Sometime around dawn I woke up on the couch and moved to the bedroom. I slept until noon and when I awoke I felt surprisingly refreshed and alert -- surprising because I'm not at all a morning person and it always takes me a while to get all systems firing. I made a pot of coffee and made breakfast and took my time eating as I read yesterday's paper. All the curtains were open and the day was as hot and sunny as yesterday had been. When I was done eating I stayed at the table in only my boxers and had more coffee. I thought about work, about stuff that needed doing at the shop this week, and I thought about Colleen and the things we had talked about the night before. I felt bad for her, because I surely knew what she was feeling and thinking, yes I certainly did. When Heather and I first broke up, once I got over the shock of my marriage imploding, I was scared shitless that I was never going to get laid again -- damaged goods, and who the hell wanted that?
Not that getting laid was the only loss I felt, of course, although it was a big one -- the sex had been the only part of the marriage that had worked well and we fucked often and variously and a guy got used to that kind of action pretty easily -- Heather liked sex and she was just kinky and dirty enough to be fun without being gross or weird. And like Colleen, Heather had only ever been with one guy in her life -- in this case, me -- and as such the relationship had offered me a chance to mould her in my image, as it were. I took her cherry, I taught her to suck my cock the way I liked it, I patiently and tenderly fostered in her an enthusiasm for ass-fucking. Just about anything I was into, with enough patience I could get her into as well, with one notable exception: she couldn't swallow cum. Not just swallow -- to even take it in her mouth would set off the gag reflex and although she kept trying, there was just no way she could get past that block.
So you can imagine my enthusiasm, once I started seeing other women again after the breakup, to come across (no pun intended) so many women for whom taking a load in the mouth presented absolutely no problem whatsoever.
And it didn't take that long after the breakup to make these discoveries. In spite of my self-pitying worries about never getting laid again, the exact opposite turned out to be true. As it turned out, after a dry spell of only about a month, I had my first fling with a woman from work -- I was still at Gen-Tech at the time -- a clerk from accounts payable named Joanne. After Joanne there were a couple of other women at work before I decided it probably wasn't wise to keep getting my meat where I got my bread and so, confidence restored, I started looking further afield for my bed-warmers.
I had wanted the night before to bring all this up with Colleen to show her that her current blues were normal and just temporary, that there was hope for her yet, in spite of whatever she might be feeling at the time. But I couldn't really come up with a way to do so that didn't seem crass -- although we shared a no-holds-barred friendship, Colleen wasn't as, well, depraved as I am, I guess. A sweet kid.
I took my dishes to the sink and looked out the window to the "patio" -- which was actually the roof of the apartment below mine, but was used by the building's tenants as a hangout, a place to barbecue and sunbathe -- and there was Sharon from upstairs doing just that (the sunbathing, not barbecuing).
Sharon was about 45 and was what you'd call Reubenesque -- not fat, but plump and deliciously curvy and blessed with a pair of the most magnificent tits I had ever seen. For the most part, I'm not that into really big tits, but these things were so round and inviting that whenever I saw her (usually wearing a shirt cut just low enough to show a hint of cleavage) I had a hard time keeping my eyes off them and I almost always got a boner.
The bikini she wore on the roof this time was even better -- there were no laws of physics that could explain how those small triangles of fabric were holding those magnificent jugs in place as she reclined on a chaise, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses, her blond hair tied back in a pony tail. Her legs were crossed at the ankle and glistened with oily lotion. I watched beads of sweat run down her chest to disappear into the crack between her tits and my cock hardened instantly. My eyes not leaving her, I absent-mindedly reached down and started stroking my cock, which was poking through the fly of my boxers. I got so wrapped up in my reverie that it didn't register at first that she had gotten up from her chaise and was walking toward my kitchen door.
I snapped out of it when she knocked. Shit. "Just a second," I said, trying in vain to stuff my cock back into my shorts. Luckily the blinds were down on the door so she couldn't see what was going on. I rushed into the bedroom, grabbed my jeans off the floor and stuffed my hard-on into them before answering the door bare-chested.
Sharon was smiling up at me, her sunglasses pushed up on her head and her blue eyes sparkling. She was about five-two, a good head shorter than me, and her tits were almost poking me in the stomach as we faced each other.
"Hi Dave," she said. "I thought I heard you moving around in there. Would you mind?" She held up the tube of sunscreen and I needed no other explanation as my cock strained against my jeans.
"Sure," I managed to say. "Let me put on some shorts, and I think I'll join you, if there's a free lawnchair out there."
"OK," she smiled. I changed into a pair of cutoffs and was outside in no time. Sharon had reclined her chaise to a fully flat position and was lying on her stomach, still smiling as she watched me approach with a couple of cans of Coke. I handed her one and she handed me the tube of sunscreen. At the same time, I noticed that the straps of her bikini top were now undone.
"Awww, aren't you a sweet boy," she said as she opened her can of pop. I sat on the chaise next to hers and opened mine, trying not to stare at her. I looked around our rooftop; the place wasn't exactly built for privacy, with windows from at least a half-dozen neighbouring apartments looking directly out onto us and one of the buildings next door having a space exactly like ours of its own. In fact, the rooftop patio was what had sold me on the place originally. Not that having a neighbour like Sharon wasn't also an enticement of its own.
"Hey, you fall asleep?" she said, snapping me out of my reverie. "How about a little service here? Before I burn to a crisp."
"Huh? Oh, sorry." I got up and bent over her. There were so many places that I wanted to begin that I couldn't choose, so I just closed my eyes and squirted a big glop of lotion between her shoulder blades. Sharon squealed and for a flash I thought she was going to jump up and give me the full view of those magnificent tits. As it was, I could already see quite a bit of them where they spilled out, mashed between her chest and the chaise. Lucky chaise.
"Oops," I said. "Sorry. Was that cold?"
"A little," she said. "Just caught me by surprise, that's all." She settled back into the chaise with her face cradled on her hands. I reached down and tentatively spread the white lotion around her shoulder blades. Sharon got up on her elbows again.
"OK, you're going to have to do a lot better than that," she said. She adjusted her hips and kicked her feet up and down. "Climb up here and
dig right in. What kind of a masseur are you, anyway?"
"You wish is my command," I said. OK, now I knew where this was headed. (Well, I had had a pretty solid inkling before, but you know how it is -- you don't want to jump the gun and blow it.) I straddled her thighs and settled down. "Is that OK? Not too heavy?"
"That is just fine. Now get to work!"
I squirted more lotion into my hand and started to work on her back, starting up at the shoulders and working my way down. I started with circular motions, spreading the lotion, then I added more lotion and started kneading her more firmly, the lotion-spreading morphing into a massage.
"Mmmm," she moaned. "That's really nice."
Encouraged, my hands started roving further down her sides, rubbing up from her waist to her chest and spreading lotion on the side of her tits. Sharon's smile widened.
"Why don't you get some on my legs too?" she said. I slid down and started to work on her legs, starting at the ankles and moving up the back of her thighs. As I worked, Sharon parted her legs and I could see the golden hairs of her pussy sticking out of her bikini. My cock by now was raging and I tried as casually as I could to adjust my shorts. This only made things worse when my cock slid down and the head poked out from the left leg of my shorts.
"You OK?" Sharon said.
"All aces," I said, my voice croaking a little.
"Could you get some on my bum? I got a bit of a burn there last time."
I leaned forward and squirted some lotion on each thigh just below the cheeks and gently rubbed it on the skin that wasn't covered by the bikini. Sharon started to moan again so I got bolder, sliding my hands under the fabric.
"Yeah," she sighed. "That's it."
