Chapter Two
I slipped out of bed the next morning and dashed into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. She was still asleep when I snuck back into bed and I laid there, propped on my elbow, just watching her sleep. And I was remembering that crush I had when I was 12 and puberty had struck with a vengeance.
I couldn't resist lifting the covers to peek and was, I must admit, disappointed, to see that her nightie was still modestly around her ankles.
And so I laid there, settling onto the pillow beside her, our noses almost touching, and wondering what the day would bring.
I was torn.
I wanted her. I wanted her very much actually. But I didn't want to be taking advantage of her.
And so I waited, just letting the time pass and feeling the warmth of her closeness.
Her eyes fluttered open and when they focused on me they got big, but she smiled.
When I kissed her softly she kissed me back.
Suddenly she rolled over and literally jumped out of bed. "Beer," she giggled as she hurried to the bathroom.
I chuckled and followed at a more leisurely pace.
When I walked into the bathroom she was sitting down and I could hear that little "hiss" of a woman peeing. Her eyes got big when I walked in and she said "DAVEYYYY."
I chuckled, loaded my toothbrush, and began brushing my teeth. She was blushing as she finished and I watched as she carefully folded a pad of toilet paper and wiped. She wouldn't meet my eyes as she flushed and then scooted in front of me to wash her hands. Then she started brushing her own teeth as I rinsed and spat and put my toothbrush up.
When she was done and turned I put my hands on her shoulders and smiled.
"Now that wasn't too bad, was it?" I asked.
She looked up at me and said "well, it was a first anyway."
I led her into the kitchen and had her sit while I got the coffee going in her old-fashioned glass percolator.
Then I sat across from her and, once again, covered her hands in mine.
"Okay," I said, holding her eyes with mine, "cold sober here. What do you think you want? You need?"
She couldn't keep looking me in the eyes and dropped her eyes.
"I don't know honey," she said in a very small voice. "God, when I saw you, and when we were dancing, and then, when I was thinking about sleeping alone I just felt so bad. I just........." and her voice sort of trailed off.
I gave her hands a squeeze. "Just what Aunt Edna?" I said.
"I just, well, just wanted to be treated like a woman," she said and when I started to respond she said, "no, that's not it really. I want to be treated like a lover but, Davey, oh God, I don't know how."
That took me aback and fortunately the percolator was perking away so I stood and poured us coffee, getting my own thoughts in order.
"Okay," I said, setting the cup in front of her and going to the refrigerator for the half-and-half I knew would be there, getting the sugar from the cupboard, and setting them in front of her beside the cup.
Then I sat down myself.
"Okay," I started again, "what do you mean you don't know how?"
"Davey," she started and drew a deep breath and started again. "I was what you'd call a child-bride today. I was 16 and a virgin when John and I got married. That first night the lights were off when he came to bed with me and it was over in about two minutes. And that is the story of my married life. God, Davey, I never even saw him naked."
I didn't really know what to say about that and so I sat there and thought for a minute.
She sort of giggled as she sipped her coffee, looking at me over the rim of her cup. And I smiled over mine.
We sat in silence, sipping the coffee and kind of looking at each other. Not an awkward silence, but companionable.
When my coffee was done I took her hand and led her back into her bedroom. She didn't seem at all reluctant to follow.
Standing beside the big feather bed I said, "let me guess, he never saw you naked either?"
She sort of giggled softly and looked down and murmured, "no."
"Well then," I said, stepping closer to her and reaching down to grab her flannel nightie just below her hips, "arms up."
I started pulling the nightie up.
Her eyes got big and she hesitated but when I nodded she lifted her arms and I peeled her like a little girl getting ready for her bath.
I tossed the nightie onto her chair in the corner and wasn't surprised when her arm went automatically to cover her breasts and her hand to cover her crotch.
"Oh no," I said with a chuckle in my voice and I took her hands and gently moved them to her sides.
I loved that she blushed as I stepped back and made a production of just looking at her. Deliberately looking her up and down.
And she was really pretty spectacular. That wonderful hair was down. Her skin was milky white and reasonably smooth for someone looking pretty closely at 60. Her breasts were large, I guessed a D or maybe a DD cup with small nipples so hard that I'm sure they ached right then. A slight belly pouch gave her a mature woman's thickness. Her legs were a bit on the thin side and her feet were long and shapely.
But what really drew my eyes was her magnificent thatch of pubic hair. It was thick and curly and ran from her belly button (a cute little innie) down for an inch or so down her thighs. She was absolutely the most generously-endowed-with-pubic-hair woman I had ever seen.
I held out my arm, forefinger pointed down and did the twirling thing, the universal "turn around" gesture.
She moaned softly, deep in her throat, and slowly turned.
And damn if she didn't look just as good from the back.
She had no particular waist, what we'd call a thick chick today, but her skin was smooth. Her ass had soft wrinkles right at the gluteal sulcus, that line where the ass meets the tops of the thighs, that I found kind of cute. And that thick pubic hair ran around as well, giving the bottom of her ass a fine downy look that I found amazingly sexy.
Her legs were skinny, and her feet were long.
And it struck me that she had evidently never shaved. When I got close enough to touch her I lightly brushed her back where there was very soft and very fine hair.
I took her hand and lifted it and sure enough, while the hair in her armpit was not as thick as her pubic hair, it was long and soft and ran down almost to the top of her ribs and down the insides of her biceps. I wanted to lick it.
I realized as I was inspecting her and she was blushing, that her body hair was much finer than it would have been had she been shaving all those years.
"You are absolutely gorgeous," I said and she giggled.
And then she looked me in the eye.
"Your turn buster," she said and her grin was absolutely predatory.
So I took two steps back and pulled my T-shirt over my head. I'm not a bodybuilder or anything, just one of those guys who got lucky in the gene pool. It's a swimmer's body, not a weightlifter's, but it's not bad if I do say so myself. The gym rats always told me I had a good cut which was, again, the result of luck rather than work.
Anyway, I smiled and struck a pose, the simple bicep pose you see in so many magazines, arms out and bent at right angles to flex.
She was smiling and said, "take it off, baby, take it all off."
So I got my hips to working in what I imagined was a passable version of a stripper's bump and grind and worked the boxers down and kicked them to her.
It would be hard to miss my interest. My erection pointed straight up my body.
