every amorous male in the world!!!

In the midst of another warm, moist kiss, her thighs parted to an extent that even a stupid man would understand was an invitation. So, I slowly accepted her invitation to touch her at the source of the warmth I felt on my fingers. I slid my left hand up and encountered an incredibly smooth, silky patch of material at the front of her velvet entrance. Well, she was wearing panties, at least, I thought to myself. I allowed my hand to move as far upward as it could, across the front panel of her panty-covered stomach and caressed every inch of her on the way back down to her heat.

Once there, I turned my hand and slipped the fingers between her thighs to slide along the crotch panel of her panties and kept the thumb back to press on the very top edge of what I knew would be the outline of her clefted valley. To my surprise, as my hand slid inward, it encountered a decidedly wet spot on her panties. I could feel the tips of my fingers becoming coated with her emission and I smiled down at her, saying, "Now who's excited, dear thing?"

She reached up and pulled my face to hers and kissed me as her legs spread to the limit of her suit skirt. This was quite enough to flatten my hand against her pussy and squeeze it gently with my palm while I pressed inward with the thumb. For the first time, she moved without specific control. Her back arched a bit and her breath gasped into her throat around my mouth. I did not release my hold and manipulated her now-very-wet crotch with my fingers while all the time pressing and rolling my thumb at the seat of her desires. The wet spot became a sopping mess in my hand and I found it easy to slide my fingers under the seam of her panty crotch to touch the very source of that stream of wetness.

At my touch, she groaned a bit – almost sounding like one of those fake-orgasm artists in porn videos these days – and bit my lip. I pulled at the crotch of her panties and she lifted her hips to allow the movement she must have known was coming. I pulled at her panties, not gently at all, until they were below her hips and sliding easily over her thighs. The wet crotch was clutched in my hand and I pulled them as far down as my hand would reach. I stopped at that limit and she lifted her knees to allow me to fully remove them from her feet. Now, I had to make a decision.

My usual move at this point indicates my own particular fetish about women. Normally, I would have released her lips from the suction we were applying to each other and I would have sucked the crotch of those panties directly into my mouth to gain a definitive taste of things to come. But I was not absolutely certain in my mind as to how she would react to that move, so I simply brought them up toward my face and turned to inhale their incredible scent. I say 'incredible' because while my main thrust in making love to a woman involves an extended period of oral manipulation of her pussy regions, this woman's female aroma was beyond description. Ripe. Heavy. Musky. Sweet-to-almost-cloying. All those and more, as my vocabulary for this particular event is limited.

Then, I did release her mouth and flicked my tongue out rapidly and touched the tip of it to the wet patch of material. Now the sensation was totally different. Sharp. Tangy. Taste-bud-exciting. A bit salty. And I was in heaven. Without really thinking, I sucked the crotch into my mouth and savored every bit of what this woman was, internally.

She lay there as if in shock. I think I actually blushed because I stammered when I began to tell her what I was doing. I tried to tell her that every man has a particular fetish fantasy and mine happened to be tasting a woman's deep secretions. I told her I just love the first tang on my tongue of what was but seconds ago, deep inside her. I told her that making love to a woman's most private region is the ultimate in eroticism to me. I told her that I often prefer that to actual intercourse, and admitted it was probably because I was a control freak and thought that this was the perfect situation to be totally in control.

She laughed and reminded me that she had actually called me a control freak once in a hard-fought meeting about how things were going to run at my school. I smiled and told her that I had not remembered that particular incident until now, but it must have been propitious that I was here, now, trying to exert my control, over her specifically.

"Do I taste good?" she asked with almost a whisper.