When I picked Micki up at the emergency department entrance, she looked absolutely beat. I actually felt sorry for her and told her so: “Are you sure this is a good idea? You’ve got to be exhausted.” She smiled, laughed a little, and said, “Do I look that bad”
“I didn’t say you looked bad. I said you looked tired, and I’ll bet you are. Are you sure you want to go out?
“Wine!” She replied. “One glass of wine and I’ll feel much better. But to answer your question, yes, I’m sure. I just had a hard day. I worked in what we call ‘special care’, which is another way of saying all of the psychotics, drunks, homeless and other people who basically have one or another form of altered mental capacity. That usually means they’re unreasonable, unfriendly, and unclean.”
“Sounds less than fun”, I said. I suggested that we go to a very casual little place that is on my end of town. She hadn’t eaten there and said she always wanted to. She asked where it was, and when I told her, she said, “We’re going to go right near my house. Would it be OK if we stopped in long enough for me to change out of these scrubs? I really feel dirty.” I told her it would be fine.
I followed her directions and found her house with no difficulty. As we pulled up I said, “I can wait of you in the car.” She replied that her daughters were both at her folks house, so there was no reason not to come in. I went around to help her out of the car and we entered a very nice, small older house. She went through the ritual of apologizing for the mess (there wasn’t one) and pointed me to glasses, a bottle of wine, and a corkscrew. “If you’d open that and pour us some wine, I’m just going to run in and change.” I poured two glasses and called to her that her wine was ready. She replied, “Would you bring it back here for me?”
As I walked down the hall she pulled open her bedroom door. She had on a robe -which revealed not a thing- and was laying out clothes to wear on her bed. She followed my gaze to the very lacy bra and panty set that was among the clothes she had laid out, and laughed: “You don’t quit do you?” I asked, “Do you want me to?” She didn’t answer that and just said, “Go away. I need to clean up and change so we can eat.”
Back in the living room I heard her running a shower, so I walked over to her bathroom door and knocked. When she asked what I needed, I said, “May I pay you a compliment?” Still wearing her robe, she opens the door a little and laughing, said, “Seriously? You can see nothing!”
I said, “I know that. but if you’d drop that robe, I can probably come up with all kinds of compliments.” By the time I finished that short sentence, she was laughing hard, and said, “You’ve graduated to trying to talk me out of my clothes!” I said, “Yup. Is it working?” Her reply was promising: “Not until I’ve had my shower, it’s not!”
I went back to the living room to enjoy the wine, and contemplate how this was all working. I thought that she certainly shows all the signs of being sexy, available, and interested. But I also know that what can be charming in moderation can be annoying in excess. Much as I wanted to just walk up to her and tell her that I’l love to see her naked I thought that might be a bit too much. And the ‘may I pay you a compliment’ gimmick was about to become trite.
Micki finished dressing and came out in a white blouse and dark skirt: she looked fabulous, and was smiling and looking refreshed. She splashed a little more wine in her glass, and drank it down, before saying, “Feed me before I starve”, and grabbing my arm as we walked back to my car. Funny how attractive a leg can be when it’s partially covered. I had seen her in a bikini, and been looking intently at her legs, from her feet to her pussy the other day, and yet the knee and upper thigh showing below her skirt as she sat in the car was distracting me.
When we arrived at the restaurant it distracted me a bit more. A word about the car is necessary here: in the summer time I drive a Corvette convertible almost all the time, and always with the top down unless it starts raining when I’m out. She had asked me if I could put the top up when we left her house because of what it had done to her hair on the drive from the hospital. I had, of course, been happy to do so, but it is a VERY low car, and getting out is a bit of a challenge for someone not used to it, and is even more awkward with the top up. As I stepped over and opened the door for her she struggled for a moment, and then said, “How do you get out of this thing wearing a skirt? Before you answer, yes I know: you don’t wear a skirt!” Looking around, she asked, “Can anybody see us?” I told her no one could, and she pulled her skirt up almost to her waist in order to move one leg out the door with the other still in the footwell.
As I helped her up I didn’t even try to be discrete: “Now there’s a nice surprise! I could look at that all evening.” She replied, as she stood up and smoothed out her skirt, “ It’s not like you haven’t seen my legs. What’s the big deal?” I answered her, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing when I noticed your knee and thigh showing below your skirt. Truthfully, I think men enjoy looking at legs more because of what they lead to than anything else. I think we see them as a promise of what’s between your legs.” As I said that, she smiled and said, “The promise of what’s between my legs, huh? You put a lot of pressure on a girl. I may not live up to your expectations. I may not even live up to my own.”
We had a nice light dinner and talked until we realized that they were trying her do close up. I had drunk only water and coffee, but Micki was on her third glass of wine at the restaurant, following the generous glass and a half at her house. As she stood up, I realized she was a little unsteady, and as we turned toward the door she took my arm and pulled it around her waist. At the car, I helped her down to the seat and then lifted her legs at the knees and swung them into the car. I said, “Are you going to be OK? She answered, “Oh, yeah. I’m gonna be great!” I said, “Home?” She answered, “How about the beach? Now, it was a little after 10 and while some of our city lakes and parks are still busy that late, the one near her house is not, so it sounded to me like a great idea.
When we got to the beach, and I opened her door, she said, “Well, time for your show again!” as she pulled her skirt up her legs and I helped her out of the car. I have a blanket of sorts that I keep in the trunk, and I carried the wth as we walked through the wooded park area to the beach. Before we got to the beach itself, we stopped and I leaned her against a tree as she tilted her head back and I kissed her. We stood there agains that tree for several minutes, making out like high school kids. I was holding her tightly and was more than conscious of her substantial chest. I was discrete with my hands, rubbing the small of her back and only barely touching the top of her ass. I had stepped into her so that my leg was between hers and pushing against her.
We pulled apart simultaneously and both needed to catch our breath, although she more than I. As I leaned back from her, she looked up at me and trailed her hand from behind my head where it had been, down across my chest and down to take my hand. She walked toward the beach, pulling me after her, without saying a word. Near the water, e slowed and I spread the blanket that I had brought from the car. We dropped the shoes we had been carrying across the sand on the blanket and I knelt down and helped her down at the same time. What always seemed like a great place to make out when I was a kid, turns out to be a lot less comfortable when you add a few decades. And it turns out that the same hormones that make that discomfort fade from your consciousness work just fine decades later.
Because we were postponed differently I had access to the front of her, and as we were kissing, brought my left hand up to her right breast. Lifting it and feeling it’s weight and shape, and then moving to the other she tilted her head away from me, and as she did so I expected to hear her object. Instead she said quietly said, “You don’t know how long it’s been”, and then buried her face in my neck.
After a few minutes of holding, kissing, touching and feeling, while we were adjusting out positions and taking a breather, I said, “May I ask a favor? I want to see you naked here outside in the moonlight.” She didn’t say a word, she just stood and began unbuttoning her blouse. When she had removed it she unsnapped her skirt and wriggling out of it, stood for just a moment in a lacy white bra and matching panties, and a pair of thigh high stockings with a lacy white top band. She stood for just a moment and I said, “God, you’re wearing sexy underwear. I love the stocking.” She said, “I’m glad you like them. I bought the whole set yesterday. Would you like to take them off?”
Now, She was standing, and I was sitting which made for a natural stating point. I took her foot in my hand and ran my other hand up the back of her leg, more slowly as I reached the top of the stocking, and then placed her for back on the ground, and ran my other hand up the side of her leg. With my right hand on the stocking top I moved my left farther up the back of her leg to feel her ass, and then back to the stocking. My fingers were perhaps 2 inches from her pussy, and as I slid them up she made a soft noise. I stopped just before touching her pussy and moved down and un rolled the stocking. I did the same to the other leg, lightly touching her inner thigh just at her pussy, but not touching her pussy.
As I stood up and stepped behind her she said, “It opens in the front”. I ran my hands around in front of her and held her breasts, rubbing and playing for just a moment, while I found the clasp. I kneeled back down and placing my hands on her hips pulled the panties down over her hips to reveal a gorgeous, full, coin-slot pussy. I stood back up, and said “This started with a compliment. I can’t help giving you another. You have a magnificent figure. I’ve been undressing you with my eyes since we met, and I feel so lucky that you let me do that with my hands.” As I dropped back to my knees I said, “Now let me do this with my mouth”, as I reach around to he raps and pulled her pussy into my face.
Little, sharp sound escaped her lips as she worked her hands through my hair. I looked up just long enough to say, “Lay down” and as she did so resumed licking her clit while I fingered her pussy. Over many minutes, she shuddered and vibrated, while racking back and holding her legs in the air with her knees on my back. And then she pushed my head back away from her, and in a panting voice, said, “Wait. Stop. Wait.” I rolled to her side and slid up to be face to face with her.
My cock was damn near painfully hard, and trapped awkwardly in my clothes. As I reached down to adjust, she sat up and said, “Let me.” She unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants, reaching in to take out my cock. As she did so, she bent over and took me in her mouth. She played with my balls and sucked me, alternating between gentle licking and kissing, and full on sucking, for several minutes. I pushed my pants down and off and removed my shirt, and as she sat up, laid her back.
I moved to her side and kissed her while rubbing her thighs and over the top to her lower abdomen. Rubbing her mound, I fingered her deeply and pressed up from the inside with my finger while pressing down from the outside with my palm. There was a sharp intake of breath followed my long steady moan, and then she said. “Now. Please! Now!” I rolled on top of her and for just a moment realized that it was time to be responsible, for myself if for no one else. I stroked the side of her face and said, “Micki, are you on birth control?” She replied, “No, do you have a condom?” I did not and so said to her, “No. I’ll tell you what. Let’s get dressed and go either to your house or mine, and we can stop on the way to buy condoms.”
As I was saying that she was shaking her head and looked like she was crying. She said, “No. I want you inside me right now. I want to feel it when you come. I want you to feel me. You are so kind, but I want you to fuck me now, and I want you to come in me. We can buy a morning after, but please, put it inside me.”
Later, as we were sorting out our clothes and trying to shake the sand out of them, I said, “Can I pay you a compliment?” She was laughing out loud, and said, “I’m not sure I can take any more compliments from you! I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.” We got dressed and as we drove to the 24 hour walgreens, she said, “Would you go in? I need you to ask the pharmacist if it works no matter how many times you’ve had sex before taking it, and how long after the first time you have to take it for it to work.” I looked at her for a moment with, I guess a confused look, and she said, “Oh, god, you think I was screwing someone else today before you.” I replied that I certainly did not. “My mind was just elsewhere when you said that. Like between your legs.” She laughed and said, “Good, because you’re not done for the night.”
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