Chapter 4 – The Second Gift
I stood and helped her stand up while she was doing her post-hypnotic stretching exercises. "How do you feel?" I asked.
"Great!" She stiffened slightly as I put my arms around her, then relaxed and put hers around my waist. She nestled her head into my chest, and we just held each other for a long minute.
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked in a small voice.
"Anything I want." I never could resist a straight line. Her head snapped up and she looked questioningly into my eyes. I gave her my most innocent smile.
"Don't tease me!" she implored, looking down again, frustrated.
"Well," I said thoughtfully, "I suppose the proper thing for me to do would be to kiss you, and just see how things progress."
She looked back up again then, and seeing that I meant it, waited as I slowly lowered my lips to hers. It started out as a nice kiss; tentative, then a little stronger, slowly increasing in passion. When I parted my lips, she followed suit, and soon I was exploring her mouth with my tongue. That's when things got a little awkward. Her knees buckled, and I had to make a frantic grab for her, catching her under her arms, and hoisting her back up again. She was gasping for breath. When she looked back up at me, her eyes had lost focus, and they seemed to roll a little before finally settling back on my own.
"Golly!" she breathed.
Once again, I believe I did an admiral job of not laughing; not even a giggle. The last time I'd heard that particular exclamation was when I had been channel-surfing and happened to pause on an old rerun of "Leave It to Beaver."
"If I might suggest;" I said quietly, "you could put your arms around my neck."
She did as I said, which had the effect I had hoped for. The shirttail of her blouse pulled loose from her skirt, baring her midriff. As I again lowered my face toward hers, she surprised me by taking the palm of one hand, putting it behind my head, and pulling me to her waiting lips. I slid my hands around the bare skin of her waist, then up her back underneath her blouse. She breathed a long noise into my mouth and shuddered violently. I let my hands wander around her upper and lower back and sides while my tongue explored her mouth. I broke the kiss, and began unbuttoning her blouse. She was breathing hard, making her ample chest a moving target beneath the buttons, and I fumbled a bit.
"Fred, I'm afraid I'm not too good at this," she said softly between gulps of air. "I've wanted this for so long, and I want to make it special for you, but I don't know what to do."
"Will you trust me?" I asked, and she nodded, blushing, as I finally finished with the damn buttons and slid the silken garment off of her body. Her breasts were perfect; high and rounded. I let my gaze settle there, while she reached upward to cross her arms to cover herself, thought better of it, and let them fall to her sides again as her whole body flushed. She looked down at the floor as she displayed herself to me. I took great pains to fold the blouse carefully and drape it over a chair back, then took her into my arms again and gently turned her toward the unlit fireplace. There's a large mirror over the mantle, and it reflected our images back toward us. She looked up, shivered, and cast her eyes back downward as I turned to the task of the skirt, which, thank goodness, was much easier than the blouse had been.
I'd forgotten that she wasn't wearing panties. Menlo, of course, had those as a trophy, but oddly, I wasn't at all jealous knowing that the bastard had taken her sexually only a few hours before. SHE had obviously forgotten HIM, and that was all that mattered to me. I moved behind her and wrapped my arms around her, caressing her naked stomach and breasts.
She said: "Aren't you going to take off your ... Oh golly!" as I lightly pinched her left nipple and started rolling it between my finger and thumb, my right hand snaking across her abdomen and pubic area. She lifted her arms slightly, but obviously didn't know what to do with them, and let them flop back over mine like the wings of a stricken bird. I was very erect, and as I pulled her back into me, I was sure she could feel my hardness against her buttocks and lower back. She glanced nervously up at the mirror for a moment, then forced her eyes back down toward the floor as she tried to cope with the feelings rippling through her body.
"Spread your legs," I ordered softly, and she complied immediately. "Further!" I said, and she quickly placed her feet about 18 inches apart. My right hand slid between the creamy inner thighs, and I obviously scraped my palm against her clit, for she shivered violently and let out of long, low moan. Her pubic hair was short and rather sparse. My palm covered her whole area, and slowly, as I worked my middle finger into her slit, she began to move her hips rhythmically forward and back, grinding into my crotch for a moment or two on each backstroke. I let go of her breast with my left hand long enough to sweep her long black hair over her left shoulder, then I began kissing and nibbling her exposed neck while I resumed pinching and pulling her nipples. I had worked my finger all the way inside her by now, and I began flicking her clit with my thumb. She was amazingly wet, and my hand was rapidly coated with her juices.
Unable to tolerate doing nothing with her arms any longer, she raised her hands and grasped my wrists. She turned her head to the right, obviously wanting to be kissed, and I complied with her silent request, kissing her deeply, passionately. When I broke it, her lips tried to stay with mine, but I wouldn't let her have her way.
"Look at the girl in the mirror," I ordered.
She glanced up immediately, blushed furiously, lowered her gaze, then purposefully obeyed me and a brought her eyes up once again.
"I'm shy," she whimpered, then groaned loudly as I flicked her clit with my thumb again. Her hips bucked, tried to find a rhythm, then bucked again. I started working a second finger inside her. "Oh golly oh golly oh golly oh golly," she moaned loudly. She was tight, and I felt her stretching. Each time I flicked the clitoris, she would buck against my hand and the muscles of her cunt would contract around my fingers.
"Watch the girl in mirror," I said firmly, breathing directly into her exposed ear. She stiffened, shut her eyes momentarily while a shudder rippled through her, and she let out an "AAAAhh!" sort of moan. Her body seemed to be moving in several directions now, wriggling from side to side, as well as back against my crotch and forward against the invading fingers. I was looking at her in the mirror to make sure she was keeping her eyes open, but her gaze was on her body, not on me. She made quite a sight, moving in my arms like that.
"What's the girl in the mirror doing now?" I asked, again breathing the words directly into her ear while rubbing her clit as hard and as rapidly as I could.
"SHE'S COMING!" she shrieked, and suddenly several things happened. Her knees buckled again, and I lost my grip on her breast and I found myself literally supporting her entire weight by the two fingers buried inside her. Her body jerked frantically, grinding into my hand. She started an insistent "Aaahh, aaahh, aaahh, aaahh" sound that coincided perfectly with a spasmodic gripping of my fingers by the muscles of her cunt. I finally caught her below her breasts with my left arm, and after this went on for a full half minute, I slowly pulled my fingers out of her. My whole hand was soaked. She seemed to deflate, and I turned her around and held her tightly as her body was wracked by strong, intermittent shudders. At last her body became still, and her arms lifted and encircled me weakly.
"Are you okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
"I .... Freddy, that was .... I've never, ever, ever felt like that before. It was so ... so ...." She stiffened suddenly and drew back from me slightly. "So selfish."
"Huh?"
"I should have been pleasing YOU," she said, with a sort of frantic earnestness. She began fumbling with my belt.
"Hey! Hey, there! Slow down! We have all the time in the world." I held her by the shoulders, but she continued to work with the belt. She couldn't seem to get her fingers to work properly.
"No, you don't understand. I need to please YOU. I need ... I need ...." She took another ragged breath and her hands became still. A tear slid down her cheek. "Please, Freddy. Please? You don't understand. I really, really need to do this. I have to .... I NEED to please you! Please? I can't get this stupid belt undone!"
"If I may be so bold to suggest," I said quietly, trying to calm her, "perhaps you could start with my shirt."
She looked up, then grabbed for the buttons of my long sleeved shirt. She was much more adept at those than the buckle, and soon had the shirt neatly folded and lying next to her blouse and skirt over the arms of the chair, which had suddenly decided to double for a clothes horse. Then she was back to the problem of the belt.
"Shoes and socks next," I ordered softly. "Never leave your man wearing only his shoes, he'll feel foolish." She glanced down, then self-consciously toed off her own sandals, which were all she was wearing, and kicked them aside, out of the way. Before I could move to the couch, she had fallen on her knees in front of me, and busied herself with my shoe laces. The mantle mirror was tilted slightly, to allow people standing before it to see themselves, so I had a splendid view of her back side as she knelt submissively in front of me, bent over her task with the laces. I helped from time to time by placing my hand on her back to steady myself as I lifted a foot to aid in the removal of first the shoes, then the socks.
At last, there was nothing left but the offending belt and trousers, but instead of standing again, she raised herself on her knees until her face was inches from the buckle. In surprisingly short order, the thing was undone and the pants were off. Instead of getting up to further burden the chair, she folded them and laid them aside on the floor next her, then reached for the waist band of my boxers. The tent that they made in front left little to the imagination. I noticed that her hands were shaking badly again. Very slowly, as if unwrapping a suspicious package, she peeled them down.
Her breath caught, and she gawked at me. She'd gotten the shorts only as far as my knees, but she seemed to have entirely forgotten about them. "Oh my God!" she whispered. She just knelt there, staring.
"My shorts, please," I said quietly, gently. "I'm about to fall on my ass, here."
"Huh?" She glanced up to meet my eyes, then immediately back down at my prick. Her mouth was open slightly, and her eyes fastened onto my erect member and stayed there for another several long seconds. Then my words finally seemed to take hold, and she jumped a little. "Oh, sorry." She slid the shorts the rest of the way down my legs and off, as I lifted my feet, one at a time, to help her; but her eyes never left her main item of interest.
"Freddy," she said, quietly, reverently, "I didn't know you were so ... so .... I don't think I could .... I mean, I think you're too .... Freddy, you're so BIG!"
