(Part 2 of 3)
I was nervous all day Sunday, despite my experience of the night before. Just because I didn't find my own odors and tastes objectionable didn't mean Jem wouldn't. I was well aware a person might not be offended by the scent of their own body no matter how sweaty they got. But to smell someone else in the same state was like torture. Would Jem react that way to me?
Would douching myself help? Or dousing myself with perfume? Probably make things worse. I thought about calling it off but I have a stubborn streak that wouldn't let me back out. Eventually I settled on soaking in a bubble bath over the dinner hour. I confess to being more and more turned on as the time approached. It was tempting to explore myself in the tub but I held off.
Jem would need easy access so I decided on a skirt and no panties. But I put on a sturdy bra, a blouse and a sweater to protect the rest of my body. I considered putting on stockings to cover my legs but realized that might have the opposite effect. So bare legs it would be. I met him at the door in bare feet too. We weren't going anywhere except right to my bedroom.
The way Jem's eyes lit up told he was glad to see me. He was surprised when I took his hand and led him right to the bed. I guess he thought there would be some small talk. Or maybe he thought his reluctant test subject would need more persuading. But I had all day to persuade myself. This experiment was sure to end in disaster. But it was definitely going to happen.
Heart thumping, I laid back on the bed. My skirt bunched up around my waist as I spread my legs. For the first time in years my womanhood was on display for someone other than my doctor. Jem devoured me with his eyes. It was flattering the way he looked at me, openly lusted for me. He sat down at my feet and began caressing my legs. I stopped him.
"Just do what you came to do, Jem."
"Thank you for letting me try this, Betsy."
"I'm so nervous. Just do it, please?"
Jem leaned in and got to it, licking at my labia. I felt... nothing. I didn't know what I was expecting but it wasn't this. He was licking me like I was ice cream; no, he would have liked ice cream. He was licking me like he was being smothered with vagina and had to lick his way out. After several minutes of this I asked him to stop. I brought my knees together and sat up.
I felt terrible. So many things I had thrown away tonight: my friendship with Jem, any chance of him getting back together with Angela, loyalty to my departed husband. And for what? I didn't even get the sexual pleasure I foolishly thought would be mine. Even if I did, would it be worth it? Jem looked so hurt and worried it broke my heart.
"It's not working out, Jem. I'm very sorry. Please don't hate me."
"Betsy... do you remember yesterday when you were trying to explain how a woman masturbates?"
I was startled at his use of that word. But remembering my clumsy attempt at an explanation made me laugh. I'm such a dork.
"What I think you were trying to say is that your body knows what does and doesn't feel good when you touch it. So your hand knows where and how to touch."
That sounded so much better. In my defense the circumstances yesterday were different. And Jem had twenty-four hours to think on it.
"Betsy, Mrs R____, can ask you to do me one favor, just this once. Please, let me be your fingers. And just this once you tell me what does and doesn't feel good."
He pointed to his face as he said this. His handsome, earnest face. His soft full lips. His lips already soiled with the residues of my... my pussy. And he wasn't repulsed by this. Rather, he wanted back in, badly. I could tell by the pleading in his eyes that he wanted this more than anything. And for his sake, I did too.
Without a word I lay back down and spread my legs once more. He lay between them, this time pushing his crossed arms under my derriere to push my sex higher. Then he started in, slowly this time. He took some tentative licks and waited for my reaction. At first we played a game of "hot and cold" but before long I found myself giving him more specific instructions.
He followed my instructions very well. Softer, I told him. A little faster. Don't linger in one spot too long. I love those soft kisses, thank you. I led him through the geography of my pelvic region and he became bolder with every discovery. He found my clitoris but I warned him away. Save that for the last. Then, unbidden, he poked his tongue into my lips as if it were a tiny penis. Oh my.
As he explored, my hands began exploring on their own. I touched my hips, my thighs. I wanted to touch my breasts. Why was I wearing this stupid sweater? My hands found his head, this alien presence between my legs. I ran my fingers through his hair. He was flying entirely on his own now, knew where he was going and found his own path. I felt myself rising, rising, rising.
He must have known how close I was because he touched his tongue to my trigger and it went off. I bucked into his mouth. At my command he stopped licking and just held his tongue there while my orgasm crested and receded. I lay there spent and out of breath. This was better than my hand, better than my vibrator. This was better than anything, Forgive me, George.
"So that was good?"
"That was very good. Thank you. But let's get your face washed. I have a toothbrush for you."
"In a minute, Betsy. Right now I'm hoping you'll help me out with something."
He gestured to the bulge in his jeans. Again he startled me with his forwardness. But I knew by now he was probably hornier than heck. And he had taken good care of me. And, damn! Did he look sexy in those jeans. I had him pull off his pants and lie down next to me. He put his hands behind his head and let me pull his underwear down to his thighs. His penis was... beautiful.
I couldn't get my hand all the way around it. I tried to jack him but because it was dry I could only stroke him softly. For lack of any lotion handy I spit in my hand and made his dick wet with it. He liked that, I could tell. After a couple of times of this I could jack him off, from the big mushroom-headed tip down to the hairy base and his testicles. I squeezed those for him.
He shut his eyes and was humming happily, whispering encouragement that thrilled me. I certainly didn't need anyone to tell me how to handle a man's penis. And such a wonderful penis he had. As he approached his own peak I couldn't stop myself. I put my mouth over the tip. Still jacking him I stuffed more and more of him into my mouth. His groans filled the room.
Years of virginal frustration sprayed into my mouth. I swallowed it all up, not just out of habit or duty, but because I was curious how he tasted. His first ejaculation inside a woman. I wanted it in my belly. I kissed him on the lips and he returned the kiss. The residue of his juices on my tongue commingled with the residue of mine on his lips. This was my new favorite thing.
Shortly thereafter we were in the bathroom washing our faces. Obviously, I was feeling a lot better about things. It felt weird sharing the "his and her" sinks with a new man, weird but nice. After we swished with mouthwash I suggested he could take his new toothbrush home with him. He just winked and smiled, and put the toothbrush next to mine in the caddy.
"We should leave it here, just in case."
**********
I was feeling very guilty during Winter break. My beautiful daughter Angela was home from college and I wanted to spend every minute with her, hear every detail of her freshman experience. But part of me missed spending time with Jem. It wasn't just the sex. I loved chatting with him, spending time with him, cuddling... I hadn't realized how much I missed that contact.
We had adopted a routine of "study" nights on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Sometimes we actually did study. We also made dinner together, watched movies, talked for hours. Needless to say the evenings either started or ended with our faces buried in one or the other's naughty place. Sometimes both at the same time! I went from dreading his mouth on me to craving it.
