The Physics of Attraction
You took my hand and led me to the marble stairs. You were calm and firm but I could feel you trembling. We climbed slowly side by side. I wasn't thinking clearly. We had kissed long and deep. I could feel you wanted more. I knew you needed more. But I was much older and you -- little more than a girl.
You quietly walked me down the long hall toward my bedroom at the very end -- the door next to the large mirror that reflected us walking together. You watched our reflection -- you a small slender girl holding my hand; you, in your thin shift, me in my khaki trousers and band-collared shirt.
You turned and opened my bedroom door. You led me across the room directly across to my bed -- sure of yourself -- sure of the layout of the room. Standing beside my bed, you lit the candle on the night table and turned away and slowly lifted your shift over your head and off and tossed it to the chair. You were naked.
Your long curly hair was tied back and so it fell down your spine. Your beautiful dark skin looked like mountain forest shadows -- warm and kind. The grace of your neck, the curve of your arm, your waist, your hips; all this was like God intended woman to be. You took my breath away -- a thing that hadn't happened for many, many years -- and I was slain.
You had tossed the dress without looking and yet it landed right across the chair's arm. Still facing away, you spoke shyly, "When you're gone I sleep in your bed. That way I can be in your scent - I can pretend you love me. I'm sorry. I know it was wrong." You slowly turned back toward me.
Your nakedness and honest beauty and unselfconscious vulnerability made me cherish you and want to protect you. You were looking down at your hands folded in front of you.
"When you're gone, I lay in your bed and pretend I am yours. I -- I -- touch myself -- you know -- there -- and I pretend it's you making love to me." You lifted your face and looked into my eyes. I could tell you trusted me implicitly and I silently swore I'd never betray that trust.
Your face, so soft and young, so beautiful, so all full of the beginnings of things; your face struck me then as the kind of face men run to their death or to their ruin to defend.
You whispered, "But tonight I don't want to pretend anymore."
The windows were open - the night air was humid. The crickets and locusts were singing outside.
Yes, you took my breath away. The perfect shape of your breasts, your erect nipples, the recess of your navel, the curves of your defined abdominal muscles -- your waist. Your hips were round, but not large. Your legs were muscular but smooth. You pulled the ribbon from your hair. Your curls fell all around your shoulders and breasts and down your back.
You reached up and unbuttoned my shirt. You slid your hands across my chest looking at the contrast between your hand and my pale, hairless flesh.
You began to whisper as if it was a deep confession - "I've wanted this ever since I first met you and now I have it. I think about you all the time. I think about you making love to me. I can barely concentrate at work. I pretend you are taking me hard and rough then tender and strong. At night, I play with myself and think of you. I get so excited. And sometimes, sometimes -- I'm so bad -- I fantasize that you are spanking me and tying me up and all kinds of very naughty things. I pretend you are my daddy and I'm your little girl..."
"Darling, you have a schoolgirl crush. I'm way too old for you. You need a nice young man to make a life with. You'll meet one at school. Give yourself time. It's useless to pretend that I don't want you - I'll make no secret of that. You are beautiful and smart and full of life and youth. But I am older and slower and..."
You kissed my mouth to shut me up.
"I want you to make love to me tonight. I want you for real -- even if it's just this once. Then at least I will have had my dream come true -- for one moment. For now, that will be enough."
You slowly unhitched my belt and unbuttoned my trousers. You slid my shirt off. You slid my pants and underwear off and helped me step out. I could tell you were no expert at all, but you were doing a fine job of improvising.
Then you pulled back the sheets and sat on the edge of my bed. You pulled me to you. My cock hardened and you squirmed against me, your legs parted. You lay your head on my shoulder and stroked my belly, then began very gently stroking my cock.
Protesting was foolish, we were naked together, you were stroking my cock. I was trying to think clearly and failing utterly.
You said, "You know so much. You've seen so much. I want you to teach me about everything. I want you to teach me about love. I want you to take me to the limits of pleasure."
