Chapter Two
I was stunned.
"Are you serious?" I asked.
His eyes never left mine and his hands held mine tight.
"It's always been you," he said, smiling.
"On my God," I said, feeling foolish for sounding like a goddam Valley Girl but unable to stop myself.
I slipped to my knees so we were eye to eye.
"David," I said, feeling even more foolish as I felt tears flowing and my nose running, "I am unbelievably honored with your offer and I gladly, proudly, and humbly accept your gift."
The kiss that followed, both of us leaning forward slowly until our lips brushed at first and then pressed more firmly, our mouths sharing, our tongues tentative and shy at first but then more demanding, our breath catching, but the only contact between us our mouths, is the kiss against which all other kisses since have been measured. Most have been found wanting.
I have read the phrase "time stopped" probably a dozen times over the years. I always thought it was trite and silly. A writer's crutch when he or she didn't know how to fill the space.
I was wrong.
Time stopped.
It wasn't sexual. It was beyond sexual. Nothing existed except our mouths. But the merging between us was more perfect than any sex could ever be.
Gradually I became aware again.
My breasts felt full, my areolas so tight and my nipples so hard they were pulling the skin.
My pussy was full too. I could feel my labia, swollen and tender, and my clitoris so hard it hurt where it rubbed gently against my panties and slacks.
The scent of my need was strong and for the first time in my life, I wasn't embarrassed by it. I was proud of the way he was affecting me. I wished we were somewhere in public so everyone could see (and smell) how I felt.
He was the one who broke the kiss, leaving me to make a little mewing sound that I hadn't ever made before.
When he took my hand, guided it to his mouth, and started sucking on my finger my sound turned to a soft, "unnhhhh."
The tingle ran up my forearm, raising goosebumps on the inside of my biceps, and drawing my mouth open in an involuntary smile that turned into a silent cry of pleasure.
He brushed his fingertip across my palm finding an erogenous zone I didn't know I had, and that drew a little gasp from me.
"Ummmmmmm," I said, softly, touching his cheek, "you know your way around for a virgin."
His grin made me grin back.
"Studyin'," he said, tapping his forehead, "wanting to make sure I could please you."
And that broke the tension while not breaking the mood.
"Davey," I said, holding him at arm's length, gazing into his eyes as the saying goes, "are you certain this is what you want?"
He laughed, a big, open, booming belly laugh.
"Aunt Ann," he said, and again I felt that tingle when he called me that, "I have never been more certain of anything in my life. I've waited a dozen years for this."
He stopped then and squeezed my hand.
"But it's still up to you," he said, "and if you say 'no,' I'll understand."
It was my turn to laugh.
"Oh no," I said, wrapping him in my arms.
It was awkward, both of us on our knees. The angles were odd and the weight moved forward, shifting my center of gravity. But it was good too.
"You're puttin' out," I said, giggling and nipping his earlobe.
"Please, Br'er Fox, not the briar patch," he said before covering my mouth in another kiss.
It was timeless and awkward and delightful, holding each other, kissing, and saying silly things while on our knees in the middle of my front room. When his hands found the hem of my blouse and tugged it free of my slacks I did the same with his shirt. We spent minutes, kissing and touching and fumbling with buttons before I had his buttons undone and leaned down to kiss the skin of his chest.
He had an extra layer to deal with, of course. He got the tiny buttons at my wrist undone and eased the blouse off, and then reached around to find the four hooks of my bra. It wasn't some Victoria's Secret item, just a plain white cotton bra, like all of my bras a 38DD, with wide straps, a support garment, not a display garment.
I enjoyed distracting him, my tongue probing his ear, tracing the shell, my breath warm as his fingers worked out how the hooks worked.
He finally worked it out and I felt the sudden release of tension as the last hook came loose. He leaned back, putting enough space between us to allow him to ease the straps over my shoulders and down my arms. I held his eyes and smiled as I moved my arms enough to let the bra fall away.
I don't think I have ever been more aware of how my breast sag than I was at that instant. I had topped out at my 38DD size my junior year in college when I gave up gymnastics for more sedentary pursuits and my body added about 20 pounds and a few inches here and there. I never had children but at, well, let's just say 40-something gravity had won, as it always does.
So there I was, tits sagging as he leaned back and looked.
And I felt the warmth of a blush spreading.
"God," he said, reaching and gently lifting my breasts, just holding them in his hands, "so beautiful," he breathed softly.
"I'm glad," I started and my breath caught so I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and started over.
"I'm glad you approve," I managed to get out before my voice broke.
**"Christ, Ann," I thought to myself, "it's not like this is your first time or anything, steady down."**
