Stan twisted on the sofa.
Anne had invited him in, but not for coffee. There was only one plausible explanation... was he ready?
His erection felt like a log in his underwear...
That
part of him felt ready, at least.
Anne had opened her door and gestured him inside. She'd told him, "Sit there while I fix us a drink. What would you like?"
Stan asked for a scotch, but asked for a glass of water too. Anne was now in the kitchen, fixing things.
"Glenmorangie?" she called, and Stan replied, "That'll be fine, Anne!" It was a perfectly serviceable single malt, after all.
She came back into the room with a glass of water in one hand and a shot glass containing amber fluid in the other. "Here you are, Stan. I'll just get my wine and we can... 'get comfortable'." Her eyes danced, and there was a challenge in the lift of her eyebrow as she said the last.
Stan was now feeling distinctly
uncomfortable
however. He took advantage of Anne's departure to reach into the waistband of his trousers and straighten his erection so it lay against his belly. Now, however, he had to pull his trouser up slightly to hide it, and the buckle of his belt dug into the head so he had to sit artificially upright on the sofa. Stan knew he shouldn't be, but he
was
embarrassed.
Anne came back with a large glass of white wine. One strap of her white dress had fallen off her shoulder. 'Deliberately?' wondered Stan, while appreciating the way the side of the dress fell a little, exposing more of Anne's left breast. Anne had slipped off her shoes, he noticed, and he pushed his off with his own feet. He sipped at his water, then took a drink from his whisky, while Anne sat close to him on the sofa, bringing her feet up underneath her and sitting sideways, facing him.
They sat and regarded each other for a couple of minutes. Finally Stan said, "This is a little awkward."
Anne commented "Yes, it is." Again she leaned forward and kissed Stan. Her feet slid out from under her as she pushed Stan down so that he was almost supine on the black leather sofa under her. Her kiss was firm and insistent as his mouth opened in response to her tongue.
Finally she pulled back slightly and murmured, "That's better, isn't it?"
Stan answered softly but with great feeling, "Yes!" before leaning up and nibbling on her lower lip. Anne had both hands on the sofa, on either side of Stan's head on the armrest, and she once again took control of the kiss, deepening it, while she began grinding her pelvis into Stan's. Stan's hands moved of their own accord, reaching for Anne's breasts, caressing them through the thin fabric of her dress, feeling the lacy material beneath. Stan's erection was now very uncomfortable, but he just couldn't bring himself to break the kiss. He was certain Anne could feel it – she must be able to! Finally Anne again lifted her head, and smiled at Stan.
"If that's not a rocket in your pocket, I can think of a way to use it!"
Stan couldn't help it. He lost it completely, breaking into laughter. Smiling widely herself, Anne stood up and held out her hand to Stan.
"Come on, Stan. We don't have to make out on the couch like teenagers stealing moments before Mum comes back. Come upstairs."
She smoothly stood, holding out her long, slender arm to him. Stan took it and pushed himself up with his other arm. She led him up the stairs, looking back twice to smile at him, desire plain on her face.
For his part, Stan was moving on autopilot. His mind was trying to keep up with the rapid developments. He couldn't bear the thought of saying, "Anne, wait..." but he
did
feel things were moving fast.
Then Stan had another thought. It had been half a lifetime since he'd needed a condom, so he didn't have any. They were clearly going to make love tonight, but if she had no protection, what then?
'Was she even on the Pill?' Stan wondered. 'What if she wasn't?' Well, the answer was obvious, if hard – 'We can't make love.' He felt a little easier, having made that decision. On the other hand, he knew he'd have to get some condoms, and
soon
– it wasn't fair on Anne to rely on her for protection without arranging for some himself.
By now they were at the top of the stairs, and Anne turned left at the landing to enter her room. Pulling himself back to real-time, Stan quickly took in the room. There wasn't a lot of space for manoeuvre.
Anne used what room there was. She turned, took Stan by the shoulders and pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed. Then she stood back in the doorway. Licking her lips, she slid first one, then the other strap off her shoulder and
shimmied
. The top half of the dress fell to her waist, revealing her lacy white strapless bra. She impatiently shoved her dress the rest of the way and it pooled at her feet.
Anne wasn't wearing panties.
Anne grinned at Stan, but he didn't notice. His eyes were firmly glued on the junction of her thighs, where narrow strip of dark curls were on show. With her legs together like that, he couldn't see more.
Stan's next distraction was caused by Anne reaching behind herself to unclip her bra. Having done so she allowed it to fall on top of her dress, before placing her hands behind her head. With her feet very slightly apart, Anne placed her weight on her left and crossed her right in front, twisting her torso slightly and inclining her head the opposite way, looking at Stan from under her lashes.
"Do you like what you doth see?" she asked Stan.
"God, yes, I love it!" Stan blurted.
Once again Anne smiled, this time widely, breaking her stance and putting her hands on her hips. "You, buster, are overdressed!" she told him and moved purposefully towards him.
Controlling himself, Stan began disrobing. While he was struggling with his shirt buttons he felt Anne's hands tugging on his belt. Before he could get the shirt completely off, she'd undone the belt and pulled it from the loops, letting go of the belt once it was free. He was still removing the last sleeve when she attacked the button and clip at the waist before unzipping his fly.
She pulled at Stan, getting him to stand. Stan held her for a moment, indicating for her to wait. He removed his socks and then stood, dropping his trousers. Anne knelt in front of him. Her hands went to his briefs and pulled the waistband out before lowering them to clear his penis.
Once he'd stepped out of them, Anne rocked back a moment. For over forty, with essentially a sedentary job and habits, Stan wasn't in bad shape. A paunch, yes, but not much of one. Thinning hair, but a nice face. Character lines of course, but they showed a man who smiled a lot.
