The woman I've been seeing is amazing. Attractive and intelligent, with an incredible sense of style and taste in clothes, meals, music and movies. All around amazing. And insatiable in bed. Creative, attractive, thoughtful and considerate. And did I mention insatiable in bed?
Okay, so I repeated it. I'm a guy and we notice that kind of thing. And appreciate it.
Cheryl and I met at the library of all places. I was doing some research on allergies and she was trying to find materials on side effects of a new drug. While she was asking at the Information Desk, I recognized the name of one of the ingredients she mentioned.
"It can have a long term negative impact on the brain," I warned her. "Do you know someone who is using it?"
The impact of what I said was surprising. She leaned her head on the desk and started crying. Long story short, I talked to her, we had coffee, then dinner, then spent the weekend in bed at her place. She didn't tell me everything that first weekend, but it was clear that she'd been exposed to the drug and was wrestling with what to do.
That was about a year ago. Over the last few months, she's finally revealed the rest of her story to me. Not all at once, but in small bits and pieces. The first clue was about six months ago. It happened like this:
I'd reserved a table at our favorite Italian restaurant. Cheryl made me promise to stay in the front room while she got dressed. I'd already showered, shaved, and put on one of my favorite chocolate colored suits, so I settled into the easy chair in the front room and thumbed through one of her new magazines. Fifteen minutes or so later, she tapped on the hallway wall.
"Close your eyes," she called. I did, chuckling at her sense of humor. She was always coming up with new things to make our life interesting. A new outfit, a different recipe, new music, things were always changing. I heard her walk across the room and stop in front of me.
"Open them," she said and I did. She was wearing a new dress, a stunningly impressive red thing with a diagonally cut neck, parallel cut hem and a low, low back. As she turned around, she gave a slight wiggle. The fabric moved and I could see the area at the small of her back just above where the cheeks met. A gust of wind or the wrong movement and her bottom would be exposed. I wondered what she was wearing underneath but didn't ask. Let it be a surprise.
"Do you like it?" she purred. I smiled and nodded. Even after all this time, I still wasn't use to her and hoped and prayed I never would be. She leaned forward and the top fell loose, I was able to look down the front of her dress. She was wearing a matching color push-up bra. I felt myself start to get hard but knew that nothing would happen before dinner. We both enjoyed the tease too much. She kissed me on the forehead and stood back up. "Who's driving?"
---
As I sat across the table from her over dinner, I thought I noticed more sparkle in her eyes, more energy in her movements. She told me she was in her 50's but looked easily ten years younger. I knew she spent a lot of time at the gym and that she took vitamins, a lot of vitamins. The row of bottles in her bathroom looked more like a display in a store than a shelf in someone's home.
She flirted with me across the table, I responded by rubbing my toe up and down her calves. She loved it and we both knew it. In just six months, we'd learned an awful lot about each other's bodies.
Over dessert, she whispered to me "look at the couple at the next table." I turned my head casually and saw an elderly couple, maybe in their 70's or even older. They were smiling at each other, occasionally touching each other's fingers across the table. "I want to be like that again someday," she said softly. I nodded. Growing old together. A nice fantasy.
When we got back home, Cheryl lost no time leading me to the bedroom. She stripped me but kept her clothes on. That was a huge turn on for me and she knew it. She stood beside the bed and slid the soft fabric up and down her hips, the hem climbing slowly higher and higher until I could see what she had on underneath. It was some kind of satin material, a deep burgundy color. As she slid the dress higher and higher, I saw that it was barely a piece of underwear at all. The patch was no larger than the back of her hand and held in place by three pieces of ribbon that tied behind her back. She gathered the fabric around her waist and I stared, eyes wide and cock already stiff.
Cheryl dropped the skirt back into place and knelt on the bed between my feet, then leaned forward in a quick motion and took me in her mouth. I thought I would cum right then, but I held out. She kept her mouth open wide and moved down slowly as far as she could without my cock touching either the sides of back of her mouth. It was incredible, the feeling of the warm air circulating around my cock head, her lips three inches or so down the shaft but not touching it. She pulled her head upward and the air of the room chilled me just a bit. I shivered and she smiled and did it again. She did it over and over until I begged her to stop. I couldn't take it anymore. The last time she did it, I made my cock jerk and it banged against her tongue. She laughed and reached for me with her hand. She closed her fingers around my sack and closed her mouth around my cock head. Then, she started moving up and down fast, tongue licking me inside as she banged my cock against the back of her mouth. I came right away, she pushed her head down and locked her mouth around the base of my cock, swallowing. I felt the contractions of her throat around my cock and unloaded every last drop I had.
I raised myself up on my elbows. "You're amazing," I said. She smiled at me, stood up and walked across the room to the closet. She unsnapped the dress and it slid off of her in a single piece. I admired her body, firm and round, not like the boy-sized models in the magazine ads. No, my Cheryl was a real woman all the way. Her breasts strained against the push-up bra and the tiny patch of material between her legs was even darker, wet with her desire.
"Steven?" she asked tentatively. I lay back down, arms behind my head. "Hmmm?" "Steven, have you noticed that I'm forgetting things lately?"
I didn't say anything, but I had. And not just that. She'd had at least three episodes of obvious confusion, not able to form sentences, not able to find simple words.
She climbed onto the bed and snuggled against my side. Her hand idly touched my cock. It began to stiffen and she stroked it gently. She asked, "do you like my body?" I smiled. "Of course. You're beautiful. And you take care of yourself. You really are something. I can't stay on a schedule at the gym. They'd have to drive here and pick me up..." She put her finger over my mouth. There was something on her mind and she was having a hard time saying it.
We lay like that for a long time, then she let out a little giggle. She slid her body on top of mine and started kissing me. I responded right away, running my hands over her back, touching her in the places she liked to be touched. She opened her legs and started grinding her crotch against mine. My stiff cock pressed against her belly, she humped me slow and hard. I heard her breathing quicken and she rubbed faster. In just a minute, she came, screaming and pulling my hair. I smiled. She untied the tiny panty-thing and opened herself up, taking me easily into her wetness. Life was good.
===
A few months back, a while after the night I described above, Cheryl came to me with a proposition. She wanted to kick up our sex life. I asked her what she meant and she told me she wanted to do it with me and another man. She whispered her fantasy to me, described in detail how she would move from one of us to the other, using her hands, mouth, and body to keep us aroused until she finally satisfied us both. She said she was turned on by the idea of one of us watching while she was playing with the other. As she described the fantasy, she got more and more excited until she finally came. When we woke up the next morning and I asked her about it, she denied it. That happened more than once, and with more than one fantasy. Her forgetfulness was starting to worry me.
She was showing some other signs of mental deterioration as well. She couldn't remember which artist performed her favorite songs. She would start to cook dinner but mix up the ingredients until she produced something totally inedible. Several times, she'd get lost on the way home and have to call me for directions.
At the same time, she was getting wilder and wilder in the sack. Her body was more limber than before, her stamina incredible, and her appetite enormous. We'd have sex every day and most days I'd find her masturbating at least once. Her body was sexier than every, she looked younger and firmer than when we'd met, the few wrinkles in her face were gone and her hair color was more vibrant.
One night stands out in my mind particularly clearly. I came home from work and the house was dark and quiet. When I opened the front door, I immediately smelled vanilla incense in the air. And the front room was bathed in the soft glow of candles. I made my way through the house, the smell getting stronger as I came toward the kitchen, the soft light of the candles everywhere.
Cheryl was in the kitchen, laying on her back on the table. There were stripes of whipped cream running up her legs from her knees to her belly, meeting in a large circle that spiraled out from her navel. Her breasts were piled high with whipped cream, a cherry at the top of each tower. Her eyes were closed, her face covered over with strips of dried fruit roll ups. Her lips were puckered and held a single cherry high in the air.
I walked around and stood in front of her, just looking. There was a small mountain of whipped cream covering her mound, another single cherry at the top. Without saying a word, I stripped off my clothes, then started licking the whipped cream from her left leg. She moaned and I felt the table shudder. I smiled. I wondered how long she'd been there, if she'd been anticipating this, if she'd already cum from just that touch.
I took my time moving up her leg. I alternated licking with just pressing my lips into the cream and sucking it, tugging gently at her skin as I moved my head upward. She rolled slightly to the side but caught herself and stopped, shuddering as she came again.
When I'd licked both legs clean, I stood up and went to the refrigerator. I took out a bottle of white wine and poured myself a glass. I stood next to her and watched her as I sipped slowly. I could tell from the way she was breathing that she knew I was toying with her and that it was turning her on. I looked at the pile between her legs. It had largely slid downward, much of it melting into a runny river of cream between her lips and cheeks. I reached and scooped some of it off with two fingers, licking and sucking them loudly. Then, I put my hand between her legs again and pushed a finger between her lips. She moaned, loud this time, and shook the table. I scooped more cream and licked my fingers off.
