Valerie Ch 3 1

To the reader: what you are about to read is the ramblings of an "older" man who is currently spending a good bit of his time adjusting to the realization that the number of years in which he will continue to be sexually active is decreasing rapidly. As he reaches his 64th birthday this summer, he understands that not only will his physical capabilities begin to suffer, but the actual availability of willing partners will also begin to wane. His marital situation – 40+ years wed – has done nothing to satisfy his desires, as his wife is one who was brought up in her early years to believe that sexual relations were a bare necessity and nothing else.

They are necessary for "wifely duties" during the first few years of a marriage and they are necessary for "reproduction purposes" during the period of time when it is convenient to produce a family. But, in her way of thinking, there is simply no other reason to engage in any sort of physical relationship after a family is produced. Nothing that this older man could do or say within the past 26 years has had any impact on her mind-set. He has, therefore, sought physical comfort and solace outside of the marriage. He has enjoyed several long-term relationships over the 26 years since his youngest child was born; and has, on infrequent occasions, taken a chance on "one-night-stand" involvements.

Just recently, he has come to the realization that he may face the next 20-30 years (his health is perfect) without any sort of physical involvement with the opposite sex. This has caused him much mental anguish because he realizes that even though his physical needs will diminish with time and age, his mental and emotional requirements will not. There have been moments of panic in the past few months, but he has now begun a campaign of getting "as much as he can, as often as he can, as long as he can" in the hopes that his recent memories will serve him well when he reaches the point that females will not consider a physical relationship with him.

Here follows the third in a series of events that have taken place within the bounds of that campaign. There will be future episodes as they develop and come to fruition.

The stories will be told in the first person, simply for ease of writing. It will be up to the reader to determine whether these chapters are autobiographical or not.

* * * * *

"Do I taste good?" she asked with almost a whisper.

Rather than respond, I bent and kissed her mouth, transferring her taste from my tongue to hers. I heard, or rather felt, a vibrating in her throat as she groaned just a bit at the taste of her sweetness in her own mouth.

"Somehow, I have the feeling that this is not the first time you've tasted yourself, Valerie. Is there something I should know?" I asked her softly.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Edward. It was a long time ago," she whispered distantly, almost as if she had left the room and was now re-living an event of the past.

I decided to take a chance here. I don't know why, but the thought occurred to me that Valerie might have had a homosexual experience when she was younger. I raised the panties to my nose again and while savoring the scent of a woman said to her, "Hmmm, twenty or so years ago; in college; a roommate or a close friend; she was attracted to you; the two of you experimented with each other; you still aren't sure whether you liked it or whether it was just the excitement of it being so totally forbidden. Am I close?"

Her breath rushed out of her in one, huge explosion and she almost cried, "Ed, I never told anyone. How could you have known? She was beautiful. Blonde. Short. Big breasts. Lips so full they looked puffy. And she said she loved me. I didn't really understand what we were doing until it was too late to stop. Oh, God, was it that terrible? What you must think of me, admitting that like this!" And she turned her head as if to hide from my eyes.

I used the material of her panties, wrapped around my hand, to turn her face to me again. I placed the wet crotch of the garment against her mouth and pressed open her lips. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and I slid my hand down across her body, up under the hem of her skirt and placed it directly on her mound, cupping and squeezing slightly.

"I think it is one of the most beautiful things a woman can do for another woman. She probably did love you, Valerie; I can understand how easy that would be. And how did you feel about her, dear?"

She was squirming a bit under my hand and she lifted the panties from her mouth, but not away from her face, when she replied, "The first time I was terrified and almost turned off; but the more time we spent together and the more she showed me how to return her love, the more I liked it. I was in heaven every time she made love to me. I understood, really, that I was using her as a release because there was no way I could get pregnant by making love with her. I was always scared of that in high school and college and only ever went all the way with a boy once before I got married. I liked it, Ed; I really did. Sometimes I miss her. Sometimes I wish she were in my bed when Charles is away. Somehow it would be OK if it were her; somehow it would be safe. Oh, I don't know. I'm so confused sometimes!" and she turned away again, but did not release the panties from her hand, close to her face.

Bending toward her, I trapped the panties between her face and mine and manipulated them until we were kissing, nibbling and sucking at each other's mouth with them sliding between our lips. I increased the pressure of my left hand on her swollen lips below and felt the moisture seep out onto the palm of my hand, and I allowed my thumb to find that small bump that signified her treasure. I circled my thumb around and around the fleshy hood that hid her and pushed and pulled gently with the tip as I kissed her again, and again with the panties between our faces. "I only hope I can make you feel half as good as she did, Valerie," I murmured into her mouth. "I want to make you warm and soft and wet so that you understand a man can love as softly and tenderly as she did."

She stretched and put both arms around my neck, pulling herself up and against me as my thumb explored her fleshy trigger. She pulled the panties away from our mouths and kissed me so softly, so tenderly, that I thought she was going to cry. "Make love to me, Ed; make me feel soft and warm again. Make me feel like I am special. I need that. I need you. I need something more."

And I began.

While my thumb traced circles around her tiny clit's hiding place, my fingers worked at the lips surrounding her velvet garden. I pulled, pushed, twisted and spread them until she was expressing her warmth in two fashions: by breathing heavy moans into my mouth as we kissed, and by pouring out her nectars onto my hand. She was, indeed, a very wet woman at this point.

"I want to see you, Valerie; I want to see everything that is yours and that you will give to me tonight. Show me. Give me the gift," I whispered to her as one finger teased at the entrance to her grotto.

She clamped her thighs together, kissed me hard on the mouth, and slid off my lap and onto the floor. She righted herself, retrieved her shoes, and stood facing me, not four feet away. She put her hands on her hips, spread her legs in a stance that invited comparison to any Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition model, and told me to sit back and relax.

"If I'm going to do this, Ed, I'm going to do it right. Remember your little remark about an old man's fantasy the other night? Well, this has always been one of my fantasies, and if I don't lose my courage half-way through, I'm going to live it out right now."

And she unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt and allowed it to fall into a puddle of beige material at her feet. She stepped out of it and flicked it onto my lap with the toes of one foot. At this point, I needed something on my lap to cover the ever-growing wet spot in my pants. She pulled the hem of her sweater down low and caught it around her buttocks so fast that I got hardly more than a glimpse of her triangle. Now, it looked like she was wearing a very tight, brown, knit sweater-dress. The stretched material hugged every line, crease and curve of her body and I could not help but grin. "Oh, you like this look, do you, Ed," she laughed. "Well, just sit tight, because there's more to come.

Now, she did one of those moves that confound men every time they see it. Remember the movie "Flashdance" where the young dancer takes off her bra without ever removing her sweatshirt? Well, Valerie had mastered the art and with a few tugs and pulls under her sweater, the bra was in her hands and flying across the space to land on my shoulder. I turned my head and pressed my cheek against its warmth and was surprised at the material. Beige, of course, to accompany the ensemble; but of such a sheer stretch material that it almost seemed as if it wasn't big enough to hold her breasts. The cups must have been subjected to great stress while they held her globes inside.

May I digress here a bit, dear reader, to discuss her breasts? Up until this point, I have not really paid much attention to them. As I have said before, I am not a breast man. I never have been and probably never will be. Her breasts were smallish, but quite round now that I could see them outlined by the stretched material of her sweater. If I were a bit more versed in women's bra sizes, I could probably guess that they were somewhere in the 34-36 B-cup range. Of course, I had not seen them as yet, but their shape might fall into that measurement category. Was I going to see them now? All she was wearing was the pair of heels, the thigh-highs and the pulled-taut sweater. She had very little else to remove, so I figured I would soon be treated to a vision. She would have to lift the sweater to remove it and thereby give me a glorious view of my eventual goal -- the magic triangle between her legs. I relaxed, as much as I could under the circumstances, and fixed my eyes on the spot where I knew heaven was going to appear.

Of course the best laid plans of mice and men….etc. Instead of lifting the hem of the sweater to pull it over her head, she used both hands to stretch the huge cowl neck and began to pull it downward, over her shoulders. She hesitated for a few seconds, leaving her shoulders and the upper part of her chest bare, and it looked like she was wearing one of those peasant-style garments so popular when I was quite a bit younger. She continued to lower the sweater and managed to pull each arm from the body of the sweater, leaving it around her like a knit tube-top, covering her from top-swell of breast to just below the apex of her thighs. I could see nothing!

"No fair! No fair!" I chuckled. "You are a tease; a supreme tease. And you're good at it. Was this the fantasy? To drive an old man absolutely crazy with lustful anticipation?"

She giggled again, causing her unfettered breasts to jiggle under the tightly-pulled material of the sweater. "Not really, Ed; I've always wanted to do a striptease for men. I guess that the reaction on your face is enough to make up for the fact that there is only one man here as an audience instead of a hundred." And she grinned at me.

"Well, dear, if this is your fantasy, I am delighted to be taking part in it. Please continue along the same lines. I'm enjoying it immensely and cannot wait to see the rest of the package you've brought me."

With an absolutely wicked gleam in her eye, she tugged the top of the sweater down until it barely covered her aureoles and teased me by lifting and pulling at it, but never actually lowering it any farther. "C'mon, woman; I can't stand the tension!" I breathed huskily.

And down it came, into a wide band of brown knit caressing her waist and hips. The sweater still covered her stomach and pussy, but her breasts were now bared to my hungry eyes to feast on. And devour them, they did. There she stood, in the yellow light of the two lamps in the room, a veritable goddess with alabaster skin and her tawny red hair tousled and thrown back off her shoulders.

Her breasts were totally, irrevocably gorgeous. They were so well proportioned to her body and to each other that I thought for a fleeting moment that they were not real. They were perfectly round, like small, pink grapefruit. But their size and their shape was not their most interesting attribute. Directly in the center of those soft-skinned breasts was a pair of the largest circular aureoles I have ever seen on a woman. The aureoles themselves absolutely had to measure 2 ½ - 3 inches in diameter. They were dark, dark rose in color and were already crinkled with her excitement. (I'd much rather attribute their condition to excitement, rather than to a chill in the room.) They puckered and tilted the very ends of her breasts into tiny cones, which pointed slightly upward. For a woman of her age, those breasts were magnificently firm and solid-looking.

And the nipples… taut, darker rose than the surrounding aureoles… and fat! Not long, but incredibly thick. They sat there in the middle of their rose-colored lily pads like small shitake mushrooms…just begging to be eaten.

Valerie placed both palms on her breasts, covering them and shielding them from my burning gaze. "Like what you see, Ed?" she giggled. "I call them my 'bunnies' because they are so small and cute. I sometimes wish they were bigger, but the look in your eyes tells me it doesn't matter to you."

I smiled my Cheshire cat smile and ran my tongue over my dry lips to indicate my specific idea for those tiny bunnies.

Now, where would the plan take her? I was almost straining in my seat to get a look at the mossy Mound of Venus that I knew lay just behind that covering of brown knit. I could feel my salivary glands paining in their anticipation of the taste that valley would provide for my mouth and tongue. I felt the saliva begin to run freely in my mouth and knew that if she did not hurry, I would have to jump out of the damn seat and grab her.

But, it was not to be. She teased me a few more minutes with twirls around the room so I could get a good look at her legs and back as she danced for me. And she repeatedly cupped her breasts and played with them, rolling and pinching the nipples. I could see them grow harder as she did and filed this fact away in my memory – she liked to have them played with. I wondered if she liked someone sucking and nibbling on them.

I waited for nearly five minutes of her dancing, prancing, and caressing herself before I said anything. "Dear God, woman, what are you trying to do to me? Get on with it! Take off that sweater and let me see what I have been dying to see for years now. I want you. I want all of you and you're still hiding something from me. Hurry!"

She grinned an evil, wicked grin and leaned directly into my face, breasts hardly dangling at all with the small, firm shape, and whispered, "Not yet, lover; I have to slip into something more comfortable first." And with that, she nimbly skipped to the corner of the room where her satchel was lying, picked it up and danced into the bathroom in one fluid motion that left me open-mouthed and staring at the closed door.

I stood up, hung her skirt on a hanger in the closet alcove, and tried to arrange myself in my pants so that the wet spot would not show quite so much. I could not help but wonder what she had in store for me now. I was slipping off my shoes when I heard the click of the bathroom door and turned to see her. "No. Sit on the edge of the bed and close your eyes. I want this to be a surprise."

I followed her instructions and waited. I could sense her coming nearer, though I heard nothing but the rustle of something silky as she approached me. Was she still wearing the heels and stockings? The carpet would muffle the sound of her shoes. I listened very closely and heard that unmistakable swish of two stocking-clad thighs rubbing lightly against one another, and sighed. God, how I wanted to feel those stockings on my cheeks as I loved her pussy with my mouth!

Now, I could feel her directly in front of me; I could smell her scent – now different from the earlier sample – the scent of rose petals and spring air seemed to fill the space in front of me, but there was something else…something thick, heavy, a womanly musk that set my nerve ends jangling inside my skin. I could feel the hair on my arms twitch and stand on end as she gave me instructions to open my eyes.

Oh, good Jesus! I had certainly died and gone to heaven! Standing in front of me was a heavenly vision of such angelic proportions that I knew I was dreaming. From bottom to top: her heels, still in place, with ankles closed tightly against each other; her long, elegant legs slightly hidden by the sleekest of silk gowns in a tender, soft champagne color; the front of the gown did not quite close and I could tell it was designed that way. I followed my eyes upward along the line between her legs and noticed that the opening of the gown remained constant in width all the way to the top of her thighs. There she was, proudly displayed not two feet in front of me. "Oh, God, Valerie; she is beautiful! I love her before I ever touch her. She is magnificent!"

"Thank you, Ed; Charles is always asking me to shave, and I keep telling him I did not want to look like a 12-year-old ever again. I don't know why some men get so excited over a bald vagina!"

I almost laughed out loud. "Vagina?!? I don't believe you said that! You sound like a walking textbook! Vagina! Oh, my living Lord!" and I almost convulsed in laughter as she stood there with a look on her face that would fry eggs.

"I'm just not used to talking about it, that's all. What should I call it? My pussy? Would you rather I called it my pussy?" she threw at me while she took a playful swipe at my head with her hand.

I told her she could call it anything she wanted except vagina. I failed biology and health when I was in high school and did not want to repeat the course here. She asked, acting movie-star seductively, if I wanted to review my Anatomy course with her, and took a step closer. Her pussy was not six inches in front of my face now, smelling ripe and delicious, covered in such a thick thatch of dark auburn hair that I could see nothing of her lips or the cleft between them. It was a veritable overgrown meadow of curls. I was in love. I was simply mesmerized. I could not take my eyes off that bush. "Forgive me for staring, Valerie, but I have never seen anything like her in my entire life. She is absolutely, stunningly beautiful…so natural…so real…so incredibly lush. I want her. I want to possess her, to love her, to stroke her, to touch her, to eat her. I want her to belong to me. Give her to me now, Valerie; let me kiss the center of our universe," and I leaned forward to kiss that lushness.

She took a half-step back and put her hands on my face to keep me from reaching her. I looked up and decided that this was not the time to push any advantage. I would play her game. She seemed to be setting the pace and I was pleased thus far, so why not relax and enjoy the ride.

I took in the remaining effect of her presence above me: slim waist with the gown drawn tight with a satin band; V-necked halter top that covered her breasts with two wide strips of that gorgeous champagne silk; nipples hugely bulging against the confines of those silk restraints; sides, arms and back, completely bare. She certainly had thought about pleasing me, or so I assumed at the time. I spent several minutes reaching and touching, stroking, feeling the material at different parts of her body….legs, hips, buttocks, waist, stomach, breasts….and telling her exactly how erotically beautiful she really was.