She Doesn't

Chapter 8. Champagne!

Champagne?

I watched as he buttoned his pants while moving out the door.

When he was gone, I sat up and looked at myself. I found blood on my thighs, and a blood stain on the towel (?) under me. Some blood had gotten on my panties. I straightened my clothes. My panties especially were all askew and had some blood on them. How had that towel gotten there? Then, realizing my purse was still by the front door, I found his comb (I wonder how long it had been since he washed it) by the mirror over the dresser and quickly combed my messy hair, restoring a small semblance of neatness.

I considered sitting in the easy chair, since it only held one person. Then I decided to return to the bed. I resolved in my mind that I wanted to do anything he asks me to . Even if it hurts . . . . .

It HAD hurt. Did I really mean

that resolution? Or had I just been made in the heat of passion? I didn’t know.

But the thought made me feel naughty. So I sat on the edge of the bed just as he was returning. He DID have champagne! Complete with fluted glasses and an ice bucket. He put the tray on the end table and, raising his hand and nodding slightly in a “wait” gesture, he stepped outside the door and returned immediately with a dozen red roses, which he presented to me with a flourish and a bow.

I melted as he gave me the roses! There was a vase with water on the dresser, so I put them there and turned to throw my arms around his neck. He held me close for a long time, whispering sweet things into my ear He was sooo sweet and seemed to say such nice things.

Finally, he whispered, “We don’t want the champagne To get warm, do we?” And with a peck on my nose, he turned To uncork to champagne. He examined the cork, then handed it to me and poured a small amount in a glass which he tasted. Satisfied, he picked up a fresh glass, filled it, and handed it to me. Still feeling naughty, I returned to sit on the edge of the bed. To my surprise, after he filled his glass, he sat in the easy chair.

We talked and I leaned on my elbow. His conversation was animated.

My champagne glass emptied quickly, and he took it to refill it. While he was pouring, I went to the dresser to smell the flowers. He came behind me and encircled my shoulder with his left hand while kissing the right side of my neck from behind. He slipped the champagne glass into my hand, then dragged his hand up my arm to my shoulder also.

He was kissing my neck while holding my shoulders from behind. Both hands were on my shoulders, considerably above my breasts. There was nothing improper

or

suggestive

about the way he was holding me. But somehow it felt frightfully erotic.

“Come, sit in my lap. I want to hold you,” he whispered into my ear and we moved to the easy chair. He sat in the chair and pulled me backward across the arm of the chair so that I was cradled in his arms. Putting my arm around his neck, I snuggled my face to his chest and we just sat there holding each other, talking about nothing in particular and sipping our champagne and kissing every now and then.

“Doing nothing” together felt awfully good, and after a while, the champagne began to go to my head, as I giggled a bit and felt a buzz coming on.

Gradually, without my even noticing it, the kisses began to change. He would kiss my hands, my shoulders, my neck, eventually my breasts. His hand came up to support my breasts as he kissed them. Then his hand slipped down to the edge of my sweater and moved upwards, under my sweater but over my blouse. His open hand supported my breast as his mouth gently nibbled at my nipples through the material.

At first, I didn’t realize when his kisses moved to the other breast that his hand didn’t. It was only as my stimulation rose, that I realized that one breast was receiving attention from his mouth, while the other was being stimulated by his hand. No man had ever touched my breast since that time in the car In high school. In the back of my mind, I considered stopping him, but it felt soooo goooood that I simply reveled in the sensation.

I don’t know when it happened, but the sweater was bunched up under my arms and he was kissing me directly through my blouse.

“Nooo!” I gasped as my hand flew to pull the sweater back down. His hand left my breast and took hold of my hand.

“Shhhh,” he whispered, and his kissed my lips. Then he transferred my hand to his hand that was around my shoulders and kissed me again.

“Shhhh, baby! There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He looked down at my blouse and lowered his lips to kiss my breasts. Then looking in my eyes, he took hold of the edge of my sweater and lifted it upwards and over my head. I could have fought him. He wasn’t holding my arm very tightly. At his urging, I lifted my arms, and the bulky sweater passed over my hands and fell to the floor. Again, he kissed my blouse, then my chin, nose. But I saw in his eyes that he really wanted to undress me.

I couldn’t let that happen. All of the old fears came pouring back to my mind.

Maybe I could distract him . . . take his attention away from my breasts.

“I know you don’t like panty girdles,” I started. “Do you like the girdle I have on today?”

“I don’t think you really need a girdle of any kind! I’d rather you weren’t wearing it.”

“Would you like me to take it off?”

I’d done it again! I was just trying to change the subject . . . to distract him! How can I have offered to take anything off? Maybe . . . just maybe . . . . he . . .

He nodded. “Yes! I would like you to take it off.”

Uhhhhh! I gulped. But I had made the offer. Should I? Could I? But he had asked me. And asked me very nicely. I had taken off my girdle before . . . so this would be nothing new. . . really . . . Did I really mean it when I decided I would do anything he asked?

I saw the indecision in her eyes. It wasn’t an important issue . . . the girdle was open, so it

could

remain in place.

There’s something about her breasts that has her spooked. They both felt real and unpadded, but a man can’t be sure any more. Whatever it is, she was willing to trade her girdle (maybe) to keep me from her chest. I waited for her response.

Her face relaxed as she came to her decision. Her eyes softened.

“Can I use your bathroom?”

Chapter 9. Laughter

As she stepped out of the bedroom door, she faltered. Then headed to the front door and I wondered if she was going to leave. But a moment later, I heard her pad down the hall to the bathroom.

When I heard the bathroom door close, Again, I heard the flush and the water running. I moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed. A few moments later, the bathroom door opened and she returned to me. She noticed I had changed places as she came into the room carrying her purse. She had taken a few moments in the bathroom to straighten her clothes again and comb her hair Her blouse was tucked snugly into the waistband of her skirt. She set her purse on the floor, on top of her sweater, then came and sat beside me.

I put an arm around her and kissed her. She put her arm around me and in a few moments, we were lying side-by-side on the bed in a passionate kiss.

“Welcome back,” I said, smiling into her eyes.

Her confusion was obvious as she sifted through the different meanings of my greeting. Finally, she selected an answer.

“Of course I’m back. Where else would I go?”

We kissed some more, and he held my chin as he kissed my lips. Gradually, his kisses and his hand together moved down my neck and down my chest kissing every inch of bare skin until he reached the top button of my blouse.

I stiffened as his kisses pushed against the fabric of the blouse, trying to find more skin to kiss. He must have felt my tension, because his hand and kisses moved over the fabric until he found my right breast.

After a moment, his kisses moved to the left breast, but again, he left his hand. I felt the double stimulation of having both breasts caressed at the same time.

Then, he kissed his way back up and I enjoyed his touch on my breast as we kissed. I enjoyed his hand on my breast! I was surprised that I enjoyed him manipulating my nipples, even through my blouse and bra. Then, I was surprised that I was surprised.

The movement of his hand below my skirt seemed like the most natural of progressions. Somehow I felt FREE, not having the girdle between us. It certainly made me aware of the trust I had for him, and the acceptance I was beginning to acknowledge of what our relationship had become.

His fingers danced over the nylon, eventually finding their way around the edges of the material and caressing my sweet parts. I basked in his touch as his fingers explored more of me, unfettered by the presence of the girdle. His finger found my navel caressing it and entering it. I never realized how sexy a navel could be!

His hand found the elastic waistband of my panties and slipped underneath, again doing wonderful things to me. I began to smile.

I felt a change in her as I moved under the waistband of her panties. It wasn’t that she was upset. If anything, she relaxed and seemed to revel in my touch. She had a smile on her face . . . almost a smirk.

“What?” I asked, uncertain of what was happening, and unsure of what I should do next.

“It finally happened!”

“What finally happened?” I asked, starting to withdraw my hand. “Did I do something wrong?” She quickly captured my wrist and returned it. Placing her hand over mine, she cupped my fingers over her pubis.

With a ‘cat that ate the canary’ look on her face, she explained, “It seems that a man has finally gotten into my pants!”

The ridiculousness of the statement, as well as its literal accuracy set us off and we both shook with laughter for what seemed like an eternity.

I can’t remember how long it’s been since I laughed like that! We were both rolling back and forth on the bed. Finally we were both lying on our backs gasping for breath. His hand found mine, and he whispered, “I really love you!” and our eyes met. We weren’t laughing any more.

Like magnets, our lips were drawn to each other, Our arms flew around each other, and our passions were soaring through the ceiling.

I was vaguely aware of my panties sliding down my legs and I kicked them off. Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter.

I felt his weight on me, and even though I knew I should be afraid of the pain, I just didn’t care. I wanted him! I gasped as he entered me and I heard him moan. His entry was almost violent. And it didn’t hurt! We both soared, and once again, I felt him grow even bigger and he exploded inside me. I felt my muscles grabbing him as he came, and my spirit soared as I basked in the pleasure I was giving him.

My GOODNESS!

I could get used to this!

We both lay there, neither of us moving, both our hearts returning to normal speed. I felt him gradually softening, still inside me.

Almost apologetically, he ran his hand down my side caressing my bare hip. “I’ve got to get this condom out before it starts to leak,” and his hand moved between us. “But there’s one thing you could say!” He smiled at me. “At least, I’m not in your pants anymore!”

“Oh, you!” I said as I playfully slapped his shoulder, and I felt him pull out of me, carefully taking the condom (and it’s contents) with him.

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