Phyllis Parks
She introduced herself as Ms. Parks to the class, but I already knew her as Phyllis. Phyllis lived with her parents who the year before moved into the apartment next door to my estranged father. That was the same summer in which mother favored my sister to travel around the country with –my mother being herself a school teacher. Phyllis completed her teaching internship my senior year of high school, graduating to full-fledged teacher as I graduated into becoming a full-fledged college student. Within six months of my graduation from high school, my parents buried the hatch allowing my father to move back in with mom and s*s. I lost contact with Phyllis, having plenty of college girls to eclipse the infatuation that had filled me with lust and love for the long haired, big boobed teacher trainee.
That was more than thirty years ago. I had attended the first two school reunions, ten and twenty year, but had skipped the last, tired of the arrogant cliques that still remained despite the years. There were two people I had always hoped to see again, Beverly Olroyd and one Ms. Phyllis Parks. I had sadly learnt of Bev’s recent passing, succumbing to cancer. That alone had pretty much put the nail on the coffin for old high school reunions. There comes that time in a persons life when he or she finally has to come to accept the truth that there is no such thing as a way-back machine.
And so I continued till finally retiring. Unlike my parents, my own wife had made our trial separation final. Our daughter and son had since married, inconveniently moving to opposite ends of the country —daughter living in Boston the other in Phoenix with his mother. So here I found myself after all these years, stuck in the flat lands of the Midwest.
Retirement is an interesting phenomena. Viewed for years as something of an idealistic panacea, its benefits hadn’t taken long to wane. Oh, for sure I enjoyed not having to get up every morning to shoulder the drudge of another day at the office. I certainly enjoyed having a house to myself after all the years of raising a family and two years of an out of work and divorced sister before finally finding her knight and riding off into the blessed sunset. But having the house to oneself meant doing all the things that were once shared like meals, dishes, laundry and house cleaning itself not to mention the yard which the ex had filled with ubiquitous gardens, i.e. weeds to pull, shrubs to trim and train, flowers to divide and care for. Yes, I stayed busy but accomplished little.
There I was, about the time that summer had all but waned, an old friend encouraged me to volunteer at one of the local schools to read to c***dren struggling with their words once or twice a week. And so in August I did just that, accepted on the spot by a young principle just cut from his final pro league team. An interesting young man of whom all the young teachers nicknamed Clark Kent because of his chiseled face and black heavy framed glasses.
It was a rather large grade school. Times were tough forcing the district to consolidate three schools into one. I was glad that my schedule only called me in twice a week as the noise of youth was rapidly fraying the last raw nerve left to me. Women seem to fair better than men in either ignoring it all or just absorbing it all in a motherly fashion. I suppose that was why of all the retirees volunteering at the school, only women chose to drive school buses —those reverberating yellow metal coffins of screaming mayhem.
And so the year past. I met many new people, even made a few friends, had a parent or two try to set me up to meet either their single mother or grandmother. God, was I getting that old? ‘Thanks, but no” I kindly declined though wishing for a companion to add a little noise to house every now and then. And I suppose that would have been the end of it if were not the long haired woman who stopped one day at the office to pick up an ailing grandc***d as I was signing out to leave for home.
Sometimes you know them for who they were almost immediately. Other times, even when introduced, you never really quite place the old with the new. In this case, there was something in the way she moved, something in the way she placed one her hand on her hip while the other signed out poor little sick boy, Ricky Taylor. The glossy brunette hair had turned gray, losing much of its velvety sheen. But it wasn’t dry or thinning as some of the women’s hair seemed to be after years of bleaching and coloring. I was taller than her now. She was still relatively as thin as she had been. On the other hand, I had put on a few pounds directly below the expanding barrel chest. She wore glasses while I sported newly lasered retinas. Amazingly, she still seemed gay and alive with energy.
“Oh poor boy,” I heard her comfort the ailing c***d as she turned toward the door that I held open to them both.
“See you Monday,” I called back to Renee at the office desk, smiling back at me as always, waving as I stepped out into a beautiful spring day. Oh if only Renee were single!
I followed the woman and c***d out to their car parked inappropriately in the ‘Reserved for Staff’ parking lot. It was one of those new German SUV’s with automated this and automated that. Someone had money to burn!
“You take care Ricky,” I called as the woman closed his door before walking to the back of the vehicle as its rear hatch closed all on its own.
“Forgive me,” I tilted my head to one side, summoning the gray haired woman’s attention, “but have we met? I don’t mean to be rude but there’s just something in the way you were standing at the desk, signing Ricky out that brought back a long forgotten memory.” Careful, boy, I warned myself. Mustn’t be too free with age related recognitions.
Standing upright in perfect feminine posture, the woman turned and looked at me full in the face. Searching every movement, I could not divine her thoughts.
“Well, I don’t know. Are you from around here?” bright eyes inquired without any sense of resentment of being bothered by the questioning.
“I grew up here, graduated from high school but moved away until just a few years ago when, after my parents had died, I moved back into their house.”
“What year did you graduate?” she asked.
“Sixty seven,” I answered, almost ashamed at the antiquity of it.
“Really! That was the year I interned at the old high school that burnt down. What class were you in?”
“Yours. . . . Phyllis?” I asked leaning toward her, cocking my head slightly seeking affirmation.
Call it what you will, but there is something I find strangely enjoyable when I have someone lost for an answer. The licking of her glossy red lips, the quick twinge of nose and glasses begged me to reveal myself.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I. . . .” People sometimes form sentences which are left unfinished in the expectation that others will finish it for them.
“Don’t recognize me? That’s okay. It has been a long time and I suppose I’ve put on a fell misplaced pounds and then there is this,” I said pointing to my well-groomed white goatee. “I suppose I could tease you and tell you were I sat and in which class. Or I remind you about the time when a certain Brian Biggins got caught flashing a Playboy centerfold to us guys in the back when you were up at the board with your back to us as Mrs. Ryan just happened to look in through door window checking up on how you were doing.”
I watched as the woman raised a hand to her mouth, drawing a deep breath as she cried in her sing-song way! “Oh my God! Yes, I remember that. Are you Brian?”
I suppose I had it coming. I had teased her memory instead of just being mature and up front with who I was. Brian Biggins was fat little turd who had, now looking back on it, always been strangely popular. Ever and always, he was quick with a joke or some witty remark that often had even the teachers smiling at him. Unlike myself, he had gone on to become a prominent local land developer who’s wealth had made him arrogant and totally suspect of even his best of friends.
Just smiling to her, holding out my hand, I finally confessed laughing, “No, not so fortunate. Ron. Ron. . .”
“Ronnie! Ronnie Kucera! Oh my God!” she screamed again in apparent delight. “How are you? Do you teach here? What have you been up to?”
“Oh I’m retired” I confessed, shaking my head no. “No, no. I just come here a couple of times a week to read to k**s who are struggling with their words. And you? You still live around here?” I asked, greatly desiring a miraculous healing of little Ricky so I could scoot him off back into the school and have this lively woman all to myself.
With a sad face she answered me, “No, I’m just here visiting my daughter and her husband. I live down in Florida. My husband and I retired down there.”
“You’re married?” I asked trying desperately not to let on my disappointment.
“I was. David died last year when a drunk teenager ran his car up over the curb and into the table where he and I were eating. I never even got knocked off my chair but David….”
I watched as the brightness in her face was eclipsed by the memory of her loss.
“I sorry. I truly am. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Ron, it was good seeing you but I suppose I should be getting Rickie home and in bed. Is there a way I can get in touch with you? Are you married?”
“Not any more. Here, let me give you my cell number. I don’t have a home phone any more. If you’re free, I’d love to take you to lunch sometime, or better yet, a night up into the city.”
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I had driven home as giddy as a high school boy knowing his choice of femme fatale had accepted his offer to escort her to the junior prom. These sorts of things only ever happened in the movies, or at least to other people, never me. And Phyllis looked great. Why had I stopped my regiment of exercise and diet after the wife left? Genetics had still kept me in the game but athletic was now only looking average. Still, on those rare occasions where I actually bothered to look at myself in the mirror, I was turned away at the thought that all the good days were just about over.
Would she call or had she merely been polite? And here it was, Friday night. Would I have to struggle through another weekend alone or would the gods favor me and allow me just one more opportunity to enter the dance?
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I had finally given up and run out to get something to eat before returning to the house for another brain numbing night in front of the fifty-inch flat screen. After both wife and sister had finally vacated the premises, for a brief expanse of time I allowed wicked women into the house to dance for me on that very same stage. But all were either too young or took their clothes off too fast. They also neglected appreciating the art of arousal via breast lust. Rather it was one second strolling around the house, the next fucking wildly in anything but a realistic, identifiable way. Was I so strange to want some semblance of normalcy?
And so there I sat till I could take it no longer, turning it all off before rising to stand in front of the window, looking out on the world as it passed me by. The mini mall across the street was a hive of activity between the best BBQ in seven counties, a carry out only pizza hole-in-the-wall and a most convenient discount liquor store. But my driveway was dark and empty. How did one go about rekindling the fire?
As I was about to turn out the lights and retire to the bedroom to turn on yet another tv to numb me into dreamland, Phyllis’s rented SUV, or one just like it pulled deep into the drive. I remained standing in front of the large twelve foot window till the SUV’s lights went out and its driver side door popped opened. Sure enough, it was my long haired, big busted, beautiful Ms. Phyllis Parks, only her last name had changed over the years. Racing to the side door, I flipped on the outside light and went out to greet my guest.
“What are you doing here? I waited for you to call but then thought that you thought it best just to leave things be.” Sometimes I cringed at the way I think about things and the way I always seem to be of the habit of revealing them.
Half hanging her head, Phyllis spoke as she drew nearer, “Well what I didn’t tell you this afternoon was that my flight back to Florida was scheduled for tonight. And truthfully, that was where I was and where I was headed. And though you might think ill of me for saying this, frankly, I was ready to leave after spending ten days with my daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love her to death. And her husband is a sweetheart if there ever was one. But it was just time to leave.”
“Does your daughter know….” I asked, not purposefully leaving my sentence short, and yet, doing just that.
“Does my daughter know that I missed my flight? No.” It was a pitiful ‘No’ that tapered off in a quiet sense of lostness.
“Phyllis . . .” This time I caught myself thinking it better to move her and the conversation inside. “Would you like to come inside? Can I get you something to drink?”
Phyllis had pulled into my drive shortly after ten. Now it was nearly one and that long awkward silence we had both been starving off finally raised its ugly head. We had laughed. We had pulled out old pictures and swapped countless stories especially those dealing with spouses and c***dren and now grand c***dren. We had even talked a little about politics and religion before there the awkward silence loomed up before us.
I remember King Arthur of Camelot asking the question of what does a man do when a woman is thinking. Then he confesses, “Oh my mind is at war!” And so too was mine. Phyllis arrived wearing a sharp blue-gray matching suit jacket and skirt complete with a white, button down the front, blouse. If she had stood with brief case in hand, she could have easily been mistaken for some high falutin business executive or perhaps even a higher falutin politician. To use the word, grandiose, would not have been out of the question. But after a second glass of Italian wine, Phyllis had discarded the jacket and loosened one more button of her blouse before relaxing in my father’s favorite easy chair. A soft pole lamp light bulb behind her illuminated her as if being captured in some Dutch Reformation still life.
As she talked I took the opportunity to observe and record everything about her. That once shiny brunette head of hair now was in fact a mixture of brown’s and grays. Somehow it seemed to suit her perfectly now. She had arrived with it neatly tucked up tightly behind her, again in that professional woman way. I liked the new Phyllis. Her eyebrows were thin but right for her face and the style of glasses she wore. The crows feet which sprang out from the sides of her eyes made her smiles more real and her tears more painful. The vertical creases at either side of her mouth still accented every pursing of the lips. Only the slightest increase of the fullness beneath her chin gave evidence of age, and then probably only to me. The upper vermilion her mouth now wrinkled when she talked. That too I found strangely appealing, pondering, always pondering whether or not she would allow me to kiss those lips and if and when she did, would it be as good as I had, oh so many year ago, imagined it would be?
There were times during our conversation when Phyllis would absentmindedly scratch the back of her neck as she looked down and to one side in some deep contemplative ruse. That was when I was able to assess how the years had been to her breasts. Though her blouse was a luminescent white, I could discern no pattern of lace beneath, no seam, not even much of an indentation from shoulder strap. And having only the two top most buttons unfastened, I, sad to say, could discern little cleavage. But there was no hiding the fact that it was in there. Nor was there much pretense to the fact that Phyllis’s breasts had filled out if not indeed, grown out since our meeting. I searched the archives but drew a blank as to what had then been previously observed other than being proportionately large and often cloaked behind sweaters and the fashionable blazers of that time.
“So I thought, what the hell, it wasn’t like there wasn’t anything desperately waiting for me back home. I know, I should have called or at least texted you. I guess my impetuous nature hasn’t lost any of it impetuousness over the years. I find it seriously helps me from growing old or being scared to explore another facets of life. And that is very important at this stage of the game, don’t you think, Ron?”
I was glad that Phyllis had dropped the familiar name of youth, ‘Ronny.’ There were other hints subtly dropped along the way that gave me hope that per chance this impetuous girl might spend night! And if I played my cards right, maybe, just maybe she’d even spend it under my sheets.
“I couldn’t agree more. However, in admitting that, I will have to confess that I haven’t been very impetuous of late.” I laughed a sad sack laugh before adding, “There hasn’t been any reason to.” I looked up at two bright eyes that were leaning forward in my father’s old chair. Was this an invitation?
“Maybe you just need to look around a little harder to find something new to get excited about!” There it was again. Surely this was an invitation.
Standing to my feet, Phyllis rocked forward with two arms wrapped about herself as I drew close to her. Smiling a queer little mischievous smile, turning her head ever so slightly as she looked up at me, I leaned down and slowly brought my lips close to hers. “I’ve always been attracted to you,” I heard myself confess.
“I know,” she replied, this time with a widening of that mischievous little smile. “Why do you think I took the chance and came back?”
My eyes widened as I looked breathlessly within her own before she closed them and pressed her lips on mine.
There are times when two pair of lips are just made for each other. I’ve kissed countless women over the course of my life but only three of them perfectly matched my own in a way that no others had ever achieved. One was a summer fling just out of high school. The other was at the end of a three days stay at an old college friends home after which she kindly drove me to the airport to see me off. The third now had her hand behind my head, tenderly injecting her passion into me. The kiss lingered forever, long enough to make the position uncomfortable. We parted slowly as eyes opened just as slowly before beginning their searching for answers. Only centimeters apart, our breath mingled as head positions began randomizing, seeking both optimization of placement and permission.
I suppose if I had been younger, I would have pushed her back in her chair or dragged her off on to the floor and had my way with her. Perhaps if she had been younger I still might have done it. But there was a maturity about all of this that told us both that there was no need to rush. This was no affair of youth. This required neither of its participants to be home before midnight. Besides, that hour had come and gone. Nor was there any conflicting thought of explaining the lateness to a waiting spouse. We were both consenting adults. We were both, for-gods-sake, consenting senior citizens. We were both free. For the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to feel absolutely free; to be free with a woman who was so ardently there for me —just me; a woman who had dared to change the direction of her life, without any selfish manipulation on my part, just to take a chance on me. The mere realization of it made me stumble back away from her. “What?” she begged before the mischievousness of her demeanor exuded a shy smile.
“ I, I, I…” I stuttered. “I guess I’m just having a hard time taking all this in. I stopped looking for you a life time ago. I just gave up. It was too hard to keep looking. Too many disappointments. So many hurts. Hope became a dangerous thing for me. But it was always you. I have been waiting for you all my life.”
At this Phyllis reached out with extended finger tips and took one of my hands as she looked down at the floor as if to make confession.
“David and I met at a school parents-teacher conference. He was a widower, fatherly, caring, handsome, employed, seemingly having his act together. It wasn’t one of those instant connections. It was gradual for both of us. Well really, it was a desperation on my part. Perhaps you’ve never thought about it but once a woman graduates from college and begins a career in a local community school system, she has pretty much locked herself in to a very small room of opportunity. I mean, I never was one to shop at some local bar. I never did that even in college. I suppose I was never really that lonely. I loved my job. My desperation was different than that. I wanted a family of my own. Some find their mates within the system but men who become teachers are, more often than not, nerdy, though often nice. I guess, at least for me, if you work in a bakery all your life the last thing you want on your plate is another donut. So David was a convenience. . . and, as it turned out, he felt that way as well. He never fell out of love with his first wife. I don’t fault him for that. Though he never betrayed it, I do think,” Phyllis stopped confessing long enough to admit the reality out loud, “-no, I know there were times when he made love to me that he was really closing his eyes in an attempt to make himself believe that I was her. I tried. I honestly tried to be her for him. But we’re all unique and in the end we are all who we are. So our marriage became more a brother-sister affair, friendly but not true lovers. We were just two people sharing the same house while struggling to raise our family. I still loved him as a husband. Don’t get me wrong. I guess it’s complicated. And when I lost him, I thought the world had ended for me. Have you ever been on one of those single dating sites for seniors? The female to male ratio is like a thousand to one. You men are either all married or dead. So I guess, like you, I had stopped looking. I have grown content just to enjoy my life to its natural end. Financially I’ve never been more secure. Freedom? All my k**s are married and living their own separate lives though we are close and stay in touch. Elizabeth, my youngest and most dear to me, lives the closest and she lives in Georgia.”
Phyllis continued to finger my hand as I looked down at her, reaching out and caressing the top of her head. How quickly and thoroughly she was becoming precious to me all over again. I knew not what the future had in store for us –if it had anything at all. I only knew that she was here and for the mean time, all other cares and concerned had ceased to exist. Within me raged a mixture of emotions. I felt the protector. Here was a delicate flower that had been neglected. It needed a bit of cultivation, a little nurturing to make it strong enough to once again shoot forth a dazzling array of blossoms. I also felt a strange sense of calm with her. No need to rush it. No need to secure, claim, mark her as my own. She was here because she wanted to be. But there was still a strong desire to just tear her clothes off and fuck her like she had never been fucked before. So utterly fucked that she would curl up next to me after it was all over, just like a little girl and beg servanthood. So utterly fucked that every other encounter would be like just so much dross. So utterly fucked that the rising sun would no longer mean a new day for her but a new era in her life. I pulled her to her feet, tightly drawing her near to me, squeezing the life our of her elbows, screaming at her without words as her eyes turned into big question marks, searching desperately to discern the answer as to whether or not I had, after all, turned out to be something altogether wrong for her. Me? I suppose I was having one of those “It’s a Wonderful Life” episodes where Jimmy Stewart grabs Donna Reed at the bottom of the stair, letting the phone of life drop to the floor as you grabbed another life so as never to let it get away ever again.
“Look here, Phyllis. I’m not a carpetbagger. I’m not a looser who sits every night like a fungus in front of the tv. I’m a man who . . . who cannot be played with. I must know the truth now. Are you playing me? Am I just a convenience to you like David was back then? I don’t want that. I never want that again.”
Phyllis’s answer was probably the best. She tore herself away from me with fire in her eyes. I’d never seen that flame before. I’d never been ready to. As if to emphasize her resolve, she threw herself back into my arms. As tender and slow as had been the first kiss, the second was heated, each desperately searching for that little crevasse into which to hide ourselves; that vehicle which allowed two souls to become as one. My search had ended. Letting go of self, I wrapped her in my arms. It felt so right. It felt so amazingly right.
Phyllis was now a head shorter than myself. With two hands I pulled it back and looked once again into her eyes. Not allowing me to linger there long, she stood up on tippy-toe as she brought my mouth down to her own, performing CPR on my soul. Her kisses overflowed with a hunger that caused me to fear my inability to match it. My freedom wasn’t use to this sort of attention. Perhaps, in part, it was due to her being such the aggressor. All of life’s experiences prior to this moment had been ever and only the woman giving in to my aggression. But here, at life’s last light, came a woman unlooked for, hungry for every bit me as much as I for her.
My house was clean. The cat boxes had been changed that morning and all the dishes had been washed and put away that night. Clean sheets had been placed on the bed. [I have to confess, the clean sheets were the result of a reasonless hope that this very woman would come knocking at my door, begging me to have rough sex with her. Such was my world.] I had showered and shaved just the hour before her arrival. Windows were open while the unobservant whole house fan silently sucked in the refreshing late spring air.
Phyllis excused herself to clean up. By then we both new her rented SUV was going to spend the night parked in my drive. The two bedroom bungalow had but a single bathroom in it though both attic and basement were finished. To the latter I retreated while she ‘tidied up a bit.’ In the laundry room, next the washer and dryer were two oversized concrete sinks, large enough to bathe the dog in. But on this night, it offered a quick chance to freshen up a bit myself before returning to await my guest.
Phyllis had retrieved a small garment bag from her vehicle before locking herself into the bathroom. I could hear the running water and the flushing of the toilet. In arranging the house for her re-entrance, I left a single dim light on in the kitchen that washed out across the dining room floor while opposite facing security lights from the mall across the street dimly filtered their way through the front hedge of holly, privet and two sentinels of arborvitae. It was all enough to set the mood. Candle lights couldn’t have done it better though I had lit two of them in bedroom. The door handle sounded; then a clicking off of the bathroom light. Like a cat out of the darkness, silently she stole back into the room.
Had I died and gone to heaven? Had I won the largest lottery in the nations history, garnering me femme fatales at my doorstep desperately wanting –now- into my life? I had not anticipated the woman who stood before me. Where had she acquired the garment? And more puzzling still, why had it been packed only to visit her daughter?
“Do you like it,” Phyllis enquired, performing pirouette for me to see all of it. “As I sat at the airport, trying to decide whether or not to chance it, I spied it in the front window of one of the little, overly expensive boutiques —and it just spoke to me. So I took the chance. Is it to your tastes?”
With a mouth hanging open, my answer was an u*********s licking of the lips and a nearly inaudible, “Oh my god, yes!”
Phyllis had clothed herself in an antique whale boned bustier. It was black as the night with horizontal rows of widely spaced stars. The garment made her breasts appear even larger than first imagined while revealing shapely thighs that were anything but fat. It’s hem gathered in tight, short ruffles, ending just where her black bikini panties began. Phyllis worn nothing else. Myself, only dressed in a pair of well weathered shorts and an emblematic polo shirt, stood up to meet her.
Phyllis was definitely one of those, rare in my life, cup-half-full sort of people. She was confident about herself and her choices. Normally, all things being equal, I would have romanced a woman of this caliber. But this woman on this night, dressed in this garment purchased while making this decision begged forgoing any and all genteel indulgements.
We met and kissed as her body movements directed me toward the back of the house and onto my bed. “Lay down,” was her command after removing my shirt and pushing back onto the bed. “I want you to just lay there,” she again commanded me as she drew off my shorts, my cock springing out at rigid attention as she did so. “Hmmm,” she sighed at the sight of it. Confessing but not inviting him into the room, Phyllis stood over me, “David never let me suck his. He said a wife didn’t do those sort of things.” In the dim candle light, the buxom shadow wraith towered over me.
“You’ll never get that sort of thinking from me!” I surprised myself at the levity it was said in for my mind was all too serious about recording her every word and every movement.
“Turn around and lay up close to the edge of the bed,” my dominatrix ordered me as she bent over to feather my rigid manhood in her cascading fingers.
“Dear god, tell me you are real!” I begged her. Releasing my fingered cock, I watched attentively as Phyllis stood back up, withdrawing a single breast from the form-quenching bodice. It was massive, capped by a large dark aureola just slightly above center with a thick and long nipple at the center of it. “Pinch this to see if it’s real or not!” she teased me.
I was fighting every emotion, every notion to rise up and capture this woman, ripping her panties from her and just brutally fucking her until we both melted into one nirvanic existence. Instead, I reached out and began gently thumbing her nipple. She cooed before ordering me to pull it, “Harder. Harder!” If my cock had been rigid before, now it was granite. “Bite it,” she directed me, leaning over, offering the delectable nodule as I lay there like a slug. “Ooooh, yes. Use your teeth.”
All that I had imagined of Phyllis Parks was evaporating with any hope of repair. Pulling herself backup as my teeth remained clenched to that mother’s nipple, I allowed it to spring free as I watched its breast contort by the motion. Smiling back at me, never indicating that my teeth had just about severed the nipple from her breast, Phyllis slowly withdrew the second breast. Even larger than the first with the same umber sand dollar pasted on the end of it with an equally large yet not taut, nipple sitting dead center. “Are you a breast man, Ron?” Like she had to ask.
“Oh god yes! Of the likes you’ve never seen before!”
Phyllis leaned over and placed the head of my cock in her warm wet slobering mouth, satisfied for now just to suck on it, tickling it with her tongue before deep throating its length a time or two without so much as a quiver. Briefly standing back up for air, she confessed, “Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this again! I hope you don’t think ill of me after all these years and me now being the respectable grandmamma, but there is just something about having a man inside my mouth.”
I must confess, it was shocking to hear not only confess it, but to express it as desperately as she already had. Yet remaining standing beside my bed, I watched as the woman looked down at me as she sucked on first one and then the other breast. Juggling their girth in her hands, Phyllis seemed briefly content to tease me and her each nipples with her tongue before returning to take my dancing Doric column deep within her mouth.
The position offered her right breast to me as it dangled freely, gravity performing its best effort to elongate them. At first I merely tugged on her nipple giving her further cause to moan. But her breasts were too magnificent to ignore. With both hands, I tried vainly to enclose it with finger tips and thumbs, pulling and squeezing as valiantly as possible before resting my right hand back at my side as the left began a routine of swaying the heavy weight in one direction, slapping it as it swung back in the other. Only mumbled, I thought I heard my master of the night cry, “Harder!”
Working first the length of it, then sucking and licking just the head, my aged angel lost herself in the enjoyment of circumcised man flesh. Slurping, mouthing, swallowing, gasping for air, she never resorted to handling it. Turning her head, first this way and then that, she continued to take all of me then only part of me. With mouth open she would slither down one side before skillfully twisting and sliding back the other before swallowing me whole again. Truly this woman loved having a man’s cock at her disposal. It felt good! It felt like I had never imagined it could ever feel.
Suddenly and without warning, Phyllis stood back up as I watched attentively the freed breasts swaying first one way then the other. Grasping her panties at the corner of her womanly hips, Phyllis removed the lacy article, but not without first patting her kitty in a delightful and playful patter. “Move over,” she instructed me as I slide to the center of the large bed.
I wasn’t sure what to expect next from this unimagined woman in heat. Crawling up onto the bed beside me, she straddled one leg before again setting about consuming my manhood with her mouth, only this time she now collared my shaved balls with thumb and index finger of one hand while the other circled the base of my shaft all the while her mouth sucked me deeper and deeper into the back of her.
I suppose it wasn’t something that had to be taught. A woman merely had to want it. The rest just came naturally. And without a moments consideration, this woman definitely wanted to suck cock.
Only once before had a woman performed it to such a degree as to succeed in bringing me off insider her mouth. That had been my little Margie, on our honeymoon night. She hadn’t wanted to suck it but I coerced her into it just the same. It was what wives did. It was as much required as my fingering her wet clit into climax before ramming my cock into her virginal womb. But for whatever reason, perhaps the stress of wedding day, perhaps the long anticipation, I climaxed almost immediately after she began timidly mouthing the dirty object. Coughing, spitting, swearing, never again did she trust me, refusing every and all encouragements and enticements till at long last she walked out my life forever.
“Whoa there horse!” I signaled the laboring locomotive breath. “Not yet. I don’t want to come yet.”
As I said before, this was a confident woman. Sliding back, she grabbed both my ankles and pulled me down toward the end of the bed such that my head was no longer able to rest on any my pillows. And before I could retrieve a pillow to slide it back under my head, my gameful playmate maneuvered herself to the head of the bed. Taking a position directly above me, straddling my head, looking down as she bent her knees, she asked, “Do you mind?”
Grabbing her by her hips, I pulled her sex down on top of my mouth. Though she had shag carpet upon top, beneath she was a clean as a new born baby. In the glow of the soft scented candle light, I viewed her. No longer sporting taut c***dhood lips, there was a swollenness about her. I kissed her offering to me while looking up at her looking down. I hesitated a guess that dear David wasn’t in favor of doing this either.
With a simple touching of the tongue, like a magic button, they unfolded for me. Though her outer lips were swollen and puffy, her inner lips were long and sinewy. They begged me to handle them, but not before once sucking the length and fullness of them fully with my mouth. Two cock roster’s combs could not have compared, nor had I ever imagine having a woman with both, large beautiful breast and a perinanth so long and sinewy. Willing to let me pay, I fingered her wetness before clasping each lip between thumb and fore finger, pulling them apart as my tongue sought out the wet pea hiding within. She cried, “Oh, right there.” Lightning striking once was note worthy, twice was story telling, but for a third time? I heard of them but never truly understood all that was involved in being a hermaphrodite. Obviously she was fully female, having sired three c***dren of her own. And she enjoyed being a woman. Stimulated, I watched as her clit grew as hard as my own cock had in her mouth. Was I a latent homosexual for enjoying this discovery so completely? Deeply I drew her into my mouth, its length as long as the last segment of my little pinkie. Her legs quivered as I heard a moan deep within her bowels. Lifting her slightly up off me to better focus on this amazing discovery, her sex remained cavernously open as her dark lips hung down and her clit erect for the teasing.
As she had done to me, so I returned the favor, sucking, licking, nibbling on her fever as her legs began spread wider, pressing itch hard down onto my scratch. Soon her fever broke out in an unrestrainted jerk and cry. “Oh yes, Ron. Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” she breathed, gasping for air.
Why hadn’t she seen fit to warn me? Only surprised by it’s profligacy, not by its nature, I briefly pushed her up off of me before returning my tongue to push deeper within her as an opaque rash of fluid flushed over my face.
Without warning, Phyllis pulled herself off of me, producing a wet face cloth from God knows were. “Wipe yourself off,” was her only command as she lay down next to me before pulling me on top of her. She didn’t have to tell me what to do next.
Wet as any woman ever was, a stream of white wonder still escaping as I slid my cock deep with her crack, she arched her back and pressed her head deep within the bed as each hand grabbed a handful of sheet. With breast coursing every which way, I buried my shaft repeatedly within her till at last her final door opened to me. Like a flood gate on a swollen river damn, her excitement was exceeded only by my own.
“Oh God in heaven,” I cried as my thrust stopped deep within her, extruding every ounce of long denied orgasm as her cunt fingers grabbed me and refused to let go. Again she came, spraying her hair haphazardly across her now hidden face as it thrust itself first to one side then another. At this coming, Phyllis screamed without reserved. At long last, for her too, a long denied completely accepted orgasm came to life. Wrapping her arms around me, crushing my chest against her breasts, her hips began to fuck uncontrollably.
I couldn’t make out the words exactly, but they were course, extruded by yet another orgasmic explosion. How many did she have within her, this being her third, or was it her fourth?
Thanks to the little packet of trial offer pills given to me at my last doctors exam, I remained rigid to the last. Eventually her tide stopped coming in allowing me to fall off to one side of her as each of us tried catching our breath. Old fogies indeed! I dare say few people younger than us had ever come so many time or with such volatility. Whatever laid in store for us in the future, one of them was not the demur spousal relations we each had once put up with.
“God,” she called out as the woman next to me woke. “I do seriously believe, Ronnie, I have never been so completely and thoroughly fucked before! And please, do forgive. I so wanted to cum while you were sucking on me. I know I shouldn’t have just cum like that but just once….” I ended her little apology with a finger on her lips.
“It was perfect! Well almost. You certainly surprised me but please, don’t ever think it puts me off. God damn woman, what a fuck’n wild piece of goods you are! Have you always been like this?”
“What, liking sex? I suppose. But you were still in high school back then. I was in my last year of getting my teachers certificate and what, four years, three? your senior. Back then that was a lot. Back then I had to maintain that teacher/student barrier. Back then there were a lot of you boys staring at my chest, imagining me to be your play thing. You were simply one of them though living next to you somehow always separated you from the pack. We were both young then. Young and foolish.” Phyllis sighed as a curtain of silence drew itself across the stage as we fell asleep in each others arms still covered with the cum of our excitement.
Come morning we showered together, laughing, talking, enjoying the wonderment of a suddenly realize companionship that would this time truly last ‘till death do us part.’ It wasn’t a movie and it wasn’t a one-time occurrence. Phyllis’s nature was as imaginative as it was impetuous. Instead of flying, I drove her back down to her home in Florida, sometimes with her seated next to me with nothing on but a smile. No one else in the world mattered to her. She loved me fingering her excitement in public places as much as she love having me in her mouth out in the boat as others flew past us. Phyllis Kucera was the love of my life.
That was more than thirty years ago. I had attended the first two school reunions, ten and twenty year, but had skipped the last, tired of the arrogant cliques that still remained despite the years. There were two people I had always hoped to see again, Beverly Olroyd and one Ms. Phyllis Parks. I had sadly learnt of Bev’s recent passing, succumbing to cancer. That alone had pretty much put the nail on the coffin for old high school reunions. There comes that time in a persons life when he or she finally has to come to accept the truth that there is no such thing as a way-back machine.
And so I continued till finally retiring. Unlike my parents, my own wife had made our trial separation final. Our daughter and son had since married, inconveniently moving to opposite ends of the country —daughter living in Boston the other in Phoenix with his mother. So here I found myself after all these years, stuck in the flat lands of the Midwest.
Retirement is an interesting phenomena. Viewed for years as something of an idealistic panacea, its benefits hadn’t taken long to wane. Oh, for sure I enjoyed not having to get up every morning to shoulder the drudge of another day at the office. I certainly enjoyed having a house to myself after all the years of raising a family and two years of an out of work and divorced sister before finally finding her knight and riding off into the blessed sunset. But having the house to oneself meant doing all the things that were once shared like meals, dishes, laundry and house cleaning itself not to mention the yard which the ex had filled with ubiquitous gardens, i.e. weeds to pull, shrubs to trim and train, flowers to divide and care for. Yes, I stayed busy but accomplished little.
There I was, about the time that summer had all but waned, an old friend encouraged me to volunteer at one of the local schools to read to c***dren struggling with their words once or twice a week. And so in August I did just that, accepted on the spot by a young principle just cut from his final pro league team. An interesting young man of whom all the young teachers nicknamed Clark Kent because of his chiseled face and black heavy framed glasses.
It was a rather large grade school. Times were tough forcing the district to consolidate three schools into one. I was glad that my schedule only called me in twice a week as the noise of youth was rapidly fraying the last raw nerve left to me. Women seem to fair better than men in either ignoring it all or just absorbing it all in a motherly fashion. I suppose that was why of all the retirees volunteering at the school, only women chose to drive school buses —those reverberating yellow metal coffins of screaming mayhem.
And so the year past. I met many new people, even made a few friends, had a parent or two try to set me up to meet either their single mother or grandmother. God, was I getting that old? ‘Thanks, but no” I kindly declined though wishing for a companion to add a little noise to house every now and then. And I suppose that would have been the end of it if were not the long haired woman who stopped one day at the office to pick up an ailing grandc***d as I was signing out to leave for home.
Sometimes you know them for who they were almost immediately. Other times, even when introduced, you never really quite place the old with the new. In this case, there was something in the way she moved, something in the way she placed one her hand on her hip while the other signed out poor little sick boy, Ricky Taylor. The glossy brunette hair had turned gray, losing much of its velvety sheen. But it wasn’t dry or thinning as some of the women’s hair seemed to be after years of bleaching and coloring. I was taller than her now. She was still relatively as thin as she had been. On the other hand, I had put on a few pounds directly below the expanding barrel chest. She wore glasses while I sported newly lasered retinas. Amazingly, she still seemed gay and alive with energy.
“Oh poor boy,” I heard her comfort the ailing c***d as she turned toward the door that I held open to them both.
“See you Monday,” I called back to Renee at the office desk, smiling back at me as always, waving as I stepped out into a beautiful spring day. Oh if only Renee were single!
I followed the woman and c***d out to their car parked inappropriately in the ‘Reserved for Staff’ parking lot. It was one of those new German SUV’s with automated this and automated that. Someone had money to burn!
“You take care Ricky,” I called as the woman closed his door before walking to the back of the vehicle as its rear hatch closed all on its own.
“Forgive me,” I tilted my head to one side, summoning the gray haired woman’s attention, “but have we met? I don’t mean to be rude but there’s just something in the way you were standing at the desk, signing Ricky out that brought back a long forgotten memory.” Careful, boy, I warned myself. Mustn’t be too free with age related recognitions.
Standing upright in perfect feminine posture, the woman turned and looked at me full in the face. Searching every movement, I could not divine her thoughts.
“Well, I don’t know. Are you from around here?” bright eyes inquired without any sense of resentment of being bothered by the questioning.
“I grew up here, graduated from high school but moved away until just a few years ago when, after my parents had died, I moved back into their house.”
“What year did you graduate?” she asked.
“Sixty seven,” I answered, almost ashamed at the antiquity of it.
“Really! That was the year I interned at the old high school that burnt down. What class were you in?”
“Yours. . . . Phyllis?” I asked leaning toward her, cocking my head slightly seeking affirmation.
Call it what you will, but there is something I find strangely enjoyable when I have someone lost for an answer. The licking of her glossy red lips, the quick twinge of nose and glasses begged me to reveal myself.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I. . . .” People sometimes form sentences which are left unfinished in the expectation that others will finish it for them.
“Don’t recognize me? That’s okay. It has been a long time and I suppose I’ve put on a fell misplaced pounds and then there is this,” I said pointing to my well-groomed white goatee. “I suppose I could tease you and tell you were I sat and in which class. Or I remind you about the time when a certain Brian Biggins got caught flashing a Playboy centerfold to us guys in the back when you were up at the board with your back to us as Mrs. Ryan just happened to look in through door window checking up on how you were doing.”
I watched as the woman raised a hand to her mouth, drawing a deep breath as she cried in her sing-song way! “Oh my God! Yes, I remember that. Are you Brian?”
I suppose I had it coming. I had teased her memory instead of just being mature and up front with who I was. Brian Biggins was fat little turd who had, now looking back on it, always been strangely popular. Ever and always, he was quick with a joke or some witty remark that often had even the teachers smiling at him. Unlike myself, he had gone on to become a prominent local land developer who’s wealth had made him arrogant and totally suspect of even his best of friends.
Just smiling to her, holding out my hand, I finally confessed laughing, “No, not so fortunate. Ron. Ron. . .”
“Ronnie! Ronnie Kucera! Oh my God!” she screamed again in apparent delight. “How are you? Do you teach here? What have you been up to?”
“Oh I’m retired” I confessed, shaking my head no. “No, no. I just come here a couple of times a week to read to k**s who are struggling with their words. And you? You still live around here?” I asked, greatly desiring a miraculous healing of little Ricky so I could scoot him off back into the school and have this lively woman all to myself.
With a sad face she answered me, “No, I’m just here visiting my daughter and her husband. I live down in Florida. My husband and I retired down there.”
“You’re married?” I asked trying desperately not to let on my disappointment.
“I was. David died last year when a drunk teenager ran his car up over the curb and into the table where he and I were eating. I never even got knocked off my chair but David….”
I watched as the brightness in her face was eclipsed by the memory of her loss.
“I sorry. I truly am. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Ron, it was good seeing you but I suppose I should be getting Rickie home and in bed. Is there a way I can get in touch with you? Are you married?”
“Not any more. Here, let me give you my cell number. I don’t have a home phone any more. If you’re free, I’d love to take you to lunch sometime, or better yet, a night up into the city.”
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I had driven home as giddy as a high school boy knowing his choice of femme fatale had accepted his offer to escort her to the junior prom. These sorts of things only ever happened in the movies, or at least to other people, never me. And Phyllis looked great. Why had I stopped my regiment of exercise and diet after the wife left? Genetics had still kept me in the game but athletic was now only looking average. Still, on those rare occasions where I actually bothered to look at myself in the mirror, I was turned away at the thought that all the good days were just about over.
Would she call or had she merely been polite? And here it was, Friday night. Would I have to struggle through another weekend alone or would the gods favor me and allow me just one more opportunity to enter the dance?
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I had finally given up and run out to get something to eat before returning to the house for another brain numbing night in front of the fifty-inch flat screen. After both wife and sister had finally vacated the premises, for a brief expanse of time I allowed wicked women into the house to dance for me on that very same stage. But all were either too young or took their clothes off too fast. They also neglected appreciating the art of arousal via breast lust. Rather it was one second strolling around the house, the next fucking wildly in anything but a realistic, identifiable way. Was I so strange to want some semblance of normalcy?
And so there I sat till I could take it no longer, turning it all off before rising to stand in front of the window, looking out on the world as it passed me by. The mini mall across the street was a hive of activity between the best BBQ in seven counties, a carry out only pizza hole-in-the-wall and a most convenient discount liquor store. But my driveway was dark and empty. How did one go about rekindling the fire?
As I was about to turn out the lights and retire to the bedroom to turn on yet another tv to numb me into dreamland, Phyllis’s rented SUV, or one just like it pulled deep into the drive. I remained standing in front of the large twelve foot window till the SUV’s lights went out and its driver side door popped opened. Sure enough, it was my long haired, big busted, beautiful Ms. Phyllis Parks, only her last name had changed over the years. Racing to the side door, I flipped on the outside light and went out to greet my guest.
“What are you doing here? I waited for you to call but then thought that you thought it best just to leave things be.” Sometimes I cringed at the way I think about things and the way I always seem to be of the habit of revealing them.
Half hanging her head, Phyllis spoke as she drew nearer, “Well what I didn’t tell you this afternoon was that my flight back to Florida was scheduled for tonight. And truthfully, that was where I was and where I was headed. And though you might think ill of me for saying this, frankly, I was ready to leave after spending ten days with my daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love her to death. And her husband is a sweetheart if there ever was one. But it was just time to leave.”
“Does your daughter know….” I asked, not purposefully leaving my sentence short, and yet, doing just that.
“Does my daughter know that I missed my flight? No.” It was a pitiful ‘No’ that tapered off in a quiet sense of lostness.
“Phyllis . . .” This time I caught myself thinking it better to move her and the conversation inside. “Would you like to come inside? Can I get you something to drink?”
Phyllis had pulled into my drive shortly after ten. Now it was nearly one and that long awkward silence we had both been starving off finally raised its ugly head. We had laughed. We had pulled out old pictures and swapped countless stories especially those dealing with spouses and c***dren and now grand c***dren. We had even talked a little about politics and religion before there the awkward silence loomed up before us.
I remember King Arthur of Camelot asking the question of what does a man do when a woman is thinking. Then he confesses, “Oh my mind is at war!” And so too was mine. Phyllis arrived wearing a sharp blue-gray matching suit jacket and skirt complete with a white, button down the front, blouse. If she had stood with brief case in hand, she could have easily been mistaken for some high falutin business executive or perhaps even a higher falutin politician. To use the word, grandiose, would not have been out of the question. But after a second glass of Italian wine, Phyllis had discarded the jacket and loosened one more button of her blouse before relaxing in my father’s favorite easy chair. A soft pole lamp light bulb behind her illuminated her as if being captured in some Dutch Reformation still life.
As she talked I took the opportunity to observe and record everything about her. That once shiny brunette head of hair now was in fact a mixture of brown’s and grays. Somehow it seemed to suit her perfectly now. She had arrived with it neatly tucked up tightly behind her, again in that professional woman way. I liked the new Phyllis. Her eyebrows were thin but right for her face and the style of glasses she wore. The crows feet which sprang out from the sides of her eyes made her smiles more real and her tears more painful. The vertical creases at either side of her mouth still accented every pursing of the lips. Only the slightest increase of the fullness beneath her chin gave evidence of age, and then probably only to me. The upper vermilion her mouth now wrinkled when she talked. That too I found strangely appealing, pondering, always pondering whether or not she would allow me to kiss those lips and if and when she did, would it be as good as I had, oh so many year ago, imagined it would be?
There were times during our conversation when Phyllis would absentmindedly scratch the back of her neck as she looked down and to one side in some deep contemplative ruse. That was when I was able to assess how the years had been to her breasts. Though her blouse was a luminescent white, I could discern no pattern of lace beneath, no seam, not even much of an indentation from shoulder strap. And having only the two top most buttons unfastened, I, sad to say, could discern little cleavage. But there was no hiding the fact that it was in there. Nor was there much pretense to the fact that Phyllis’s breasts had filled out if not indeed, grown out since our meeting. I searched the archives but drew a blank as to what had then been previously observed other than being proportionately large and often cloaked behind sweaters and the fashionable blazers of that time.
“So I thought, what the hell, it wasn’t like there wasn’t anything desperately waiting for me back home. I know, I should have called or at least texted you. I guess my impetuous nature hasn’t lost any of it impetuousness over the years. I find it seriously helps me from growing old or being scared to explore another facets of life. And that is very important at this stage of the game, don’t you think, Ron?”
I was glad that Phyllis had dropped the familiar name of youth, ‘Ronny.’ There were other hints subtly dropped along the way that gave me hope that per chance this impetuous girl might spend night! And if I played my cards right, maybe, just maybe she’d even spend it under my sheets.
“I couldn’t agree more. However, in admitting that, I will have to confess that I haven’t been very impetuous of late.” I laughed a sad sack laugh before adding, “There hasn’t been any reason to.” I looked up at two bright eyes that were leaning forward in my father’s old chair. Was this an invitation?
“Maybe you just need to look around a little harder to find something new to get excited about!” There it was again. Surely this was an invitation.
Standing to my feet, Phyllis rocked forward with two arms wrapped about herself as I drew close to her. Smiling a queer little mischievous smile, turning her head ever so slightly as she looked up at me, I leaned down and slowly brought my lips close to hers. “I’ve always been attracted to you,” I heard myself confess.
“I know,” she replied, this time with a widening of that mischievous little smile. “Why do you think I took the chance and came back?”
My eyes widened as I looked breathlessly within her own before she closed them and pressed her lips on mine.
There are times when two pair of lips are just made for each other. I’ve kissed countless women over the course of my life but only three of them perfectly matched my own in a way that no others had ever achieved. One was a summer fling just out of high school. The other was at the end of a three days stay at an old college friends home after which she kindly drove me to the airport to see me off. The third now had her hand behind my head, tenderly injecting her passion into me. The kiss lingered forever, long enough to make the position uncomfortable. We parted slowly as eyes opened just as slowly before beginning their searching for answers. Only centimeters apart, our breath mingled as head positions began randomizing, seeking both optimization of placement and permission.
I suppose if I had been younger, I would have pushed her back in her chair or dragged her off on to the floor and had my way with her. Perhaps if she had been younger I still might have done it. But there was a maturity about all of this that told us both that there was no need to rush. This was no affair of youth. This required neither of its participants to be home before midnight. Besides, that hour had come and gone. Nor was there any conflicting thought of explaining the lateness to a waiting spouse. We were both consenting adults. We were both, for-gods-sake, consenting senior citizens. We were both free. For the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to feel absolutely free; to be free with a woman who was so ardently there for me —just me; a woman who had dared to change the direction of her life, without any selfish manipulation on my part, just to take a chance on me. The mere realization of it made me stumble back away from her. “What?” she begged before the mischievousness of her demeanor exuded a shy smile.
“ I, I, I…” I stuttered. “I guess I’m just having a hard time taking all this in. I stopped looking for you a life time ago. I just gave up. It was too hard to keep looking. Too many disappointments. So many hurts. Hope became a dangerous thing for me. But it was always you. I have been waiting for you all my life.”
At this Phyllis reached out with extended finger tips and took one of my hands as she looked down at the floor as if to make confession.
“David and I met at a school parents-teacher conference. He was a widower, fatherly, caring, handsome, employed, seemingly having his act together. It wasn’t one of those instant connections. It was gradual for both of us. Well really, it was a desperation on my part. Perhaps you’ve never thought about it but once a woman graduates from college and begins a career in a local community school system, she has pretty much locked herself in to a very small room of opportunity. I mean, I never was one to shop at some local bar. I never did that even in college. I suppose I was never really that lonely. I loved my job. My desperation was different than that. I wanted a family of my own. Some find their mates within the system but men who become teachers are, more often than not, nerdy, though often nice. I guess, at least for me, if you work in a bakery all your life the last thing you want on your plate is another donut. So David was a convenience. . . and, as it turned out, he felt that way as well. He never fell out of love with his first wife. I don’t fault him for that. Though he never betrayed it, I do think,” Phyllis stopped confessing long enough to admit the reality out loud, “-no, I know there were times when he made love to me that he was really closing his eyes in an attempt to make himself believe that I was her. I tried. I honestly tried to be her for him. But we’re all unique and in the end we are all who we are. So our marriage became more a brother-sister affair, friendly but not true lovers. We were just two people sharing the same house while struggling to raise our family. I still loved him as a husband. Don’t get me wrong. I guess it’s complicated. And when I lost him, I thought the world had ended for me. Have you ever been on one of those single dating sites for seniors? The female to male ratio is like a thousand to one. You men are either all married or dead. So I guess, like you, I had stopped looking. I have grown content just to enjoy my life to its natural end. Financially I’ve never been more secure. Freedom? All my k**s are married and living their own separate lives though we are close and stay in touch. Elizabeth, my youngest and most dear to me, lives the closest and she lives in Georgia.”
Phyllis continued to finger my hand as I looked down at her, reaching out and caressing the top of her head. How quickly and thoroughly she was becoming precious to me all over again. I knew not what the future had in store for us –if it had anything at all. I only knew that she was here and for the mean time, all other cares and concerned had ceased to exist. Within me raged a mixture of emotions. I felt the protector. Here was a delicate flower that had been neglected. It needed a bit of cultivation, a little nurturing to make it strong enough to once again shoot forth a dazzling array of blossoms. I also felt a strange sense of calm with her. No need to rush it. No need to secure, claim, mark her as my own. She was here because she wanted to be. But there was still a strong desire to just tear her clothes off and fuck her like she had never been fucked before. So utterly fucked that she would curl up next to me after it was all over, just like a little girl and beg servanthood. So utterly fucked that every other encounter would be like just so much dross. So utterly fucked that the rising sun would no longer mean a new day for her but a new era in her life. I pulled her to her feet, tightly drawing her near to me, squeezing the life our of her elbows, screaming at her without words as her eyes turned into big question marks, searching desperately to discern the answer as to whether or not I had, after all, turned out to be something altogether wrong for her. Me? I suppose I was having one of those “It’s a Wonderful Life” episodes where Jimmy Stewart grabs Donna Reed at the bottom of the stair, letting the phone of life drop to the floor as you grabbed another life so as never to let it get away ever again.
“Look here, Phyllis. I’m not a carpetbagger. I’m not a looser who sits every night like a fungus in front of the tv. I’m a man who . . . who cannot be played with. I must know the truth now. Are you playing me? Am I just a convenience to you like David was back then? I don’t want that. I never want that again.”
Phyllis’s answer was probably the best. She tore herself away from me with fire in her eyes. I’d never seen that flame before. I’d never been ready to. As if to emphasize her resolve, she threw herself back into my arms. As tender and slow as had been the first kiss, the second was heated, each desperately searching for that little crevasse into which to hide ourselves; that vehicle which allowed two souls to become as one. My search had ended. Letting go of self, I wrapped her in my arms. It felt so right. It felt so amazingly right.
Phyllis was now a head shorter than myself. With two hands I pulled it back and looked once again into her eyes. Not allowing me to linger there long, she stood up on tippy-toe as she brought my mouth down to her own, performing CPR on my soul. Her kisses overflowed with a hunger that caused me to fear my inability to match it. My freedom wasn’t use to this sort of attention. Perhaps, in part, it was due to her being such the aggressor. All of life’s experiences prior to this moment had been ever and only the woman giving in to my aggression. But here, at life’s last light, came a woman unlooked for, hungry for every bit me as much as I for her.
My house was clean. The cat boxes had been changed that morning and all the dishes had been washed and put away that night. Clean sheets had been placed on the bed. [I have to confess, the clean sheets were the result of a reasonless hope that this very woman would come knocking at my door, begging me to have rough sex with her. Such was my world.] I had showered and shaved just the hour before her arrival. Windows were open while the unobservant whole house fan silently sucked in the refreshing late spring air.
Phyllis excused herself to clean up. By then we both new her rented SUV was going to spend the night parked in my drive. The two bedroom bungalow had but a single bathroom in it though both attic and basement were finished. To the latter I retreated while she ‘tidied up a bit.’ In the laundry room, next the washer and dryer were two oversized concrete sinks, large enough to bathe the dog in. But on this night, it offered a quick chance to freshen up a bit myself before returning to await my guest.
Phyllis had retrieved a small garment bag from her vehicle before locking herself into the bathroom. I could hear the running water and the flushing of the toilet. In arranging the house for her re-entrance, I left a single dim light on in the kitchen that washed out across the dining room floor while opposite facing security lights from the mall across the street dimly filtered their way through the front hedge of holly, privet and two sentinels of arborvitae. It was all enough to set the mood. Candle lights couldn’t have done it better though I had lit two of them in bedroom. The door handle sounded; then a clicking off of the bathroom light. Like a cat out of the darkness, silently she stole back into the room.
Had I died and gone to heaven? Had I won the largest lottery in the nations history, garnering me femme fatales at my doorstep desperately wanting –now- into my life? I had not anticipated the woman who stood before me. Where had she acquired the garment? And more puzzling still, why had it been packed only to visit her daughter?
“Do you like it,” Phyllis enquired, performing pirouette for me to see all of it. “As I sat at the airport, trying to decide whether or not to chance it, I spied it in the front window of one of the little, overly expensive boutiques —and it just spoke to me. So I took the chance. Is it to your tastes?”
With a mouth hanging open, my answer was an u*********s licking of the lips and a nearly inaudible, “Oh my god, yes!”
Phyllis had clothed herself in an antique whale boned bustier. It was black as the night with horizontal rows of widely spaced stars. The garment made her breasts appear even larger than first imagined while revealing shapely thighs that were anything but fat. It’s hem gathered in tight, short ruffles, ending just where her black bikini panties began. Phyllis worn nothing else. Myself, only dressed in a pair of well weathered shorts and an emblematic polo shirt, stood up to meet her.
Phyllis was definitely one of those, rare in my life, cup-half-full sort of people. She was confident about herself and her choices. Normally, all things being equal, I would have romanced a woman of this caliber. But this woman on this night, dressed in this garment purchased while making this decision begged forgoing any and all genteel indulgements.
We met and kissed as her body movements directed me toward the back of the house and onto my bed. “Lay down,” was her command after removing my shirt and pushing back onto the bed. “I want you to just lay there,” she again commanded me as she drew off my shorts, my cock springing out at rigid attention as she did so. “Hmmm,” she sighed at the sight of it. Confessing but not inviting him into the room, Phyllis stood over me, “David never let me suck his. He said a wife didn’t do those sort of things.” In the dim candle light, the buxom shadow wraith towered over me.
“You’ll never get that sort of thinking from me!” I surprised myself at the levity it was said in for my mind was all too serious about recording her every word and every movement.
“Turn around and lay up close to the edge of the bed,” my dominatrix ordered me as she bent over to feather my rigid manhood in her cascading fingers.
“Dear god, tell me you are real!” I begged her. Releasing my fingered cock, I watched attentively as Phyllis stood back up, withdrawing a single breast from the form-quenching bodice. It was massive, capped by a large dark aureola just slightly above center with a thick and long nipple at the center of it. “Pinch this to see if it’s real or not!” she teased me.
I was fighting every emotion, every notion to rise up and capture this woman, ripping her panties from her and just brutally fucking her until we both melted into one nirvanic existence. Instead, I reached out and began gently thumbing her nipple. She cooed before ordering me to pull it, “Harder. Harder!” If my cock had been rigid before, now it was granite. “Bite it,” she directed me, leaning over, offering the delectable nodule as I lay there like a slug. “Ooooh, yes. Use your teeth.”
All that I had imagined of Phyllis Parks was evaporating with any hope of repair. Pulling herself backup as my teeth remained clenched to that mother’s nipple, I allowed it to spring free as I watched its breast contort by the motion. Smiling back at me, never indicating that my teeth had just about severed the nipple from her breast, Phyllis slowly withdrew the second breast. Even larger than the first with the same umber sand dollar pasted on the end of it with an equally large yet not taut, nipple sitting dead center. “Are you a breast man, Ron?” Like she had to ask.
“Oh god yes! Of the likes you’ve never seen before!”
Phyllis leaned over and placed the head of my cock in her warm wet slobering mouth, satisfied for now just to suck on it, tickling it with her tongue before deep throating its length a time or two without so much as a quiver. Briefly standing back up for air, she confessed, “Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this again! I hope you don’t think ill of me after all these years and me now being the respectable grandmamma, but there is just something about having a man inside my mouth.”
I must confess, it was shocking to hear not only confess it, but to express it as desperately as she already had. Yet remaining standing beside my bed, I watched as the woman looked down at me as she sucked on first one and then the other breast. Juggling their girth in her hands, Phyllis seemed briefly content to tease me and her each nipples with her tongue before returning to take my dancing Doric column deep within her mouth.
The position offered her right breast to me as it dangled freely, gravity performing its best effort to elongate them. At first I merely tugged on her nipple giving her further cause to moan. But her breasts were too magnificent to ignore. With both hands, I tried vainly to enclose it with finger tips and thumbs, pulling and squeezing as valiantly as possible before resting my right hand back at my side as the left began a routine of swaying the heavy weight in one direction, slapping it as it swung back in the other. Only mumbled, I thought I heard my master of the night cry, “Harder!”
Working first the length of it, then sucking and licking just the head, my aged angel lost herself in the enjoyment of circumcised man flesh. Slurping, mouthing, swallowing, gasping for air, she never resorted to handling it. Turning her head, first this way and then that, she continued to take all of me then only part of me. With mouth open she would slither down one side before skillfully twisting and sliding back the other before swallowing me whole again. Truly this woman loved having a man’s cock at her disposal. It felt good! It felt like I had never imagined it could ever feel.
Suddenly and without warning, Phyllis stood back up as I watched attentively the freed breasts swaying first one way then the other. Grasping her panties at the corner of her womanly hips, Phyllis removed the lacy article, but not without first patting her kitty in a delightful and playful patter. “Move over,” she instructed me as I slide to the center of the large bed.
I wasn’t sure what to expect next from this unimagined woman in heat. Crawling up onto the bed beside me, she straddled one leg before again setting about consuming my manhood with her mouth, only this time she now collared my shaved balls with thumb and index finger of one hand while the other circled the base of my shaft all the while her mouth sucked me deeper and deeper into the back of her.
I suppose it wasn’t something that had to be taught. A woman merely had to want it. The rest just came naturally. And without a moments consideration, this woman definitely wanted to suck cock.
Only once before had a woman performed it to such a degree as to succeed in bringing me off insider her mouth. That had been my little Margie, on our honeymoon night. She hadn’t wanted to suck it but I coerced her into it just the same. It was what wives did. It was as much required as my fingering her wet clit into climax before ramming my cock into her virginal womb. But for whatever reason, perhaps the stress of wedding day, perhaps the long anticipation, I climaxed almost immediately after she began timidly mouthing the dirty object. Coughing, spitting, swearing, never again did she trust me, refusing every and all encouragements and enticements till at long last she walked out my life forever.
“Whoa there horse!” I signaled the laboring locomotive breath. “Not yet. I don’t want to come yet.”
As I said before, this was a confident woman. Sliding back, she grabbed both my ankles and pulled me down toward the end of the bed such that my head was no longer able to rest on any my pillows. And before I could retrieve a pillow to slide it back under my head, my gameful playmate maneuvered herself to the head of the bed. Taking a position directly above me, straddling my head, looking down as she bent her knees, she asked, “Do you mind?”
Grabbing her by her hips, I pulled her sex down on top of my mouth. Though she had shag carpet upon top, beneath she was a clean as a new born baby. In the glow of the soft scented candle light, I viewed her. No longer sporting taut c***dhood lips, there was a swollenness about her. I kissed her offering to me while looking up at her looking down. I hesitated a guess that dear David wasn’t in favor of doing this either.
With a simple touching of the tongue, like a magic button, they unfolded for me. Though her outer lips were swollen and puffy, her inner lips were long and sinewy. They begged me to handle them, but not before once sucking the length and fullness of them fully with my mouth. Two cock roster’s combs could not have compared, nor had I ever imagine having a woman with both, large beautiful breast and a perinanth so long and sinewy. Willing to let me pay, I fingered her wetness before clasping each lip between thumb and fore finger, pulling them apart as my tongue sought out the wet pea hiding within. She cried, “Oh, right there.” Lightning striking once was note worthy, twice was story telling, but for a third time? I heard of them but never truly understood all that was involved in being a hermaphrodite. Obviously she was fully female, having sired three c***dren of her own. And she enjoyed being a woman. Stimulated, I watched as her clit grew as hard as my own cock had in her mouth. Was I a latent homosexual for enjoying this discovery so completely? Deeply I drew her into my mouth, its length as long as the last segment of my little pinkie. Her legs quivered as I heard a moan deep within her bowels. Lifting her slightly up off me to better focus on this amazing discovery, her sex remained cavernously open as her dark lips hung down and her clit erect for the teasing.
As she had done to me, so I returned the favor, sucking, licking, nibbling on her fever as her legs began spread wider, pressing itch hard down onto my scratch. Soon her fever broke out in an unrestrainted jerk and cry. “Oh yes, Ron. Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” she breathed, gasping for air.
Why hadn’t she seen fit to warn me? Only surprised by it’s profligacy, not by its nature, I briefly pushed her up off of me before returning my tongue to push deeper within her as an opaque rash of fluid flushed over my face.
Without warning, Phyllis pulled herself off of me, producing a wet face cloth from God knows were. “Wipe yourself off,” was her only command as she lay down next to me before pulling me on top of her. She didn’t have to tell me what to do next.
Wet as any woman ever was, a stream of white wonder still escaping as I slid my cock deep with her crack, she arched her back and pressed her head deep within the bed as each hand grabbed a handful of sheet. With breast coursing every which way, I buried my shaft repeatedly within her till at last her final door opened to me. Like a flood gate on a swollen river damn, her excitement was exceeded only by my own.
“Oh God in heaven,” I cried as my thrust stopped deep within her, extruding every ounce of long denied orgasm as her cunt fingers grabbed me and refused to let go. Again she came, spraying her hair haphazardly across her now hidden face as it thrust itself first to one side then another. At this coming, Phyllis screamed without reserved. At long last, for her too, a long denied completely accepted orgasm came to life. Wrapping her arms around me, crushing my chest against her breasts, her hips began to fuck uncontrollably.
I couldn’t make out the words exactly, but they were course, extruded by yet another orgasmic explosion. How many did she have within her, this being her third, or was it her fourth?
Thanks to the little packet of trial offer pills given to me at my last doctors exam, I remained rigid to the last. Eventually her tide stopped coming in allowing me to fall off to one side of her as each of us tried catching our breath. Old fogies indeed! I dare say few people younger than us had ever come so many time or with such volatility. Whatever laid in store for us in the future, one of them was not the demur spousal relations we each had once put up with.
“God,” she called out as the woman next to me woke. “I do seriously believe, Ronnie, I have never been so completely and thoroughly fucked before! And please, do forgive. I so wanted to cum while you were sucking on me. I know I shouldn’t have just cum like that but just once….” I ended her little apology with a finger on her lips.
“It was perfect! Well almost. You certainly surprised me but please, don’t ever think it puts me off. God damn woman, what a fuck’n wild piece of goods you are! Have you always been like this?”
“What, liking sex? I suppose. But you were still in high school back then. I was in my last year of getting my teachers certificate and what, four years, three? your senior. Back then that was a lot. Back then I had to maintain that teacher/student barrier. Back then there were a lot of you boys staring at my chest, imagining me to be your play thing. You were simply one of them though living next to you somehow always separated you from the pack. We were both young then. Young and foolish.” Phyllis sighed as a curtain of silence drew itself across the stage as we fell asleep in each others arms still covered with the cum of our excitement.
Come morning we showered together, laughing, talking, enjoying the wonderment of a suddenly realize companionship that would this time truly last ‘till death do us part.’ It wasn’t a movie and it wasn’t a one-time occurrence. Phyllis’s nature was as imaginative as it was impetuous. Instead of flying, I drove her back down to her home in Florida, sometimes with her seated next to me with nothing on but a smile. No one else in the world mattered to her. She loved me fingering her excitement in public places as much as she love having me in her mouth out in the boat as others flew past us. Phyllis Kucera was the love of my life.
vor 12 Jahren
))