Adventure of the Incidental Ogle

"I hope there isn't a conflict there," she added before I could recover. "My background check on you didn't indicate any committed relationship at the moment. Certainly no remarriage since your wife died. If I'm crossing some kind of boundary, just let me know. I don't intend to cause problems for you."

"No, no conflict..." I managed to get out. "It's just, um... I guess I'm not all that used to being hunted... by a woman... for sex."

She laughed. It was delightful. I was almost embarrassed, true, but I'd rolled with worse in the past and wasn't about to get self-conscious now.

"Jack, you've been nothing but an absolute gentleman this evening," she told me, looking up from my shoulder with a smile. "You've been discreet and thoughtful, attentive to more than just my tits, very in control of your manners and avoiding all suggestion of impropriety. No boorish behavior at all. Which turns me on like you wouldn't believe. The question is, how much of your well-controlled animal do you let out in the bedroom?"

"How much would you like?" I thought it was a reasonable question. I didn't miss the catch in her breath.

"I doubt you would allow yourself to be as abusive as my previous owner," she said slowly, shifting to serious, "but I do like it a bit rough. I also like gentle, and pretty much everything in between. How about you?"

I took a breath and let it out slowly.

"I guess if I had to characterize my preferences, I'd say I like gentle, building up to passionate -- not necessarily rough -- and that I kind of insist my partner be satisfied before I am," I told her. "That approach has served me well in a number of relationships, and I see no reason to switch to Asshole now. I will say that I prefer a partner who is vocal... who communicates what she wants and doesn't mind giving directions if I could be pleasuring her better."

"There is a God," she muttered, looking away, but I caught it. Then she looked back to me with those hypnotic eyes. "I would like you to fuck my brains out, Jack. Are you up for that?"

"Here and now?" I asked, looking around. "I suppose..."

She laughed again, then felt my crotch and the rather insistent hard-on I'd been keeping on a leash since first seeing her. I held very still and tried not to freak out.

"I do believe you mean it," she smiled. "But, no... I was thinking elsewhere." She stood up. "Come."

"You first," I quipped as I stood. "I take a little longer."

She laughed again, took my hand and began leading me through the house. There wasn't another soul stirring that I could see. She led me up one floor and down a hallway to a huge bedroom suite. It took up maybe a quarter to a third of the end of the house, with floor to ceiling picture windows facing the beach and part of the woods, and its own porch, plus a fireplace, conversation pit, gigantic bed, and a hallway leading to what I presumed would be the closets, dressing area and bath.

She moved to the end of the bed, which had already been turned down, and turned to face me, raising her arms.

"Mr. Stevens," she asked. "Would you care to undress me?"

Care to? I was almost foaming at the mouth wanting to... I really wanted to know if those were clamps or piercings. But I was going to sit on it and act the sophisticate if it killed me. I walked slowly up to her.

"Yes, ma'am, I do believe I would like to do that," I told her, reaching out and gently taking one of the chains that led to a breast. I traced it down to the ring at the end and realized it was a piercing.

Jumping to the Oh-My-Fucking-God conclusion, I followed one of the chains down to her labia majora. It was a piercing, too. And she had a small barbell piercing through her clitoral hood. "Undressing her" was going to require a bit of finesse. Going back to a nipple, I realized it would be easier to disconnect the chain than remove the ring, so I did. Same for the other nipple. Both stood out a mile as I inadvertently stimulated them while detaching the chains.

Well, maybe not a mile, but you get the idea. Somewhere, I got a wild hair up my ass. After detaching the second nipple chain, I sucked the ring and its attached nipple into my mouth and started flicking the ring with my tongue. To say I got a reaction would be severe understatement.

"Oh, my God! Jack! Oh, fuck!!!..." Apparently I was doing something right. I felt her starting to tremble a little, so with one last tug of my mouth, I let go and switched to the other nipple. And got a similar reaction.

"Oh, Jack... oh, God, you're driving me crazy! Where did you learn to do that? Oh..."

"Physics, biology and imagination," I told her, taking my mouth off long enough to answer, then going back to sucking and licking.

"She must have been one hell of a Science teacher," she told me, right before another long, loud moan. As she moaned and quivered, I realized I still needed to take off the other two chains. The ones attached to her pussy lips. Letting go of her tit and going down on my knees seemed the appropriate thing to do.

She just stood there trembling as I reached out to detach the first of the two, and got yet another surprise. As soon as I moved the chain, and consequently her labia, a gush of her essence leaked out and ran down her leg. She had to be sopping wet.

I took a chance. I reached a finger between her lips and gently probed. I got definite confirmation that she was hot, wet, swollen and sensitive. As I slipped my finger just inside her vestibule, she put her hands on my shoulders, shook hard for a moment and whispered, "Oh, God... cumming..." while I felt her pulse against my finger. I still hadn't gotten the chains off, so I didn't want to screw up and hurt anything. I eased away and went back to detaching the chains. By the time I got the second one off, she was trembling.

"I believe, Mrs. Richards," I told her, dropping back into the formal, "that you would be best served lying on the bed where you do not risk injury from falling. Turn around."

"Thank you, sir," she answered as she turned her back to me. I reached up to the clasp and undid the necklace, gently taking it from around her neck and setting it on a nearby chair. Now the only jewelry she had on were the piercings and the hairpins holding up her beautiful mane. One by one, I eased them out, and her locks fell in cascades down her back.

I was seriously thinking Goddess Territory ahead as her slightly curled tresses flowed over her perfect skin.

I reached out and caressed her shoulder, tracing the line of her hair down her back and brushing the small of her back, ending up resting my hand on her hip. I don't think I could have avoided that simple touch if I wanted to... she was just that beautiful standing there with her back to me, and me completely mesmerized.

I felt her shudder and heard her sigh as my hand transited her back to her hip, and I got a small glow of satisfaction that my touch was that acceptable to her. I was surprised, though, when she moved away from me, walking to the foot of the bed and then crawling up onto it, eventually lying down on her stomach in the middle. My brain went into overdrive trying to figure out what an appropriate next move for me would be.

If she was doing the kinds of things "Lawrence", whom I was now beginning to think of as "Asshole", had wanted her to do -- to be meek and subservient and available for his pleasure -- then anything I did that seemed to be using her would be a bad thing, I thought. But if I kept too much distance, she might think I wasn't interested, or maybe apprehensive... and therefore not what she was looking for.

I've taken some pretty direct approaches at times in my life, but I can also do subtle if I put my mind to it. I needed to put my mind to it. I moved up alongside the bed, sitting on it so I could reach her but not climbing in. I went ahead and touched her again, gently, starting at her shoulder and following her hair down her back. Again, she shuddered and moaned slightly as my hand crossed the small of her back. That's when I noticed the very thin white lines... and I knew exactly what they were.

I was really starting to wish the Asshole didn't die painlessly.

I switched to the backs of her calves and gently massaged them, moving slowly up to her knees and thighs, and eventually to her perfect ass. Truth be told, in addition to wanting to give her pleasurable touch, I was looking for more scarring. I found it -- very, very light and only noticeable because of her tan. And not a lot. But enough. Enough to piss me off.

I stood up and pulled off my shirt, shoes, socks and pants. I was thanking the Powers That Be that I'd remembered to put on a pair of boxers. I usually didn't bother. Now, though, it allowed me a veil of separation as I moved onto the bed, straddling her waist as I moved her hair aside and began to slowly and methodically massage her wonderful body.

My cock refused to stay detached but the boxers at least kept him out of the way. I started with her neck and shoulders and did my damnedest to loosen and relax her muscles, gently but firmly, without it going sexual. I wanted it to go sexual, believe me, but I was going to stay the gentleman if it killed me.

That's funny, I realized. I thought that before...

I worked at staying the gentleman as I massaged a lot of stress out of that goddess' body. And I succeeded. I made it down her shoulders and back, her waist, thighs and butt, her calves and her feet. And the more I worked loose her tight muscles, the more I was getting positive feedback in the way of moans and shivers.

At one point, when I was working on her thighs, she spread them, giving me unrestricted access to her most intimate parts. I studiously avoided that trap. I kept going down her legs, but not without first noticing that her essence was soaking the bed beneath her.

Good, I thought. Some non-threatening, practical hedonism will probably profit us both...

I spent a particularly long time on her feet, paying attention to every nuance I could, heeding Heinlein's admonition to Rub Her Feet. At last, it was time to take the next leap.

"Mrs. Richards, if you would care to turn over, I will continue to pleasure you," I suggested. The initial response I got was a heartfelt moan that bloody well reverberated throughout the room.

"Jesus Christ, Jack!" she groaned as she tried to move. "It's Anne! And I don't know if I can turn over! You've turned me into Jell-o."

"Then allow me," I told her as I knelt next to her on the bed. I slid one arm under her, going above her breasts, and one going under her hips. I may be sixty-five, but I can still dead-lift a helluva lot more than she weighed, believe me. I put her at 120 lbs. tops, at a guess. She actually shrieked a little as I lifted her and tried to find something to hold on to with her hands, but the only thing to grab was me. I lifted her, rolled her and deposited on the bed, tits side up, without any ungentlemanly touching.

I think I was frustrating her. The look on her face let me know she'd noticed my flagpole. But she didn't say anything. She just sighed.

In any case, I started in on her feet and began working my way up her front side. I took my time and stayed away from her pussy and tits. A certain Machiavellian side of me realized that if I drew out the massage, our scrumptious dinner would have had plenty of time to settle. Continuous belching or acid reflux while making love is inelegant.

I made sure to avoid her pussy and her tits until I had everything else reduced to mush. She was so relaxed, I thought I might have put her to sleep. Until I caressed her breast, that is. A very light stroking along the side of her fullness, continuing on up to the nipple and ever so slightly squeezing it between thumb and forefinger, got a sharp intake of breath, a long sigh and a muttered "finally..."

So I tried it on the other side. And got what I could best describe as a low purr. Figuring I was on a roll, I lightly stroked my way down her fantastic belly to her mons and lightly caressed that, as well. Another purr and some hip rolling told me I was on the right track. Next was gently making circular petting motions around, but not on, her clit. Her response to that was a louder moan and spreading her legs.

Which I avoided, continuing the light circular massage for a bit before stroking my way back up to her luscious breasts and playing with them. When I had both nipples so turgid it seemed they would explode, I'd pet my way back down to her mons and indirectly go after her clit until it appeared to be its turn to erupt. Then I'd go back to her breasts, and continued going back and forth until she was writhing beneath my hands like she was plugged into the wall outlet. I was also slowly figuring out how to use the piercings as a kinky marital aid.

Finally, she'd had enough. When my hand was on one of her breasts, she grabbed it, threw her other hand over my neck and pulled me down into a very passionate kiss... one I tried to return before I got completely lost in it. I'm not certain she was trying to suck out my immortal soul, but she was having that effect. Then just as suddenly, she grabbed me by my hair and ears and pushed me back, looking up at me with those incredible eyes.

"Are you going to fuck me or not?!?!" she demanded. She looked rather intimidating with her red mane swirling around her blazing eyes.

"I don't know..." I answered honestly.

"What???" She seemed astounded. "What do you mean? Why?"

"Well, it seems like that's what every other asshole has done, particularly your late husband, so I thought I might try something different," I explained. And it was partly true. I didn't want her reacting to me like the other males who had used and abused her.

"Aaarrrgghhh!" she cried out in obvious frustration, throwing herself back into the bed and not letting go of my ears. I'll admit, it smarted.

"Jack!" she snapped, and I figured I'd better pay attention. "Don't you get it? I want you to fuck my brains out!" She finally let go of my ears.

"The 'every other asshole' you're talking about just took what they wanted from me!" she went on. "They were seldom nice about it. They didn't give a rat's ass whether I was getting any pleasure out of it. They just did what they bloody well pleased! And now that I've finally found a guy who doesn't want to just use me, he doesn't want to fuck me, either???

"What is with you??? It's been damn near three years since I've felt a man's touch, let alone wanted him so badly I'm soaking the mattress! Is there something wrong with me, that you're not inter-"

That's as far as I let her get before I shut her up by kissing her with everything I had. Thank God she melted into me. For me, kissing her was a religious experience. Second on my all time favorites list. It would be damned difficult to dislodge Julie from the Number One spot. But Julie was gone and Anne was here and she was taking over every part of my consciousness. I was rock hard and pressed against her belly and trying my best not to be just another asshole.

She broke the kiss.

"What is it, Jack?" she asked, rather than demanded. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I told her. "Not a damn thing. You are an incredibly sexy woman, a walking wet dream, and I would love nothing better that to make slow, sweet love with you all night long."

"But..." she prompted.

"Not but," I corrected her. "And. And I'm not going to take from you like the other assholes. It's your choice, not mine." I eased off of her and lay back. "If you want it, you're going to have to take it. Your choice to take what you want." I paused for a moment before getting a silly grin on my face. "With my complete cooperation, of course."

She smiled back and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She obviously made up her mind and raised up next to me, leaning over and pushing me down on my back. She was looking into my eyes when she ran her hand over my chest and I could feel her exploring me as if it were a novel experience. Her eyes, though, were hypnotizing me, like a cobra with a bird right before said bird becomes a meal. Yeah, I know it doesn't really work like that, but that's the myth and it sure as hell applied to me right at that moment.

When her hand got to my boxers -- now severely tenting -- she tugged slightly on them and I took that as an indication she wanted them off. I lifted my hips and helped her slide them down and off.

"You know, I don't think I have a strap-on that big," she observed as she drifted her hand to my cock. I couldn't help the moan I let out as she circled me with her thumb and fingers and began slowly stroking me. I was definitely leaking precum. "Actually, I don't think any of my dildos are this big. I wonder if it will fit?"

I was seriously contemplating her question and possible courses of action when, without warning, she struck. Or straddled, actually. She swung her leg over me, grabbed my rigid cock, aimed it at her pussy and sat down.

"Oh, GOD, you're big!" she cried out. "Oh, FUCK!..." I did my best to hold still and keep my mouth shut. Difficult to do when every cell in my body was on fire from my cock being plunged into her velvet oven. Actually, more like a blast furnace. She was hot, and she was wet, and she was driving me crazy as she ground down onto me, getting herself stretched out.

But I'd meant what I'd said about it being her choice. I wasn't going to take that away from her.

Wife One -- Betty -- had taught me to take charge. She wasn't terribly adventurous and pretty much liked whatever I did, mostly because I was trying to figure out how to please her before I got off. Wife Two, though -- Julie -- had taught me to let her drive, most of the time. She liked being in charge and she never failed to pay attention to my needs and wants while pursuing her own. I figured this was more like a Wife Two situation. I was going to let Anne run the show.

"It is not like riding a bike," she informed me as she continued to rub her clit into my groin and keep me buried to the hilt in her wonderful pussy. "It's like graduating to a motorcycle. A big motorcycle. Jesus..." She didn't quit, though. She kept moving and sighing and moaning, and eventually I guess she was stretched out enough, because she started lifting, then sitting, then lifting, and so forth. Basically, fucking me. A nice, long, slow, intense fucking.

Age has its advantages. Being able to last more than the time it takes to unzip is one of them. It had become a point of honor to me to see how many times we could get her off before she made me lose it. And she was going to make me cum. I'd have to have been a eunuch not to respond to her, and even then I'm not so sure. All I wanted to do was last long enough so that she was happy. I had no delusions about being able to satiate her once she got going. I'd settle for happy.

"Jesus, Jack... you've got me so filled up! You're bigger than most of Lawrence's clients, and a hell of a lot bigger than Asshole himself," she told me as she rode me. "I hope you don't mind me just using you for a fuck toy for a while."

"Use away," I smiled. "I live to service. Or serve. Or whatever it's supposed to be." The response I got was a big grin and an increase in her rhythm, really starting to pound down onto me then.

"Oh, fuck..." she moaned, and I knew she was ramping up. "I knew you'd be good when I saw your stiffy on the beach. I didn't realize you weren't completely hard..." That's when I decided to become proactive.