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They had arrived in England that morning, after an all night flight
featuring a six hour time change.  Both she and her son had slept only
fitfully in the cramped seats, arriving – after a breakfast neither
was ready for – into Gatwick airport at 8 A.M.  Greenwich time.  She
had booked ahead into an inn near Stratford upon Avon, the one at
which they now ate.  She remembered from her only other trip to the
British Isles that the best way to conquer the time change was to get
on the new sleep schedule as quickly as possible, so they had doggedly
crammed themselves into their tiny rental car and spent the day seeing
castles, churches, and picturesque villages.  Jimmy went along with
her doubtful jet-lag theory – or at least refrained from complaining.

Actually, she was pleasantly surprised with his attitude.   After the
divorce, it had seemed certain that he would go to live with his
father.  But after spending a week with James about a month before,
Jimmy had announced he would stay with her.  In a surge of relief, she
had planned this vacation for the two of them, not thinking until it
was too late that travelling through England with his mother might not
be a thirteen year old boy’s idea of a thrilling time.  His smiles
seemed sincere, though, and she attributed to an overactive
imagination her feeling that his eyes showed an amused superiority at
her enthusiasm.

As they returned to the car to get their bags, she wondered anew at
Jimmy’s rapid growth over just the past six months.  He was now a full
four inches taller than her own petite 5′ 1″ and lanky as a colt.  She
was thankful for his new male strength – the suitcases would have been
too much for her without him along to take the larger ones.  Now,
hopefully, a quick check-in, then a soft bed…

The jet-lag must have really set in.  The inn-keeper’s words echoed
meaninglessly in her fogged mind.  “… you did ask for a double room
… last one available … other hotels and bed and breakfasts in the
area full also… busy season…”  Why was he restating the obvious,
and looking back and forth from her to her son?  Yes, they were
sharing a room, but they could change in the bathroom and each stick
to their own bed.  They were mother and son for chrissakes!

She nodded and said “Okay… fine… ” enough times that the innkeeper
finally took them up to their room.  He paused in front of a room
revealingly labelled ‘toilet’ and said that they would be sharing it
with some other guests, but it was only two doors down from their
room: very convenient.  Wait, this wasn’t right!

“But I specifically asked for a room with bath!”  She could visualize
waiting hours to bathe in the morning.

“Of course, Mrs. MacKenzie, you do have shower and sink in your room.”
He seemed irritated at her lack of comprehension.  “If you wanted a
toilet, too, you should have requested ‘en suite’ facilities.  We only
have two rooms that have private lavatory and bathing facilities and
both of them are taken.  Our historic old buildings were not built
with modern plumbing in mind.”

Yes, yes, en suite.  She remembered now.  Oh, well, at least they had
a private shower.  Had she brought a robe so she could brave the
corridor for a late night pee?  She almost giggled at the thought of
shadowy people in various stages of undress wandering the dark inn
searching for a potty.

The inn-keeper stopped at the door to number four.  “Well, here you
are.  If I can be of help, let me know.  Full English breakfast from
eight to nine thirty.”  He handed her the key.

She opened the door and stepped aside for Jimmy to carry in the bags.
As she followed, closing the door behind her, Jimmy turned and gave
her the strangest look, something between panic, confusion, and… was
there hidden amusement?

“Mom?”

When she looked around the room she saw the reason for his shock.

A tiny room – barely enough floor space to set down the baggage!

One double bed!  For her AND her son!

A shower stall about the size of a British phone booth in the corner
of the room!  (A tiny sink and mirror hid in the opposite corner, next
to that side of the bed.)

Liz MacKenzie sat down in despair on the bed (the only place to sit
except for one upright wooden chair!), her head in her hands.  This
was why the inn-keeper was so confused!  What could they do?  How
could she possibly share the bed with her pubescent son?

Fortunately she had brought only flannel granny nightgowns, since she
had planned for them to share a room.  Again she remembered too late
the proper terminology.  She should have requested a ‘twin’ room!

And the shower!  She peeked through her fingers at it, praying it
would miraculously change.  Bad enough that there was no separate
bathroom for privacy, but the shower walls were clear plastic with
just a row of decorative daisy decals about waist height.  Too high to
hide… too low to cover… Oh, damn, damn, damn.

The final, back-breaking straw was that she had booked the room for
two nights.  And the manager had stressed that there wasn’t anything
else available!  Anywhere!

The room remained  silent, still, for an interminable time.   Then
Jimmy took a loud breath.

“Mom, this is weird, but I know its not your fault.  We just have to
act natural, I guess.”  Act natural, yes.  But how?  She heard Jimmy
kick off his shoes.  When she looked up he was pulling off his shirt.
“I got first shower.  I feel kind of funny, but you’re my mother, so
you’ve sure seen me naked.  I assume I was born that way.”  He laughed
nervously at his attempt at humor, and she looked up to give him a
smile in response.  His undershirt flew onto the bed.  Then, he looked
deeply into his mother’s eyes, and, with a slight shrug of his bare
shoulders, in a quick motion pushed his pants and jockey shorts down
together.  Stepping out of them, he stood nude in front of her looking
as embarrassed as only a teenager going through puberty could be.

It was right in front of her face.  A smooth tube of flesh, arcing
downward.  About four inches long with just a small tuft of
reddish-brown hair (the MacKenzie blood) above it.  She knew well from
her experiences with James and, well, with at least one other man,
that it was about half way between soft and hard.  She was glad they
had chosen circumcision… My God, woman, her mind screamed, don’t
stare, he’s your son!

She looked up at his face, her cheeks crimson.  He stared back,
embarrassment, surprise, and that unfathomable something else flitting
across his features.  He turned around and walked toward the shower.
He glanced back once as he opened the shower door, catching her
staring at is compact, teenage ass.

She whirled away and tried to busy herself with some unpacking.
Heaving the biggest suitcase onto the bed, she extracted a nightgown
and toiletries.  But her body was reacting to her son’s maleness; and
her gaze kept returning to the shower, where through the clear sides
she could see her son’s… her son’s handsome cock.

She resolutely tried to keep her thoughts on the problems with the
room, their plans for tomorrow, anything!  But, oh Jesus, now he’s
soaping it, and the ball-sac beneath.  Is it growing?   Is he washing
it or stroking it?  Shit, he caught me looking again!  She had
forgotten that if she could look in below the daisies, he could look
out above the daisies.  She quickly went around the bed so that as she
worked her back was to him.  She could feel the moistness in her
crotch, though, and her nipples ached in their hardness.  Finally, she
heard the shower being turned off and the shower door open.

“Mom, could you get me a towel?”

Towel?  She glanced back at him in confusion and for the first time
noticed that there was no rack on the stall.  Her eyes searched
dazedly around the room, and she saw that the towels were hung by the
sink on the other side of the bed.  She moved back around the bed, got
one, and turned to bring it to him.   Act natural.  Act natural.

He was standing, facing her, an uncertain smile on his face.   As she
walked toward him, however, her eyes could not help but stray downward
again, and, unconsciously, she licked her suddenly parched lips.  He
reacted, automatically and strongly, and she realized by the tell-tale
bouncy twitch of his manhood that he was involuntarily hardening.  Her
eyes came back up immediately, but the damage was done.  He tried to
stifle a groan and moved both hands in front of his rising penis.  She
held the towel out to him and turned away as soon as he took it.  One
of his shielding hands, however, had necessarily moved away from his
now almost completely upright organ to take the towel.   As she
turned, she saw out of the corner of her eye that he was a man beyond
his years.

Six inches?  Yes, at least.  Not as big as his father, or, some
others, but really, he’s only thirteen.  She stood still, frozen,
staring vacantly at the far wall, the image of his stiff staff burned
into her consciousness as he dried himself a few feet behind her.

Slowly, out of the daze that had befuddled her since dinner (she
really shouldn’t have drunk that pint of ale!) the thought crystalized
that she would have to take the next shower.  Oh, Liz, you stupid… !
She should have undressed while Jimmy was showering and draped herself
with a towel.  Then, perhaps tell him not to look while she was
washing in the stall.  Now what?

Her son brushed by her (what was that rubbing against her hip?) and in
one motion whipped the towel onto the bed and plopped down on his
stomach on it, facing her.  “Your turn, Ma.  The water gets hot fast,
so watch out.”  He kept up a light patter as he looked up at her, but
his white, firm buttocks, still brazenly bare, captured her attention.

As if hypnotized, she kicked out of her shoes and unbuttoned her
blouse. His small talk about the flight and their day together
provoked automatic replies as she shed the blouse and opened her
slacks.  When she stepped out of her pants she suddenly realized she
was in her underwear standing less than three feet in front of her
thirteen year old child.  Her face reddened and she would have dived
under the bed but for the words that kept appearing in her mind:  “Act
natural.”  What could she do?  Make him stand in the corridor wearing
his towel while she bathed?  Her body was, after all, nothing to be
ashamed of.

She really didn’t look her thirty-two years.  Her hair was almost
black, and she had it cut pixie-short.  Her upturned nose and small
mouth made her face look almost adolescent, but her body was mature.
She still wore her light, wispy 34C bra, but it did nothing to hide
her aroused dark brown nipples.  Her great pride was that even with
C-cup breasts, which looked huge on her diminutive form, she needed no
support.  Oh, they bobbled, but did not sag at all.  She could pass
the pencil test easily.  Her waist was 21″, and her hips widened
gracefully to 33″ (34″ if she’d been sneaking desserts).  Her
translucent white panties were french-cut, in fact almost a thong in
the rear, and her shiny black pubic curls had been trimmed and
partially shaved to fit inside the panties’ sharp vee.  The shadowy
dark patch of hair formed a perfect triangle pointing down to where
the wispy silk clung to her damp, swollen labia.  Her legs were long
in proportion to her short frame – her crotch was almost at the same
level as Jimmy’s when they stood side by side.  To be succinct, she
was the most beautiful and desirable female her young son could
imagine.

She realized she’d best get on with it, her underwear wasn’t hiding
anything anyway (act natural) so she reached to unhook her
front-opening bra.  Just as she undid the clasp, she noticed that
Jimmy’s butt had started flexing, pressing his hips rhythmically into
the towel.  She suddenly felt like a stripper forced to perform for
some Lodge smoker.  As the expression goes, she lost it.

“Jimmy!  What in the world do you think you’re doing?  This situation
isn’t just an excuse for you rub yourself off on the bath towel.  I’m
your mother, for God’s sake, not some slut in a Penthouse magazine.
Yes, a Penthouse magazine like those you hide under your bed when
you’re not masturbating.”  Jimmy’s head snapped back as if she had
slapped him.  Tears formed in his eyes.  She began to realize that she
had overdone it by mentioning the magazines.  She had never meant to
admit she knew about that.  It was his secret: every boy’s secret.
But once started, she couldn’t stop.  It was as if all her fears and
frustrations burst out at once.

TO BE CONTINUED

She never discussed her employers very much, with one
exception, Mr. Crain.  According to Aunt Marie, he was a very
successful writer, middle aged, rather handsome and had never been
married.  She talked about him endlessly and I admit her
descriptions had piqued my interests to some extent.

After I came to live with my Aunt, my social life was
something less than fulfilling.  Oh, I had no trouble getting
dates. Without being too modest, I consider myself to be a most
appealing young lady.  I have soft brown hair which I keep at
shoulder length, crystal clear blue eyes, full sensuous pouting
lips and an attractive face. I think my body is strikingly
sensuous. My skin is silky smooth to touch, my breasts, succulent
full mounds of moldable, pliant, creamy sleek flesh, my half inch
long thick nipples are very dark brown and extremely sensitive.  In
fact I have had several episodes of climaxing when they were
fondled and sucked just right.  I have a slim waist, nicely rounded
derriere and long tapering curvaceous legs.  However, the men I
dated only seemed interested in my body, and I have not had what I
consider to be any meaningful relationship.

One day Aunt Marie came down with the flu and asked me if I
would do her a favor and work for her until she recovered.  As luck
would have it she was scheduled to be at Mr. Crain’s home for the
next several days.  I accepted eagerly.  I hadn’t had any really
satisfying sex in quite a while and I admit I was in a rather horny
state.  The thought of trying to seduce the interesting Mr. Crain
was a real turn-on for me.  That indescribable need in my crotch
became more demanding the longer I thought about the opportunity.

I prepared for my “work day” very carefully.  I selected one
of my aunt’s authentic French maid outfits and made the necessary
alterations.  That morning I showered as usual, but the idea of
plying my feminine wiles on Mr. Crain  had me totally turned on.
Before I even stepped into the warm pulsating water of the shower,
my nipples were already semi-hard and there was that unmistakable
feeling of wetness seeping out of my puffy cunt lips.  The feel of
the water gently beating against my sensitive flesh only heightened
my state of arousal.  I filled my hands with my creamy bath soap
and began to gently knead my partially swollen teats. First one and
then the other responded to my erotic massage. A soft moan of need
escaped my lips as I began to roll and squeeze one and then the
other nipple between my thumb and fingers.  I changed the setting
on the shower head to “massage” and maneuvered myself so that the
rhythmic bursts of water beat directly on my hungry love nest.
While one hand continued its massage of my teats, I used the other
to part the lips of my pussy so the water could beat directly
against my hungry clit..”OOOHHH SOOOO GOOODDDD” I almost
screamed…My body was now twitching in response to the erotic
stimulation it was receiving..I stopped fondling my teats long
enough to increase the water flow..My hips were now rocking forward
trying to get even more pressure against my creaming love
tube…Closer..ever closer..and then I was there…my body
convulsed in waves of pure release..and it was all I could do to
keep my balance…after a bit the spasms subsided and I finished
the shower and began to dress.

I selected a satiny black garter belt and luxuriated in the
sensation produced as my fingers pulled the sleek soft material of
my dark sheer nylons over the sensitive skin of my legs and thighs.
After carefully checking the hose in my mirror, I put on a pair of
skimpy, very thin, black bikini panties.  I used this order of
dressing so that hopefully, when I disrobed, I could remove my
panties and keep my hose in place.  I think a woman looks more
appealing garbed that way.  Then I selected a gossamer thin, white
half-bra that scarcely covered my nipples but rather effectively
pushed up my fully rounded breasts.  To complete the outfit I wore
a tight, skimpy black skirt that barely came down over the dark top
bands of my hose and a sheer white blouse.  I made certain that the
blouse was cut low enough so that top halves of my curvaceous teats
were in plain view.  The material was so thin that the remainder of
my provocative chest was incitingly apparent.  My dark brown stalk
like nipples made an erotic contrast against the whiteness of the
blouse. A pair of moderately high heeled shoes and judicious dabs
of perfume behind my ears, on my chest and thighs completed my
preparations. I put on a light coat, said goodby to my aunt and
started out to work.

Bill Crain had started his writing career as soon as he
finished his graduate education.  He was from the start a
successful author, and turned out one best seller after another.
Although he had never married, it wasn’t that he had no interest in
the opposite sex.  Quite the contrary. The problem was he had not
been able to find a mate who could match his level of sensuality or
his level of intellect.  Oh, out of sheer desperation and need, he
would date from time to time, but never anything very serious.  As
he finished his breakfast this morning, he was thinking more and
more that his level of arousal was once again approaching the
danger level…His mind drifted back to his last session of love
making and his cock became semi-hard just at the thought of how it
felt to gently enter the warm,velvety, wet walls of a grasping
eager pussy..But there was work to do today.  So he took an icy
cold shower to relieve his hardon and went into the den and began
to work.

He paid no attention to Denise as she entered the room.  He
was used to the help being around him while he worked.  He paid all
of them well enough to do their work without bothering him.  The
maid would simply clean the room and then leave.

But her perfume smelled differently today, more enticing,than
that of someone who was fifty years old.  This caused him to look
up. In front of him was a very beautiful woman, about 30 years old
with a great body. She was wearing a maids outfit with a hem that
allowed an ample view of her legs.  Her lush breasts were barely
contained within the top of her satiny white blouse which was cut
so that the their top halves were plainly exposed to him. Her nylon
clad legs and the hint of her full thighs seemed to be begging to
be touched. Looking at her, he felt his cock start to harden within
his pants.

“Where’s Marie?” he asked.  “She’s sick today, sir.  I’m her niece,
Denise.  She asked me to fill in for her.  I hope you don’t mind?”
“No, I don’t mind.  I have to stay here while you work though,
please try not to disturb me.” he said.  He was thinking that what
he would really like was to take her into his arms..taste the
warmth of her full red lips….feel the softness of her breasts as
his fingers molded them…in short make love to this stunning
creature instead of working. Her appearance and demeanor had
totally captivated him.  It was a good thing he was behind the
desk. His cock was hard now, straining against the fabric of
his pants. “I won’t bother you sir” she said as she started to
clean the room.

There was a large wall to wall book case directly in front of
his desk.  With a smile, he said “there is a lot of dust on the
bookcase. Please make sure you clean all of the books.  You can use
the ladder to reach the top.”  He knew she would have stretch to
reach the top shelf. He was looking forward to seeing more of her
voluptuous body as she stretched out while cleaning.  Her skirt was
too short to cover her while she was up there.

She moved to the bookcase.  As she walked, he noticed how
curvy her legs were.  It looked like she used them a lot.  And how
her behind enticingly undulated with every step. “You have very
nice legs. Do you run?”  “No, sir,  I lift weights for exercise.
I do a couple of different things for my legs.  My favorite type of
exercise is squatting with weights on my shoulders.  This helps me
keep my legs in shape. I’m glad you think they’re nice.”  She knew
how great her legs looked. She also thought of how good it would
feel having them wrapped around Mr. Crain as his hard cock was
pumping in and out of her lust hungry love hole.

She started cleaning the middle shelves first.  He was not
working now. His hand was under the desk, rubbing his cock as he
watched her. He wondered what she was wearing under her skirt.  He
thought of the stories he had read of French Maids as he was
growing up.  Was she wearing panties?  Did she have a garter belt
on?  She was wearing black stockings.  He hoped they were not panty
hose.  He imagined they would be stockings, attached to a
garterbelt.  He hoped for thin black silk panties, thin enough that
he would be able to see the outline of her pussy.

Looking up, he noticed that she was cleaning some of the
higher shelves now.  As she reached up, her skirt moved up exposing
her rounded behind.  She was wearing a garter belt.  Underneath it
was a pair of panties that left most of the inviting V of her
crotch uncovered.  The sight of her voluptuous body almost made him
cum and a low moan escaped his lips.  He quickly coughed and moved
some papers on his desk to cover his sounds.  He wondered if she
heard him.  Since she kept on working, he didn’t think so.

Denise knew what she was doing.  She had dressed to capture
his attention and arouse his ardor.  She was sure she had heard him
moan just now.  What man wouldn’t if he was treated to the sight of
her seductive, voluptuously clad body.   Each time she lifted her
arms, she felt the cheeks of her ass being exposed.  The panties
she had on barely covered her.  They disappeared between the crack
of her ass and did not reappear again until they came to her pussy.

Right now they were very wet in front.  She knew he was hard.  His
hand had been under the desk ever since he laid his eyes on her.
There was a mirror in the corner.  He did not know that she could
see him in it.  She had seen him looking at her as she lifted her
arms. She saw him shift in his seat.  She imagined how hard his
cock had gotten while looking at her.  She had to find a way to get
him up from the desk.  She wanted to see the bulge in his pants.
She wanted him to hold her in his arms..to feel his hands massaging
her sensitive breasts..to feel his lips and tongue entwined with
hers..to rub her fingers teasingly over his manhood…to have him
make slow passionate love to her.

“Sir,  I’m ready to clean the top shelves now.  Could you hold
the ladder for me?  I’m afraid it might fall.”.  She was also
afraid that he might not get up since his cock was so hard.  “I’m
kind of busy right now, can you wait a few minutes?  I have to
finish this chapter.”
Shit, he thought, I can’t let her see me this way.  “Will you
please go get me a cup of coffee” he asked.  That would get her out
of the room.  “I should be done by the time you get back.”  Damn,
she thought as she left the room.

Denise was getting very horny thinking of him. He was even
more handsome than  her aunt had described.  She wanted him and she
knew she had succeeded in arousing his interest in her.  While she
was waiting for the water to boil, she lifted her skirt and slid
her hand down inside her panties.  She was very wet.  The feeling
of the wet silk cooling on the top of her hand and the heat from
her wet pussy felt very good.

She slid a finger down across her clit and buried it in her
cunt.  She leaned back against the wall and lifted her leg to a
chair to allow her finger to slide more deeply into her.  She
closed her eyes and imagined him fucking her as her finger slid in
and out of her hot cunt.  She was almost ready to cum when the
coffee pot began to whistle, forcing her to stop.  If she did not
turn it off, someone else might come in and find her like this.
She wouldn’t mind if it was him, but she didn’t know who else was
in the house.

Thank god she left the room, he thought as he got up.  He had
to undo his pants to relieve the pressure on his cock.  Looking
at her had made him so hard that his rod had become jammed in the
folds of his pants.  He walked around the room, breathing slowly,
trying to will his cock to get soft. They had just met..he really
didn’t know her at all..but he was completely captivated by her
sensual beauty..he could still smell the scent of her
perfume..still vividly picture the enticing allure of her wonderful
body..still see the penetrating look of those lovely eyes..

Just as his cock started to get a little softer, she came back
into the room.

“Here is your coffee, sir.  There is sugar and cream on the
tray.”  Why doesn’t he make some kind of move she thought.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”.  “No he said,
nervously picking up the coffee.  You can go on cleaning.”  Looking
at the bulge of his cock, she quietly smiled to herself.

“Will you hold the ladder while I do the top shelves?” she asked.

There was no way he could evade me now, she thought.  “Ok” he said.

“But the ladder slants out too far.  I will have to stand in front
of it while you are on it.”  Moving to the ladder, he placed
himself between it and the bookcase.  He held it as she started to
climb.  He thought she would only go up two or three steps, placing
her stomach directly in front of his face.  He was pleasantly
surprised when she kept climbing until her crotch was directly
in front of him.  As she reached up, her dress rose up to expose
her pussy to him.  He could see that she was very wet.  She was so
close to his face that he could smell the sweet fragrance of her
womanhood.  He had trouble holding the ladder steady as his cock
created a tent in the crouch of his pants.  He had to make love to
this fabulous woman. But he was at a loss as to how to
begin…actually he was afraid that anything too overt would cause
her to leave immediately.

She looked down and saw what was happening to him.  “Are you
all right sir?”, she asked him. ” I’m ready to come down now would
you hold the other side of the ladder?”

Bill moved around to the back of the ladder and steadied it.
At least in this position his raging hardon was concealed from her
view. Denise descended slowly..tenuously..appearing to be somewhat
fearful.  But actually she wanted to give him a full view of her
full thighs and tightly rounded posterior.  She knew that the white
curves of her appealing ass were fully exposed.  As she neared the
last step she purposefully slipped..falling backward against him.

She could feel the steely hardness of his prick against her
ass.  Slowly, gently,she rocked her butt back and forth against his
straining manhood….. Relishing in the feel of its hardness
against her posterior….  Secure in the knowledge that she was
driving him to higher and higher heights of passion.

When Denise fell backward, Bill reflexly reached out for her.
His arms catching her and pulling her tightly to him.  When she
began to undulate her smooth tail against his crotch he thought he
would explode right on the spot.  Bill turned her around and with
unrestrained urgency his mouth closed over hers..he drew her
tightly against him…he could feel her lush teats pressing
against his chest..and she could sense his rock hard manhood
pressing against the hairy mound of her throbbing, creamy wet cunt.
His eyes were tightly shut.  His lips grazed her shimmering
hair..his tongue traced an outline over her quivering eyelids and
then delved into her sensitive ear..Tiny goosebumps spread out over
the whiteness of her sensitive skin.  When his hot lips again
pressed against hers she responded passionately, driving the tip of
her probing tongue firmly between his teeth.  She wriggled it all
around deep inside his mouth licking with tantalizing strokes along
his tongue and palette, firing Bill with a desire to possess her
utterly and completely.

His hands slipped eagerly down the curve of her back until he
felt his fingers contact the supple cheeks of her rounded buttocks.
Then he began to massage them..reveling in the feel of her soft
firm flesh…His fingers slid lower until they were sliding over
the wet crotch of her panties…feeling the fullness of her love
swollen labia.   Denise’s body was squirming and thrusting against
him with a fierce and demanding persuasion.

“You are so beautiful”, he said.  Bill pulled her even closer
and looked directly into her lust glazed eyes. ‘Do you want me to
please you?” he asked with an almost boyish innocence.

“OOOOHHHHH YESSSSSS…..OHHHHH GODDDDDDDD YESSSSSSSSSS,”
Denise cried out, rubbing the curves of her body against his in
heated urgency..

Denise felt his hot breath against her cheek, and then his
lips were mashed demandingly against hers with a renewed urgency.
His tongue slid into her open mouth like a live hot
tendon…dueling with her tongue..savoring the sweet taste of her
saliva.  One of his hands closed over her up-thrust
breasts…softly milking her yielding fleshy mounds…. he found
the distended points of her nipples and began to roll them  back
and forth…then firmly squeezing them… Denise felt electric
shocks shoot through her already aroused body….she felt her
nipples harden instantly in response to Bill’s manipulation..their
fully rigid points straining against of silky material of her bra.

They were both so aroused by now that their bodies were
actually trembling.  Bill half carried her to the large plush sofa
that occupied one wall of the room.   He laid her down softly and
Denise sank into the luxurious softness of the pillows.  Bill
literally tore his clothing off…With shaking fingers he
unbuttoned her blouse, mesmerized as the sight of her thinly
concealed full swollen mounds came into view.  Denise reached
forward and released the clasp of her bra.  Slowly drawing the
garment away from her luxuriant teats.  She felt the warmth of
his breath against the prickling flesh of her excited mounds.
OOOOHHH, Denise moaned and her body stiffened as Bill’s lips
closed over one of her finger-thick nipples and sucked it lovingly
into his mouth…OOOOOOOOOOOOOO THAT FEEELLLLS SSOOOOOOOOO
NNIIICCCCCCEEEE, she crooned.  Bill licked and sucked one succulent
breast and then the other…periodically capturing one of those
distended nipples between his teeth and gently raking it from base
to tip.  Denise moaned loudly.  Her sopping wet cunt was on fire.
She lifted her body slightly and in one motion removed her skirt
and panties. She began a slow sensuous rolling motion of her hips.

Bill’s mouth reluctantly left her breasts and began a slow
titillating descent. His tongue and lips tracing a path of fire
over the soft swell of her belly..She gasped as he tongued her
naval and she opened her thighs widely in anticipation. But Bill
was not to be hurried. His mouth at last reached the dripping wet
lips of her cunt. He parted her labia with his fingers and ran his
tongue around its circumference.  Denise wrenched forward from the
electricity of his contact with her aching love nest…AAAAAAAAAAH,
MMMMMMMMMMMMM, she moaned…..DOOOO ITTTTT
MORRREEE…..OOOOOOOOOOH
YOU’RRRRR SOOOOOOOOOO GOOOOOOD….Although almost out her mind with
passion, Denise realized that Bill was at least equally aroused.
She sensed that it would not take very much more stimulation for
him to reach an orgasm…she knew that only after his initial
release could they really fuck for any length of time..and that
was what she wanted…to feel his steely large rod sliding in and
out of her pussy..filling her belly with its delicious fullness.

So when Bill made his tongue rigid and drove it deep within
the confines of her wide open cunt, Denise reached out and captured
his throbbing prick with her fingers.  With tantalizing softness
she
began to play her fingertips over its pulsating length…OHHHHHH
GODDDDDDD he gasped…THAT FEELS SO WONDERFUL, DARLING…and then
he realized he had never called anyone darling before this.

His tongue continued its adulating exploration of her pussy.
Circling her labia….diving deeply into her love tube and then
beating a feathery tatoo against her swollen clit..Denise responded
to his wonderful tongue fucking by using her other hand to push his
head more deeply into the crevice of her hot aching loins.  When
his tongue lapped against her clit her hips would buck and writhe
uncontrollably…she never wanted this delicious feeling to ever
end.  Her fingers began to move more insistently over his cock
causing him to thrust forward and backward…His breathing was
ragged and she knew they were both close to climaxing…Her breasts
heaved out with every breath.  Her legs splayed out widely and she
pulled her knees upward to open her cunt as widely as possible to
his hot lips and probing tongue.

OOOHHHHH YESSSSSSSS……OOOOHHHHHHHHH DONNNNNN’TTTTTTTT
STOPPPP….DONNNNNN’TTTTTTTT EVERRRRRR STOPPPPPPP……OOHHHHH
SWEETHEARTTTT  YOUUUUU  HAVVVVEEEE MYYYYYYYY PUSSSSYYY  SOOOO
HOTTTTT…MAKEEEE ME CUMMMMMMMMM….PLEAEEEEEEE MAKEEEEE MEEEE
CUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM…..NOWWWWWWWW……Her pleas for release drove
Bill to capture her clit between his lips and suck its turgid
length into his mouth. Keeping it captured there he began to
flutter his tongue against the tortuously sensitive  tissue.
AAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHH, she screamed, I’MMMMMMM
CUMMMMMMMMMINGGG
…I’MMMMMMM CUMMMMMMMMIINNNNNGGGG….KEEEEPPPPPPP
SUCKKKKKKKKINGG
MEEEEEEEE……AAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW…her body was racked with
the spasms of her climax..she clamped her thighs tightly around
Bill’s head pulling him as hard as she could against her flooding
cunt….wave after wave of love juice flowed from her pussy and
Bill eagerly sucked up every drop.

As Denise neared her orgasm, she quickened the pace of her
manipulations to his throbbing cock..she could feel the droplets of
precum oozing out of its swollen head…Then just as she came she
felt Bill give a lurch and a mindless scream escaped his
lips….She felt his prick expand even more and suddenly begin to
jerk between her fingers..he thrust forward and gobs of jismmm
literally exploded from its distended tip.  Slowly, the spasms of
their mutual orgasms subsided.  Bill moved upward and tenderly
folded her into his arms.  Denise melted against his body and she
returned his embrace.

Softly, his lips still wet with her love juices, brushed
against hers.  “Oh, Denise”, Bill said quietly, “I am so sorry..I
don’t know what came over me..all I know is that from the moment I
first saw you…you were all I could think about..I…” Denise put
a finger to his lips…”You can feel anything you want,
sweetheart..but not
sorry”, she said….I knew I wanted you to make love to me from the
moment I walked into the room”…she snuggled her curvy torso more
tightly against him and their lips met in a slow, deep loving
kiss..There was no urgency this time….just the warmth of a
blossoming love.  Denise felt so safe and secure nestled in his
arms..so content and peaceful…the two of them reveling in the
glow of one another.

They stayed that way for quite a while. Neither wishing to
break the spell of the moment.  But then, the effect of Denise’s
exciting curves began to work their magic on Bill’s body and she
felt the first strings of his cock as it began to pulse against her
soft smooth belly.  Denise reached her arm down between their
bodies and her fingers encased themselves around Bill’s semi-hard
tool. Teasingly her fingers lightly trailed over its increasing
length.  Then dipping down even further she began to delicately
tickle the sensitive underside of his balls. “OOOOOOOOHHHHHHH,” he
groaned “That feels soooooo goooooood”.

Their mouths fused together and their tongues began their
sensuous explorations.  Bill slid his hands between her luscious
thighs and quickly settled on her warm fleshy slit.  He began
finger fucking up and down the entire length of her moist, hot
pussy, from the hardening nub of her clit to the buttery soft
entrance of her love tube.  Denise could feel her love juices begin
to flow over his fingers.  She groaned wildly in response to her
growing eagerness and started to grind her hips against his
invading finger.  Bill then slid a second finger into her creaming
orifice, moving deeper with demanding, insinuating strokes.

“OOHH Bill”, she crooned, “Take me, darling.  You turn me on
more than anyone I’ve ever met.  I want to feel you inside me…I
want to feel your wonderful pole pushing deep in my belly.”
Rolling over onto her back Denise seductively spread her legs
widely apart. She deliberately exposed her bare, wetly glistening
pussy to Bill’s hungry gaze.  Her face wa a mask of torrid desire.
FUCKKKK MEEEEE, Bill, she groaned, her voice distorted by her hot
need of him…”Slide that lovely big tool of your’s into me…NOWWW
NOWWWWW.”

Bill moved over her.  His eager mouth nursed on the warm
ripeness of her swollen breasts, while his hands ceaselessly
explored every curve of her sensuous frame.  That she still wearing
her garterbelt and nylon hose only served to increase her sexiness
and heighten his desire for her. He had never been so completely
aroused in his entire life, and he felt he could stay with this
beautiful love goddess forever.

Denise’s own level of excitement had reached an excruciating
intensity., and she moaned in hunger, aching to feel the sensation
of his hot throbbing shaft buried deeply inside of her.  Her
fingers closed over his steely manhood and she guided it against
the outer folds of her creaming cunt.

Bill needed no further encouragement. He eased his rock hard tool
slowly into the moistly inviting folds of her pussy. OOOOOOOHHHH,
Denise whimpered in ecstasy, Youuu fellll sooo goood insideeee
meeee”

Gradually, Bill pushed himself deeply into her love slick
gash, until the lust swollen head of his cock brushed against her
spongy cervix.  He began to fuck his passionately heaving love mate
with long, slow tantalizing strokes. With increasing intensity and
speed, his rock hard prick rubbed thrillingly against the wet
grasping walls of her creaming hole..in and out..in and out…in
and out.

Denise ground her pelvis against him in perfect rhythm, her
vaginal walls clasping greedily at that hard pole of throbbing
flesh that was giving her such pleasure.  To take him as deeply as
possible she lifted her hips upward and wantonly spread her
trembling thighs even further apart.  She wrapped her nylon encased
legs around his back and drew him tightly against her seething
crouch. OOOOHHHHHHHH YESSSSSSS, Bill she cried, “FUCKKKKK
MEEEEE…..FUCKKKKK MEEEEEE….FUCKKKK MEEEEE HARDDDDDD”

At the sound of her pleas, Bill increased the intensity of his
thrusts.. He could feel his cummm beginning to surge and gather.
At the same time Denise felt her own climax approaching…stars
exploded in her head…her body was a writhing, thrusting mass of
passion..the walls of her cunt quaked furiously in their need for
release…Suddenly her entire body thrust itself madly against
him…AAWWWWWWWWWW, She cried out, I’MMMMMMM
CUMMMMMMMMMINNNGGGG..
I’MMMMM CUMMMMMMMIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG. The soft curves of her tummy
were wrenched with uncontrollable spasms..and Bill felt wave after
wave of love juice gush against his thrusting swollen cock…he
gave one last deep push..AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHH he
screamed, as torrents of white jism pulsed into her wildly
thrashing, twitching cunt.

For sometime the two lovers lay contentedly in each others
arms, basking in the sweet afterglow of their total release. His
now flacid cock still entrenched in Denise’s drenched vagina”You
are totally wonderful”, Bill said at last. and he began to lift
himself away from his lover. “NOOO..NOOO” Denise cried out and she
wrapped her legs about his waist trapping him against her.  “Please
Bill stay in me..it feels so marvelous being joined together like
this.  I don’t ever want to let you go”.

“You are so sweet..so ravishing”, and he let his fingers trace
the outlines of her eyes and ears and mouth.  Denise let out a
contented sigh and ran her fingers softly over the contours of his
back. He lost track of time..totally emersed in the euphoria of the
events of the past several hours.  Then quite suddenly he
experienced the most sublime feeling he had ever experienced.
Without
a hint of her intent, Denise made the warm, buttery walls of
her love sheath contract against his prick.  What Bill felt was a
ring of velvety warm pressure that started at the tip of his cock
and traveled slowly down the complete length of his shaft. A sigh
of
total pleasure escaped his lips. Denise looked at him and smiled.
“Do you like that?”, She asked impishly. “Darling, I never felt
anything like that before…..ever..its…its.. its..indescribable.

But, and a sheepish smile crossed his face, I’m afraid it will be
rather useless just now.  “Lets just wait and see”, She answered
softly.  “Lets just lie here and savor one another”.

Every minute or so Denise would make her moistly tempting
vaginal walls sweep another delicious wave pressure over his cock.
Gradually she quickened the pace of her maddening massage.  Bill
was amazed.  He felt his cock begin to respond to the indescribable
sensations washing over it.  He started licking the tender
underside of her magnificent breasts and was rewarded by the
feeling of even more of her toasty warm, slippery love juice
bathing
over his hardening rod.  When he captured one of her rubbery thick
nipples in his lips and suctioned it, Denise’s body began to writhe
sensuously against him.

OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH, that feels SOOOOOOOO GOOOOODDDD, Denise moaned,
as she felt her seeping cunt  expand in response to his  increasing
hardness.  Each long stroke of Bill’s long cock felt better and
better.  Each time the turgid head of his stiff staff pressed
against her womb Denise let out a cry of excitement and she felt
her already slick pussy growing wetter and wetter. OOOOOOOOOOHHHH
Sweatheart…YOU’RRRRRRRRR DRIVINGGG MEEEE CRAZYYYYYY.  Denise was
now trashing wildly about the sofa, her body and soul totally
consumed with desire. She shuddered as she clamped her the muscles
of her creaming love sheath around Bill’s hard pounding tool trying
to draw it even deeper into her.

The coordinated tempo of their movements became faster and
faster..his thrusts into her and her ebullient responses more and
more intense…their passions spiraled higher and
higher…closer..ever closer….they were totally consumed with
each other….AAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGG, Denise screamed, her lovely,
supple body twisted and bucked, her belly hurling itself against
his. AUGGHHH….DON’T STOP…KEEP FUCKING ME….KEEP FUCKING
ME…I’M CUMMING…I’M CUMMING!

The intensity of her orgasm was too much for Bill.
“UGGHHH,” he cried and Denise could feel the swollen
crown of her lover’s cock buck and expand even more.  Then it
spewed its thick spurting cream into her thirsty vagina.

The two exhausted lovers lay in quiet serenity in one
another’s arms.  Bill softly turned to her and asked, “Darling do
you think its possible for one human being to fall hopelessly in
love with another in one short day?”  A smile filled Denise’s
beautiful face. She ran her fingers softly over his handsome
face…and with total honesty she said, “I did.”

This was really nothing new to me. I guess in Europe we are just not as
hung up about our bodies as Americans are. I lost my virginity to the
girl down the street who used to babysit me after school, when I was
nine and she was thirteen. One afternoon, we were trying on her mother’s
dresses and underwear. Carlissa took off her bra, and showed me her
budding breasts. She showed me how to squeeze them in my hands, rubbing
the baby fat, and pinching and kissing her nipples, until they grew
long, then shrunk into hard little knots on her little mounds. She had
begun to grow a soft downy fuzz under her arms, and she lay down on the
bed and had me lick her fuzzy armpits until they were smooth and silky
like a seal’s coat. I licked and kissed and sucked both her underarms
for a long time, then she took off my shirt and did the same to me. She
also sucked my little nipples, telling me that you had to do that to
make them grow. She said her brother had done that for her for over a
year, and that after six months they had begun to grow to where they
were today. After that day, we would spend hours after school in
Carlissa’s bed, kissing and licking and sucking and squeezing each other
all over. It did not take us long to discover each other’s mounds. She
had a soft covering of peach fuzz there, too, with a few longer hairs
starting to grow here and there. I had very light hair on my legs, but
my mound was still smooth. We would suck and lick each other, suck on
each other’s clitoris and lick deep into the other’s vagina. Sometimes
Carlissa would lick my juices all the way back between my cheeks, and
then slide her fingers, one or sometimes two, into my anus. I never did
that to her. Sometimes I would take a mouthful of her juices, and lick
them into her armpits. When she got really hot, little beads of sweat
would pop out in her armpits, and I would lick her sweet juices together
with my saliva and her sweat.  We continued to do this after school for
over a year.

Just after I turned eleven, my parents decided that I did not need any
attention after school any more, so Carlissa was dismissed as my sitter.
We quickly stopped spending much time together, and Carlissa developed
other interests after school. We would still get together from time to
time and spend an afternoon in her bed. I stopped by her house one
afternoon, but she was still at a club meeting at school. Her brother,
who was now almost sixteen, asked me in. He took me into the bathroom
with him, and made me watch him urinate. He warned me never to tell a
soul, and to come back after school the next day. I did, and he repeated
the scenario, every day for over a week. Then one day while he stood in
front of the toilet, he took my hand and wrapped it around his penis,
and told me to hold it while he pissed. When he was done, he made me
stroke it up and down a half dozen times. I felt it start to grow bigger
in my hand, then he took my hand away. We did this for the next week,
then he made me stroke it until it was long and hard. He told me to
continue to stroke it, so I did until he shot a long stream of semen
into the toilet. He made me continue to squeeze it until nothing more
came out. The next day he made me do the same thing, but he put the seat
down before he shot his sperm out. It fell in a great pool on the seat;
he took my hand and wiped it up with my fingers, then wiped them off on
my blouse, over my left nipple. He rubbed my fingers around on my chest
until the semen had soaked through the cloth and my nipple was visible
through the wet material, which stuck to my skin. He then unbuttoned the
top three buttons of my blouse, and stuck his hand inside and pinched my
right nipple. It hurt, but also made me feel warm down between my legs.
He told me to come by the next day, then left me there alone.

The next day, he made me masturbate him again, but this time he pulled
up my skirt and stood in front of me when he came. He came all over the
front of my panties, and as I squeezed the last drops out of him he made
me rub it into the cloth of my panties. We did this for another week;
sometimes he would feel my chest, and sometimes he would just leave
after he came on my panties. The next week he told me to take my blouse
off before he took his penis out. This time he told me to kneel in front
of him, open his pants, take his penis out, and masturbate him. He shot
his come into my face and hair, then took my hand and wiped it over my
lips with my fingers. He told me to lick my lips. I didn’t know what
kind of taste to expect, but the smell had already filled my nostrils
and the taste was only a little saltier than the smell. I liked it. He
told me to take his penis into my mouth, and suck the last drops out. I
did.

Before long, he was using my mouth every day, and on weekends, sometimes
twice. He would always make me take off my blouse, and sometimes rub my
chest. Sometimes, he would tell me not to swallow his come, to let it
drip onto my chest, then he would rub it into my nipples or armpits. He
never touched me between the legs, or below the waist, except for the
times he came on my panties. Carlissa and I would still be able to get
together every once in a while, and we would still enjoy each other as
we had the year before. What I didn’t know was that he had been using
Carlissa to satisfy himself since she was eleven. Every night after they
had gone to bed, he would sneak into her room, and make her masturbate
him, or he would use her mouth, and sometimes her anus. He never used
her vagina. Shortly after the day he first made me masturbate him, he
stopped using Carlissa, and gave her to one of his friends at school to
use. His friend would use Carlissa every day after school, usually her
mouth. Sometimes, I later found out, he would take her home to his room
while his parents were at work, and invite a number of his friends over.
He would let them all use Carlissa. Sometimes she would suck as many as
a dozen of them in one afternoon, and swallow all of their semen.

While this was running through my mind, Candy had slipped her arm around
my back, with her elbow against my spine. She grabbed my hands in her
hand behind my neck, and pulled down while she pushed my torso forward
with her elbow. She had her mouth wide open and her tongue out, and
sucked and licked my armpits and breasts. She would start at the elbow,
and lick down through my armpit, then sweep around under my breast and,
in a great arc, suck around and around the mound of my flesh till she
sucked my nipple deep into her mouth. She would run her sharp teeth
around my nipple, then lick in another arc off that breast and sweep up
the other, again sucking my nipple half way down her throat, and then up
my armpit to my other elbow. She repeated this over and over again,
pushing my torso forward, and leaning my head back toward the wall of
the shower. When she wasn’t sucking my right breast, she would squeeze
it in her left hand, and roll my nipple around between the knuckles of
her thumb and index finger. She pushed her body hard against mine, and
finally shoved her leg between mine. As she began to hump against my
thigh, she slid her right hand down my side, across my belly, and down
through my hairy bush to my mons. She thrust through my labia with her
middle finger, and immediately found my stiff clitoris. I trembled as
she pressed hard against it, and made it pop out from under her finger,
first to one side, then to the other. I felt spasms shoot through my
entire body each time she popped my clitoris out to one side or the
other.

Candy’s humping against my leg soon turned into a rhythmic slide of her
crotch up and down my leg; she was incredibly wet and slippery, and slid
smoothly from my knee to my groin. After a while, she slid her finger
off my clit, and straight back and up into my vagina as far as it would
go. I could feel the tip of her finger brush my cervix; then she began
to thrust her finger in and out as hard as she could. She slipped
another finger into me, and now she could easily push her middle finger
into my cervix, and pop it open slightly. By now, Candy had pulled my
head back so far, I was almost horizontal. She slid her mouth up my
neck, and kissed my lips long and hard. She forced her tongue into my
mouth, and then sucked mine into hers. We exchanged a mouthful of saliva
before she pulled away, leaned back, and let me stand up again. “Wow,
you taste great!” she exclaimed.

We rinsed off under the shower, then Candy took my hand and led me out
into the drying room. We toweled off, then wrapped the towels around our
bodies, tucking the loose ends in between our breasts. Candy’s towel was
not as long as mine, and barely covered her vulva. Mine came half-way
down my thighs. Candy asked if I’d like a glass of wine, and I was not
about to pass up an offer that good. I followed her to her room, and she
closed the door behind us. She took two plastic tumblers off the
refrigerator, pulled a jug of chenin blanc out and poured us each a pint
of wine.  She leaned back against the desk, and stared at me. “You are
the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” she whispered so I could
barely hear her. She turned and walked into the bedroom, and sat down on
the foot of the bed. I walked in behind her, and stood in front of her,
staring down at her. She leaned over and put her glass on the floor
beside the bed, then opened the towel and let it fall onto the bed
around her ass. She cupped her hands under her breasts, and lifted them
up and out for me to admire. I stepped closer to her, and she spread her
legs so I could step between them. I dropped to my knees and kissed the
inside of her right knee, lightly at first, but then I began to kiss up
the inside of her thigh, and to nibble lightly at her soft skin. I
kissed up to within two inches of the crease of her groin, then back
down to her knee. Up and down, up and down, licking her thigh until it
was slippery and smooth. Then I kissed up to the top again, but then I
began to lick her thigh parallel to the crease of her leg, moving slowly
up and into the crease. Then I kissed up her groin to the top of her
hip, and across her flat stomach to her left hip, and down to her thigh,
and repeated licking and sucking and nibbling and kissing her left
thigh. Again, I licked up into the crease of her groin, and up and
around and across her belly, just outside the top of her hairy bush. Now
I slowly let my tongue slide down the crease in her leg, and I pushed
her leg out as far as I could, letting my tongue slide down the crease,
then lower, down the outside of her labia, and lower to the base of her
buttock. Then I licked slowly back up the crease, and down again. After
a dozen or so licks, I switched to the left side when I hit the base of
her buttock. I still didn’t touch her slit or her clitoris. I teased
like this for ten minutes or more. I could smell the heat building up
inside her, and could see the juice start to run down the crack between
her cheeks.

I pulled slightly away from her groin, and moved my mouth very slowly up
her slit, about a half inch away. I could feel her hairs tickle my face,
and I lightly licked the hairs out of the way. I moved up and down like
this, moving maybe a centimeter closer each time, until I was just ever
so lightly brushing against the center of her labia. She began to groan,
and her chest heaved. I leaned against her thighs so that she couldn’t
thrust her sex into my mouth. I knew she needed to be teased more. I
stuck my tongue out and again ever so lightly brushed it back and forth
across her labia. I could now taste her sweet love juices as they
lightly coated her sex. She was massaging her breasts in her own hands,
pulling on her nipples, and crushing them between her knuckles. As I
licked down to the base of her ass again, I thrust my tongue out fully,
and plunged it into her vagina. She let out a little scream as a huge
spasm rocked her body. I kept my tongue buried in her love tunnel as she
slammed her thighs together around my head and held me in a tight lock.
She rocked back and forth from side to side, and reached down and
grabbed a handful of my hair in each hand, pulling me harder against
her. My nose was pressed hard against her clitoris, and she rubbed it up
and down. I pushed my right hand around the outside of her leg, and up
behind her buttock. I stuck my middle finger out, and jammed it up her
anus. So much juice had flowed out of her that my finger slipped in all
the way to the last knuckle. Another loud scream escaped her lips, and
she spasmed again, this time so intensely that she literally sat up and
banged her breasts against my head. Just as she began to lie back down,
I pulled my finger out of her bowels, and immediately thrust two back up
her. She threw herself forward and screamed again, and I pulled out of
her rectum and thrust deep inside her again and again. All the while, I
kept my tongue buried deep in her vagina, and my nose pressed against
her clitoris.

Carlissa’s brother never tried to share me with anyone. However, by the
time I turned fifteen, he had gone to boarding school. I had to find
someone to satisfy, and to satisfy me. There was an older woman, in her
thirties, I suppose, who lived around the corner from Carlissa. I began
to talk to her on the way home from school in the spring, when she would
be out in her garden. One day she asked me to come in for a Coke. By
now, my body had begun to fill out a lot more. I could actually cup my
breasts in my hands, and I had grown a small but thick bush on my mons.
My armpits were covered with a thin mat of long sandy blond hair, and my
arms and legs were covered with very light, short hairs. She told me her
name was Tasha, and kept saying that I was the most beautiful girl she
had ever seen. We sat in the kitchen and drank a couple of Cokes. She
asked me to take off my blouse and bra, so that she could admire my
young body. I did as she asked. She looked at my body for a while, then
asked if I had ever had champagne. I said no, and she told me I’d love
it, so she poured two large goblets full. She walked into the
livingroom, and told me to sit on the sofa. When she handed me my glass,
she held hers out in a toast, and when I reached out to her, she
whispered, “To young beauty.” I replied “To young beauty.” She stood in
front of me, taking large sips of her champagne. I sipped very slowly. I
had never tasted it before, and the bubbles dried my tongue out. When
they got to the back of my mouth, they rose up into my sinuses, making
me want to sneeze, but also making me a little dizzy. Tasha walked
around the coffee table, and sat beside me. She took my hand in hers,
and raised it to my lips, saying, “Take a big taste, now.”  She held my
hand to my lips and forced me to drink. After I filled my mouth twice
and swallowed, she eased up the pressure on my hand, and began to rub
the back of my hand and my forearm. She slid her hand around under my
arm, so that her fingers were on the inside of my forearm, and her palm
and thumb on the outside. She gently caressed my arm from my hand to my
elbow, and I felt a slight tingle in my nipples. Then, she slid her hand
up the inside of my upper arm, almost to my armpit. She asked me if
anyone had ever touched me, and I said yes. “Tell me about it,” she
softly requested. I told her about Carlissa, and the afternoons we had
spent together. The last time I had seen Carlissa had been about five
weeks ago.

Tasha slid her hand all the way up my arm, until her fingers were buried
in my armpit. She lifted my arm up, took the glass of champagne and
placed it on the coffee table, and put my right hand behind my neck. She
then caressed me from my elbow down through my armpit, around the base
of my right breast, and back up again. She did this about ten times,
then raised my left arm over my head, and began to stroke both
underarms. By now my nipples had grown hard and tight, a fact which was
not overlooked by Tasha. When she had both hands under my breasts, she
slid them around my back, up my spine, and grabbed my hands in hers. Her
arms were behind mine, and I was pinned against the back of the sofa.
She leaned down, and gently kissed each nipple, then raised her mouth
and kissed my lips. For the next half hour, she bathed me in her sweet
saliva, licking and kissing and sucking my lips, neck, chest, breasts,
nipples, armpits. My nipples were throbbing, hard, tight little nuts at
the top of my breasts. When Tasha moved her tongue off them they felt
like they were on fire. Her sweet saliva was like a balm when she swept
her cool tongue over them. I felt my crotch getting wet, and my juices
soon began to flow down between my buttocks. I was sure that my panties
and skirt were also soaked. Tasha slowly inched me down the sofa back as
she caressed my body with her mouth, until I was finally flat on my back
on the cushion, with my legs spread out away from Tasha, and my head
close to her. She still held my hands behind my neck, so she could
continue to suck and lick my bushy underarms. She now leaned over my
face when she kissed my breasts, and I closely watched her chest as she
moved back and forth over me. She was wearing a loose white blouse with
a stitched pattern of concentric circles over each breast. It hung
loosely from her torso, so I could see her chest and cleavage when she
rocked forward to suck my nipples. She wore a flimsy net bra, which
loosely held her breasts, and her long stiff nipples poked invitingly
through the loose weave of the netting. Her breasts looked soft and
round, a lot bigger than mine, but still small compared to many women.

Tasha finally released my hands, and sat up on the sofa beside my head.
My heart was racing, and my breasts heaved with every burning breath I
took. I was dizzy, and thankful that I didn’t have to sit up. My nipples
throbbed, and felt like they would explode each time my pulse rushed
through my body. I looked up and behind me, and saw Tasha sitting there,
sipping her champagne, and watching me carefully. She slid her left hand
up her right side, and gently caressed her right breast while she stared
into my eyes. Slowly, she stood up, and walked around the table and
stood by my knees. My left leg had dropped off the sofa, and my right
leg was bent, with my knee leaning against the back of the sofa. Tasha
sat down between my knees and lifted my skirt up to my waist. She leaned
against my right leg, and used her knees to push my left leg out as far
as she could. She stared at my crotch as she again sipped on her
champagne. I knew my panties were soaked, and Tasha relished the view of
my light brown bush through the now nearly transparent fabric. She
reached out with her hand and held the glass of champagne directly over
my crotch, and tipped it until a small stream ran out and dripped onto
my panties. She adjusted her position, so that the champagne ran onto
the top of my mound, and down my labia, over my crack, and into my
skirt. It felt so cold, it sent shivers through my whole body.
Meanwhile, Tasha began to lightly caress my right thigh with her free
hand, then put the glass back down on the table, and caressed both
thighs with both hands. Slowly, she leaned forward, very slowly, and
leaned down, until her lips were only a fraction of an inch from my
mons. I could feel the warmth of her breath over the chilled, champagne
soaked panties. She inhaled deeply, smelling the mixed aromas of my
juices and the champagne, and blew a gentle stream of air against my
crotch. Each time her breath hit me, an intense glow shot out of my sex,
and sent warmth throughout my trembling body. I looked down but could
only see her eyes watching me, and I had to strain my neck to see that
much of her face. I laid my head down and stared at the ceiling. She
opened her mouth wide, and I could feel the gentle stream of breath
change to little puffs of air as she exhaled through her open lips. Soon
I felt her cheeks gently brush against the inside of my groin, and her
open lips surrounded my vulva. She sucked gently through my panties,
then suddenly thrust her face hard against me and sucked my vulva deep
into her mouth. She jammed her tongue against my labia, and pushed it
through them, prying them apart, and wrapping it around my hard, hot
clitoris. As she sucked my clit up the wrapper of
her tongue, I felt an intense spasm rock me, from my neck to my toes.
She continued sucking without letting up, and spasm after spasm shook
me. Tasha moved her arms up to my belly, and held me down, or I would
have sat upright and probably hit her in the head. As suddenly as she
had begun to suck me, she let go of my clitoris, and closed her lips to
make only a small opening, and sucked only my clit up between her teeth.
She nibbled lightly all around my clit, and the spasms continued to rock
me. She slid her chin down between my lips, and thrust it deep into my
vagina, then licked back up to my clitoris. She sucked all the juices,
including the sweet champagne, out of my panties, and continued rubbing
her face and tongue up and down my slit. After a while, I couldn’t come
any more; my muscles were spent; I just lay back panting, trying to
catch my breath. In all the time Carlissa and I had spent together, I
had never felt anything so intense, no release so deep, no afterglow so
relaxing.

Tasha let me catch my breath for a few minutes, then she lifted her face
from my crotch a couple of inches. She slid her right hand up my thigh
to the edge of my panties, then slipped her fingers under the leg band
and in between my labia. Her middle finger slid straight into my vagina.
“My, you’re tight,” Tasha commented. “Are you still a virgin?” “Yes,” I
replied. “Oh, my. That’s so delicious!” She thrust her finger in and out
of my canal about a dozen times, then tried to push two fingers into me.
I grunted as she tried to penetrate me with both of them. She slowly
twisted her fingers in circles as she pushed against my tight opening,
and gradually managed to penetrate a couple of inches. It hurt at first,
but after a couple of minutes, I began to relax, and she was able to get
both fingers in me up to the second knuckle. She then slid her third
finger down the crack between my cheeks, and rubbed it around my anus.
Slowly she began to probe at my tight sphincter, then to apply light
pressure against my rosebud. Gently, she kept up the pressure, until she
had penetrated my nether opening as well. Next, Tasha pumped her fingers
in and out of both of my holes, slowly opening them up to her insistent
thrusts. “My, you are tight back here also. What have you ever done with
the boys?” she asked. I gasped out the story of Carlissa’s brother, and
told her how he had never touched my below the waist, except to come on
my panties. The heat was building up in my body again, as Tasha
continued to thrust her fingers in and out of my orifices. The juices
began to stream out of my vagina, and make access to my anus easier.

Suddenly, Tasha pulled her fingers out of me and sat up. She reached
behind the sofa cushion, and pulled out a rope. She quickly pulled it
over my waist, and tied it to the leg in the center of the couch,
holding me tightly in place on the sofa. “Don’t go!” she ordered, as she
stood up and ran to the stairs. She returned a couple of minutes later.
She still wore the stitched blouse, but had changed her shorts for a
pair of slacks with a straight bulge in the crotch. She untied the rope
from the leg of the sofa and stuffed it back under the cushion, then
took my hands and pulled me up to stand in front of her. She placed her
hands on my cheeks, and, pulling my mouth to hers, kissed me long and
deep. As she dropped her hands to her sides, she commanded me to
unbutton the top button of her blouse. I slowly reached up with both
hands and opened the top button. “Pull my blouse open,” she demanded. I
slid my hands up to the open top above her cleavage, and pulled the
lapels apart. “Good, now, open the next button.” I did as I was told,
and pulled the blouse open further. Now I could easily see her bosom,
clad in the loose net bra. “OK, now the next,” she ordered. I opened the
next button, and when I pulled the blouse open again, I could see her
navel. “Now another,” she directed. Slowly, I was undressing Tasha, as I
had never undressed anyone before. It was slow, and sensual, and my
breathing became very slow, and labored. “Now, slide your hands inside
my blouse, and cup them under my breasts. Slowly, slowly, now, slide
them up and around my tits, and, now, squeeze gently, like ripe peaches;
don’t bruise them. Squeeze, gently, slowly, squeeze, gently, slowly;
again. Slide your hands back down, and do it again. Squeeze, gently.
Down, and back up again. Open the next button. Slide your hands in,
across my belly, now up to my breasts, and squeeze again. Down, slowly,
and back up and squeeze. Slide your thumb and first finger around my
nipples, and roll them gently. A little harder now. Squeeze my breasts,
and roll my nipples between your fingers. Harder. Now, the next button.”
I was at her waistband, now. Tasha told me to pull the blouse out of her
slacks, and open another button, and slide my hands softly across her
smooth skin, and squeeze her breasts some more. “OK, now, the last
button.” I opened the bottom button. “Now, slide your hands all the way
up to my shoulders, and push my blouse down my arms, and pull it off my
wrists. Good. Drop it on the floor. Now, hands on my hips. Slide them
around my back, and up a little. Pull me to you. Slide your hands up as
you do. Pull me closer. Slide up.” By now my hands were in the middle of
her back, and her pelvis was against mine, as was her belly. “Higher,
and closer. Pull me to you, and slide your hands up to my shoulders.”
Her breasts touched mine, and a shiver went through my body. Being with
Carlissa was never this soft and sensual. “Pull my shoulders to you;
open your mouth; kiss me.” I pulled her shoulders tight against me, and
she leaned forward and we kissed. It was even more exciting than when
she kissed me.

After a long, five minute kiss, she pulled back from me, and stared deep
into my eyes. “Slide your hands down, and unhook my bra.” I did as she
asked, and then I pulled it down her downy arms and dropped it on the
floor. “Good, that’s good.” She pulled back from me, and told me to
squeeze her breasts again. I couldn’t believe the feel of her naked
breasts in my hands. They were so soft, but firm. Carlissa’s had been
baby fat, but Tasha had real meat inside her tits. Her nipples erupted
into long, hard points as I held her breasts in my hands. They were hot,
and longer than pencil erasers. Tasha raised her hands behind my neck,
and pulled me forward. “Suck me,” she requested. I lowered my lips to
her nipples, and felt the fire inside as I sucked them deep into my
mouth. Tasha gasped as I sucked first one, then the other of her nipples
deep into my mouth. I slid my hands around the base of her breasts, and
gently caressed them as I continued sucking one, then the other of her
nipples. She slid her hands off my shoulders, and up her side to cup
around my hands, and help the gentle rhythmic squeezing. Then she slid
her hands higher, across her chest, until they were straight over her
head. She clasped them together, and dropped them behind her neck. Her
armpits were smooth, and hairless. I had never seen anyone who shaved
under her arms before. I stared intently, then she told me “Lick my
armpits. Just like I did to you. Suck. Give me little hickeys. Nibble
lightly. Lick some more. Up and down. Keep it up. Squeeze my other
breast. Oh, that’s good. Don’t stop. Suck hard. Now suck my nipple.
Scratch my armpit while you suck my titties. Go on! More! More! More!”
Her nipples were shrinking into hard little stubs on the end of her
breasts, and they radiated heat. They heated up my mouth when I sucked
them deep inside.

Suddenly, Tasha stopped me, and told me to kneel. I dropped to my knees,
and she placed her hands behind my neck and pulled my face against her
pelvis. I felt a hard shaft inside her fly, and she rubbed my face back
and forth over it. “Drop my pants,” she ordered. I opened her belt and
waistband, pulled down her fly, and pulled her trousers to her ankles. I
could more easily make out the outline of the bulge inside her
underpants; it was a large dildo, and I could almost make out the straps
holding it in place. “Drop my shorts, too,” she commanded. I pulled her
underpants down to her ankles, also, and the dildo fell straight out in
front of her crotch. “You know how to suck one of those, don’t you?” she
asked. “Yes, I think so. I’ve done it.” “Well, suck it now.” I pulled
the dildo into my mouth, and proceeded to suck it, just as I had to for
Carlissa’s brother. “Suck me hard,” she cried. I sucked up and down as
fast and as hard as I could. By now, Carlissa’s brother would have
filled my mouth with his semen, but Tasha obviously didn’t. “Take my
pants and shorts off me,” she ordered. She lifted her feet, one at a
time, and I pulled the trousers and underpants off her ankles, and threw
them on the sofa. “Suck me some more, and get me wet, very wet. Oh,
that’s so good. Do more.” Tasha suddenly pulled the dick out of my
mouth, and, reaching down under my armpits, pulled me to my feet. She
took my hand, and led me into the kitchen. When we got there, she poured
two more glasses of champagne, then led me to the kitchen table. She
made me stand at one end, about six inches away from the edge, then held
my back, and lowered me onto the tabletop. I was now lying on the table,
with the small of my back at the edge, and my ass and legs hanging off.
She stretched my arms out over my head, and tied my wrists to the table
legs. Then she stood in front of me, and rubbed the rubber dick against
my vulva. She kneeled down, and pulled my panties off my legs, down to
my ankles, then lifted my feet in the air and pulled the panties off
completely. She turned them inside out, rolled them up in a ball, and
stuffed them in my mouth like a gag.

Tasha then went to one of the drawers, and took a handful of clothespins
out. She stood by my right side, and clipped a pin onto each nipple.
Before she fastened it on, she rubbed and stroked and pulled on the
nipple, then sucked it into her mouth and nibbled it with her teeth.
Then she squeezed it and pulled it up and out, and fastened the
clothespin to it. Next she did the other nipple, and followed with two
pins in each armpit, and two on each upper arm, between the elbow and
the armpit. Each clothespin made the area around it throb and burn, and
I felt the heat rising in my thighs again. Tasha then walked between my
legs again, and this time rubbed the dick up and down my naked lips. She
pushed it up and down with her hand, and when she had moved it to the
base of my labia, she thrust her hips forward and drove her hard cock
through my labia and straight into my vagina. With three hard thrusts,
she drove it all the way to the hilt, and her pubis was jammed against
mine. I had never felt such pressure inside. I felt like I would burst.
She stood still for a minute, almost long enough for me to adjust to the
feeling of her dick stuffed into my vagina. Then she began to rock her
hips, and, with long, even, thrusts, pulled her penis out to my lips,
and then deep into my vagina, till she penetrated my cervix. I don’t
know what hurt more, the stretching of my vaginal walls by the large
dick, or the clothespins on my upper torso. But the pain combined with
the most intense pleasure which spread throughout my body.  I almost
couldn’t breath, and every nerve ending in my body was wired. When she
ran her fingertips up and down my thighs, it felt like fire and ice
together. Goosebumps followed her touch all over me.

Suddenly, she pulled her penis out of me, slid her arms under my knees,
and lifted my legs over her shoulders. She guided her cock with her
right hand, and held my back with her left as she thrust the penis
against my anus. She bent her knees slightly, so that she could put more
force into her thrust, and forced herself deep into my rectum. She
stayed there for a while, and used her fingers to massage my clitoris
and finger my vagina. She held my clit with her thumb, and squeezed it
so it slid around under her finger. Each time it would pop out to one
side, a quick spasm would jerk through my body. She kept on rubbing my
clit while she drove three fingers in and out of my vagina. After about
five minutes, she began to rock her hips again, fucking in and out of my
rectum while she continued her attentions to my clit and vagina. As she
built up speed with the dildo, I felt a tremendous tension building up
in my body. She increased the tempo of rubbing my clit, and thrusting in
and out of my love canal, in counterpoint to the thrusts of the dick in
my rectum. I felt like a rubber band being wound tighter and tighter,
until I couldn’t take any more. The orgasm overtook me like an
earthquake; I tried to scream, but with my panties stuffed into my
mouth, all I could do was groan. I shook all over, and intense spasms
rocked all of my muscles. My legs convulsed, and if Tasha hadn’t wrapped
her arms around my thighs, I would have thrown her to the floor. As it
was, my legs stiffened, and my abdomen straightened, and convulsed also.
I rocked up and down her chest with my legs spasming and relaxing, over
and over. She kept on rubbing my clitoris with the hand around my left
leg, and thrusting the dick in and out of my anus. She really didn’t
have to move much, because my spasms kept jerking my anus up and down
the shaft.

I really don’t remember how long the orgasm lasted, but it felt like
hours. Finally, my muscles must have just tired out, but anyway, the
convulsions died down, and I lay like a rag on the table. I let my legs
drop over Tasha’s shoulders, and lay totally immobilized. I was so
drained that I couldn’t move my head from side to side. Tasha let my
legs slide down off her shoulders and eased my feet down to the floor.
She walked around to my right side, and leaned over my face and kissed
me lightly on the lips. She took the clothespins off my breasts and
underarms, and gently massaged the bruises where they had been attached.
After she untied my arms, she helped me stand, then put her arm around
my back, picked up the champagne glasses, and helped me into the
livingroom. She let me slide out of her arms onto the sofa, then she sat
beside me and handed me my glass. “To young beauty,” she toasted. “To
young beauty,” I replied.

I had concocted a scheme to get Cyril as excited about me as he was about food, which was no small task, as Cyril literally went all hard at the sight of a ripe piece of Camembert. We’d been dipping various fruits into chocolate and taste-testing the results. My plan worked well, and one thing had led to another, and the tasting and testing had moved to various parts of our bodies. I had assumed the kitchen would be the last place we’d ever be discovered, but apparently my parents had remembered to eat dinner that night. They’d assured me they were working late, but they’d come home with colleagues from the English department, and instead of finding the leftover coq au vin I’d made the day before, they’d been quite surprised to find their daughter, bare breasts coated with chocolate, about to lick the very erect, chocolate-smeared cock of a very red-faced Cyril. Later that evening, after nursing my humiliation with masturbation and a shower, a pattern pretty much like all my other evenings spent with Cyril (except of course this time I had the looks of horror on my parents’ faces as an added bonus to the humiliation), I proposed my trip to Provence to my parents and they had readily agreed.

Oh, the joys of leaving my parents and New Jersey! Yes, I was scared. I was traveling to Europe and for a girl, beg your pardon, Young Woman — for a Young Woman of Incredible Maturity, thank you, who’d only traveled as far as upstate New York, Europe, France to be exact, was a bit of a giant step. But then I had Uncle James waiting for me and that was just about the best present any girl, sorry, Woman, could ask for.

Uncle James wasn’t really my uncle. He was my dad’s best friend from his college days. He would come for a nice long visit every autumn, claiming that autumn in New York was simply the best place to be, except of course for London, where he lived during all the other seasons (which made it all the more strange when he chucked it all and moved to Provence, but magic happens in mysterious ways). That we lived in Fort Lee, New Jersey, made no difference at all to him. He claimed that being able to see the Manhattan skyline from his guest bedroom window was actually better than being in the middle of the city. Besides which, the trains ran till one AM, back and forth, almost every day. What could be better, Uncle James would ask, than being able to come and go at almost any time, from one of the greatest cities in the world? Didn’t we know how lucky we were? And suddenly, within hours of Uncle James’s arrival, we’d all begin seeing ourselves in a different, more sophisticated way. Our everyday lives took on a bit of glitter. My parents would climb down out of their ivory towers at NYU. Dad would whistle old Beatles tunes. Mom would giggle and blush and take to wearing chic scarves and dark red lipstick. My little brothers would become almost bearable. And I would be just about the happiest I would ever remember, because Uncle James and I shared a passion that belonged to no one else. Oh not that particular kind of passion. That came later and in such a heated onslaught, I still shiver with lust when I think of it. No, our original passion was food.

While my father and mother, both steeped in the same appreciation for “Quality” with a capital ‘Q,’ making no distinction between quality leather goods and a quality Bordeaux, could take it or leave it when it came to food, Uncle James and I would both practically swoon over a particular sauce or a perfectly grilled steak. Mushrooms were never just mushrooms, they were chanterelles, morels, porcinis, portobellos: all music to my ears and a symphony in my mouth. And encountering the goddess of them all, the sultry, earthy, succulent truffle, was, at least according to Uncle James, a sacred moment. With Uncle James, fruits and vegetables became an odyssey of pleasure. With Uncle James a snack of an apple and cheese became an experience infused with magic. Because it wasn’t just an apple, it was a perfectly ripe, upstate New York Ginger Gold apple and it wasn’t just cheese, it was perfectly ripe, soft, rich Brie. Uncle James taught me to pick the creamiest Brie and Camembert. Uncle James taught me to taste, to savor and linger over a meal or a glass of wine. Eventually, Uncle James would teach me a different sort of tasting and savoring, a lingering of pleasures of the flesh, the kind that I had been desperate for with Cyril. But that would come later. When we enjoyed our heyday of innocent foodie fun, Uncle and I were just two peas in a petite poi pod. I had been twelve at the time of his last visit and Uncle James had been thirty-five. Though I wouldn’t realize it till later, Uncle James would become the standard by which I judged men. And it was difficult for me because I found most of them lacking. Cyril had come close, mainly because he loved food and had been my constant companion throughout school. But as my culinary skills increased, so had my libido (Cyril’s idea of increased libido was to make suggestive comments about the size of his eggs when making Hollandaise). Yes, Uncle James was a hard act to follow, especially when you’re twelve and lonely. It would be nine years from that visit before I saw him again at Paris-Orly airport, and the look on his face when he saw me almost sent me running back to New Jersey.

I recognized him immediately. He was still tall and blonde, though some silver had worked its way into his temples. His eyes were still blue and his mouth still almost too beautiful for a man, the lips giving way to a sensuousness that hinted at his nature. I realized with one look that I’d been half in love with him for years and now, catching sight of him anxiously checking the line of disembarking passengers, I felt the full impact of my feelings. He hadn’t caught sight of me or if he had, he didn’t recognize me. But I sure recognized him, as the thudding of my heart attested. As with most momentous occasions in my life, I did what I usually do when overcome with emotion; I lost my balance and promptly tripped over my carryon luggage, landing in a heap on the airport floor. There ensued a loud tangle of unintelligible French from my fellow passengers, some of which sounded rather rude. A small group gathered around me, either yelling at me or trying to get me to understand that while lounging on the floor might be acceptable for Americans, it wasn’t the thing to do in Paris. At least I think that’s what they were trying to tell me. As someone tried to pull me up to a standing position, I cried out in pain, realizing that my wrist was either broken or badly sprained. There followed more rude yelling. And that is how Uncle James finally noticed me. A quick look of annoyance crossed his face as he took in the spectacle and then he turned to walk away, obviously still not recognizing me.

“Uncle James,” I called out, “It’s me, Stella!”

He turned back around and stared at me.

“It’s me, Stella, Uncle James. Come to visit you… for the summer… um, remember?” I willed myself not to start crying but I was close to tears. I was tired. I was a million miles away from New Jersey. I was embarrassed. I was in pain. And I was fast becoming aware that my beloved Uncle James looked pretty disgusted at the first sight of me he’d had in nine years.

“Good God, what happened to you?” he asked, looking me over in an odd way.

“I tripped… I know, how stupid, I mean I’m not even in France for ten seconds and I’m…”

He didn’t let me finish. “No,” he said, looking me up and down, staring in what was a pretty damn good impression of horror at my breasts, “I mean what happened to you? You grew… Christ!”

I could feel the heat of shame rise up in me instantly. I knew my face was red as a beet and I made a ridiculous attempt to cross my arms over my suddenly huge breasts. Not that they weren’t huge before arriving in Paris. Since puberty, my breasts and bum had been the bane of my existence. I had feared at one point they would never stop growing. At fourteen I was wearing a 36B bra and by twenty-one, I had settled down, please God, into a 40D. I have no idea of the exact measurement of my ass, but it complemented my boobs, if not in esthetically pleasing proportions then in plain old size proportion. “Deliciously Curvy” was the title I gave my generously endowed shape, and with a relatively small waist, I usually managed to feel comfortable with that description. But as Uncle James continued to stare at me in a bewildered, almost betrayed kind of way, I felt like a cow. I remembered myself as the twelve-year-old he must have been expecting. I had never been skinny, but at twelve I had been stick-straight, with braces and braids and a seriousness that often passed for mental maturity. Uncle James had often told me, usually between oohs and ahhhs over some luscious tidbit of pate or custard tart, that I had “an old soul.” Apparently, I was no longer such a cute, old soul.

“Yes, Uncle James,” I replied in a resigned way, “I grew. I’m not twelve anymore. Sorry to disappoint.”

Then he was all tut-tut and now-now and sputtering about how good it was to see me. He reached out to hug me, and then evidently thought better of the idea, pulling back and then rethinking and reaching out again for a hug. I mimicked his movements and we bobbed back and forth in our awkward sort of dance, never quite hugging till he reached a point of exasperation and turned and picked up my carryon, walking off with me following at a fast clip to match the his long legged stride.

After locating the rest of my luggage and tending to my wrist, we were finally bound for Lourmarin, a small Provencal village about forty minutes from Avignon, where Uncle James had settled after his third divorce. We had gotten a late start because of our stop at the American Hospital of Paris, where Uncle James had translated the rapid Parisian French of the handsome doctor who’d examined me. I had a severe sprain, but luckily no break, and I’d only need to wear my brace and sling for a few weeks. Unfortunately, I had sprained my right wrist and I was right handed. Being dangerously uncoordinated even when all my parts were in working order, my plans for earning some of my keep by working on Uncle James’s herb farm and vineyard were suddenly in need of revision. And Uncle James seemed to have similar thoughts, mumbling about having to be a nursemaid or something or other, just as the busy season had started. I was dangerously close to tears, again. I realized I hadn’t come to Provence just to learn about Provencal cuisine and wine. I’d come to see Uncle James again and recreate the closeness we’d had, and it had been a disaster from the moment I’d landed.

As we drove through the countryside I did my best to concentrate on the scenery we passed and not the scenes of failure that played in my head. So OK, I thought, at least I’ve gotten to travel to France and I’m getting the most glorious tour of Provence. So if my driving companion is disgusted with me, so what. So I’ll stay for the weekend and then go back to New Jersey. Worse things have happened. I can get a job in Manhattan. Geeze, some of the best French chefs in the world are in Manhattan. And Cyril might actually break down and fuck me. Who needs some cranky, middle-aged poop-head… and on and on the voice in my head soothed me into a calm enough state by which I could actually take in the beauty before me. And it was beautiful. It was just about as beautiful as anything I’ve ever seen, the fields and hills and skies of Provence. I think it’s the sky I remember most. The lush, symmetric rows of purple lavender and the miles and miles of olives and grapes were a joy to see, but the sky was incredible. It was so many different colors and so many different moods, but the blue sky of Provence, on a clear, summer day is almost too beautiful. But as if that isn’t enough, it turns itself all indigo just before dark. And THEN the stars come out.

In my prayers I often remember Matilde and thank her for her many kindnesses. In a way, she is responsible for helping me create the life I now live and savor with such joy. When uncle James and I arrived at the farm and Matilde, the wife of the man who managed the house and grounds, came to greet me, she found me in tears and Uncle James sternly lecturing me about not having time to play nursemaid and not to bother with the luggage as he’d be taking me back to the airport in the morning. Matilde grabbed his finger as it pointed at me and shook it. She then let loose with a stream of French that I couldn’t begin to understand. But when she ended with a word I could translate, “imbecile,” and put her arm around me, I caught the gist and knew that for at least one night, someone was on my side. Matilde led me upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms and magically, as I was trying very hard not cry any more, my luggage appeared and Matilde had found my pajamas and toothbrush. She beckoned me into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom where she helped me wash away the grime of the journey, all the while murmuring odd bits and pieces of French mixed with English. I felt mothered in a way I had never felt with my own mother. When she insisted on helping me out of my clothes, my wrist permitting only limited movement and obviously causing me pain when I tried to use it, I protested and tried to push her away. But she would have none of it. She laughed. She pointed at my breasts and hip region and then to her own and shrugged, as if to say, “Yes, we both have female bodies, now get into your pajamas.” Somehow, I understood that I was in need of help and Matilde was going to help me, that she meant me no harm. And when I was standing naked before her, she looked at me with approval, pointing to my large breasts, my “grands tetons,” and pronounced me “Bonne Sante” (which I later learned meant healthy). Dear Matilde, with her farm country understanding of life and sex and love and appetite, she helped me into my pajamas and then into the lavender-scented sheets and into a summer of magic that would echo in me for years to come.

It was Matilde who found a place for me in her kitchen and taught me the intricacies of country French cookery. She shouted down Uncle James and simply pushed him out the kitchen door and then placed a potato peeler in my left hand and I was on my way. Somehow, with Matilde, I found a grace of movement I never knew I had. I learned to use my left hand for millions of tasks and by the second day, I was picking basil and berries in the morning and kneading bread in the afternoon. By the end of my first week I began helping out in the herb-drying barns, packing the fragrant mix of dried basil, lavender, marjoram, rosemary, thyme and summer savory, the famous herbes de Provence, into the small clay pots that Uncle James exported to the UK and USA. I was frequently exhausted but had never felt so included in any venture. Because Matilde accepted me, the workers, all of them female and all big, sturdy farm women like Matilde, accepted me also. Though I still could only use my left hand, I managed to do at least enough to cover my room and board and I also managed to stay out of Uncle James’s way, and he returned the favor, only appearing for meals at which he remained polite but distant.

We saw each other at dinner every evening, Uncle James and I. He was always unfailingly polite and frequently commented on the food. Matilde accepted his praise with her usual shrug as if to say, of course, and what did you expect? I usually blushed and smiled. I was still shy in his presence, but little by little I was learning to adapt to our distant sort of relationship. If I noticed how his fingers stroked his wineglass or how his mouth looked so succulent and kissable, I tried not to let my gaze linger. I tried to keep my inner emotions to myself. Or at least till I was alone in my bedroom and could give myself the pleasure I longed to feel from his fingers and his mouth. I had grown very adept at left-handed self-pleasure.

Once, Uncle James and I had bumped into each other in the moonlit upstairs hallway, long after everyone was asleep. I was tip-toeing my way down to the kitchen to make myself some warm milk and lavender honey, a surefire cure for insomnia, according to Matilde. Uncle James was just coming to bed, it seemed, and it was obvious he’d been drinking more than his usual glass of wine with dinner. He swayed gently on his feet in front of me, a slow smile spreading across his face and he stared at me as if he didn’t recognize me. And then he seemed to see that it was me, and made an abrupt turn around. Without a word, he headed back down the stairs and went out the front door, slamming it shut behind him with a bang. I just couldn’t understand why he disliked me so much. But as he was civil at every other occasion and Matilde and everyone else seemed to like having me around, I just figured it was something I’d have to live with for the summer. If Uncle James was to be just a fantasy, well, it was a pretty damn hot fantasy.

My summer might have passed quite happily that way, working with the women in the drying barns and helping Matilde with the cooking, if Matilde’s daughter hadn’t had her baby six weeks early. The morning I came down and saw Matilde and her husband driving off I almost cried, again. Uncle James reluctantly translated Matilde’s parting flurry of Provencal French. I still was slow in learning to actually communicate in French, my only language skills being those of the kitchen. I found that I was in charge of the cooking and the kitchen garden for the next few weeks. Uncle James looked positively morose and I’m sure I looked pretty much the same. Still, I felt fairly confident that I could handle the responsibilities. I would only be cooking for Uncle James and a few of the vineyard crew, and I still longed to show Uncle James that I was worth the trouble of my visit. And I’ll be honest; I thought maybe he might warm up a bit toward me if I could coax him into it with his favorite foods. It was a great plan, but it turned out much differently than I had ever imagined, all because of a zipper and bottle of Matilde’s homemade blackberry cordial.

Breakfast had been easy. That first morning after Matilde had left, I served the usual croissant with lavender honey that Uncle James ate every morning. I made several pots of coffee and a spinach quiche as well. I packed a lavish lunch and dinner for the four remaining vineyard workers and Uncle James, as they would be staying out in the fields all day. I was heartened somewhat when I learned that it would only be Uncle James returning for dinner, as the crew would be sleeping near the vines for some mysterious winemaking reason. I couldn’t figure out the passion these guys, two of whom were from North Carolina for god’s sake, had for winemaking and The Sacred Vine and all that, but I have to say, the wine from Uncle James’s vineyard was really wonderful. So I went about my day in relative calm and happy industry, till just before dinner, when I reached for the bottle of cordial and promptly spilled the sweet, sticky, deep purple liquid all over myself. I had planned to serve perfectly ripe blackberries and custard, topped with the cordial, for dessert. But somehow, I had managed not only to cover myself with the entire bottle of cordial, but I also knocked over the bowl of blackberries and stomped all over them while trying to locate a towel for my cordial-coated face. My temper lost, cursing at the top of my lungs in utter fury, I must have looked quite a sight when Uncle James came in from the vineyard, ready for wine and dinner.

If he hadn’t burst out laughing, I might have made it to the outside garden hose without throwing the custard sponge cake at him. But the sight of him all red in the face and shaking with laughter, once I’d wiped the fucking cordial off my face and eyes and could actually see, was absolutely infuriating. Cake and custard went flying and I was reaching for a wooden spoon to throw at him when he grabbed my hand. It was the first time he’d actually touched me since I’d arrived.

“Wait, wait,” he said, having caught his breath and managing to stifle the giggles that seemed to rise up in him like bubbles, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It was just such a surprise…” and then he was off again, almost choking with laughter.

But I had had it. I was fed up. “You know what,” I said, as the blackberry cordial seeped into my underwear, “you can go fuck yourself, Uncle James.” And in my incredibly mature way, with my brilliant command of the English language, I yelled “You suck!” and stomped off to hose myself down.

Soaking wet, shoes hosed off and free of blackberries, I made my way upstairs to get out of my wet clothes. I’d long since stopped wearing the arm-sling and only wore the wrist brace that wrapped down over my hand, leaving my fingers free. I’d kicked off my dripping shoes and thrown them in the bathtub. I managed to get my shirt and bra off but, when I tried to unzip my jeans, the zipper wouldn’t budge. No matter what I tried, lying down on the bed and pulling at it, soaping it up with a bar of lavender soap and pulling, I couldn’t get it to unzip. In my desperation I began hopping up and down around the bathroom as I tried to pull my unzipped jeans down over the considerable swell of my hips. Naturally, I knocked over the wicker bath cabinet with a crash that normally would have brought the whole house. But it was Uncle James who arrived at the bathroom door; he was the only one home, besides me.

I stopped hopping and just stood and stared at him. I was panting with frustration from trying to get the zipper down. I was still wet from the hose and now sweating with exertion. I had actually forgotten I was naked from the waist up till Uncle James’s eyes lowered from my face to my breasts. I was so sure he had been disgusted by me I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t just walk away as he had the night we’d accidentally met in the hall. But he just stood there, staring. And I felt myself blushing crimson as my nipples began to harden under his gaze. I felt the ache for him I’d been burdened with for days begin to creep into the pink tips of my breasts and seep between my thighs. I was about to yell at him to get out but he took a step toward me. I automatically raised my arm to cover myself.

“No, don’t,” he said, “don’t cover yourself, let me look at you.”

“You want to look at me?” I was dumbfounded. I thought he couldn’t stand the sight of me.

“Christ, Stella, I’ve been wanting to look at you like this since the day I picked you up at the airport… but… Christ… you’re my best friend’s daughter! You’re supposed to be twelve for Christ’s sake! When the hell did you get these…” and as he spoke he reached out and cupped each heavy breast in his hands. “…luscious, delicious melons…” And it was there in the bathroom that Uncle James first kissed me. But it wasn’t on the mouth, the way I’d imagined. The first time I felt his warm lips was on my breasts. He kissed my aching nipples, first one and then the other. He sucked and kissed my nipples till I thought I’d faint with pleasure. And then he kissed my mouth. Oh god did he kiss my mouth, gently giving me his tongue as he held me. And then he bent to suck my nipples again, as if he found some sort of relief for a terrible thirst.

“Is this OK, Stella? Do you want it? Do you want me?” he asked as he tweaked one nipple between his fingers and then bending down again to gently take the red, wet tip between his teeth, biting just thrilling little bites that sent shivers through me.

“Oh Uncle James…”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, don’t call me Uncle James,” he said, pulling away. “Jesus, it makes me sound like such a perv! Oh God, I am a perv… what am I doing…”

“OK, OK, no Uncle James. Just James, OK? And I’m just Stella and there’s nobody else here. It’s just us, ok? James and Stella. And I… I want you so bad it hurts. I thought you couldn’t stand to look at me!”

“I couldn’t, I couldn’t stand to look at you, not knowing how much I wanted to just grab you and… God, I haven’t wanked this much since puberty.”

“You were wanking and thinking of me? But I was doing the same thing! I’ve been wanking like some sort of fiend!”

And he kissed me again then, and went back to sucking my now swollen, red nipples. “Let’s get you out of these jeans,” he said, coming up for air, his fingers pulling at the zipper which still wouldn’t come down.”

“It won’t budge,” I said, “I’ve tried everything.”

“Then we’ll just cut them off you. They are coming off. I will have you naked.”

And he did just that. Grabbing a pair of scissors that had fallen out of the wicker cupboard, he expertly cut me out of my jeans, sliding them down over my hips and helping me step out of them. My panties had come off in the process and I was, just as he’d wanted, naked. He pulled me to him and I could feel the stiffness of his root under his pants as he pushed himself against my belly.

I don’t remember how we got to my bed, but suddenly we were there and he was kissing me everywhere: breasts, shoulders, neck, belly, thighs. And then he was spreading my thighs and dipping his hot tongue between my smooth, shaved pussy lips. I had never felt a tongue there. I was at first a little put off by it, thinking that maybe he’d find me somehow undesirable or sweaty from the day’s labor. But he began to lick and lap at me, moaning in what I could only assume was pleasure.

He rose from me suddenly and quickly undressed so that he too was naked. I caught my first glimpse of his cock and balls, all swollen pink against his fair skin. He lay down again next to me but this time in the opposite direction, with his cock pointing directly at my face as he pulled me to him again, positioning me on my side and opening my thighs once more to lap and lick and slide his tongue deep inside me. I looked at his beautiful, bursting cock and, licking my lips first, took the head into my mouth. I had actually never sucked a cock before; my plans for Cyril’s member had been interrupted. I wondered if I was doing it right, but I needn’t have worried because James was quite adept at fucking my mouth. The head of his dick was round and purplish red, like a cross between a very large cherry and a plum, the rim of which reminded me of a mushroom. The length was just perfect for me, not too long so that it choked me but long enough so that I had to swallow a bit to keep from gagging. And James let me have as much as I could take, resting the throbbing head against the back of my throat and then pulling out to let me suck and tongue the head. I tasted sweetly salty liquid leaking from the head, and in my ignorance, I thought that was his semen. I couldn’t figure out why, if he had cum, was he still hard. As he licked me toward my own quickening release, I felt his cock swell and begin to pulse. As he licked and sucked my swollen clitoris, he slid a finger deep inside me and began fucking me with it while he sucked me. This drove me wild and seemed to excite him as well. When I reached my hand up to play with his balls, squeezing them gently, he seemed to grow bigger in my mouth. I felt myself explode against his lips in a syrupy climax, as he continued to tongue me. And then he really began to fuck my mouth with more rapid movements. Not deep, but quick, and then he yelled to me to suck it, suck it hard. I did as he asked and was rewarded in a very unexpected way. The little trickle of salty sweet liquid that I had thought was cum, became something more along the lines of a geyser. Spurt after hot spurt of thick, milky juice pumped into my mouth and I swallowed as much as I could without thinking. I was amazed that under the saltiness, I thought I actually tasted honey, lavender honey to be exact. Slowly I felt the spurting cease and he grew soft in my mouth. We lay there, catching our breath till he crawled back up from my soaking thighs to kiss me, just as I was wiping off the sweet cum that dripped from my lips. I hadn’t managed to swallow it all, he had pumped such a deluge between my lips. “Don’t,” he said, “let me.” And he licked his drops of lavender honey cum from my lips and thenhe kissed me, letting me taste my own musky, sweet spend as it mingled with his. I was in heaven, or vaguely aware of some heavenly place I had entered before I fell asleep, with his head on my breast.

Sometime later, I awoke. I don’t know the exact time but I know the moon had come out and was pouring her light into my bedroom window, making it seem almost as bright as day. James began to kiss me again, working his long finger deep into my cunt as he sucked my lower lip and then gave me his tongue. Then he would rub the swollen button of my clitoris and slide his finger back into me. He took my hand and placed it on his hard cock.

“You’ve never taken an erect cock before, have you baby?” he whispered his question to me. “But you’ve taken something, haven’t you? I can feel your little pussy deep, deep inside you and you’re not a virgin. What have you taken here?” he asked again, pushing two fingers deep inside me, making me squirm with pleasure.

“Do I have to tell you?”

“Oh yes,” he said, “it’s essential. You must answer all my questions. You’ve had your own finger up inside you, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else’s?”

“No.”

“Some toy perhaps?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

“You won’t laugh?”

“Never. Tell what you slid up your sweet, juicy cunt.”

“Well, I had this hairbrush… with the most amazing handle. It was very phallic. I used to use that… and a candle….”

“Oh my luscious baby… how I’d love to see that, watch you bring yourself to a juicy spend,” he whispered and then kissed me again. “But you want to take my cock, don’t you? You want to be fucked, don’t you? Oh, that’s good, stroke me, make me nice and hard.”

I loved the feel of his cock, and the purplish red plum-like head. Even in the moonlight, I could see the shiny drops forming at the tip. I wanted to suck him again, but I wanted to feel his root pushing inside me. I slipped my hands down and cupped his tight, full balls. That brought a delicious groan from him.

“Ahhhh baby, I’m so full again. I can’t believe I’m so full of cream again but I am. And I’m going to give it to you.”

“What’s the honey stuff that drips from the little hole?” I asked, dipping my finger gently into the center of his swollen cock and rubbing the slick juice around the head.

“Oh you are such a sweet, virginal tart, aren’t you? That’s pre-cum baby. That’s what first comes out when I get excited. And it helps get my cock get all wet, just like you get wet. It helps me slide into you easier. You want me to slide into you? You want me to give this to you now?” he asked, squeezing my hand as it was wrapped around his cock, causing even more beads of pre-cum to form.

“But I think it looks really big, James. I know I’m not technically a virgin but I still think you’re pretty big.”

“Don’t worry… don’t you worry,” he whispered, “I know how to give cock.” He continued to whisper as he rolled on top of me and pulled my legs open. “You’re so wet,” he crooned, kneeling between my open thighs, “you’re just dripping, aren’t you?” And he slid two fingers in me again and then pulled them out, all shining with my juice. He brought them to his mouth and licked, mumbling about how sweet I tasted, and then he parted my swollen labia and found the nub of my clit again. He began to rub rhythmically, back and forth.

“Do you like that?” he asked, knowing full well I loved it. “Is this how you pleasure yourself? Does it feel right? Tell me, show me.” And I was way past being shy and virginal. I was only conscious of the growing need in me to reach wherever it was he was taking me. I placed his fingers exactly in the spot that I liked and moved them just how I moved them when I pleasured myself. Then my own fingers stole their way to my nipples, which I began to pinch and squeeze. In the moonlight, though I knew he could see me clearly, somehow I found that I was just as uninhibited as I was by myself.

“Oh that’s gorgeous. You have no idea how hot you look. So fuckable. Beautiful little cunt, so wet, you want cock now, don’t you? I can tell. You want cock now don’t you?”

“Oh god please, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please James, please… I’m going to cum if you don’t stop. Please push it in me. Please.”

And he fell on me, kissing me as he searched for the entrance to my cunt with his dripping cock. I spread my legs wider and instinctively reached for his hard erection, placing the head between the swollen cunt lips. He began to work the round, fat head of his prick into me, and bit by bit the length followed. I felt myself opening as he pulled out and then worked back in, till I had taken all of him. He lay still on top of me, the entire length of his swollen prick embedded in me, letting me get used to the feel. I was so close to coming I felt like any movement either of us made would send me over the edge, and I had the feeling I just wanted to stay like that, full of his cock, just on the verge of exploding into orgasm. But in the end, the throbbing of his cock-head, pushing against the very depth of me, was just too much. I raised my knees up and grabbed his arse and pulled him in as deep as I could. He thrust maybe six or seven times, I don’t know how many times he slammed his full length into me before he began to spurt. But I felt every jab, every thrust, and every hot jet of his cum as I lost myself in my own pleasure. I think, in the throes of my first cock-filled passion, that I did some more begging and possibly even demanded that he fill me up. He obliged, like the true gentleman that he is. He filled me up. And he reassured me afterward that I was not to worry about arriving back in New Jersey with a “bun in the oven,” as my parents had warned, because he had been “fixed” before he’d married his third wife and all that delicious cream could fill me up just as quickly as he was able to manufacture it. Before falling asleep, I told him I thought that was a perfect arrangement and he agreed, as he settled in to sleep, spooning against my backside, mumbling something about other virgin territory needing to be explored…