(A purely pronominal tail)
*
An absolutely unique first in her life! Yielding up her virginity was something she had long since given up hope of doing - yet in the event - ten minutes ago! - it had been so easy as to be unremarkable.
She lay face-down in a lust-drenched stupor, spread-eagled, her pelvis atop a large big pillow. Looking sideways at the big wall mirror she watched him kneeling between her thighs, a look of utter fascination, bordering on adoration, on his face as he stared down into her private regions. Why didn't it embarrass her, this being so open and wantonly displayed?
He was watching, and she was feeling, his oily fingers penetrate her in a slow, ecstatic rhythm. Her personal satyr? His cock was still solidly erect, glistening with her secretions and the oil: in the last few minutes it had been far up inside both her pussy and ass, so deeply into her bottom that she had actually been aware of a second sphincter being massaged, loosened, opened, penetrated.
Now, amidst the glorious sensations of having surrendered so completely and having been invaded so nicely, she was muzzily contemplating what she might eventually do to that cock with her mouth.
But the hands occupied most of her attention just now. She was incredibly wide-open, totally vulnerable, but felt perfectly safe, infinitely comfortable, as three fingers of his right hand slid repeatedly all the way into her bottom, turned inside her rectum, stroked the backside of her womb, pressed lovingly on her G-spot. Simultaneously, his left hand did the same with her pussy, his thumb all the way inside to waggle her cervix, fingers cupping her clit, rolling it and her dark, long inner lips in the oil. She was impossibly full, but felt an urgent need for more, more, MORE. Overload seemed unreachable - more was good!
She was astounded at herself, and, when she could generate a coherent thought, inordinately pleased. Forty-three years old, chair of the university's art-history department, Swiss national and world citizen. But until an hour ago (MyGod, so much happening, changing, in just one hour!) no man had ever laid so much as a finger on her body sexually - or sensually - least of all between her legs. No man had ever expressed any interest, at least none that she'd either recognized or picked up on.
She was honest enough to admit to herself that she was mostly responsible - she and her cloistered, repressed upbringing that rendered her afraid of the entire outer world, men most especially. She was a perfect scaredy-cat: the Americanism fit her well. Except in her intellectual specialty, where she was a tigress.
This present situation was perhaps the strangest thing ever to happen in her life - and the most profoundly exciting, too - this man kneeling between her legs, staring into her crotch with delight, this man who was changing her universe so profoundly and with such unexpected cooperation from herself. And this man had only made his first, veiled suggestion of interest twenty minutes before they had found themselves naked together, here in her apartment! Astonishing, indeed, the speed with which all this happened!
She reminisced as the hands continued doing their wonderful intimate things to her. He worked her body so quickly, so sensitively, so intensely that she had no chance whatever to back down, go reticent, or even consider saying 'no', 'slow', or 'stop'. Even mere reluctance was not an option with him, and "NO!" was utterly unthinkable. Just what she needed, perhaps - a lack of choice? No, not that! She had known throughout that he would instantly honor any serious "NO!" or "STOP!" The idea of "ENOUGH!", however, was definitely debatable!
God but she felt wonderful - sex must be a drug, it was certainly mind-expanding stuff. He had begun by giving her two monstrous, wrenching orgasms with his mouth. Then, before she even recovered her breath, he'd found supplies in her bathroom, amidst the mess of packing for her return to Europe - baby-oil, razor, foam, even her little battery-powered vibrator, a most private possession indeed: nobody in the entire world knew of it, yet he seemed strangely pleased that she had one.
By the time her breathing was under control, he had her crotch half-shaved, enroute to matching his own smoothness. When he finished, a re-application of his mouth to the newly clear-cut areas had shown in two seconds flat why she was going to be an addict to pubic nudity henceforth. And his instant love-affair with her long, protruding inner lips, lips she'd always thought somewhat deformed, left her amazed and hugely happy. Then, clean-shaven and not allowed the tiniest bit of embarrassment or hesitation, there came a whole string of mini-climaxes as she learned - oh, so quickly! - to straddle him for their combined pleasure.
He was insatiable for deep contact, and she didn't argue. Between cock and tongue games, lavish applications of oil let him explore her bottom and pussy with multiple fingers, thoroughly, deeply, causing her nothing but pleasure. Then he'd invaded her bottom with that incredibly hard cock, accurately reading her permission and readiness from body language even though she didn't really know consciously what was being proposed.
He had entered her bottom like a hot, cylindrical glacier, slowly, and utterly irresistible - but there'd been in her body no trace of resistance, just willing enthusiasm overlain with eagerly-to-be-discarded ignorance. With his arms and legs wrapped tightly around her, they had -together, as co-conspirators- used her butt to their combined pleasure: half-way to his own first orgasm he'd put the vibrator into her hand, placed it alongside her clit, turned it on. She didn't even consider refusing: embarrassment and hesitation no longer existed.
He spasmed around and inside her as if in the throes of some monstrous earthquake, a sexual grand-mal seizure. She was certain she could feel not just his cock-spasms but the actual spurts of hot, thick semen far up inside her bottom. What a hopeless place for sperm! Then, as his powerful shaking subsided, she'd echoed it and come again herself, violently and prolonged.
Afterwards, they lay there cuddling deliciously for a few minutes, her brain incapable of thought through its rosy internal glow, until he put her up on the pillow this way. Was he actually insatiable? And for HER? - such a nice compliment! So improbable, so unexpected.
She watched in the mirror: his fingers came out of her bottom leaving a huge aching void. Again together they gripped and directed his erection, dropped the tip to settle against her anus. She shivered urgently, comfortably as the long, thick shaft disappeared from view into the thoroughly prepared receptacle, relieving the emptiness-ache completely as the slithering made more lightning in her skull. Then he was close atop her with his pubes hard against her bottom, her protruding self-described "ugly bottom" - that he nevertheless seemed inordinately attracted to. Perhaps her self-evaluation, her opinion on her butt, was erroneous?
He slid her vibrator-hand down to her clit again, began to pound into her delicately but with a huge barely-contained strength, reminiscent of a locomotive working to Ravel's Bolero. In the wall-mirror she watched his face turning pink, contorting, sweat droplets shaking from the tip of his nose. Felt the knotty tightness of his body, tried to help by clamping down hard on his cock with all her internal muscles. That effort produced extra shiverings in them both, but no climax for him. She wondered if he was at one of those points she so often hit, where the needed tension was almost impossible to obtain?
His hands slid beneath her chest to tweak her nipples - she truly didn't have significant breasts - part of her long-standing self-deprecation. But he genuinely didn't seem to care, just went for the nipples. Those, she found, worked just fine.
She watched in the mirror for another minute as he strained, then said over her shoulder "Could I perhaps turn over onto my back? So I can actually watch you, see your face, as you have your orgasm? I'd like that very much."
He guided, they managed just fine. Propped on his arms above her, eyes closed, he shivered and shook for the longest time, then, abruptly, his eyes snapped open and stared right into hers - as if his soul were being launched into and through her own, using the eyes as windows. He quit breathing entirely as he came with an intensity that anywhere else, doing anything else, would have convinced her he was dying in agony.
More sperm-jets, far up inside her bottom. And then the luscious, long slow collapse against her chest and belly, her bottom clamped tightly round his cock, refusing to let him escape, abhorring the emptiness that would result. She wrapped him as tightly as she could in both arms and legs, sought his mouth with hers.
How had all this come about? Through an odd chain of events ... events so innocuous at their inception, the consequences so slow to develop. They'd met two years ago in their daily early morning yoga class, and become casual intellectual friends, nothing more. The last few months they'd taken the same bus from yoga to the university, and conversation had expanded.
He thought her pretty enough in her early middle-aged way, bright-eyed and quick, clear skin, great carriage, body flexible and strong, soft spoken to the point of inaudibility most of the time. She was utterly flat-chested but as a bottom-man he didn't mind - her butt was solid, shapely, slightly prominent, and quite worthy of watching closely when the opportunity arose during class. Her slight mousiness was emphasized by a little overbite: uncaring of her appearance, she somehow managed a sort of refined European-esque chic unkemptness underlain with a twinkle of shy gamin flirtatiousness that could send out flashes of hidden sensuality.
A few weeks ago she'd told him that she was going to return to Switzerland, to a new faculty slot, after her 24 years in the US. Her trans-Atlantic move -now scheduled for just three days hence- came up again on the bus-ride this morning, and she asked, tentative as always, whether they could continue the conversation over coffee at her usual morning cafe - if he had the time and inclination?
