Pavlovs Kitty

It was nearly past time to wake her. She had napped for only about a half-hour, nude, as beautiful a sight to my eyes as any man could wish to see. She is my baby.

We had rendezvoused at our fav resort, a little known place on the white sands of the Florida panhandle, the "forgotten Florida". Me? Coming in from a 10 day business trip in Texas. She? From our home just north of Atlanta, in the foothills, where the Piedmont begins to clash with the southern Appalachians. Our two children were at summer camp, grandparents the emergency plan if needed. As the end of my Texas trip neared, I asked if she would meet me for a long weekend at the Dunes. More than agreeable, she made the reservation and drove the 6 hours south on Thursday, checking in just around sunset. I had a flight out of Dallas early Friday to Pensacola, from there a rental car drive of 45 minutes brought me to the Dunes... and her. She had called me that Thursday as she entered the room.

"Oh baby, I've just pulled the curtains, and the sun is almost down. It's just as gorgeous as last time. You gotta hurry!"

" I'm packing now , sweetie. Should be there about noon, maybe earlier."

"Find me on the beach, I'm going out early in the morning. Don't leave me alone too long,"she had teased.

And find her I did, like a creek to a river. She is Trish, my wife of 15 years, my love nearly my whole life. I am Sam, he of the average stature and success. We had grown up together, our parents being best friends then and still. We had run around nude together as babies, as our liberated parents smiled and approved. Children of the hippie generation, our moms often sunbathed topless together, watching us as we frolicked naked in the sun. It was Trish who had played "Doctor" with me at an innocent age. There is not a single thing we don't know about the other. We are absolute best friends as well as mates, parents, and fiery lovers, even after all these 40 years.

I had found her tucked away between some dunes, on her stomach, reading as I knew she would be. I whistled to her as I approached through the sea oats, both so as to not startle her, and in suggestive appreciation of her oiled-up legs and generous cheeks that lifted naturally toward Ra, the Sun God. She had dropped the book and rushed to meet me. Is there anything in this world more fulfilling to the soul than the unabashed love and affection of your true love. We had kissed long and deep, so excited to be in the other's arms after our ten day hiatus, she gazing at me with eyes that could never mask her deep affection , feelings for me that emanate from her core. I have always felt myself to be perhaps one of the luckiest-at-love men in the world. We had gathered her beach gear, she donning a light gauzy cover that reached to mid-thigh. Buttons down the front, she fastened just one just beneath her breasts, allowing the flesh to spill out over the top.

We had walked through the scrunching sand, back to the Dunes, to the cabana bar for lunch. I had not been to the room first, so I was still in travel clothes, slacks, hard-soled shoes, shirt with loosened tie. We caught up over our food, she.... a crab salad, me.... oysters-on-the-half-shell.

"You always order the same thing our first lunch here. You know those nasty things will make you horny, don't ya?"

"You don't say? I have heard that too!" I quipped, pulling the longneck away from my lips. Beer and oysters my first day, accompanied by an incredibly beautiful woman to boot, her large breasts encased in a too-small bikini bra, cleavage long, wide, and deep. I never get tired of admiring that soft womanly flesh. "What about that crab? Does it put a tingle in your stomach as well as feed it?"

"Don't need the crab for that... I get that from the sun, from the sea, all of it. From you... seeing you try to be casual in those clothes that I can't wait to rip off!"

"Soon baby, we'll finish here and you can show me our room. You can shower, and I promise to pamper you the afternoon long."

"Errr... by pamper, do you mean "pamper"? As in, should I put on my "pamper panties" after my shower?"

"Sure... would you like that? A nice long pamper session. You brought them, didn't you. And that secret little bag that accessorizes them so well?"

I love how I can still make her blush a bit after all these years. "I'm not sure." she teased, the blood rising in her face, knowing full well that I knew full well that she would have. "I think I may have tossed them in the suitcase."

"Bullshit on that, I know damn well they are up in the room right now. I'm surprised you didn't wear those bottoms to the beach, they are more bikini than panty anyway."

"They're too small for the beach baby... you know that! I can't wear them out!"

"Why not? They don't reveal much more cheek than what you have on right now?"

"You know damn well why not! ... it's not the cheek exposure, the gusset is too narrow for me to wear them out in public."

"Well, if you think so, but I know you love them, and know you love to wear them for me. And I love to see you in them."

"I know you do and why you do," she whispered at me. She bit her lip a little. "I must admit they did make the trip, just for you."

"And not for you?... I don't want this to be just about me.."

"And me too..." she bit her lip again. " I need it too baby, badly."

"And the bag?"

"It did too. C'mon... this talking has me ready, either that or the crab!" I knew she had reached the point where she now needed our special pamper session. She teases me to be the good girl, to take or leave this kind of conversation. But she is deeply sexual, not in a slutty sense, but in an innocent, Earth Mother way. A by-product of her upbringing, a hand-me-down from her mother, who is a sensuous woman in her own right.

"Okay Kitten, just let me settle the bill here." Kitten is Trish's role-name for our pamper session.

"Well, let's get that barmaid back over here, Pavlov!" That's me, Sam, soon to assume my scientific alter-ego, Pavlov.

As we waited for the credit card to go through, conversation turned more mundane. Trish mentioned she had brought the tennis rackets, and maybe we should reserve a court for later. Three women nearby overheard us, and spoke to Trish as we rose to leave.

"Do y'all play tennis?" the nearest one asked.

"Well, Trish plays a lot, but I'm more of a golfer than tennis. Too sweaty," I volunteered.

"Sweetie, would you be interested in joining us for doubles? We are here on a girlfriends holiday, but our fourth isn't feeling well and is in the room, unable to play. We would love for you to join us and be our fourth."

Trish does love the game, and is pretty good. "I'd love to," she replied, "what time do you have a court? By the way, I'm Trish, and this is my husband Sam."

"Nice to meet y'all. I'm Katie, this is Beth, and over there is Faye. Pam is our friend; too bad, she has been sick the whole trip."

Greetings all around between the girls, and Katie said, "We have the court at three, about two hours from now. "

I knew Trish was hesitating, she wanted her pampering now, was geared up for it, but two hours wouldn't be enough time to properly enjoy it before meeting these girls for tennis.

"Go ahead, baby," I offered, stepping into the conversation. "You have some fun with the girls, we'll go shopping a little later."

"Shopping?"... Trish was trying to figure out my ruse. "Are you sure baby?"

" What man doesn't want a good excuse to avoid shopping?" I joked.

Knowing she now had little reason not to accept the invitation, Trish replied she would be there at three. We said our goodbyes, and left the cabana.

"Why did you give me no reason to say no?", she punched my arm as soon as we were out of earshot. "You know you got me wet and ready back there. I need it sooner than later. Now we gotta settle for a quickie!"

"Settle down Kitten, what will be will be. Lead me to our pampering spa, and we'll see if we have enough time before you go."

"Pavlov... you're a bastard sometimes, but I love you anyway!" Trish giggled, as she led me up a flight of stairs to our room overlooking the ocean, fumbling for her passkey while I lugged her beach gear behind.

As soon as we entered, Trish led me over to the windows. "Isn't it just as lovely as I told you last night?" she asked.

"It's great, baby!" And it really was. An awesome view from the fourth floor, I could see a navy ship on the horizon. "Let me open these windows more." As I did, the salt air filled the room, and the stiff ocean breeze rippled briskly through the curtains. A perfect setting for our long-awaited sexual reunion, and we both knew it.

Trish wasted not a moment. She turned to me, approaching me slowly from a short distance, her hand releasing the single button on her cover that had held back the promise of bosom. She pushed me back to a sitting position on an overstuffed chair, perfect for what she wanted to do. She straddled my thighs, kissing me wildly, beginning a slow rub of her bikini covered crotch on my thigh. Leaning back to afford me optimum view, she began a tease of her breasts, holding them up from underneath as if weighing them, a single finger flicking each nipple through the flimsy fabric of the bra. Her cleavage was still coated in the sun lotion, and I could see traces of sand pebbles from the beach.

"Help me baby, they need to be free for a while, " she asked, moving closer, running her fingers through my hair. I reached for the single tie in the front and pulled. Sensing their own escape, they lurched as a single unit, the cleavage now allowed to widen, pushing the cups apart forcefully. All I had to do was barely loosen the tie, and her gorgeous tits did the rest themselves. Her large tips briefly hung on the fabric, but suspended as they were above my face, gravity did the rest. Her breasts tumbled and fell upon my lips, filling my senses with the taste and smell of soft feminine lushness. Instinctively, an aroused nipple sought my lips, finding the soft kisses waiting there, swelling in my mouth, anticipating the coming satisfaction of being thoroughly suckled. She moaned as my lips pulled firmly at the her teat, my tongue teasing the very tip. She pulled away briefly, offering me the other.

"She was getting a bit jealous of her sister," she grinned. I took it in like a baby would, hungrily, pulling at it with firm suction, seeking nourishment. Trish's breastfeeding days were long over, but I knew she missed those days of feeding both children and lover. She knew I missed them too, and she loved me to speak of it, to beg her for another child, another reason for her breasts to fill with warm milk, once again reliving the ability to offer me her essential bodily fluid.

I pushed her back upright, and reaching out, I cupped a soft tit in each hand. They are what any man would consider her best asset, and I'm on that list too. They are very large, but not ridiculously so, as you might see in Al Bundy's "Big'Uns" magazine. She is a D cup, has been since puberty almost. But what is so different about her breasts are their shape. Not grotesque, hugely-rounded orbs, the kind that seem in a constant state of cleavage. Trish's are much different, they begin at her chest with fantastic wide dimension, jutting out in a gradually decreasing slope of proportion. Their feminine swell seems to stretch forever, finally lifting as they begin to narrow, upturning lewdly as they end in her nipple plateau. Modest areola, not much more than an inch across, slightly darker than the breast itself, each formed into a slightly-swollen conical shape. Highlighted by very large nipples, darker in tone still from the areola. This girl was truly designed to nurse. Imagine the nipple of a baby bottle, large, soft, supple. Such are Trish's nips, permanently engorged with huge length and thickness, yet soft and responsive, able to swell a bit more during lovemaking, finally hardening to near bursting during her orgasmic release.

Whew! I know that was a large jumble of descriptive adjectives to take in, but I'm just trying to give them justice. And she comes by them honestly, another gift from her mother's gene pool. Her mother did a photo shoot for Penthouse in '71, when Trish was still a baby and nursing. I see those pics today in the souvenir magazine her mother gave her, and I am still stunned by how much Trish is a body double of her mother. Trish's mom told her the photographer referred to her breasts as "torpedo-shaped", and that is about as good of a one-word description as I can come up with too. Like her mother's, Trish's breasts are generously rounded, yet longer than they measure across. Beautifully curved, they seem to jut slightly outward from center. They turn up at the tips, ending in unusually large nipples. Torpedoes they are indeed. Torpedoes with very impudent nipples.

I kneaded them firmly, lightly tugging at each nip in turn, enjoying their visible response to my familiar touch. Tiny pebbles of sand fell from her cleavage onto my lap. I admired the progress of her morning tan, the dark-shaded contrast of where the sun went and where it didn't was delicious, causing a stir in my slacks.

"You're sandy from the beach, baby," I said, "oily too. You ain't getting in my bed like that, are ya?"

" Well, for one thing, that is my bed, dear. I slept in it last night, you're the johnny-come-lately on the scene. And for another, when has a little sun oil ever stopped you from getting in my pants?"

"Sand neither, now that I think about it," I grinned. "Hurry and shower, we don't have much time til your tennis date. I'll turn the covers back and wait for you."

She reluctantly removed herself from my lap and moved off toward the bath. She knew what she was doing as she stopped short of the door, back still turned to me, removing her gauze cover and shrugging off her loosened bra. She bent over slightly as she hooked her fingers in her panties, affording me a long look at her shapely ass as her cheeks popped into view. She straightened and stepped out of them. I was once again struck by the delightful contrast her tan lines provided.

"Gonna use a shower cap," she called out to me as I heard the water begin to run. "I don't want to have to dry my hair."

"Whatever you think, baby," I answered, knowing she probably couldn't hear anyway. I stripped off my clothes and turned the cover back on the bed. "Good girl," I thought. She had brought expensive silk sheets from home, and already had them on the bed. I took a small hand towel from the dresser, and then noticed the pile of swimwear she had left on the floor. I grabbed the bra and panty, and walked over to the bed. I propped all the pillows up in the center of the headboard, fluffing them into a good backrest. Leaning back into it, I covered my semi-hard genital with the small towel, spread my legs a bit, and settled into the bed. I looked at the bikini bra... 38D read the tag. God, she has got some great tits. I pulled the panties closer for inspection, I am an amateur scientist, remember? She had leaked in them quite a bit, I was sure it was from having her tits all in my face. The stain was not clear as I might expect, but slightly pearly. I smelled her strong feminine scent as I held them to my nose, causing my cock to twitch noticeably under the towel. I licked and sucked at the stain, but the fabric had absorbed too much of her fluid to offer much of a sample. I decided she was most likely ovulating, a good thing, cuz that is when she seems the most horny, and easily orgasmic. Having given up on the idea of having enough time for her pampering session, I awaited her for what I assumed would be an afternoon quickie. I was tired from the flight, I guess, or maybe it was the beer; but I apparently nodded off to sleep before she returned.

I awoke a few minutes later to the cooing sound of her voice. She was in the lower end of the bed, nude and on her tummy, she had cuddled up beside me and was planting little kisses on my abdomen.

"I'm sorry I took so long, baby. The spray just felt so good I hated to get out. Do we still have time for a panty party?"

I looked at my watch, a quarter til two. "Baby, you gotta leave in an hour, we barely got time for a decent quickie." We both hate quickies as a rule, preferring long lovemaking, usually with extended foreplay. "Do you wanna just nap a bit, and save for after you get back?"

"Can I still get the pampering session then?"

"You bet, babe. Just as long as you want and need it."

She dipped her tongue into my navel. "That might be a long time, baby. I think I'm ovulating."

"I think you might be too."

"You naughty lil boy!" she accused. "You been sniffing panties again?"

"Busted, again!"

She kissed my flesh down to the edge of the towel. "Let's just nap then, baby. Can I sleep down here?"

I knew what she meant. Our extended sexual play activities often took all day when we were alone without the kids. We would make love lazily, take a break and snack, nap, then continue the sex. Often the lines between sex and napping blended, we would sleep with our face near the other's genitalia, not yet quite willing to surrender the sex to sleep. Sometimes we would do this mutually in a sideways 69. But our favorite was to take turns, one of us propped up in the bed, the other down below, casually tending the genitalia of the other. It was mutually fulfilling, we both love to give as well as receive, and consider ourselves as treating the other no matter whose "turn" it was.

"Sure, baby, let me help." She raised up and moved down slightly, allowing me to move my left leg over her body. She re-emerged between my legs, pushing them a little further apart. She laid her face along my thigh, and settling in she stared at the now erect towel. I knew my balls were on display, and she gently lifted them, gauging their weight it seemed. I hardened fully, the towel falling away as my erect 7" cock came into view. It seemed to jump as her fingers reached towards my flesh. She held me delicately between her fingers, moving closer I knew she would sniff all around my privates. She has told me many times she loves the smell of maleness.

"Mmm... ", she cooed. "I love the way your cock smells, baby. It's all in my nostrils, and it smells so damn sexy. I can feel my pussy messing the sheet down there."

"Your pussy has probably been messing everything it comes in contact with ever since I called and asked you to meet me here!"

"You got me there, baby. Caught me at just the right time of the month, I guess. She needs to make a mess, and she needs it soon. And guess what, baby?" Trish turned slightly, for the first time bringing her lips to the soft underside of my leaking glans.

"What's that, babe?"

"I'm gonna need you to help her. When my pussy has her moment, especially the first one, I can tell it's gonna be big." She licked at my leaking precum, and continued. "She wants to showoff for you and only you. But she will need you to coax her, and assure her so as not to be embarrassed. I'm asking you now, baby. Get it all. No matter what I might say, or how shy I might seem to let her mess, please listen to her instead of me. She will let you know what she needs, even if I am unable to say it."

"Damn! Is this the same girl who was blushing back at the cabana an hour ago?"

Trish laughed at that. "You know I'm always a little shy in public, baby. Especially at first. But get me prone with a penis in my face, and I'm liable to say anything."

"And that, my dear, is exactly why I love you so much. There is not a woman in the world I would rather be with than you in this time and place."

She tugged again at my glans, which by now was leaking profusely. "Oh baby, you are making a mess of your own down here," she giggled. She pushed my penis down onto my abdomen pointing toward my navel, the precum quickly pooling there. She pulled my testicles up for a close inspection, kneading each one as a doctor might when examining for irregularity.