Pink Pearl

It was hard after we were married. Not having sex at all, being told it is a sin, and then all of a sudden one day you can - that suddenly, somehow, it is all ok. It is a very odd transition. It especially took her awhile to adjust. She was very shy, and it had to be dark and she had to be wearing something. At first it seemed the sensation of my touch hurt her. The look on her face as my hands wandered over her body. I remember fumbling around in the dark, trying to figure things out, her body. I mean, you have some idea, you learn what it is you are supposed to do. But there is more to it after all, and there she was laying still arms at her side in the dark, and there I was fumbling around on top of her.

She would not touch me, guide me, no helping at all. She let me kiss her, kiss me back, but that was all. Her trembling body, her warmth, her nightgown pulled up around her waist, in the dark. If I could have turned on the light, seen what I was doing. Seen HER. Just to see her. It was a little like trying to fix a stove, not knowing how, and you have to do it with the lights out.

But I was ready, so ready, and I lay down on her, the weight of my body pressing her down into the mattress, and she would close her eyes, bite her lips tight and knowing she was feeling me, naked, hard as I lay down and moving on her. Letting my penis slide along her thighs, feeling her open her legs slightly, finding my way, and then sensing it was right - somehow - pressing myself, pressing hard feeling myself slip into her, inside, feeling her open up, so soft, this gentle pressure. I remembered thinking how soft, and delicate and gentle. The way she yielded, her body opening, letting me inside as I would move on her. It was really beautiful, and then as I pressed, my penis was held back, and pressing . . .that release as I felt myself slide full inside her, inside her body. And that cry she made. We were no longer virgins. And she curling herself into a little ball after, by my side and then going to take a shower. To be clean.

Those first times. Not terrific, but still wonderful.

Now, it was better, though I had nothing to compare. No means of. . . knowing. It was like a book I had read somewhere, where the husband says. 'Get ready wife, I have something dreadful I have to do to you.' But it was not that, not at all. It was wonderful, we were in love. I loved the feel of her, her touch, her eyes on me as I read the Bible for devotions in the morning. She did adore me. I just remember there being times when I would think, somehow there should be more to it.

The lights were still out, she was still clothed during the 'act' as she called it. Darkness, the feeling of her warm flesh, her heavy nightclothes. She did not like being seen naked. Ever. The week after I first talked to Lisa about her problem, that evening Mandy and I were getting ready for bed and I came out of the bathroom naked, and rather than slip on a T shirt and underwear in the bathroom as I normally do, I left them off. She was sitting at the dresser and fixing her hair, glancing my way in the mirror. I noticed. She did not appreciate it when I was naked.

She said, "We should not uncover our nakedness as Noah did."

I responded, "He was drunk, that was the sin, and besides, our bodies are gods creation. They are Good, Very Good. God wrote Song of Solomon, with breasts exposed."

I walked over naked and stood behind her, took her small breasts in my hand, rubbing her through her nightgown and squeezed as I spoke these words. I felt my penis grow hard.

She let me, momentarily, then pulling herself away, turning to the mirror. "It's only that, lustful thoughts should not consume us."

I thought of Lisa.

****************

The very next day, Lisa arrived right at 3:00, it had been at least a week since we had last talked. I had been doing better. I mean, in terms of controlling MY thoughts.

She arrived, in a light blue dress with wide shoulder straps and a white collared shirt underneath buttoned high. Her dark hair was tussled a bit, shining, her cheeks were red, the end of her nose. It was windy and cold outside.

I walked out with a cup of coffee, offered some to her - she said no - and sat down near her. As I gazed at her face, looking into her eyes I could see she had been crying. Streaks of wet staining her cheeks,, the end of her nose was red and runny. Her lips swollen.

"You been crying?"

She nodded.

"Here." I handed her a tissue.

She wiped her cheeks, then holding it to her nose and with her head turned and looking down she sat silent for a while, one hand held tight to her lap.

She said to no one, "The SAT's are in a week. I have been studying for them. I'm ready. I think I'm ready. I start to apply at colleges after the scores come back."

"You're nervous about the test?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"Is that why you are crying?"

"That's part of it. But. . . its...I masturbated again. At school this time. In the bathroom." Again, looking away, "twice this morning. Once at home, in the shower. And.... I can't . . ." She was crying now. I lay my hand on hers.

This image of her in the shower. I turned the conversation, "The test will be ok. Once it is over you'll feel better."

"No. No. I can't stand this feeling. I want something. I don't know. I Just want to feel . . .my senses. . ."

She did not finish, and I jumped in, "Lisa. It IS, every time you have something come up you are nervous about. Honestly. I know. You Just need to calm down." Changing my tone, " Sure you don't want something?" She shook her head as I lay my hand on her back, caressing her up to her shoulder, squeezing, watching her. Holding her shoulders. The warmth of her, and hugging her to me.

Then, I offered something that just sort of came to me.

!

I whispered in her ear as I held her, "Let me rub your back, give you a massage. Calm you down. I think it will help, we can talk some more, but right now you just need to calm down."

She sniffed, "K"

We moved ourselves from the embrace, positioning ourselves on the sofa so her back was to me, and my one leg was up on the cushion so I was facing her back. Sort of straddling her. She scootched herself close, right next to me. I lay my hands on her, right over her shoulder blades, and then pressing my thumb drew circles on each side of her spine, down slowly to her waist. Feeling her rigs, the movement of fabric under my hands. Then, pulling my thumbs down, drawing lines along the center of her back, as she pressed back into my hand following my movements until I let go. I began wrapping my fingers around her waist as I stroked her, pressing my fingers around and into her abdomen at her side, and drawing down until my hands were curling around her hips, before bringing the flat of hands back up and around until I was kneading her shoulders again.

"You are tight," I said as I began to work out in a wave of pressure points, pressing under each shoulder blade, feeling the knots of muscles at sides of her neck, sliding my hands along the soft fabric of her top and her dress. Rubbing my hands down her sides to the top of her hips, curling my fingers around her hip bone there, and holding to her. Stroking her bare arms, and squeezing the back of her neck, right at the nape of her neck, feeling her hair falling around my hand as I did. And something else. I was taking her in, all of her, feeling her body move and respond to my touches. The way she pressed into my hands wherever they lay on her. The softness of her, her delicate light little body. I raised my hands and pressed into her neck again, and she tipped her head back. Let out a deep breath, "Ahhhhhhh," a sound I had never heard from her before.

She was fleshy too, her body curved. I could feel the curves of her, could not see them, but with my hands pressing the fabric of her dress I could feel them. Had not really even thought about it. She was bending lower now, her back curled before me, bending almost in half. She had one leg extending down to the floor almost so she was supporting herself with one knee. I was trembling as I rubbed her, keeping my mind clear.

I rubbed her for a long time before saying, "Better?"

She just said, "Yes. Feels nice. Thanks."

She looked back at me, did not move a muscle and I began all over again. I have no idea how long. I began to simply lightly stroke her this time, not kneading her muscles, no pressure; it was touch, I was lightly stroking rubbing, drawing my hand over her body. The small of her back, the arc of her hips. The tops of her thighs, her arms. Gradually, she had lain herself out by my side now, laying along the length of the sofa with her arms up by her head, elbows bent. She had also kicked off her shoes and was holding her feet raised up over the arm rest, bent at the knee. As my hands now gently stroked her I could hear her breath, feel the rise and fall of her chest as she lay there, the warmth of her breathing was touching my leg through my trousers where I sat looking down at her, her looking out at nothing in particular.

"Now, relax and close your eyes. Everything will be all right. You have nothing to worry about. God loves you, He will take care of you."

She closed her eyes, "Matthew. Thank you for letting me talk. To talk about THIS."

"You can say anything you want. Anything. I'm here for you." I squeezed her waist at each side as I spoke.

"Mmmmm," she cooed. "That feels nice."

She kept her eyes closed and settled into the cushions of the couch, as I continued to stroke her up and down up and down, widening my fingers at her sides as I drew down her length. Thinking about the layers of fabric that separated me from her, feeling the way it moved over her body. I could feel the line of her bra strap, the edge of her panties at her waist, feel where the ends of her shirt was. I pressed my fingers into the tangle of her dark long hair and squeezed into her scalp, began massaging her scalp, and she let out this deep guttural coo.

I wanted her to roll over, but not to help. I wanted to see her face just then, her lips, her narrow jaw, her eyes. I did not suggest anything. I took my hand away and she lifted her head, looking up at me as if waking from sleep. A smile, the first I had seen in weeks. Her white teeth smiling up at me.

She said in this soft voice, "A little more?"

I obliged for the littlest while longer, but then said, "That's enough. Better?"

She smiled, "Yes."

Sitting up and smoothing the hem of her dress. Her lips were the reddest most perfect I had ever seen.

*********************

That night when Mandy and I went to bed. I rolled over so I was facing her in the dark and lay my hand at the small of her back. She had on this very long flannel nightgown, and I began to draw circles on her. Massage her. Her reaction to me was entirely different than Lisa's.

I felt her stiffen.

She simply stated matter of fact, "Not tonight."

I said, "Not that, I don't want to have sex tonight. I just want to give you a little massage."

She lifted from the bed and was looking at me. She was an incurious woman, but this was new. I could not see that she was looking directly at me, exactly, since it was dark. But she shifted my way a little, paused, and then laying herself back down off her elbows said, "Ok."

I began to rub her body, to stroke her softly, lightly, feel the curves of her under the blanket, under the sheets. The fabric of her flannel nightgown was still thin, but there was no fabric beneath, the fabric of her nightgown rubbing against her bare skin.. I could feel her body, the softness of her. She still wore a bra and panties to bed, and I could feel their outline, same as Lisa. I did not allow myself to consciously acknowledge the comparison, but that is what I thought at that moment.

I began to rub lower, over her backside, something I had not done, and felt the softness of her buttocks, her thighs; and even with Mandy, I began to hear her sighs. Soft, pleasurable whimpers and breaths of pleasure. She was enjoying my touch. I thought about how my touch wakened Lisa, made her smile, and now the sighs, the soft breaths again, tonight.

I cannot honestly say if I was thinking of my wife just then or Lisa, but I was feeling so aroused at being able to touch my wife in places, and in ways, I would never have dreamed that afternoon, sliding my hand over my wife's bottom and then down her thighs until I was touching her bare legs, her inner things rising my fingers up pulling the bottom of her nightgown higher. I curled my fingers into the fabric and began pulling her nightgown higher still, a little at a time. Each time, sliding it up her legs. At first she did nothing, but then stiffening again, "You're not taking my nightgown off."

I paused and then said, "It would feel so much nicer. . . on your skin," as I stroked my hand over her bare thigh. She raised up again, looking, and then her hand fumbling beneath the covers and as she pulled the gown off over her head and tossed it to the side of the bed she said, "But not tonight. . . "

"No. No." She lay back down in the same spot, but now there was no nightgown on, no flannel. Only her warmth, her bare flesh. I was trembling again as I lay my hand on her, her soft warm skin and as I softly stroked her body, closed my eyes and let myself drift back in time. Mandy was here, now, but for some reason this fantasy of the afternoon with Lisa laying like this, imagining her dress and blouse removed, was so much better.

I felt my penis harden, I wanted to have sex now. I was getting so hungry for her, to lay on her bare body. She had no nightgown, only panties and a bra. I can't even remember when that had occurred before. Oh, I wanted to have sex, now the dark was something I was really enjoying. She was the littlest bit heavier than Lisa, a fullness that comes with age, and I drew a line down from her shoulders down the center of her back, loving the softness of her skin, over her panty covered backside and down her thighs, no lower than her knees, and up again following the line of her thighs between her legs. I could feel her press into my hand where it lay. Just the same I thought.

Mandy had wonderful hips, and beautiful thighs. My wife was beautiful I remember thinking, so beautiful. I wanted to see her, to turn on the light. But I knew that would end everything. But I did unsnap her bra and let it open, fall down her sides, so that I did not keep hitting that line of fabric, I wanted her bare back.

I felt her stiffen a moment but then relax again. She was letting me this time. No instructions, no limits, it was a small matter, but still. A first for us. She was almost naked.

I gradually moved the straps out of the way and wanted her to turn over. But did not press my luck, she continued to lay there and her sighs, the movement of her body pressing into my hand, moving with me. I loved the fact that she enjoyed this, this woman who I loved, but who did not seem to enjoy 'that' so very much. I drew my hand down over her panties again and then let my fingers slip beneath the elastic at her waist and to rub her bare bottom, feel the line that ran down between her legs. This is the most naked I think I had every gotten Mandy, even while we had sex.

She did not move a muscle, my hand was able to slide under the fabric of her panties until my fingers were poking out at her thighs, and I began to stroke her thighs the inside of her thighs and I felt her open her legs, just a little, the littlest bit. The palm of my hand reaching across her open legs inside her panties, feeling her moving to my touch, she was receiving me. Allowing my touch, and I let my hand slide back up along the inside of her thighs until I gently lay my palm over her sex, feeling the curve of her in the palm of my hand. Her heat, the fine hairs of her sex, stroking her between her legs, so slowly, softly. God I wanted her just then, to touch her, take off this last little bit of fabric, turn her over, make love to her lay on her, feel her body. But I had agreed. I paused, I stopped, and then lay myself beside her, held her close to me. Felt the skin of her back against the skin of my chest. Skin to skin. It felt wonderful.

I slept in long pyjama bottoms, and no shirt. I brought myself next to her and hugged her to myself. She turned herself to me and let me hug her front to front, I pressed her bare breasts to my chest and felt her hold me. I kept my cock back so that it was not touching her bumping her. We kissed, it was a slow and beautiful kiss.

I said, "I love you." I could just see the whites of her eyes, her glistening white eyes. I saw her smile.

And she said, "I love you too. That was nice, so nice, thank you."

We fell asleep in each others arms, she in her panties and me in my pyjama bottoms, the most naked we had ever been together.

*********************

Lisa kept coming to the house after that, every day, more or less at the same time. We would talk for a little while, I would listen to her, show concern as she would recount stories. Of some days going better, some worse. But then she would lay on the couch, and I would begin to rub her back, sliding my hands over her clothes, her body. Touch her, her arms, hair, her legs. She letting me, yielding to my touch. Letting our senses slide together, as I sat and looking down at her, loving her smell, the feel of her. It was all ok, perfectly ok, becoming more normal with each passing day. It seemed to be helping. I loved the closeness, the silence, her breath, the rise and fall of her chest.

Today we were following the same pattern, it had been a week and some days of her coming right after school and leaving before my wife got home.

Today, as we were talking I mentioned that maybe we could go upstairs, that it might be better, more comfortable in the bedroom.

"Ok."

We rose from the sofa and as we walked up the narrow staircase she said, "This is helping Matthew," She smiled up at me, following along as I looked back at her, "I been good all week." Sly smile, cheeks pink.

I said "Good. Good." Still imagining her in her room beneath the sheets.

Today Lisa was wearing a skirt and a top, separates, not just a dress. The skirt was pleated, though it still fell to her knees. The top was buttoned to the top, but it did not tuck in. This left a space of skin at her midriff, and as she lay on the bed, arms up by her sides I could see her top pull higher exposing her bare waist between the skirt and top, just peaking in and out of view. She lay right in the middle of the bed spread out, and facing me, eyes closed.

As I settled onto the mattress in that tiny room she said, "Here." And reaching back with her hand she tugged her top a little higher. "You can rub me up under my top. That will be a little better I think."

I had never touched her skin below the neck. The offer sent my heart racing. Her long hair was fallen about her shoulders. I had rubbed her neck and cheeks a little, but nothing else. I moved myself near, sat right at her hip, trying to figure the best way to position myself. I kept one foot on the floor.

"I guess that would be ok." She did not move and I pressed my hands into the small of her back, letting my fingers spread and curl around each side of her bare waist, and began to draw small circles on her, same as always, up the small of her back and she exhaled deeply. This wonderful, relaxing sigh.

"That Ok?"

"Hmmm. Hmmm."

As I pressed my hands up beneath her top rubbing her bare back she began to talk this time, telling stories to me. One after the other, no particular order, no beginning or end, and I began feeling - not thinking - what a wonderful woman Lisa was becoming. My fingers pressed into her as she spoke, her powder skin, the warmth of my hands and her skin together, her breath, her voice. This small little room.