Here is some more from Grace and Brian, as they settle into their new life of domestic bliss together.
Disclaimer: If your name is Philipp Kirkland, I'm sorry. Nothing personal. I had to name the bad guy something.
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Life was much different in the new apartment.
For one thing, we didn't crash into each other as much as before, not that it was a bad thing to bump into her. We just did it now intentionally. Grace would often drag her big tits across my back as she passed, despite there being plenty of room behind her.
"Oops. So sorry about that, honey," she smiled, obviously not sorry at all.
Well, two can play that game, can't they?
Reaching around her to get something easily accessible was my move. Pressed firmly against her rump, and usually sporting at least a semi, I would whisper a gratuitous apology in her ear, while looking down her cavernous cleavage. She would just giggle, and try to get her breasts in my way, forcing me to manually move them.
In other words, we were looking for excuses to grope and tease each other, on a daily basis. Not that excuses were necessary. With my parents thousands of miles away, we had no reason to hide our feelings for each other. Old habits do die hard, but replacing them with new ones can be fun.
Lots and lots of fun.
Saturday mornings were a perfect example. More often than not, Grace was still asleep in my arms, as she only worked when she was taking someone else's shift, as a favour.
Since I was well past getting up to watch cartoons, we would do something animated together, and it normally began with my soft, sexy darling slithering south. From under the sheets, I would feel her tongue licking my morning wood like a stick of candy, before moving to more direct stimulation.
I've said it before and I'll say it again; my sexy nurse gives one hell of a blowjob.
Slow, languid, and unhurried, she would suck me, gradually bringing me to the top of the metaphorical mountain, until I was teetering on the brink. She would then hold me there, balanced on the knife edge, until I was begging for release. Thankfully, she was a nurse, trained to ease suffering.... and she rather enjoyed the feeling of my hot load trickling down her throat.
There was more to our new arrangement than just sex, of course. I had plenty of thinking to do.
When we had gone on our first hike, Grace had confessed a past that she wasn't proud of. It was well and truly history, having ended a decade ago, and the only possible effect it could have on us was a good one.
My personal feeling is that we.... men.... have a problem with what we want. We want our cake, and to eat it too. We want one woman in public, and another in the bedroom. It seems like we enjoy, even relish, the dichotomy; the vestal virgin of virtue we show Mom, who miraculously becomes a thousand-dollar-a-night call girl in the privacy of our bedroom.
Well, I may be young, but even I know we're not born with an innate knowledge of how to make the opposite sex scream in pleasure. It's a learned process. Isn't that the most obvious reason for choosing a mature lover in the first place?
So, I decided to just accept the gift of her well experienced past. She had chosen to provide her attention and love to me alone, and I wasn't going to complain about how she learned to be such a fantastic partner.
No, I would just be grateful. Grateful she had learned.... grateful she had made her decision.... grateful she had chosen me to love.
Since I had chosen her as well, this is the point when I let her lay back, relax, and enjoy my own oral attention. I needed recharging time anyway, so why not make that time productive?
So, I took my place between her thighs. She put one arm behind her head, propping herself up so she could see what I was doing. Even then, her big boobs blocked most of her view, save the slice of clear space in the valley between them.
I remember when Grace had been helping me with my physiotherapy. Perhaps 'inspiring' would be a more accurate word. She had taken her panties off, and put her pussy in the way of my foot, urging me to rub my instep against her. It had been a symbiotic agreement; I wanted to touch the thick, outward-pouting lips I could see down there, and she was desperate to cum. Ever since then, her dangling labia had been a particular favourite of mine.
I just loved running my tongue between the lips, and tasting the yummy juices that always seemed to greet me. I would suck on each lip individually, pulling it out to its maximum extent, and drawing more blood into her excited vulva. Then I'd bury my face in her gaping orifice, plunging my tongue deep.
Grace was usually screaming into her pillow by now. Having only recently moved in, we were trying to be good neighbours, and keep the noise down, so her previous commentary of enjoyment now reached my ears in a muffled state. No matter. I knew what she liked, and was most pleased to give it to her.
Thus, the tradition was established. Weekends were spent mostly involved in sex of some sort or other, and that brand-new bed got broken in very quickly.
The summer couldn't last forever, however, and I soon found myself getting ready for school. A new school, in a new city, where I knew no one, except Grace. I would be starting from scratch, socially. It was a bit overwhelming, but I knew I could get through the awkward stages, and Grace would be there to ease my pain, in her own special way.
I was ready. Bring it on.
***
Okay, I'm full of shit. I wasn't ready at all. As I said before, I was leaving my old life behind, cold turkey. The last several weeks had merely put off the pain of that realization, and Grace had become my whole world, which was great while she really
was
