Estelle

Her smile turned her face into about a billion tiny wrinkles, and in that instant, she was truly beautiful, far beyond just pretty.

"I don't suppose," she said, her voice even more hoarse than usual, "that you'd like to do that again."

I hit her with the full high-wattage grin.

"Ask nice," I said, smiling up at her.

"Please," she said.

I opened my mouth wide and moved forward, covering her and then sucking gently.

"Oh, Jesus," she breathed softly, her fingers digging into my hair.

I pulled away, breaking my latch and drawing a soft moan from her.

With my fingertips, I parted her labia, brushing that long wet hair to the sides, and latched onto her inner lips like a hungry baby.

"OH JESUS," she hissed as I felt her delicate inner lips swelling.

She was flowing, the wonderful nectar of her natural lubricant running over my tongue, thick and hot.

She was trembling, her body almost shivering with her excitement.

When I moved just enough to let my tongue reach her clitoris and I flicked that hard little button that was the center of her pleasure, she exploded. I was being waterboarded with her release, and the way her fingers twisted in my hair, she was obviously enjoying this. I coughed, spraying her thick, salty love honey all over the place, and she laughed, her fingers still in my hair, her thick ejaculate wetting my shirt as she finished.

"OH FUCK," she breathed, her fingers twisting in my hair.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed a second time.

"OWWWW," I yelled as her fingers twisted, jerking me to her hard enough to almost bloody my nose when it hit her pubic arch.

"Oh fuck," she said for the third time, this time giggling as she released my hair and headed into the bedroom.

I followed her, enjoying the view.

She's one of those women who got "thick" after menopause. She wasn't fat in that soft, jiggly way some women, well, and some men for that matter, get. But between the years and menopause and the children she had borne, only the slightest hint of a waist remained. Her back showed a slight incipient roll at her shoulder blades, and I thought that in another decade, she could be truly fat. But that was in the future, and for now, she was, well, "thick."

Which is not to say she wasn't lovely.

The weight she carried, and I guessed it was probably about thirty pounds over what the doctor wanted her to weigh, gave that beautiful pink skin a smoothness that made me want to just touch her.

And that ass.

Damn, that gorgeous ass.

Her hips had spread enough that she didn't have the inverted heart of a younger woman's ass. But that shape, the beautiful square with those softly rounded corners bisected by her

gluteal cleft

was captivating. The barest hint of cellulite dimpling added, well, call it "texture," and, along with the hint of chub rub high on her inner thighs, made it interesting.

She knew it, too. She was walking in that sinuous way of a woman who likes being looked at. That was okay with me. I liked looking at her.

In the bedroom, she got businesslike as I watched. She pulled the bedspread and top sheet down, folding them onto the foot of the bed. Then she crawled up onto the bed, a bit artfully I thought, and struck a pose, her elbow on the bed and her chin propped on her elbow with her left leg bent at the hip, toes pointed, looking very fetching.

"Okay, Sweet Cheeks," she said, showing that smile that made her face beautiful, "entertain me."

I grinned and went to the little clock radio on her headboard. I fiddled and found 96.9, my favorite soft rock station, something I laughingly referred to as "music to fuck by." I adjusted the volume, Steely Dan was doing

Rikki

, to a level that I could hear it but it wasn't intrusive, and I picked up the beat, starting my striptease for her.

"Oh, yeah," she said with each button that I unbuttoned.

When I was unbuttoned, I untucked and swung the shirt over my had a few times and tossed it to her. She used it like a handkerchief, rubbed her face with it, inhaling my scent, and then tossed it into the corner.

"Take it all off, Baby," she said.

Now, there's no way to get out of shoes and socks as part of a striptease. So I did that awkward two-step and hop to get shoes and socks off and then picked up the beat again.

I tossed the socks to her.

She sniffed them, giggled, and threw them back at me, hard.

I unzipped and did a little walk-in-place move, working my hips to the beat of Julie London's

Black Coffee

as I pushed the pants down, leaving my boxers in place for now.

I was watching her face and could see how much she was enjoying my show. So I took my time when I was down to the boxers.

I have good balance. I should, after the hours I've spent in a Shaolin do

Daochang

, what you fans of

The Karate Kid

call a

dojo

learning to keep from being taken down in a fight. So, I converted the karate moves from katas into a dance.

"Ohhhh yeah," she said softly from the bed, and I watched, my hips moving in sharp jerks, side to side, as her hand slowly moved down her breast to her belly to nestle between her legs, playing with the long hair there.

I kept up the show through Peggy Lee's incomparable

Fever

. As that final verse began -

Now you've listened to my story,

I turned my back, put a shimmy into my ass, and worked the boxers down.

"Yeah, Baby," she said and surprised me with an ear-splitting whistle.

I turned slowly and as Peggy finished with that refrain - -

What a lovely way to burn

- - I moved toward her, one slow step at a time, my hip thrusting with each drum rift making my interest, my erection, bounce and pulling more "Yeah babys" from her.

"How may I please you?" I said in my best low, throaty, seductive voice as I leaned over and kissed her jawline just below her ear.

DAMN she looked good, and she knew it. Her back was arched dramatically, showing off her heavy breasts and round ass.

"Wellllllll," she said, her eyes lidded and, again, I'm certain she knew how sexy she looked right then, "if you're not in a hurry....." and she let her voice trail off.

"I'm NEVER in a hurry with a beautiful woman," I said, my voice matching hers, low and soft, the words breathed into her ear.

She lowered herself until she lay flat on the bed. She was lovely in that position with her ass on display, nice and round, and her breast pressed out to her sides.

"It's been a long time since someone tickled my back," she said.

Okay, that surprised me, but I DO enjoy giving a woman what she wants.

I got to my knees and moved so that they touched her side, right at her waist. With my left hand, I brushed her hair up, away from her neck, surprised slightly at how stiff it was, but then I realized it takes quite a bit of mousse or hairspray or something to keep hair that fine in the hairdo she liked.

I started at her neck then, right at her hairline, and tickled very gently.

I learned my back tickling technique from my great-grandmother with whom I spend summers in eastern Colorado. She was one of the all-time great back ticklers, and I tried to emulate what she had done.

I knew I was doing it right when I saw a trail of goosebumps where my fingers had been.

I knew I was doing it right when I heard her soft, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh my."

I knew I was doing it right when she squirmed a little when my fingertips reached that incipient roll below her shoulder blades.

I was absolutely certain I was doing it right when a fresh wave of her womanscent hit me like cocaine, making my already hard dick get even harder and start throbbing.

She squirmed prettily, her legs moving in a crawling motion, as I tickled the roundness of her ass and she hissed a sharp breath as I tickled from her tailbone to the

gluteal sulcus

, that line where her thighs met her ass, slowly dragging my finger down the line of her

gluteal cleft

, her ass crack. I watched, fascinated, as goosebumps spread from where I touched and the cellulite dimples disappeared as her skin tightened.

I almost got kicked when I found a particularly sensitive spot at the back of her knee where those tendons make such a cute little hollow.

I almost got kicked again when I tickled the arch of her feet, and she squealed a high-pitched sound and bucked beside me when I found how sensitive she was to having her toes played with.

When I completed with her toes, I used my hands on her ankles where I had the most leverage (thank you, Mr. Szymanski, my 7th grade science teacher, for introducing me to Archimedes and levers) to gently part her legs enough that I could get my knees between hers.

Now, I wasn't tickling, I was massaging. I started at her heels and used my weight on the heels of my hands to push up her calves slowly, being careful to push toward the heart to protect those delicate valves in her veins. I was already hoping we had the beginnings of a long-term relationship going, and I didn't want to be responsible for her varicose veins later.

I did that a dozen times, making her groan softly but clearly a groan of pleasure and intensity, not pain.

I scooted forward and did the same thing on the backs of her thighs. Here, she was heavy enough that I pushed a soft bow wave ahead of my hands.

When I got to her ass I continued moving my hands, pressing down, gently parting her cheeks.

I've always been fascinated with women's anuses. I don't know why, but there it is. As I spread her cheeks, I bent forward, blew softly, drawing a soft "Oh Jesus" from her, and then looked.

I suppose, given those overly white teeth, I should have expected it, but I was surprised when I saw that she had succumbed to the temptation to bleach her asshole.

There were no hemmerhoids or skin tags, common in my experience, but her pretty little starburst was very pink with no hint of staining.

I blew again, touched it lightly with my tongue, getting another "Oh Jesus" in response, released her, and continued with my massage.

Her back had soft fat deposits, and as with her thighs, I liked the bow wave of fat flesh my palms got as I rubbed up the thick ridges that lined her spine.

I worked up, and as my hands got to her shoulder blades my erection nestled nicely in the crack of her ass.

I finished her back with my fingers, working on those big

trapezius

muscles, my fingers now digging in, pulling more groans.

When I was done, I bent forward until my lips were right at her ear and asked, "Which type are you?"

She turned her head so her face was clear of the pillow and said, "Type?"

"Yes," I said in my best breathy voice, "Which type are you?" I repeated.

"Type of what?" she asked, seemingly truly curious.

"I've been told that there are two types of women when it comes to anal sex," I said. "There are those who love that deliciously full feeling they can get from a man in no other way," I paused for dramatic effect, "And there are those who lie and say they don't like it."

She giggled, the little trembling of her body under mine giving me interesting sensations.

"Welllll," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice, "I'm NOT a liar."

I bent to kiss the roundness of her ass and she moved, surprising me with the quickness of what she did.

She was on her back now, under me, smiling.

"I'm not saying 'no,' David," she said, "But the first time I want to see your face and kiss you."

I got untangled, kissed that long soft hair of her mons, and scooted forward.

As the head of my erection touched, I realized that we didn't line up at all. I guided myself down, she rocked her hips up, and suddenly I was inside of her where she was amazingly tight.

She was looking up at me with wide eyes, smiling, and in that instant, she was truly beautiful.

"Say you love me, David," she said, her voice very soft. "You don't have to mean it, but I like to hear it."

I moved slowly, supporting myself on my elbows until my hands could gently brush away the stray hairs from her forehead, until her face was framed by my hands pushing her hair back. I kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her lips, all very light kisses before I nuzzled that skin, so soft, at the bottom of her ear and whispered, very softly, my lips brushing her ear, "I love you."

"Mmmmmmmm," she hummed softly, "You gerontophile you, I can almost believe you."

I did it again, forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, lips, "I love you" whispered softly.

She giggled, a soft sound, "You granny chaser you, you're very good at this, aren't you?"

She moved her legs slowly as she said that, pulling them back until those big soft thighs squeezed on my hips and her heels dug into my ass.

"Say you love me," I said, "You don't have to mean it, but like to hear it," mirroring her earlier request.

Her eyes got even bigger, white showing all around those blue eyes.

"David," she said, "I haven't said that to anyone since I lost my Jimmy."

Forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, and lips, very soft kisses.

"Say you love me," I said, holding her eyes with mine, "and make me believe you mean it."

I held still, inside her, our bodies merged, joined in that way that makes a man and a woman a single unit.

The thing is, I meant it. Well, I liked her, there was no doubt of that, and I have never fallen for the love-at-first-sight bullshit. But I liked her, and I knew I wanted to see more of her. Hell, to put it in terms she would understand at that level you only understand if it's what you've been brought up with, I wanted to

court

her.

But for that to happen, she had to accept that this was more than just a hook up.

So I held her eyes, and held still inside her, and repeated myself.

"Say you love me," I said for the third time.

Her eyes turned red and shiny and overflowed, tears rolling almost gently down her cheeks.

I tasted salt as I touched her tears with my tongue.

Estelle, it turned out, was one of those surprising women who is pretty, hell, who is beautiful when she cries.

Forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, lips, tear streaks, and "Say it," whispered into her ear.

"David, please," she whispered, her breathy voice barely audible above as breathing was getting heavier.

Forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, lips, tear streaks, pulling away enough to focus on her eyes, holding her eyes for a long ten count, and, "Say it," whispered softly.

She drew in a deep breath, long and slow, and blew it out through pursed lips, long and slow.

She drew in a second deep breath, long and slow, and said, "I love you, very softly.

And exploded.

Her fingers hooked into claws and raked my back, making me wonder if she had drawn blood.

Her heels drummed on my ass hard enough to make me wonder if she was leaving bruises.

And she sprayed her orgasm as she screamed

"I LOVE YOU,"

loud enough to leave my ears ringing.

I covered her mouth with mine, inhaling her next scream as she came again, hot and sticky as she soaked my balls and thighs.

I inhaled, stealing her breath, and held her while she gasped, taking her air back.

Her entire body was clenched with her orgasm, and I held that position, not moving, feeling the tension in her body, waiting for it to pass.

She relaxed suddenly. Collapsed really. All of the tension left her body, leaving her as limp as a sleeping kitten.

Christ, she was beautiful, her eyes still open so wide, tears flowing freely now, smearing mascara, and her nose starting to run.

"You are SO beautiful," I said, kissing her softly.

Well, my kiss was soft.

Her arms reached up, one hand on the back of my head, the other digging into my shoulder blade, and the kiss turned hard, almost violent, as her tongue probed and her hips thrust.

All of my life, since I shed my virginity at, well, never mind, I have been the aggressor, the one in charge when it came to sex.

I didn't really know what to do.

Her hips thrust, taking what she wanted. Her fingers raked my back. Her mouth was aggressive, almost brutal with the kiss, and her tongue was a warm, wet thing, probing and taking what she needed.

She overwhelmed me.

Hell, she was almost raping me.

And I was helpless to stop my body from responding.

My ejaculation was powerful. I could feel those muscles, deep in my belly, the

bulbospongiosus and ischiocavernosus muscles

, clamp down, almost cramping. I swear, I could feel my balls squeezing.

I hissed my completion as she screamed, "I love you" again.

All I could manage in reply was an inarticulate "Aaaaaaaauuuuuuugggghhhhh," the same sound Charlie Brown made when Lucy Van Pelt pulled the football away.

I couldn't help but picture two dogs knotted up the way we lay there, entangled, her heels still digging into my ass as I sucked on the softness of her neck like a teenager leaving a hickey as we both came down from the high of what we had just done.

I wanted it to last.

This was far beyond any sex I had ever had. This went beyond the physical. Hell, this was spiritual.

I strained, arching my back, trying to keep our bodies merged.

But nature, or evolution, or whatever you want to call that hard-hearted bitch, had a different plan. As far as my DNA was concerned, my job was done, and it was time to recuperate for the next time.

So, despite my best efforts, I softened and slipped out.

She whimpered when I did.

I whimpered, too.

I managed to roll off of her, my muscles so slack that any movement was difficult, but I had to let her breathe.

"Oh, Jesus," she sighed.

"Oh, Jesus," I sighed.

I was surprised when I felt her fingers find mine and interlace.

We lay there, side by side, looking up, struggling to get our breathing back to normal, like two teenagers who had been making out.

I had to laugh a little as the thought ran through my mind - -

"What in the fuck do men my age see in girls my age?"

I didn't resist when I felt her slowly pull my hand to her lips and kiss each of my fingertips.

"Thank you, David," she said, "you did well by the old broad, but I won't hold you to anything."

"Thank you, Estelle," I said, "but unless you have high explosives handy, I ain't goin' anywhere."

She rolled up onto her side in a sudden burst of energy and smiled at me.

"You're serious, aren't you?" she asked.

"Well," I said, and I rolled up to mirror her position before laying my hand on her shoulder and gently pushing so she was on her back again.

"I like these sexy wrinkles," I said, tracing the circle of her eyes.

"Just

like

?" she asked, her smile coquettish.

I kissed her eyelids and said, "I love these sexy wrinkles."

I continued my inventory to include the wattle under her chin, the wrinkles at her armpits, her breasts and nipples, her cute little innie belly button, that cute little stretch marked pouch under her belly button, that long silky hair of her pubis, her full labia made even sexier by the way she was leaking, her thick thighs, and her pudgy knees, before finishing with her soft, plump feet. At each stage, I would say "I like," and she would reply, "Only like?" before I finished with, "I love."

After I finished with her feet, laughing when she squealed and squirmed when I did piggies-to-market on her toes, I crawled up to lay beside her, propped up on my elbow, my chin cupped into my palm. This time, it wasn't imaginary hairs that I brushed away from her face. It had been a pretty energetic lovemaking.

"Soooooo," I said, drawing out the long "O" sound, "tell me. Does a beautiful woman know the effect she has on men?"

She met my eyes, smiled a crooked little smile I liked, and said, "If I meet a beautiful woman, I'll ask her."

I grinned and said, "I already did, and I just met her."

"Oh, David," she said with a wider smile, "I have a calendar and a mirror."