Wednesday Evenings With Babs Pt 03

A Brief Recap of Wednesday Evenings With Babs Pt 02

After losing his virginity to a forty-two-year-old woman who is a fellow employee where he works, nineteen-year-old James begins to deal with the aftermath. Incredibly, he is so sexually naive and clueless (some might say he was sexually 'retarded' or at least 'illiterate') that before that night he could not recall ever experiencing the sensations associated with ejaculation. He had still not discovered the joys of masturbation. On that night the light finally came on for him.

James quickly becomes a masturbation maniac, missing no opportunity to gleefully stroke himself and send his load flying. With each ejaculation he begins to develop the control needed to last longer, if only to prolong his own pleasure.

The experience with the woman has left him conflicted. On the one hand, he is filled with guilt along with concern over the possible consequences of the encounter. On the other, he is filled with an intense desire for more, just not with her.

He resolves to do whatever he must to put the affair behind him and uses masturbation to satisfy his needs, while trying to distract himself from thinking of the woman. The problem is that SHE is the object of his masturbation fantasies, and his resolve evaporates when, a week later, the woman he now refers to as 'Babs' calls to invite him to an 'encore' at her home.

During this second session, the week of 'masturbation conditioning' pays off when Babs gets off first. She then tells him to 'Take me!' and 'Enjoy me! Egged on by this verbal encouragement, he savored his release 'down to the last drop of cum'.

A third session takes place on the following Wednesday, during which Babs introduces him to doggie style. During the week he had shaved his pubes after noticing hers, and it made the experience all the more intense. He immediately falls in love with the position, declaring it to be the 'very definition of FUCKING in all caps'.

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The Fourth Session Wednesday, November 6, 1968

Like a leaf falling off a tree in autumn, October 1968 fell off the calendar.

The fourth session was...how can I put it... epic maybe?

For the third time, Babs met me at the door in her bathrobe. As soon as she closed the door and threw the deadbolt she says "Hey, when I got home today I felt the need to shower. I could have done it right away but I wanted you to see if you would like to join me."

I had to give it to her. She had a well-developed talent for language gymnastics. She was the kind who could tell you what she wanted and make you feel like it was your idea. Even the phrase 'wanted to see if' was just her way of saying 'C'mon Bucko, get your clothes off and let's get in the shower'.

Smiling I replied, "Sounds like a great idea to me". And ooh-la-la it was!

I could tell Babs was beginning to feel she could trust me. This time I was treated/rewarded to a playful side of her that I had not previously seen. Frankly, it was one that I didn't think she had the capacity for.

Just before turning the water on, she donned a shower cap and then offered me one stating "I hate getting laid with my hair wet". She then ripped the robe off and with a big smile, flung it across the bathroom. Chuckling she said "There are days when I get so tired of having clothes on. I just want to be naked, naked, naked 24-7! Sometimes on weekends, I'll spend Saturday and Sunday with nothing on but a pair of slippers! Well, maybe sometimes a pair of panties too!"

Wow! She never talked like that before!

She playfully swats me on my ass, smiles, and says "C'mon, let's get our asses wet!" Feeling emboldened, I swatted hers in return and shot back "As long as I can dry YOUR ass off when we get out!" Whereupon she spins around, glares at me in mock annoyance, then breaks into a smile. "I'll have to think about that! It depends on how good a job you do of WASHING it first!"

The mist created by the warm water of the shower quickly became so dense that had a peeping Tom opened the door to the bathroom to spy on us they would not have been able to see much. But they might have heard quite a bit in the way of sounds. Sounds that would have been amplified by the lousy acoustics that characterizes all bathrooms with their hard walls and floors. They might have heard our giggles. The sounds of 'umm' as our tongues probed the depths of each other's mouths. The sounds of our playful banter as we repeatedly patted each other's wet asses.

"You like my little ass, don't you?" she asks.

"What's not to like?" I shot back.

However, they would not have seen me soap up her tits but might have heard her giggle as she pressed them against my chest, playing a sort of chest bump slip and slide. Nor would they have seen her soap up my cock and stroke it with her hands, leaving it so erect that at one point she draped the wet, soap-soaked washcloth over it as though it were a flag hanging from a horizontal flag pole.

'This... is heaven' I thought to myself.

Then she did it. I mean REALLY did it. She drops to her knees in front of me, and for a few seconds her mouth covered the head of my cock and her tongue swirled in circles around and around it. This lasted probably less than ten seconds, but it was just a tease. A sneak preview of 'cumming' attractions. I thought to myself 'Hmm... Maybe THIS is what the shower is REALLY about'. She stands up and reaches behind me to shut the water off. Our eyes locked as the last of the water dripped from the shower head.

Drying each other off was another exercise in playfulness. Note the phrase 'drying each other'. The towels we had were not to dry ourselves off, but to dry EACH OTHER off. At first, our hands and arms kept interfering with each other's efforts, but that became part of the fun. At one point I got down on my knees in front of her and began drying off her legs. This gave me a front-and-center view of her bulging, perfectly shaved pubic mound. It also drew my attention to something I had not previously noticed... her thigh gap. During our previous little get-it-on get-togethers my own focus had been on getting my cock between those legs and into that pussy rather than examining it and its surrounding anatomical characteristics.

At that moment I was immediately filled with an urge to bury my face between those legs. The bulge of her pussy coupled with the gap was... well... mouth-watering. I wanted to seal my mouth over that soft mound and probe it with my tongue. I wondered what it would smell and taste like. It is a measure of how truly sexually ignorant (or maybe innocent) I still was that I wondered if she might think I was 'weird' to want to do such a thing to her let alone actually do it. WAS it weird for me to have that thought? How might she react if I tried? It seemed so kinky. Today I shake my head in amusement at recollections of such things.

Once again were up on our knees in bed, hands everywhere at once. Apparently, this was her favorite way to initiate foreplay as this is how each previous session had begun. This time the contact of our freshly showered bodies was particularly glorious. It was as if the soap and water had exposed and made every nerve ending more responsive than ever. It was so much so that I whispered "This feels SO GOOD... wow." "Yes it sure does" was her reply.

After several minutes of this heavenly exercise, she nudges me in a way that suggested I lay on my back. And then...

Instead of straddling my crotch as she had done before, she climbs on top of me in the 69 position. I was stunned by this move. Her pussy, the 'kinky' thoughts of which I had entertained only minutes before, is now just inches from my face (and mouth). And you know, I had never really given thought to what a person's rectum looked like. Who would spend time trying to visualize that? Yet there, just above her pussy, was hers.

At that moment an incredible experience began to unfold. The sneak preview I had received in the shower now became the feature attraction as she sealed her lips over the head of my cock and began swirling her tongue all over it like it was an ice cream cone. Wonderful as that was, at that moment I was more than distracted by that which was literally 'in my face'. Her pussy was not only a distraction, it was a temptation, a raw challenge, and a decision that had to be made.

Finally, instinct, not a conscious choice, pushed me over the edge. If I was wrong about what I was about to do, fuck it. It wouldn't be any crazier than the fact that I am here in bed with a woman more than twice my age who is in the process of giving me a blow job.

From the instant my tongue touched her labia I was hooked. Completely and irreversibly hooked. I grabbed her ass cheeks and buried my face in her pussy. It was a total commitment from my puckered lips, my probing tongue, my gently nibbling teeth, and even my nose. Yes, it WAS kinky, and that's what made it so exciting. That her pelvis immediately began to writhe and squirm in response told me all I needed to know about whether I had done the right thing. I had done something she wanted. Something she needed. It was so all-consuming of my focus that I didn't notice that my cock was so far up her throat its head was all but tickling her uvula. French kissing Lizzie was child's play compared to this.

Though our oral connection was snug and its motions rhythmic, I could sense that she was trying to push her pussy even more firmly against my face. That 'pussy press' along with the increasing frequency of her pelvic rocking should have been clear signs of the effect my mouth was having on her. But it was not until she began to lift herself up bit by bit until my cock slipped from her mouth that it became clear it was getting to her in a big way.

Now up on all fours, she was able to exert all the grinding pressure on my mouth she wanted. For her, awareness of anything and everything had narrowed to our point of contact. Little yelps and whimpers issued from her mouth as the juices from her pussy mixed with the saliva from my mouth. It was as if she was climbing a ladder, rung by rung, and at the top of that ladder was the delicious moment of relief her entire being desperately desired and needed.

Just when it appeared she was about to give up in frustration, she reached up and grabbed that final rung. Things I had seen, heard and felt from her during previous orgasms began to occur, only with an intensity that was off the charts in comparison. Her usual, relatively tame sounds of relief became a loud, throaty, primal growl... "AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! OH GOD! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! OH SHIT! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! OH FUCK! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! Her pelvis was pressed so firmly against my face and rocked with such violence I thought she might suffocate me. As her orgasmic spasms began to subside her body shuddered again and again and again. Finally she collapsed to her elbows in exhaustion as post-orgasm tremors continued to ripple through her body.

After catching her breath, she lifts herself up, swings her body around, and looks at me with a facial expression I'll never forget. "Were you really a virgin before me?"

"Why... why of course I was... why...why would...."

Cutting me off, she proceeds to finish my question. "Why would I ask you that? It's really simple. You ate me like you had been doing it all your life! Did you stop to eat your mother's pussy on the way out her womb?!" I suppose I should have been pissed off about that last crack, but given the circumstances, I had other things distracting me from such concerns.

My lips, cheeks, beard, and even my nose were soaked with a mixture of Babs's pussy juices and my saliva. In spite of that, maybe because of it, she proceeded to smash kiss me on each of those spots. Like the second hand of a clock, she began a clockwise kiss attack. First my lips, then my right cheek, my right beard, left beard, left cheek, my nose and finally one more lingering kiss on my lips. She then pulled back and that amazed look returned. Softly she says "Well all I can say is you have a natural talent for it! Holy shit, boy! My vibrator isn't that good!"

Maybe she really meant what she was saying. Maybe not. It didn't matter. Score one more for Babs. I have been a pussy munching fool ever since that night.

When my still stiff-as-a-fence-pole cock brushed against her navel, she glanced down at it and declares "Looks like I still have some work to do." She began a slow migration downward with her mouth. My nipples became nibble and kiss targets. My navel felt the moisture of her tongue. Then a tantalizing series of kisses around the base of my cock and my load-swollen balls.

With an almost hypnotic gaze, she looked at me as she slid her lips up and down the underside of my shaft. After a half dozen or so of such round trips she flicked her tongue on my frenulum. Then, apparently deciding it was time to finish me off, she sealed her lips over the head of my cock and began swirling her tongue all over it. The full, soft lips I had seen at the office sporting the pink lipstick so popular at that time. The lips whose impulsive kiss had started all of this. The lips that had served as the gateway to her mouth for my tongue now became the welcoming point for a genital volcano on the verge of a massive eruption.

I wasn't sure how far she might let this go, and I wasn't going to be able to hold out for long. Frankly, after witnessing the effect that my own oral efforts had on her I wasn't even going to try. It was my turn. She owed me, and one way or another I was going to collect. The only question was where would my cock be at the moment of release and relief? Would she whip it out of her mouth so that my load would leap over her shoulders, or perhaps upward into her hair or even her face? Would she point my male machine gun at me and have it empty its creamy ammunition on my abdomen and chest? Or would she hold steady as I drained myself in her throat?

In the warm pocket formed by her lips, her tongue continued its swirling action. On two occasions she effortlessly deep throated my seven inches all the way to its base, held it for a moment, and then slowly came back up to resume her tongue swirl. As if I needed any more stimulation, the sight of her retreating from that second deep throat along with that look in her eyes suddenly lit an already short fuse.

"I'm about to cum...ooh uh...Here...uh...here...ooh...uh...HERE IT COMES!" Impulsively my hands reached out to grab the back of her head but I stopped short when she deep-throated me again in reaction to my 'notification'. She held firm as cum shot after cum shot after cum shot exploded into her mouth. Just as my tongue lashing of her pussy had produced an uninhibited soundtrack of groans from her, my own 'audio' was equally over the top. AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! FUCK! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! AWWWWWGGGHHHHHH! FUCK!...FUCK! My toes curled from the physical and psychological intensity of the moment.

For a few unforgettable seconds my penile fury was fully unleashed and yet she never wavered. She just took it and took it and took it without so much as a single cough or choke. When there was nothing left for my balls to give she slowly lifted her head, letting my now limp cock fall out of the warm environment her mouth (and throat) had provided for it. As she did this, a wave of 'load overload' escaped and ran down her chin. She did not seem to be in a hurry to wipe it off, even as it began to drip and form small deposits near the base of my cock.

That steady gaze returned to her eyes. Softened a bit by the slightest hint of a smile, the combination produced an enigmatic expression. What thoughts were just behind those penetrating blue eyes? Had I, this rank amateur lover boy toy, really succeeded in satisfying her as she had claimed? Was she feeling a quiet, even smug satisfaction after witnessing the effect of her oral aptitude on me? Or was something else on her mind? Something that had absolutely nothing to do with what we had just shared? No matter what it was, I dare not inquire about it. Better I thought, to simply enjoy the moment, and not spoil it with such questions. So overwhelmed by this experience, all I could do was gaze as if in a daze right back at her.

As if to punctuate her mastery of the blow job, she scooped up the small cum spots that collected on my pubes, and proceeded to lick them off her fingers as if they were cake icing. Breaking into a smile, she opened her mouth to show just how cum saturated her tongue and teeth were. I could not help but break into a smile of my own. 'She's a cocky little cunt' I thought. When she wants to let it show, she CAN be a fun little cunt, and a cocky little cunt too'! 'Cunt'? Did I just look at a woman and use the term 'cunt'? Even if it was just a thought, using 'cunt' as part of it surprised me.

Then a moment of genuine, spontaneous humor broke out. She attempted to speak, and she sounded like she was trying to talk and gargle at the same time! I guess that's what happens when a woman's vocal cords are coated with seminal fluid. Even her resulting laugh was garbled. She managed to spit and choke up the words "Excuse me, I have a little personal situation I need to give attention to." Laughing in response, I replied "I have no idea what you are talking about".

Springing from the bed, she made her way to her master bath. Though I could not see her, I heard the sound of running water followed by gargling and spitting. As the faucet continued to sing, I too leaped from the bed and walked into the bathroom to find her wiping off her crotch with a soapy washcloth. Seeing me behind her in the mirror, she turned around and said "I bet you need to clean up a bit yourself. She proceeded to use that same cloth to wipe my crotch. She turned around to rinse and wring it out, and when she did I reached out, wrapped my arms her waist, and pulled her close. A bit startled, she put the cloth down, turned off the water, rested her arms on mine, smiled, and seemed to melt into my embrace.

The reflection in the mirror was graphic. For the first time, we saw what we looked like together, really saw it. The stunning contrast of a young man and a mature woman separated by a generation's worth of years and life experiences. I rested my chin on her shoulder and in response, she tilted her head slightly towards mine. We stood there in utter silence, transfixed by the image in the mirror.

Locked in the moment, the most farfetched notions began to enter my mind, maybe even more farfetched than the reality that was right in front of us. You might say it was a series of unspoken 'What ifs'. What if this could become more than us just hidden away in her bedroom and screwing each other? What would it feel like for us to get dressed for a night on the town, and openly walk arm in arm down the proverbial 'Main Street'? Or put on our blue jeans and plaid button up shirts, and walk hand in hand on a Sunday stroll in a park, pausing now and then to share a kiss in full view of anyone there? Dinner in a romantic restaurant? Why not?

And what about the optics of it? What if we happened to encounter any of our co-workers as we were out and about? Would we squirm in self-consciousness, or would we feel a smug satisfaction about the gossip that would most certainly erupt?

As these pie-in-the-sky fantasies flowed through my head, I leaned down and gave her a little peck on her neck, and she seemed to settle even more snugly in my arms. "Tonight was absolutely wonderful" I told her.

With our eyes still riveted to the mirror she softly replies "Yes it sure was..."

Was this 'moment in the mirror' a tipping point? One that would lead to even more wonderful things? She had been so lighthearted and playful this time. And just when it counted the most she became one incredibly hot, fun little fuck.