They got to the restaurant in under ten minutes. Neither of them knew what to expect; but when they sat down and had drinks, appetizers, and then the meal itself, they both felt that this was far more than a pleasant first date. They sensed a real connection–a connection based not just on some common interests, but on a desire to overcome their misery and move on to a new phase of their lives. Their conversation became soft, delicately intimate, and revealing in a way neither expected on an initial meeting. Sure, they had confided some of their feelings in their emails and phone conversations, but this was something more–and they both felt a kind of vibrant electricity as they gazed upon each other and exchanged confidences.
More than three hours passed, and they hardly noticed it. When, having lingered over dessert and coffee as long as they possibly could, they began getting pretty clear signals from the waitress that they should move along, they sighed as Gerald asked for the check and without any fuss picked up the tab.
They were silent as they went back to Gerald’s car, realizing that this incredible moment would soon be over–unless it somehow got extended.
Gerald drove back to Joyce’s house, then got out of the car and walked her up to her front door. Joyce was now actually trembling. God! she thought. I’m feeling like some silly coed! Would Gerald kiss her goodnight? After the time they’d had, a handshake would seem like an insult. He’d better kiss me–and if his hand strays a bit in the direction of my bottom, well, I won’t protest too much.
Gerald did kiss her, holding her close in his strong arms but keeping his hands firmly around her lower back, so that it wasn’t even touching her bra underneath her blouse or going anywhere near her butt.
But his lips felt good against hers. Two whole years it had been since she’d been kissed by a man! The softness of those lips, and the warmth of his breath as he opened his mouth slightly, made her tingle all over. She hoped that she could convey by telepathy that she wanted more: You can put your tongue in my mouth if you want. But he didn’t.
When the kiss ended, each sensing a faint bit of moisure on their lips, Joyce thought she was close to fainting. The arms she had thrown around Gerald’s neck stayed there–she needed to do that to keep herself from tumbling to the floor of the porch, her knees were so shaky.
Letting out a shuddery breath, she said, “W-would you like to come into the house for a drink or something?”
Gerald looked down at her, a mix of sadness and regret on his face. “I’d better not.”
“What?” she gasped. “Y-you don’t want to?”
“I do want to. But there will be plenty of time to get to know you better in the days and weeks to come. This certainly isn’t going to be the end. I hope it isn’t, anyway.”
A true gentleman, she had to admit sourly. Like me, he probably vowed not to sleep with me on the first date–but I was more than ready to renounce that vow.
“Okay,” she said, her voice heavy in defeat. “When can I see you again?”
“Soon,” he said. “Very soon. I’ll call you.”
And, with one more quick kiss on the mouth, he left her stranded on her porch, got back into his car, and drove away.
Joyce trudged into the house, feeling as low as she ever had–but also with a substratum of excitement that this new relationship was really going to amount to something both wonderful and solid. No cheap rolls in the hay, that’s for sure! (But she hoped there would be rolls in the hay sometime, and soon.)
Hilary was sitting on the couch in the living room–almost as if she were the mother waiting for her naive college-age daughter to come home from a date.
“So how was it, Mom?” she asked, not bothering to put down the book she was reading.
Joyce had to clear her throat before she could say, “It was–fine.”
“Fine? That’s all you have to say?”
“It was good, dear. Very good. I’m sure I’ll see him again.”
“Glad to hear it. What’s he like?”
“I’ll tell you later. I–I have to go to bed now.”
“Go to bed? Mom, it’s barely ten o’clock.”
“Well, dear, I’m tired. And I have to work tomorrow.”
And she rushed up the stairs and almost ran into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
The first thing she did was to look at herself in the full-length mirror on the inside of her closet door. I’m pretty scrumptious, if I do say so myself! she thought. How could Gerald resist this?
It was then that the fantasy began.
Puckering her lips as if she was kissing Gerald right there in the room, she slipped a hand behind her back and undid the long zipper of her blue dress. She pulled it off her shoulders and let it fall quietly to the floor. Stepping out of it daintily, she gazed at herself intently in the mirror as she again reached behind herself and unclasped her bra, letting it also fall to the floor. She grabbed both breasts with her hands, squeezing them the way a man would who was properly appreciative of such an impressive bosom. Then she peeled away her underwear and stood naked in front of the mirror. She was definitely “built” (isn’t that the word Hilary had used?)–but not anything close to zaftig. A lot of men like a woman with a little flesh on her bones, don’t they? She was sure Gerald was one of them.
She made her way to the bed, holding out her hand as if inviting a man to follow her. And when she lay down on her back, her legs raised and her knees bent in the classic missionary-style position, she first took hold of her breasts again and then let one hand stray down her chest, stomach, and abdomen until it reached her fur-covered delta. She’d never shaved and never would. Only porn stars shave! She was, in fact, proud of the thick, heavy bush she’d cultivated over a lifetime, and she was convinced that a lot of men nowadays liked that look.
Then she slipped a hand between her legs to her pussy, which was already dripping wet.
In fact, it was so wet that she was a little embarrassed. Gee, I’m actually dripping! She giggled to herself as she felt her juices oozing out of her and coating the insides of her thighs. She made sure more fluid came out of herself as she slowly stroked her labia up and down, both inside and out, and then used her index finger to brush her clitoris–at first gently, then more and more forcefully. She continued to squeeze her breasts with the other hand, but then she slipped it under herself and seized her bottom, which was one of her most sensitive areas.
She was now going to town on herself, fondling her sex vigorously while massaging her bottom. She hoped her daughter would remain downstairs, because she was now unable to stop herself from letting out little gasps and moans and whimpers that she hoped Hilary couldn’t hear. While all this was happening she was envisioning Gerald on top of her, calmly but intently plowing into her with his firm, rigid member, coating it with the juices that were still pouring out of her.
And then, emitting a little cry that she at once covered with one hand, she began shaking all over with one of the most intense orgasms she’d ever had in her life.
It seemed to go on forever, and also seemed entirely beyond her control. She kept stroking herself, but it seemed as if someone else was doing it. She felt she was almost choking, and her legs were quivering so much it was as if someone was giving her mild–or maybe not so mild–electric shocks that wouldn’t end. A few tears got squeezed out of her eyes as, after what seemed like an eternity, she finally managed to collapse into boneless passivity, utterly spent from a climax for the ages.
She giggled again–but then sniffled and had to hold back tears as she thought of what could have been. I’d made as clear an invitation to that man that I wanted him to possess me–and what does he do? He walks away! Men can be so frustrating . . .
And she curled up and went to sleep.
*
“So, Mom, are you going to tell me what happened on your date?”
Hilary, sitting down at the kitchen table sipping coffee, was staring intently at Joyce, who had gotten up late and was in a hurry to get to the office.
“I’ll have to tell you later, dear,” Joyce said, getting some coffee of her own and snatching a doughnut from the counter.
“Mom, come on,” Hilary said. “You can tell me something.”
“It–it was very nice, dear. He’s a wonderful man, as I knew he would be.”
“Did he kiss you goodbye?”
“Yes, he kissed me goodbye.”
The way Joyce had responded made Hilary, who was no dummy, look at her mother sharply. “You’re telling me . . . you wanted more than a kiss?”
Joyce blanched. Omigod, did she hear me last night?
“No!” she cried. “I mean, maybe. But–but he didn’t want anything more.”
“Didn’t he?”
“Even if he did, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. I told you, he’s not that sort of man.”
“You know, Mom,” Hilary said reflectively, “I think I have a solution to your problem.”
“What problem is that?”
“Why, getting into bed with him, of course!”
“Hilary–”
“Look, Mom, here’s the situation. I figure you’ve told him about me.”
“About you? What do you mean?”
“I mean, the fact that I exist–and that I’m still going to be in this house for another two months.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oh, come on, Mom, use your brains. Here’s a guy who wants to get into your pants–”
“Hilary, you stop that kind of talk!”
“–but there’s this annoying daughter around. What a bummer! A guy is not going to want to bang a lady with someone like me within earshot. Got the picture?”
“I really don’t like the way you’re portraying this whole situation.”
“But I have a point, don’t I? So the obvious solution is: you go to his place.”
Joyce fell silent.
“He lives alone, doesn’t he?” Hilary went on.
“Yes. It’s just a little apartment. He couldn’t afford the mortgage payments on his house after his wife died.”
“Well, there you go. It’s kind of a bachelor pad–just right for a little nookie.”
Joyce sighed in despair, giving up the attempt to rein in her daughter’s filthy talk. “Okay, I agree you might be right. But I want him to meet you. I mean, you’re a pretty important factor in my life, and I’ll want you and him to get along.”