Yvonne Pt 05

We have been here together before,' I reminded her.

'I know,' she said.

'You called it 'my place'.'

'It's our place, or it was, but you were gone.'

'But here we are again.' I said.

'Yes, I should have known I'd see you again some day. I didn't think I would.'

'I always thought so too, and I always imagined that we would be in this place again together.'

'I'm sixty now; almost an old woman.'

'I'm thirty-six now. It doesn't matter.'

'That's still six years younger than I was the first time we were together.'

'It doesn't matter.'

'It's easier for men, aging.'

'Maybe.'

'I can't stay here long today. I only popped out to get some shopping. Derek is waiting at home. He's retired now.'

'Can we meet again?'

'You want to?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Then Saturday. I will pick you up at one.'

Saturday came around and I was waiting on the high street where she had told me to, and she arrived right on time. We drove to the same place by the river that she had taken me to the week before. When she picked me up, she was in a playful mood, unlike the reflective and slightly melancholy way she had been at times the week before. I think that the fact that things had gone so well between us the previous Saturday, and my indicating to her that she was still desirable now, put her in a girlish and flirtatious mood. If she stayed in this mood, I would seduce her. I decided that in the car. And everything about her, from her manner to the way she had dressed suggested that she was in the mood to be seduced.

We would come full circle. That first time in the car, when I had clumsily made my adolescent pass and she had accepted it and we had masturbated each other and she had sucked my cock. Then what I came to think of as the collision between us, when I had thought that all I had needed to do was put myself in her way and something would happen. And it had, oh it had; but not quite as I had expected. I found that she had turned into a sort of secret suburban libertine, and the beginning of it had been more a clash than the gentle coming together of suburban housewife and small town boy turned educated young city dweller. It had been Yvonne who set the tone that time, and it was she who had educated me about what the body wants and what it knows, and how to find the answers to its questions.

This time it was going to be different. It would be a more conventional seduction. I would ask her for another date. We would go for lunch and then spend the afternoon together, and we would reacquaint ourselves with each other's bodies and to her surprise, I would take delight in the ravages of age that had gently, but indelibly marked her body, and she would be surprised that I still desired her so, despite the work that nature and experience had performed on her flesh and in her eyes. It turned out that one half of what I expected was the way it went.

I took the chance to look her over again, as I had when we had first met at the shops. I had been right. She still had it, though maybe she didn't believe it anymore. I looked carefully at her. She had not gained weight, as so many people do with age. She had never been slim either, at least not when I had known her before. She had been shapely, a little voluptuous even. And she had never been a great beauty; not the kind of woman to turn many heads on the street; but there was nothing motherly or housewifely about her either. And mother and housewife were two of the things she had been. She was attractive, but that not mean anything definite. She was very, very sexy, and in a way that was not contrived. That was why she had been so sexy. And she still had it, and the years had not been too unkind. Her face was lined of course, but not too much, and her skin was still good. She had wide, hazel eyes and her hair had been dark brown, but now it was half grey. It was like her not to have coloured it.

She continued to be flirtatious as she drove and as we were about to get out of the car, she turned to reach for a jacket, which she had put on the back seat. With her other hand, she held the dashboard in front of me, to balance herself as she turned, and as she turned back, she allowed her hand to drop low enough, and close enough to my lap for her fingers to brush almost imperceptibly over the gentle bulge of my crotch as she drew her hand back towards herself. It may have been that she let her fingers stop there, gently touching the material of my trousers over my cock, for a moment, but I could never tell, because ever since I had known her, it had always felt to me that whenever we were in the same room, it was as though she was touching me, even when she wasn't, right back to the time, a long time before the time in the car, when I had been sitting in her living room with Neil and Robert and she had come in and sat down in her usual black, and smoked and cross and uncrossed her legs at times, and without meaning to flirt, and I had got a fierce erection.

'I wanted to make this a big seduction,' I told her, 'and take you to lunch or dinner and then to a hotel for the afternoon or the night, but now, here, I want you so badly that I want to do it with you here.'

'I want to do it here too,' she said, 'because I want to do it now. I don't want to wait. I don't need the usual procedures or the dressings up. I need your body and mine, I need your cock in my pussy, and I need you.'

I was kissing her and fondling her breast through her blouse, almost before she had finished what she was saying. And then the old Yvonne was there for a moment, for she added

'And I've always wanted you to fuck me again, and in this place, our place.'

I didn't think she quite believed it as much as she used to. Her last sentence seemed to contradict itself. She said she wanted to be fucked, when it seemed to me that it was something else she wanted, or the act of fucking, but by another name, not fucking, but something else. And that was confirmed by her saying this place was our place. And I think she wanted affirmation too; that even though she was sixty, she was still a woman and desirable. And desirable to a man so much younger than she was and one with whom she had such a history.

'No one comes here but me,' she said, 'so we are safe. We can strip off, and do whatever we like.'

Our sex that afternoon was different from how it had ever been before. It still had the urgent, animal quality that it had always had, but there was something else as well. We undressed each other as we were sitting there and kissing, until we were other naked to our underwear.

'You still wear the same kind of boxer shorts,' she said, as she undid the button on the fly and eased my cock out through the gap. She stroked it gently and then she said

'I have missed him.'

He had missed her too.

She still favoured black, and she was wearing a lacy black bra and panties and matching stockings and suspenders, though were less overtly sexy and more classic in style than the styles she had worn before. I held her and with my arms around her back, I slowly unclipped her bra and equally slowly took it off. Her generous breast fell forward as I released them from the bra. They were a little heavier and had more of a sag than they had had the last time I had touched them, but I liked them, I think even more like this, and the twitch of my cock between her fingers as they fell forward must have told her that; or at least that heavier and sagging they still excited me. I wanted to rub my cock over them right away, but I resisted the urge; have it happen in the flow of things.

She began to pull my foreskin slowly up and down over my cock head and as she did so, I gently squeezed and caressed her nipples until they reached their full length. She sighed and placed her head in between my chin and my shoulder. When I had finished bringing her nipples to erection, I let my hand slide gently down towards her stomach. Just as her breasts had grown heavier, and in this sitting position, were almost resting on her stomach, there were a few more small rolls of fat around her stomach and just as her breasts had thrilled me, those rolls of fat make me ache for her even more. I allowed my hand to linger on her stomach and I ran my fingers over the little rolls and pushed my fingertips in between them until I found her navel and gently caressed it. I loved her body and I loved it as it changed, and seeing her only so infrequently, I saw the changes dramatically, the work of years all in one go, rather than as the slow and barely discernable process that aging is.

'Touch my pussy,' she said, as she had said before, many years ago.

I was about to push my hand inside her panties, but I changed my mind and instead, reached down with one hand between her legs and pulled the gusset of her panties aside to reveal her pussy to the warm and balmy afternoon air. I leaned forward and looked down at her as I did it. I wanted to see her. She still shaved and her lips, as they always hand, stuck out proudly and her large and protrusive clitoris sat proudly at the top of the long oval of them. I wanted to kiss her there again and take those lips and that lovely clitoris into my mouth as I used to, and I would, but there was no need to rush, and my fingers had work to do there first.

I looked at her pussy for a long moment and as I did so, she continued to slowly and softly stroke my cock. Then it was time to touch her and I moved my hand down from her stomach and began to brush against her lips with my fingers. She opened slowly like a late summer flower and already moist, she began to become wetter. Touching her there again, my cock strained until I thought it would burst. I rubbed her lips for a long time and listened as her soft moans turned into harder, more urgent ones, and when I felt that I had tuned her up to the pitch she wanted, I moved my fingertip to her clitoris and began to massage it softly. She gasped loudly at my first touch and gripped my hard cock more tightly for a moment, causing her fingernails to dig into my foreskin. She threw her head back and pushed her groin forward to meet my hand and as I continued to massage her clitoris, I felt her warm wet lips against my palm and heard her say

'Put your finger inside me.'

I changed from using middle to fore finger on her clitoris, and slowly but purposefully slid the middle finger inside her. She was still as lovely and tight as she had always been, and as my finger explored her hole, memories of all of the times that my cock had been in there, and thoughts of anticipation at putting it inside her pussy again, thrilled me.

I pushed in a second finger and her walls clasped them tightly. I began to move them rhythmically in and out of her, and all the while kept on stroking and massaging, squeezing and softly pinching her clitoris.

I could tell by the increasing rapidity of her gasps and sighs that she was getting close, so I began to rub her a little more vigorously. Finally she locked still and held herself that way; her only movement the pusher of her pussy into my hand, as she came. I felt her juices ooze into my palm and I almost came myself at the joy of it.

Her head was in my lap and my cock in her mouth and she sucked it slowly and lovingly. Gently I moved her round and moved myself with her, so that she was on her side beside me. Throughout she kept my cock in her mouth, as though she did not want to let go.

'Open your legs, darling,' I told her, 'I want to look at you.'

She opened them and her pussy flowered again.

As though about to pluck it, I took her clitoris between thumb and forefinger and reached with my tongue and began to softly lick it.

I wanted to make her come with my licking and I wanted to come im her mouth, but I wanted to push my cock into her pussy and fuck her again even more, so I moved back and she knew instinctively and lay back and waited for me. It as al I could do to stop myself from coming as my cock slid into her and I felt her tense and then relax as my cock reached into her.

I didn't move. I just wanted to feel her warm wetness around my cock and as I let it rest inside her I kissed her softly and told her that I loved her and she opened her eyes and said

'I love you.'

After making love, we talked.

'Have you been faithful over the years?'

'Who to?' she asked; 'I have not been faithful to my husband, if faithful means not having relations with other men.'

'I felt disappointed. If she had not been faithful to her husband, she had not been faithful to me either. How selfish love and desire can be.

'But you have been faithful to yourself,' I said, and I believed in that. She was the one who had taught me to believe it.

'Ah, yes,' she said; 'I have been faithful to myself; faithful to my faithlessness.'

'You don't sound like you used to sound when we had our affair.'

'Maybe,' she said; 'I wonder, why did we stop? Should we have kept it going, or should we have got together properly? Have you ever wondered about that?'

I had and I said 'yes, it has always been you who was in my mind, at the back of everything else.'

'So we were wrong to part when we did?'

'Maybe,' I said, 'and I think we stopped because we were getting beyond the philosophy we used to justify what we were doing.'

'So we would have been deceiving ourselves if we had gone on; telling each other and ourselves that it was just sex, just pleasure, just exploration.'

'Perhaps the instinct of self-preservation is stronger in the end than desire itself?' I said.

'I think it is now but I didn't used to,' she said.

Seeming to be changing the subject, but actually coming to the heart of it, I asked her

'Do you still have sex with your husband?'

'Hardly ever.'

'Any lovers?'

'Not for a while.'

'Until today,' I said.

She smiled.

'I want to have another affair with you,' I told her.

'If the first one ever really stopped,' she said.

There was a pause in our talk and we both looked out over the river. Then she turned to me and it seemed to me that she was about to say something important and significant, but she stayed silent, until after a short moment she said

'It's getting dark. I had better go. But we could meet again.'

'I'd like to,' I said.

'How long are you here for?' she asked.

I'm leaving tomorrow, but London is not far. I will come again next weekend.'

'You will probably have to lie to your wife, if you tell her you are coming again to visit your mother so soon. Breaking routines; it's a give away. And if you lie to your wife, you will have begun to be doing something wrong.'

'I want to see you,' I said.

'Yes,' she replied, 'there are things between you and me that are unfinished. I didn't know that until I saw you again, but talking here has shown me. And I thought I knew myself. I thought that was all past now.'

As her words trailed away, it was as though she was not talking to me anymore, but to the trees or the river or the sky, or perhaps only to herself.

She drove me back to town and dropped me off on the high street, close to the bookshop, and said

'I will pick you up here at three next Saturday afternoon.'

I did not doubt for a moment that I would be there or that she would.

'But this time, we will be faithful to one another, after our fashion. We are both married now, and that makes us equal.' I would have added that we were thus as good or as bad as each other, but neither of us saw it like that.

She seemed surprised.

'You have an attractive young wife,' she said, 'and you want to risk it for a secret relationship with me.'

'I won't get caught,' I said.

'No, it's easy to get away with it,' she said, 'I only ever got caught once¸ the first time. Getting away with it; it's too easy to get away with it.'

'I know,' I said.

We were silent for a while and when we were almost back in town she spoke again.

'Is this love?' she asked me.

'We used to pretend it was just for the sex.'

'It's never just for the sex,' she said.

'But it works to tell oneself it is.'

'Yes,' she said, and looked out across the river again.

'That is the whole of the problem,' she said 'to experience the power of sex, it has to be as we do it, but I don't want to be alone.'