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It had been a few years since I had seen her, when I saw her upon entering a local coffee shop. We had been lovers years ago, not too serious or involved but enjoying each other, and then had drifted apart. Seeing her now made me feel great pleasure.
She had had a small business in a local seashore town, and had had to close it down due to the recession. She now lived in a small town a few miles inland that was much less expensive, and worked waiting tables in yet another town a few miles north.
I said hello and we sat and talked. She was with someone now, was scraping by on her minimum wage salary and tips, which were down given the current subdued economy, but feeling ok about her life at the moment. I did not ask about her current man, and she did not volunteer any information about him.
She mentioned that she now had a tiny house in a small town, and was struggling with how to furnish it and even more so with how to store her belongings in the small space. My ears pricked up: as an architect I could hardly pass up an opening like that, so I made the obvious response: I could help her with that, especially innovative storage, as I had some experience in that area. She said that she would really appreciate that, and suggested that after finishing our coffee we go to her house, where I could take a look at it, and where she would fix us lunch. Hot dog! Anticipation! I felt like a kid again. I followed her to her house.
She was still slim and very, very appealing, with small but nicely curved buttocks, shown off to advantage by her tight jeans, and small, firm looking breasts. All shown modestly, without flaunting anything. That had always been her way.
I did some sketches and took some dimensions, and made some immediate suggestions as to furniture arrangements and finding storage space. Much earlier in my life I had faced a similar problem, and had solved it by building a four-foot high platform covering about ¾ of the floor space of our very small bedroom. Storage underneath (a lot of it!), bed on top. The higher bed proved useful in another respect, being further off the floor and warmer in our chilly apartment. It was the 1960s, so I hung glass beads in a sort of wall defining what was bed and what was not, and had many fine times with my wife on that platform with its kitsch-but-timely decorations. I described that triumph of bahis firmaları tight packing a small space to her, and she liked the idea. We went to the bedroom so that I could take more dimensions and do some more sketches. In the course of an hour, I had a workable solution worked out, complete with materials and cost estimate. I offered to help her build it, but opined that perhaps her current man might not approve of another man spending that much time in her house, and said that I did not wish to cause any problems for her in her personal life.
She said, “no problem, he doesn’t come here much, we go to his apartment in town,” and she would really appreciate my help on her project. I thought to myself, well, our time together was good, so I don’t mind going out of my way to help her out, even if nothing comes of it. In fact, I reminded myself, nothing would come of it, she was with someone now, so just enjoying her company would be reward enough in itself, although I could not help remembering her cute little parts and how much I had enjoyed playing with them. While remembering this, my version of old Vlad the Impaler stirred – I did not ask him to – and she noticed.
She was never a cold or calculating person, and I remembered from years ago that any show of affection and/or desire was always received with acceptance and enthusiasm. I thought that she had not changed much with respect to that fine character trait. She said, “oh, my, you haven’t changed bit, have you?” I replied, “well, I have gotten older.” She said, well your thingy does not seem to know that. I was actually a little embarrassed, which was pretty silly as there were no anatomical mysteries between the two of us, even if it had been a while. Then I got over that and was pleased by the compliment.
She said, we’d better have a hug, and we did. It was wonderful! It had been so long ago between the two of us, and my current love life was, to understate the matter, not a busy one. I ventured a kiss on her neck, and she did not object. I told her, “Oh, God, it is so marvelous to hug you again!” She nuzzled my neck, and I hugged her more tightly. I wondered what to do now, should I gracefully untangle and and say, “sorry, I got carried away,” or to venture further. She resolved the matter by placing her hand on my thigh, actually on top of the axle around which I had revolved most of kaçak iddaa my life.
I felt one of her small, firm breasts, just the size I loved, and she rubbed me though my trousers. I slipped my hand under her shirt and attempted to slip it inside her bra, with little success, when she said, “wait.” She took off her shirt and bra, I felt I was on a journey towards heaven, and she unzipped my trousers and put her hand inside, gently grasping my penis. I undid my belt and trousers and dropped them around my ankles, and then started to undo her jeans. She put her hand on me, and said, “we can’t go too far with this.” I groaned. She said, “well, that doesn’t mean that we can’t play with each other, just that we can’t go too far.”
Shortly we were both nude, and slipped under the covers of her bed, as it was very chilly. I slipped my hand between her thighs and started to caress her lovely, warm pussy, which was beginning to show a trace of moistness. I concentrated on her cute little clitty, and she responded. I slipped down to where I could kiss her lovely pussy, and licked and kissed up and down the inside of both thighs, then kissed and nibbled on her outer lips, then her inner lips, and ran my tongue around the entrance to her vagina. She was now into things as much or more than I was, and I moved up to her clitty, and without warning sucked her clitty and its surroundings into my mouth. She said, “Oh, God,” and I silently agreed as I continued sucking. I then used two fingers to reach inside her and massage her G-spot, and she really responded.
She said, “We can’t fuck. He is picking me up after work tonight and will fuck me, and he might be able to tell if I had been fucked this afternoon.” I disengaged and told her, “no matter, as you said, we can have a great time playing with each other,” and resumed action. Shortly after, she came, making appropriate and endearing noises.
I recalled a story in THE DECAMERON in which a wife and her lover had anal sex. Her husband came home later, was suspicious, and inserted his fingers into her vagina too see if somebody else’s semen was there. He didn’t find any, but didn’t think to check her rectum.
I gave her a short rest, during which I checked out the bedside table to see if she had any Vaseline or KY there, and found instead something even better, Astroglide. I took some and applied it to her kaçak bahis pussy, and then to her anus, circling around it and then inserting first one, then two digits, and then my entire middle finger, and began to finger fuck her, enjoying the silky, smooth inside walls of her rectum. She began to move in response to my rhythm, and to moan and say “Oh, oh, oh…”
I continued to lick and nibble her clitty while I finger fucked her, and then I added a second finger, to her apparent pleasure. I probably occurred to both of us at about the same time, that there was more than one way to fuck. She said, “You can’t fuck my pussy, but you can fuck me there if you want to. I remember that you used to really like that, and so did I, and he doesn’t go there. I would like it if you fucked me there.”
I turned her onto her stomach and put two pillows beneath her pelvis, and applied lots more Astroglide to her anus and to my penis. I placed the head of my penis against her anus and began a firm pressure inwards. She responded by pushing back against me, and in a short time the head had passed the first ring of muscle, then the second, and I was inside. I began stroking and soon was all the way inside her, and it was wonderful. I paused and let her adjust to having me all the way up her, then began pulling back, then thrusting in, slowly at first and then with increasing speed and firmness. She moaned, and said, “More! More!” just like she did years before. I lasted as long as I could, then told her I was close, and she just nodded her head and moaned, and I shot my cum as deeply inside her as I could. I stayed inside her as long as I could, then turned us both on our sides facing each other and hugged her for a while. I then again placed two fingers inside her pussy, and my thumb on her clitty and began to make the vigourous side-to-side movements that I had learned from a middle eastern girl friend some years earlier.
This was just what the doctor ordered, and she came very strongly, and even ejaculated a small amount. One of the best days of my life, and, I hope, of hers.
In the ensuing weeks I visited her several times, we built her storage/bed platform, and had many additional sessions something like the one just described. Sometimes we just played with each other, but most times repeated the glorious experience of the first time. Life was good for a while, then her man decided to move north to a better job, and she told me she was going with him, and we said goodbye, to both our sorrows. Then we got on with our lives, each in his or her own way.
And so it goes.
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