Lip Service 5

Samuel Johnson wrote "For we that live to please, must please to live." This story is purely the fantasy of a middle-aged man. But ever since I read that quote a long time ago, I have tried to practice it. In my married life, I have always made sure that my wife climaxed first before I allowed myself to climax. This is the purely fiction story of a man after my own heart. He loves the feminine genitalia and does what he can to stay near. Hope you enjoy.

*****

Marilyn, 62 years old, short gray hair, blue eyes, slender (almost too slender):

I was 56 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It's been an ordeal, and along the way I endured chemotherapy, radiation, and the removal of my breasts. But I survived, and I'm cancer-free now. Harry, my husband, was my rock, at least at first. In fact, he saw me through the entire process, right up to the time the doctor declared me free of disease. Then he left me. I mean he told me he was leaving that very day. He actually left the next morning. I guess he needed time to pack. He's been gone about six months. We are divorcing after 30 years of marriage. It still hurts, but I've moved on.

Ross and I met at a party given by one of my girlfriends. He was nice, fairly handsome, a little stout. He was also very funny. He had me laughing from the start. We found a quiet corner and talked for a long time while the party went on around us. Eventually, our talk became more serious and intimate. I'm afraid I began whining a little about my life and my husband. While Harry had been attentive and concerned, even affectionate, our sex life had all but disappeared during my treatment. It was as if I became an asexual partner, and, I suspect, a burden. He had fulfilled his obligation to me, and I was glad of that, but when it ended, he was out. Ross looked me in the eyes and said, "Marilyn, I'm going to suggest something a bit, ah, unconventional."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Here's the thing," he said, "I am impotent. There, I said it. I'm unable to perform."

I was surprised that he would share this information with me. I said, "In the first place, Ross, why would you tell me such a thing? And in the second place, I'm sure they have pills for that sort of thing now."

"Nothing helps, Marilyn. But that's not really what I'm getting at."

I looked into his gray eyes. He looked right back at me. He struck me as caring and, above all, honest. "Then what are you getting at, Ross?"

He actually blushed a little and said, "Marilyn, you said that you haven't been touched sexually in a long time, right?"

It was time for me to blush. I actually stammered a little when I said, "Yes."

Ross looked me in the eyes and said, "Marilyn, I can umm... I mean I would love to offer you oral gratification."

I was nonplussed. "What do you mean, 'oral gratification' Ross?"

"To put it simply, I will go down on you and bring you to climax, as many times as you want, and expect nothing in return."

Well, I was taken aback, to say the least. Nobody had ever made an offer like that. I was on the verge of flatly refusing him when I remembered that Harry had stopped touching me. Once my breasts were gone, he had simply left me alone. Of course, we hugged and held each other, but we hadn't had sex in a long time. Before my illness, we'd have sex once a week or so. We are in our sixties, after all. But since I've been sick, nothing. Wait, I take that back. We had tried one time a year or so ago, but it had been painful. I'd been dry, and he'd tried to rush me, and it had been humiliating for both of us. And Harry had never been very interested in my pleasure anyway. And then he had left, and there'd been nothing. I'd tried masturbating, and it had helped, but it's not the same as having a real man pay attention to you.

"What do you mean, 'nothing in return'?" I asked.

"I mean, I would consider it a privilege to kiss you down there just so I can get close to a woman again. I love giving pleasure to women. I loved going down on my wife. Well, she's gone and I have no one."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"She had a heart attack and died suddenly three years ago."

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said. "We had a good marriage. Lillian loved the um, physical side of our relationship and so did I. I certainly miss her, and I miss that. It would mean a lot to me to help you out."

And so I agreed. I gave him my number and we agreed to meet later that week at a motel. I was nervous, to say the least. I didn't know what to wear. Should I dress sexily or plainly? In the end, I wore a blouse, skirt, stockings, and low heels. I bathed and shaved my legs and armpits and scented myself. Even though it's the style to shave "down there," I left it alone aside from a little grooming. My pubic hair is still a little thin and wispy after growing back. You see, chemotherapy causes you to lose all your hair, even the hair down there.

Ross had already rented and paid for the room, which surprised me. I thought that since I was the "beneficiary," so to speak, of his talents, I would have to pay. But he called me and told me which room to come to.

I got there at two, right on time. He opened the door and let me in. He had a bottle of wine and two glasses ready.

"Marilyn, you look wonderful," he said, giving me a hug.

"Thank you," I said. Then I just stood there like an idiot.

"Well come over and have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you."

Ross was dressed casually, but nicely in a sport shirt, khakis, and sneakers. He smelled good. He kept smiling at me, telling little stories and jokes. He really made me feel at ease. I had two glasses of wine and soon I was laughing comfortably with him.

And then something happened. I felt something inside. It was like something in me just loosened up, like I had blood flowing to a certain part of me that hadn't had it in a long time. As Ross and I talked like a couple of friends, I became aroused.

My god, I was getting wet.

Ross noticed. I think he noticed that I unconsciously uncrossed my legs, opening myself to him. I wasn't splayed open, but I was definitely receptive.

"Well Marilyn, are you ready?" he asked quietly.

The question still took me by surprise. But I managed to say, "Yes, yes I'm ready."

"Where would you like to be?" he asked.

"On the bed. I want to lie down."

He took off my shoes and led me to the bed.

"Do you want me naked?" I asked. I was very nervous. I wanted to be naked in front of him, but I was worried about what he would think. What about my breasts? Or lack of?

"Any way that suits you," he said quietly.

I opted to remove my blouse, skirt and panties. That left me in a bra, garter belt and stockings. I was so glad I'd worn my best undergarments.

Ross looked at me for a moment, then said, "Marilyn, you are so beautiful."

I began crying then, which caused Ross to get up and hug me. "Are you all right?" he asked. "We don't have to..."

"I'm fine," I replied. "Nobody's looked at me, said those things to me, in a long time."

"I meant every word," he said.

He led me to the bed and laid me down. Gently but firmly (I was a little resistant.) he parted my legs.

"Is it all right?" I asked. "I mean the hair. I know the style today is to shave down there."

"It's beautiful just the way it is, Marilyn. I'm an old-fashioned guy. This is what I'm used to. Now close your eyes and enjoy yourself."

I felt the bed shift as he climbed onto it. I felt his warm breath on my inner thighs. I felt his nose in my pubic hair as he nuzzled me. And then, oh my heaven, I felt his lips and tongue on me. He tongue was wet and hot and strong, and it parted my nether lips with ease, running up and down my wet furrow. He kissed my labia majora on both sides, then all around, skirting the edge of my vagina. He opened his mouth and I felt his tongue push past my inner lips and plunge deeply into me. He worked it in and out, tasting me, using his tongue like a moist penis, twirling in my opening, massaging and caressing the walls. Then he withdrew and worked around my labia minora, flicking them and sucking them. He seemed to know where my secret spots were, not overworking them, but returning to them at just the right time. I hadn't realized the noises I was making, but at some point I became conscious of the cries, moans, yelps and other pleasure sounds I was uttering.

I've since realized that Ross is a very good listener. He carefully gauged my response to the areas he was paying attention to at that moment, and then returned to it as needed.

I opened my legs wider and placed my hands on either side of my pussy. (Yes, I said it: pussy.) I spread myself even wider for him. Ross was twirling his tongue all around the outside of my vagina. He would twirl one way, then reverse and twirl in the opposite direction. He took my labia minora back into his warm mouth and sucked on them gently. By this time I was incoherent. I was thrusting my crotch at him. (There I said it: crotch.) I put my hand on the back of his head, trying to get him closer and deeper. Ross took it all in stride, gently guiding me around to all my sensitive spots.

And then, oh my, and then he began licking my clitoris.

That's right. Up until that time he hadn't touched me there. He'd gone everywhere but there. But then I felt his lips close over my little button and the gentle suction. I can't describe the feeling. It was simply wonderful to be loved like that. I head Ross moan, "You taste so good down here, Marilyn." I felt his bands on my inner thighs, pushing me open even farther. Ross was working me steadily, strongly now. His lips and tongue were relentless. He hit my tender spots, all in sequence, then ravaged my energized little clit with a hungry mouth. In all our years of marriage, Harry had never eaten me like this. Ross is, quite simply, a master cunnilinguist.

As he worked on me, I became aware of a building inside me, a tension. It was composed of pleasure and an aching for release. It was like a knot that had to break or drive me crazy. Ross realized this and, to my amazement, he slowed down. At first, I was dismayed, saying,"Oh god no, don't stop!" But he didn't stop. Instead, his oral caresses got softer, more languid. I realized he was letting my excitement subside a little.

My pleasure plateaued for a few moments. It was like it was gathering itself for a final...what? His lazy languid strokes continued at the same pace but became stronger, more insistent. He was probing me, nuzzling me, sticking his hot, thick tongue deeply inside and massaging me there. My pleasure-knot, as I call it, began rising, tightening again. I realized that my mouth was wide open in soundless ecstasy, my brow furrowed in concentration. I was headed to orgasm, the first I'd had in a long time.

Ross began spending more and more time on my clit. He would travel around my pussy but he returned to my little button more and more. My pleasure was so intense that I could hardly bear it. I needed to be released. I needed the release of climax. I needed it very, very badly.

Ross knew what I needed and he gave it to me.

He vibrated his tongue firmly against my clit, then flicked it up and down, back and forth. My pleasure at his caresses peaked, and I went over the edge into total orgasmic bliss. Like a thunderbolt my climax ripped though me, searing out the pain, the anger, the humiliation of the past six years. Ross knew what was happening. He kept his tongue on me, gently caressing me, drawing out my orgasm into a long, pleasurable-painful release. I dimly heard myself crying out again and again.

When I became too sensitive, he sensed it and stopped. I felt him kiss me on the lips down there, then the bed shifted as he got beside me. My eyes were still closed. The echoes of my climax still thrummed in my body. I felt like a ringing bell.

After a few minutes, I opened my eyes. Ross was looking down at me, smiling. Impulsively, I rose up and kissed him hard on the lips.

"How was it?" he asked.

"Couldn't you tell?" I replied. "It was wonderful."

"Good," he said. "I'm glad."

I laid there for a few more minutes, waiting for the strength to return to my legs. Then Ross helped me dress. He went to the bathroom. I saw him in there wiping his face. I suppose it had gotten a little sticky.

"Would you like another glass of wine?" he asked.

I declined. My head was still spinning with what had happened. We sat for a little while longer, but then I saw him glance at his watch.

"Well, Marilyn, I'm sorry to say I have to go. I can't tell you how much this has meant to me. I think you're a beautiful woman. How do you feel about doing this again?"

For a moment, I was reluctant. Should this be a one-off? Or should I see him again? I finally said, "I'd love to see you again, Ross. Except next time, come to my house." I reasoned that I had absolutely nothing to hide. Harry was gone. I was unattached. So was Ross. Why shouldn't we meet where I was totally comfortable?

And so now Wednesdays are "Ross days." He comes over, licks my pussy gloriously (yes, I say 'pussy' quite freely now), and leaves. It's a very modern, very mature arrangement.

Ross has helped me to believe in myself again. I feel good and confident and sexy because of him. He enjoys performing a service. It's good for both of us.

Kim, 18 years old, average height and weight, brown eyes and hair:

I was at the same party with Marilyn and Ross. That's when I overheard their conversation. You see, I didn't really know that many people. So, I was sitting quietly by myself, wondering when it would be polite to leave. As I sat there, I became aware of a couple close by having a conversation. As I listened, I couldn't believe my ears. He was actually offering to do things to her, and she wasn't upset or anything. As I listened, an idea began to form in my mind.

Now, I'm not a total wallflower. I've been on dates. I even had a boyfriend until a few weeks ago. His name was Marcus, and we went together for about three months. Marcus wasn't a bad guy, just a bit conceited. We went to the same high school. In high school, Marcus had been the captain of the soccer team. All (well, not all) of the girls had wanted to date him. Then he ended up attending the same college as me, and things changed. You see, he couldn't really cut it academically. That's where I came in. Marcus knew I was there. He sought me out, romanced me, dated me, and then got me to help him with his schoolwork. I got him through a number of tests. Along the way, we had sex quite a few times. Marcus took my virginity, although he doesn't know it. I knew Marcus was using me but I didn't really care. I was happy for the attention. Besides, I wanted to get the whole virginity thing out of the way. I'm a serious student, a good student. I plan to become a writer someday. I don't have time to pursue a fulfilling sex life with these immature boys at college. The thing with Marcus was just a rite of passage. Man, you should have seen his face when I told him we were breaking up. He was totally floored. Then he asked for help with a paper. I told him I'd think about it.

And then I was sitting at that party, alone, and the idea occurred to me: Why shouldn't I experience sexual pleasure like everyone else? I mean, I had tried, but I'd never been able to have an orgasm. At least I don't think so. I had touched myself, and it had felt good, but I'd never felt anything like what my girl friends described as an orgasm. I don't know how one really feels.

I had heard that one of the best ways to climax was to get someone, man or woman, to go down on you. That's how they termed it, "go down," or "give oral." It had never even come up with Marcus. He had been pretty much a "wham bam thank-you ma'am" type of guy. But Ross seemed genuinely nice. He seemed to care about Marilyn's pleasure. He wasn't bad looking, either. Silver-gray hair, blue eyes, clean-shaven, not too heavy. A solid guy. He had a soft voice with a nice southern accent. As he talked with Marilyn, I felt myself wondering if he would be open to, um, helping me out. After all, I may not be a beauty, but I'm not ugly. I've been told I have some good features. My eyes are a soft brown and Marcus told me my breasts are nice. I'm not fat, although I could probably use some toning. Oh well, it's hard to make straight A's in school and exercise too.

In any case, by the time the party had begun to break up, I had decided on something. I got out a piece of paper and wrote my name and number and three words on it. Then I watched Ross until he had moved a little distance from Marilyn. I walked up to him, put the paper into his hand and looked him in the eye. I smiled and exited the room quickly. On the paper, along with my number, I had written "Please call me."

I didn't really expect to hear from him, tut the very next day, a Sunday, my phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize. I normally don't answer those, but something told me to take a chance.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hello? Is this Kim?" the soft, southern-accented voice said.

"Yes, this is Kim," I said, my voice suddenly shaky.

"Kim, this is Ross. You gave me your number at the party."

"I know who you are," I said, suddenly regretting it. Did I sound hostile? What if he hung up?

"Well, what can I do for you, Kim?" Ross asked.

"Well, Mister, uh, Ross, I'm not sure how to begin. I mean, I don't do this sort of thing, um, ever..."

"It's all right, young lady. Take a deep breath and tell me." His voice was low and gentle. It calmed me right down.

I took a deep breath, and then another. "Okay, here's the thing. I overheard, innocently, I promise you, your conversation with that lady Marilyn at the party."

"Okay. So?" He sounded more guarded.

"Well, I really don't know how to say this, but, I want what she's having."

"Dear, what is Marilyn having?"

"You know. You're going to, you know, help her out." This was not going as I'd planned. I was messing it all up. But don't you know it, Ross came to my rescue.

"Oh, I know what you mean, Kim. Well, Kim, you overheard a very private conversation with a very special lady. I know what we're talking about now and I think I know what you're asking. My question is, what makes you think I would be open to, ah, 'helping you out' in the same way as Marilyn?"

I blushed on my end of the line. "I, I don't know, Ross, you just sounded so nice and caring and, well, just forget it," I said, tears coming to my eyes. "I'm hanging up now," I said.

"No! Don't hang up, dear. I'd like to talk more. I haven't said no. But I need to know more about you before we, um, proceed. Let's meet for coffee."

"Okay," I said.

We arranged to meet the next day at a coffee shop near campus.

I got to the coffee shop first and sat at a table near the back. I had on a plaid skirt and a white blouse. I had taken special care with my hair, and had put on perfume and lipstick, two things I don't usually wear. I had been there only about three minutes when Ross walked in. He was wearing slacks, moccasins, and an expensive sport shirt. He smiled when he saw me and walked over briskly.

"Kim," he said, "so nice to see you. Don't you look pretty."

"Thank you," I said. The waitress came and we ordered two coffees and two biscotti.

"I love those darn things," Ross said.

We drank our coffee. Ross listened attentively, not interrupting. His eyes were very kind. He looked right at me.

"So basically what you're saying is that you want my help achieving physical gratification," he said.

"Well, you make it sound so clinical," I said.

"I didn't mean to, Kim. As a matter of fact, it's the most non- clinical thing that can happen between a man and a woman. Are you sure you don't want to try again with a young man? One closer to you age? I mean, you are awfully young."