Thank You, Teacher
written by:
hardcoreliterary

Welcome, readers, but heed my warning. The following story uses blunt language and crude talk, has characters who use blunt language and crude talk and deals with some touchy subjects in a very frank way. It gets very graphic at times as well although I try to tell a complete story with characterization, dialogue, pacing and all the usual elements of good writing. It takes a while to get to the sex and there's a lot of talk in between the sex parts. If this doesn't sound like your kind of thing, proceed no further You have been warned. And don't give me a bad vote afterwards because you didn't like it—I told you not to come in if you weren't ready for it.

And I'm already aware that I write prose that runs a little to the purple and that my main characters are ranting monologists but that's the way I chose to write it and them so you can either live with that or follow the advice in the previous paragraph. Since I tend to talk a lot when I fuck, it seems perfectly natural to me.

Thank you, Teacher

When we met, I was eighteen and she was thirty-six, exactly twice my age. I was one of three dozen students in her home-room class and she—Mrs. Johnson—was a terrific teacher, lively, imaginative, enthusiastic, and great at instilling the love of learning. I was a kinda lonely, kinda nerdy kid and she was also lonely, too, or at least alone. She had married very young but had lost her husband and a young son in a car accident some years before I ended up in her classroom. That was eighteen years ago and a lot happened back then and a whole lot has happened since then but some things are still the same as they were then and some things are even better.

Come to think about it, though, I don't know if I was all that lonely, really, but I was definitely alone, too. Both my parents had died young—my father from the effects of alcoholism and my mother from losing her man. She just faded away, starting when he died, and was gone in less than four months from the day he died. I think they loved me, in their way, but there was a distant, sort of absent-minded quality to their love and it never felt to me like I was really important to their lives. They had problems between them, even above and beyond his drinking problem, but they were a wholly-complete self-contained unit in many ways and I never felt like I was anything more than a slightly surprising and somewhat superfluous addition to their very tight circle of love, obsession and competition for everything from time and money to breathing space and bragging rights over who was the craziest and the most selfish. I sometimes wonder how I came out of that background and ended up as a mostly-normal, functional, reasonably well-adjusted human being, or at least able to pass for one in public. I'm tempted to guess good genes but that probably comes across as a weird sort of joke. Maybe it was just luck or maybe I was just well cared-for at the times I needed it.

After my parents' deaths, I ended up living with an older aunt, Jane, my father's only sibling and the only living close relative from either side of my family. She was a big part of that luck I mentioned. She was unmarried (divorced, with no children) and a very busy, senior-level executive in a small but prosperous company. She made good money and had to travel a fair amount so I ended up spending a lot of time pretty thoroughly unsupervised although I was at an age where supervision, aside from being somewhat onerous and annoying, was probably not really all that necessary. She wasn't what I would call a warm person but she did care for me and about me, tried to provide a comfortable home and a supportive environment and gave me a lot of freedom and not a whole lot of smothering attention. She occasionally apologized for having no experience or training as a parent but she was nice to me, patient, funny in a wry, low-key way, ferociously smart, generous and understanding and tried to be available for me whenever I needed help and advice. We weren't really close but we got along well and I tried never to do anything that would worry her or make her regret completely re-arranging her life to take on the responsibility of caring for me. I had been with her from the time I was fourteen and I had been pretty independent when she took on the responsibility for me and I had become more and more independent as time went on.

I took an instant shine to Mrs. Johnson but I kept it quiet since I didn't want anybody in the class using such an attraction to pick on me about. I discovered early on, more or less by accident, that Maria—that's Mrs. Johnson's given name—and I had something in common. We shared a birthday. I don't know why but one day she had taken her driver's license out of her wallet and left it on a corner of her desk. Sometime after that, she had called me to the front of the class to write an exercise on the chalk board and I happened to see the license and (I was younger then, of course, and my eyesight was pretty sharp) I had no trouble reading the details on her license. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that her date of birth matched mine, except for that exact eighteen-year separation. Since it also happened to be just a few days before our mutual birthday, and since I was pretty smitten with her anyway, although much too shy and reserved to really ever do anything active about it, I decided to give her a card and then I had an extra inspiration and decided to include a yellow rose in what I gave her. I don't, to this day, know why I decided to give her the flower and I have not even the faintest idea of why I chose that color of rose but it turned out to be very important and I thank whatever gods may be that I had that impulse. I generally got along with most of the kids at school, mostly by maintaining a very low profile, and I was just well-developed enough that no one tried to bully me. I was on the swim team, played some golf and belonged to a martial arts dojo, bicycled a lot and otherwise kept pretty fit. But I was not exactly a popular kid in class so I decided that I'd deliver the birthday surprises to her house so that no one else would know what I'd done and mock or tease me for trying to be a teacher's pet or a suck-up or whatever.

I knew where she lived because it was fairly near the school and I had found that out because I walked to and from home on a route that took me past her house and I frequently saw her walking home herself or in her yard doing gardening, something I contrived to do as often as possible and as unobtrusively as possible. Perhaps the times were more innocent then but there wasn't any real perceived urgent need for teachers to avoid giving away such private information as home addresses and the school, although not small by any means, was a relatively close-knit community and, as I look back and realize it fully, an almost idyllic situation, even for its time and place.

So, right after school on the day or our mutual birthday, I grabbed a bag out of my locker and hot-footed it over to her house, slipped inside her front porch and placed the card and the flower, for which I'd managed to find a bud vase, where she would see them as she approached her door. I wasn't hiding who I was—I signed the card—but I didn't want to embarrass her by delivering them face-to-face since she seemed to be quite a private and reserved lady so I left my little gifts, skedaddled out of there and headed on home.

I realize it's kinda pathetic to have to admit it but I was alone on my birthday. There were kids I hung out with sometimes but I didn't have any really close friends and I hadn't made any point about it being my birthday because I thought that bullying or maneuvering some acquaintances into faking major interest in the fact that I was having a birthday was just too lame and pathetic for words. My aunt, as she often was, was on a road trip, although she had promised to call and wish me a Happy Birthday. She called, most often a couple of times, on most days when she was away, so that wasn't such a big deal but it did mean that I knew I had to be home at a reasonable time to answer the phone so she could keep tabs on me and feel like she was doing her best to be parentally responsible. I was well-experienced at taking care of myself in terms of laundry, cooking meals and cleaning up (comes of having had parents who were unreliable in some ways and much too self-absorbed to worry about me a lot) so it wasn't much of a big deal to "bach" it while she was gone. There were neighbors of hers who were charged with keeping an eye out for me and to whom I was instructed to go if I needed help. I checked in with them regularly but there were a bunch of younger kids in their family and the mother was probably grateful that I didn't often need a whole lot of attention. Since I was getting to be older, I felt less and less need for adult supervision and, although it didn't rankle particularly, I made do with a minimum of it as much as I could.

I had decided not to do anything special for my own birthday except watch a favorite movie and, only a little more than an hour after my brief visit to the teacher's house, I was busy cooking myself a fairly simple meal when I heard a knocking on the side door. I wasn't expecting anyone so I was a bit surprised and, when I saw Maria standing outside, I was a little shaken and a bit nervous. I hoped the forwardness of leaving my little gifts hadn't offended or upset her but I didn't know her much at all, I really hadn't known how she was going to react and I was a little stunned that she'd tracked me down so quickly. I hoped I wasn't in for any trouble.

I answered the door and said, "Hello, Mrs. Johnson. Can I help you with something?"

She struck me as being a little bit nervous or flustered (not something I could remember ever seeing in the classroom) and she hesitated for a moment before saying, "Good evening, William. I'd like to speak to you for a moment. Can I come in?"

"Certainly," I said, stepping aside and waving her in. "Have a seat in the living room and make yourself comfortable. If you'll excuse me a moment, I have a couple of things going on the stove. Let me bank the fires and I'll be with you right away."

"Oh," she said, "I'm sorry to be interrupting but I don't want to get in your way. Why don't I come into the kitchen and let you keep working on whatever you're cooking. I'm not in any hurry and I can wait until you've finished. By the way, is Jane here?" She said all that as she was following me into the kitchen and finding a place to sit at the table my aunt and I used regularly for meals and general hanging around. We had had some of our most comfortable and congenial conversations at that kitchen table. I think that's because the chairs were really comfortable, we were seated relatively close together and there was a sort of homey quality to the space.

"I'm sorry but she's not. She's off on one of her business trips but I expect she'll be calling in, probably sometime in the next half-hour or so, if you need to speak to her and would like to wait."

An idea occurred to me spontaneously then and I blurted it out without even thinking much about it. "In fact, if you haven't eaten yet, I have plenty of food that's going to be ready quite soon and I'd be delighted to share it with you. Would you like to have some dinner with me?"

Maria blushed, or flushed at least, and said, "Why, William, that's most gracious of you. I'd be delighted to share a meal. Can I ask what you're cooking?"

"Nothing much," I said. "It's a spicy variation on rice and beans plus a side dish of some steamed, fresh vegetables and a Caesar salad. I usually make a big pot when I cook this recipe and freeze whatever's left over for quick meals when I'm too busy to cook from scratch."

"Are you a vegetarian?" she asked.

"Not really," I said. "It could just as easily have been hamburgers or a pot roast but I don't always eat meat for dinner and this was what I was in the mood for tonight. In fact, there's a bit of spicy sausage for flavoring added into the rice and bean mix. I do work at following nutritional and diet guidelines, to keep in shape for my swimming and martial arts mainly, and the dish is low in fat, has lots of fiber content and provides complete nutrition—and I think it tastes pretty good, too. I cook a number of bean-based dishes and this is one of my favorites."

"Do you do most of the cooking for the household?"

"Not all of it, by any means. Jane's a good cook when she has the time but I'm pretty experienced and practiced at it. I can whip something together easily and I'm almost always home before she is, when she gets to come home at any decent hour at all. I like cooking and I like to make things easy for her. But she has a few dishes that she's really good at so we do share the KP duties sometimes. We often do the marketing together and the meal-planning, too."

"It sounds like you're quite a practical and accomplished young man. You'll make a fine husband some day and your wife will be less over-worked than most."

"Well, I've had lots of practice at taking care of myself—too much, maybe, or at least my aunt thinks so—and I don't mind eating my own cooking so I'm cool with the way things work out most of the time. I do have some regular after-school activities, too, so I'm not always around in time to do anything more than thaw and heat something ready-made. Plus which, of course, I'd have to start dating sometime if I'm going to end up getting married and I haven't really done much about that yet so who knows when—or if—I'll find that bride."

Maria laughed. "You're still pretty young so there's no real rush. It seems to be the fashion these days to start dating quite early and I do know that there are quite a few of your classmates who are already paired off but I doubt if many of them are truly ready to make a reasoned and sensible judgment about life partners. No doubt their concerns are more immediate and physical and probably not very virtuous." She laughed again.

"Well, I do hear locker-room gossip, or bragging, now and then and it seems like, or at least sounds like, many of them are taking up their own version of domestic house-keeping already, or at least the conjugal part of it. I noticed that one of our classmates has been missing for a while and I heard a rumor that she's expecting a baby."

"Exactly my point," she said. "I wish they all paid better attention during the health class instructions although it would probably be better if they didn't indulge at all. That's way too much to expect these days, though. I'm not one to talk, myself, though, since I was married quite young."

She stayed at the table while I spent a few minutes checking all the cooking that was in process. I glanced at her a couple of times as I worked and she seemed fairly relaxed and was watching closely as I worked. It seemed to me that whatever was on her mind might not be too big a deal so my nerves settled down a bit on that issue. When I had a moment, I turned to her and said, "Can I offer you something to drink? I know there's an open bottle of what Jane says is a nice, dry white wine or I could open a fresh bottle of her favorite red. She stocks it by the case and it's only by chance that there isn't an open bottle of it as well. There are also some soft drinks or fruit juice or, if you'd like, I could mix you a drink. My dad always said I mixed a mean martini but I've had some practice with a lot of different selections. I sometimes bar-tend when Jane has people over for a party. I'm still a bit too young to drink, of course, but my parents always said that being able to tend bar was a handy skill and I certainly got a lot of practice with them. Maybe that would make me an enabler, though, so I probably shouldn't make a big deal out of it. Jane completely agrees that it's a useful skill, though, but she insists that her barman must remain completely sober so that he can properly judge the inebriation of his clientele and confiscate car keys as needed."

This time, Maria gave out a real peal of laughter. "You're quite a character, William. In class you're usually pretty quiet, though always ready with an answer when called upon, but at home you seem to be quite a conversationalist." She paused a moment and then said, "I think I'd like a glass of the red wine, if you don't mind. That sounds like a good choice with what's on the menu."

I had a bottle out and open in a minute and I went through the wine-waiter routine of pouring just a splash into a large glass and offering her an opportunity to taste and approve. Her eyes were dancing with amusement as she lifted the glass, took a good long sniff, raised the glass to the light to evaluate the color and clarity and then took a small sip and swirled it around her tongue. She smiled, said, "Excellent, thank you." and I poured a healthy portion into the glass.

"We often just eat here in the kitchen but I could lay places in the dining room if you'd like."

"This seems lovely and cozy in here," she said. "Let's just stay here and be casual and comfortable. I don't dine formally very often myself, since I frequently eat alone. I've even been known to take a tray and sit in the comfy chair in front of the TV when I want to relax, although the kitchen table is very handy for my books. I read a lot and there are usually a few stacked on a corner of the table so I can suit my reading to the meal and my mood." She paused, briefly, again, and then said, "I've probably just given away way too much personal information just now. Please keep that to yourself about my combined eating and reading habits. I know I have a reputation as a bit of a recluse and I don't need to feed people the ammunition to make it more than it is. I'm comfortable on my own but some people see that as a sign of senility or worse and I'm too young to be written off completely. Or, at least, I hope I am."

"Well, thirty-six is hardly ancient," I said. "And, by the way, my personal wishes for a Happy Birthday and Many Happy Returns of the day."

She looked faintly sad for a moment, and then said, "Ah! That brings me to the point of my visit. I'd actually let it slip my mind for a few minutes, which may be a good sign, on the whole."

"I hope you don't mind that I left that card and the flower for you," I blurted out. "A few days back, I noticed your birth date on your driver's license when it was sitting on the corner of your desk, and I though it would be a nice gesture. It's my birthday today, too, and I thought it would be nice to share some joy since we also share the day."

"William, it was a sweet and lovely gesture and it gave my heart a bit of a lift. I want to thank you for being so thoughtful..." She paused, although I could see that there was something else she wanted to say. "It was a very nice moment on a day that holds some bad memories for me. I know you know that I'm a widow but I'm pretty certain that you weren't aware that my husband and son were killed on my birthday seven years ago." A tear ran down her cheek and she fell silent again.

My jaw dropped and I could feel my face start to burn. "Oh, God, Mrs. Johnson, I'm so sorry. I had no idea and now I feel horrible. I meant nothing other than to wish you well and I suspect I managed to make it feel like I stabbed you in the heart. My most sincere apologies. I'm really sorry. Sometimes I can be such a clum when it comes to the social graces, even when I'm trying to be nice. If this feels awkward or you're uncomfortable, I'd understand perfectly if you want to just head home now." I could feel myself trembling and I wanted to bolt from the room. Fortunately, though, I was, at that precise moment, distracted from my feelings by a rattling pot lid and I had to scurry to the stove and start moving food into serving dishes before the meal went haywire.

As I was stirring and shuffling pots and pans and pouring things into serving dishes and generally bustling around, Maria said, "That's very kind of you, William, but I'd rather stay. I'm not really upset and I apologize for starting to blubber a minute ago. I think I'd very much enjoy having dinner with you and having a chance to get a little better acquainted."

"Cool," I said. "Sit tight and I'll have everything on the table in just a couple of minutes."

Maria sat quietly as I put everything together. When the meal was ready, everything was on the table and I was about to sit down, she stood up and took a step toward me. She held out her arms and reached to embrace me. She hugged me tight and said, "William. I have no regrets about what you did and I'm very happy to have gotten the card and the rose. Again, you couldn't possibly have known but my husband used to give me yellow roses often. There was a heart-twisting moment when I first saw the flower on my porch but your gesture was the first time since his death that I've been able to take pleasure in seeing a flower that I've always loved and I think you did me a world of good. I've had a lot of trouble finally letting go but for some reason getting the rose from you has made a big difference in the way I feel about today and I'm grateful that it happened. It was wonderfully sweet of you and I love it. Thank you—sincerely. Please don't feel badly about anything you did. I know it was well-intentioned and it was very sweet of you."

I almost cried at that moment but I managed to give her back a big hug and then I let go and stepped back a bit, saying, "We'd better eat while the food is hot, eh?" I sat down and started serving up a plate for her, asking how much of each dish she wanted. She sat down again and we settled in to eat for a few minutes. There was silence, except for the sounds of cutlery clicking against plates, but it didn't feel as awkward as it might have and I was prepared to let it go on for a while.

Just as I was clearing my plate, the phone rang. I excused myself and stepped over to the wall phone to answer it. It was, as I had expected, Jane. She wished me a Happy Birthday, said she was sorry she couldn't be there and asked how I was doing. I told her that I was, at that moment, just about to finish feeding my teacher dinner; that I had learned that today was also her birthday and had left a card at her house; that she had come over to thank me just as I was nearly finished prepping the evening meal and that I had spontaneously invited her to dinner. Jane went quiet for a second and then asked me to put Maria on the phone. Although they weren't close friends, as far as I knew, they were well-acquainted and I was pretty sure that Jane knew the key detail about the dates that I had not and wanted to make sure that everything was alright with Maria. They spoke for a minute or two and Maria mostly repeated variations on "What a sweet gesture." and "No, it's not any kind of a problem." and "I feel fine, thanks." before handing the phone back to me. Jane told me that I was luckier than I deserved to be that Maria was a very gracious lady and that she'd talk to me again soon. After wishing me Happy Birthday again, she said good night and told me she hoped I had been enjoying my special day.

I sat down again, after I'd hung up, offered Maria a refill on her wine, which she accepted, and then tried to persuade her to take second helpings of the food. She declined, saying that she felt well fed and that she had really liked the taste of the rice and bean dish and that the salad was very tasty. She asked what I had done to add such an interesting flavor to the vegetables and I told her about the spices, herbs, vinegar, fruit juice and garlic that I'd included and we nattered for a few minutes about inconsequential things. The conversation flowed easily again, just as it had before the whole birthday thing came up and she complimented me on the meal and seemed to be about to excuse herself. Before she could say anything, I mentioned that I had prepared some dessert and that I hoped she had a little room left for at least a small serving. Maria allowed as how she had a bit of a sweet tooth and would probably find room for at least a few mouthfuls.

I went to the fridge and opened the freezer door. I'd made a very small ice cream cake with my favorite flavor, coffee, a few swirls of chocolate sauce, some berries on top and some jimmies. I'd even put a couple of birthday candles in it. I lit the candles and set the plate down on the table. We sang Happy Birthday to each other and we both blew out the candles at the same time. Maria was smiling and laughing and seemed very happy and it made me feel good and I thought everything was fine. When she took the first bite of the cake, though, her expression froze and the tears started rolling from her eyes and just kept pouring out. She was silent and she was looking right into my eyes and her face shone with what I thought was a kind of happiness but the tears kept on coming and I had no idea what to do or say. She had one hand on her mouth and chin and the other was lying almost limply on the table, near where she had set down her spoon after that single bite of the cake. I reached out my hand and laid it down on top of her hand and just kept looking right back into her eyes.

After a few minutes, she stopped crying. I took one of the dinner napkins and patted down her face and chin to sop up the tears, I offered her a Kleenex and she blew her nose. And then she smiled at me, a huge, wonderful radiant smile. And she started talking.

"I married my husband when I was fifteen years old. We needed a special dispensation from the church and our parents but I knew he was the one from the moment I saw him when we met in school. I was ten and I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, bear his children and love him forever. He gave me yellow roses. He loved coffee ice cream. He looked a lot like you look right now and I think I'm losing my mind. I miss him so much and I miss our son and I feel like I've been frozen in a block of ice since the moment I got the call from the police telling me about the accident. I started to feel like my heart was thawing out again this fall when I was standing in my classroom and first saw you walk in. I was standing still and it felt like I almost tripped over my own feet when I saw the resemblance. You can't be his reincarnation, or anything like that, because you were already born and growing up when he died but I feel his presence when we're in the same room and when I look at you. I've really felt like I was going crazy and I've tried to be good. I've never said a word to you or to anyone else and I've never treated you as anything other than a student but I've wanted so badly to hold you and kiss you and hug you. I know it's wrong and I know that terrible things could happen to both of us if we let anything happen and anyone finds out but I don't know if I can hold myself back any more. I know what I'm thinking is ridiculous and nuts and probably perverse and definitely crazy but I don't care any more. I feel a very strong connection between us and I need you. I need you to hold me in your arms and I need to feel you and touch you and I desperately need to be intimate with you and I'm afraid that if I do I'll end up getting arrested and if I don't I'll end up in a loony bin. I should stop talking and get up and go home and pretend nothing ever happened and never speak of this again but all I want is to curl up in your arms and love you. And you're probably too young to even begin to deal with this and I'm a monster for even saying what I've said."

I was stunned and surprised and flattered and excited. Maria was very attractive. She was on the short side, just an inch or two over five feet, had a mass of dark, slightly curly hair and a beautiful, fit-looking body with a lovely, rounded, full, womanly shape. She dressed plainly but well, usually in elegantly-fitted suits, and she was always a lady, a sober but friendly and lively presence in the classroom and a cheery, vivacious but also somewhat reserved person whenever I saw her at school events.

I had been attracted to her from the moment I first saw here and I wanted her to be happy. I had felt from the first moment I saw her that I needed to do something for her and that I wanted to find out what it was so that I could do it and take care of her.

I also had what felt like an iron rod in my pants at that moment.

"If you're crazy," I said, "then I must be, too. Before I saw you, I hadn't even really done much about meeting and dating girls. I've kissed a few but never gotten beyond that or really known anyone I wanted to get beyond that with. I'm a healthy young male and I get horny and I have been taking care of my needs a few times a week for a few years now. Since the day I met you I have been obsessed and madly, completely, inexplicably in love and in lust. I've masturbated at least three times every day and I've fantasized about you every time I've done it. I've been a good boy in class and I've tried to be careful to show nothing that could get either of us into trouble but right now I'm sitting here with a hard-on that aches for wanting you and I don't care what happens tomorrow if I can kiss you and hold you tonight. I know what I'm feeling is ridiculous and dangerous and probably stupid and would make no sense to anyone else but it doesn't matter. It's what I want more than anything I've ever wanted before and I feel like I'll burn my life to the ground if that's what it takes to get it."

She looked stunned and surprised then, but still radiantly attractive and we just looked at each other for at least a couple of minutes.

"So, what are we going to do, now?" It sounded like a choral group the way the exact same question came out of both of us at the same time.

I stood up, took her hand and pulled her to her feet and into my arms and engulfed her in a hug. I buried my nose in her hair and smelled the smell of her and knew that she could feel my erection pressed up against her.

After we had just stood there holding and cuddling each other for a few minutes, I leaned back and looked down as she looked up into my eyes. I said, "The cake is melting. Would you like to have some more of it? Can you deal with that? I need to clean up the dinner plates and then we need to decide whether we're going to be crazy or not. Best to make our decision after we finish dessert. You know what they say, don't you? 'Life is short. Eat dessert first.'"

She laughed and sat down and picked up her spoon and dug in. I did the same and we started feeding each other mouthfuls of softening ice cream, laughing giddily and feeling, and being, silly. After we'd had our fill, I cleaned up the dishes, packed up and put away the leftovers and turned to her, saying, "You might not have figured it out yet but I'm more than a little bit compulsive about neatness and cleaning up and such. Would you like another glass of wine or something else to drink? We can sit down in the living room or I could take you down into the basement and show you my lair. There's a couch down there, and a bed, and a shower and tub and lots of books and lots of other stuff and it's a comfortable, quiet place and I put a lot of it together myself and I hope you might like it since it's kinda my nest and seeing it will give away a lot of my personal traits. At least that's what my aunt says about it. That and that it really needs to be where it is, hidden away in the basement and out of the sight of sensitive, sensible people."

She smiled at me and said, "That actually sounds good. I'd certainly like to know more about you, despite what your aunt seems to think. If we should decide that it makes sense for us to be crazy together, that bed will probably come in handy, won't it? Show me the way."

I took her hand and let her toward the front hall, opened the basement door, flipped the light switch and gestured to her to lead the way down the steps. Before I followed her downstairs, I checked that the outside doors were locked and turned off all but the central hall light and then closed the basement door behind me as I headed down. She had strolled across the open space and was looking at the long row of book shelves that lined the far wall.

"Please don't ask me if I've read them all," I said. "I haven't—just most of them. There's one whole bookcase full of stuff that I plan to read but I've read pretty much all the rest and a lot more besides. I don't pile books on the kitchen table, mostly because Aunt Jane would crack my knuckles for me, but there are a couple of piles of my current reading—one on the bedside table and another stacked between the couch and the big comfy chair. That and the bed are two places where I do a lot of reading so that's where they tend to pile up. Jane said I can fill the basement with books if I want to but she insists that the clutter on the main floor be kept to a minimum. She lets me keep a few books in a small basket in the living room and she has her own library, a whole room no less, on the bedroom floor, plus a bookshelf in her bedroom and her own pile of bedside reading but she won't let books accumulate on the main floor. She told me that she loves books but she wants some rooms in her house with no books in them—for contrast and for openness and for the clean lines of interior design that disappear when books start to accumulate."

Maria had turned to me when I started talking. She was smiling again, seemed genuinely comfortable and relaxed and happy. She said, "This feels a lot like my home—but much neater. I probably have more books and I'm not quite as organized about how I shelve them and they are in every room of my house but they're actually mostly shelved except for recent acquisitions and stuff I've got collected in various places because of specific projects I'm involved in where I keep all the reference texts ready to hand while I'm working on something. I like this space and I like what you've done with it. It feels exactly like what I know of you."

"Would you like to sit down?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "I would. But I want to sit near you. Let's use the couch. It looks comfy and we may want to talk for a good while."

I sat down on the couch and she sat down right next to me and asked me to put my arm around her shoulders. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then said, "Who should start first?"

I said, "I defer to your age and wisdom," and she laughed.

"You're very funny when you let yourself be. You're mocking me just a bit but you're doing it in a way that's both sweet and self-deprecating. You give off this air of being comfortable in your own skin and ready to deal with whatever comes along that makes me feel very comfortable around you. I know a bit about your family history and I would not have been surprised to find you to be wildly neurotic and insecure and maybe even on-the-edge crazy but that isn't you at all—other than your instant and intense response to my own crazy speech just a few minutes ago. Were you always like this?"

"My parents used to say that I was born old. Apparently, I was the neatest child they had ever seen, always arranging my toys and cleaning up my own spills and they thought it was hilarious and completely inexplicable. They were both messy and chaotic and unpredictable and they suggested that I might have been some sort of changeling from the trolls or that there had been a mix-up in the baby room at the hospital when I was born. My mother worried that I was too solemn and that I needed to have more fun but I don't remember being unhappy or feeling like I was missing out on anything. I see myself, in my memory, as having laughed a lot and having been very happy and content. I know there was a fair amount of free-floating angst and personal drama around me but I think they worked hard at keeping it focused between them—and that the focus also came naturally to the two of them—and not letting it affect me too much and they were both so tightly focused emotionally on each other that most of the force passed back and forth between them rather than outward in my direction. From an early age, though, I was aware that they were often in a state of high tension and I noticed that there was a lot of disorder in the little things as a result of that. I was about six when I started taking out the garbage all on my own and doing a lot of neatening up, cleaning the dinner dishes and stuff like that. I was in therapy, at my parents' insistence, for a number of years and that continued for a couple of years after they died. My therapist said that I was eerily normal and emotionally well-balanced, given my background. I was never on any medications and we decided when I was sixteen that I could pretty much handle things on my own. I still call him every few months to check in and I've seen him a couple of times a year since then but he tells me that I'm either a completely shielded lunatic who is too well-controlled for him to figure out or the most normal, well-behaved and calm teenager he's ever known and that if there were too many more people like me around, he'd be scrounging for work and starving to death."

"So, tell me about your birthday. You just turned eighteen today, correct? Why aren't you out there running around with a bunch of pals, getting sick and drunk on your first legal alcohol, telling dirty stories and working at picking up chicks and getting laid?"

"I get along with most everyone and I have a few friends but I've never been a big public socializer. I've got a few things on the go at school and elsewhere but I guess I lead a somewhat compartmentalized life. I'm on my own a lot, because my aunt travels and she trusts me to be responsible so I feel like I should live up to that trust. I've got a lot of ideas about the things I want to accomplish in my life, personal goals of one sort or another, and I spend a fair amount of time doing work and reading and planning and working toward what I want to do, laying the groundwork for further education and training and that doesn't leave a lot of time for just hanging around."

"I also have the benefit, in hindsight, of some close observation of bad examples of behavioral issues and the fallout that comes from that. I loved my father but he was a drunk and it killed him. That hit pretty hard but it made me very conscious of the need for control and awareness. I've had a drink now and then. My aunt gives me a glass of wine sometimes when we're having a nice, quiet dinner. She has always told me that if I want to drink, that's OK, but she'd really rather have me do it at home with her instead of out in the world where it can get out of control and get me in trouble. My mother wasn't really a problem drinker but she sometimes drank a lot when she decided to try to keep up with my dad. I've read the statistics on the rate at which children of alcoholics turn into alcoholics themselves and I'd rather not join that group. On my seventeenth birthday, as an experiment, I had a handful of mixed drinks with my aunt. It was my idea but she said I had best learn what could happen if I drank too much. I think I had five drinks in the space of under two hours. I got buzzed and wobbly and I ended up throwing up, a lot, and had a horrible headache the next morning. Been there, done that, don't want the souvenir t-shirt. I might end up being a social drinker but I think I'll tend to avoid it more than not."

"I've been to parties and seen lots of kids experimenting way too freely. I do like being with other people but I don't like the teen party scene because there's just way too much out-of-control behavior—and the conversations are just completely inane and pointless. I guess I'm too serious to be a party animal and I bet a lot of people see me as a drag and a cold fish and no fun to be with. My loss, maybe, but there it is."

Maria remarked, pointedly, "I notice you didn't say anything about girls. Is there a problem there for you?"

"I've dated a bit. There are a few girls that I like and that I've had some good conversations with. I've kissed a couple of girls. I like all of that but I never felt like it was a huge deal. Of course, I'm curious about sex and I want to learn about it and do it but I guess I've never met a girl who was smart enough to talk to and who I wanted to try to get to have sex with me. It's a big deal in too many ways and I'd rather not do it just to be able to say I've done it. I'd like it to mean something other than a notch on my belt and I want it to be right for both of us, whoever that "us" might be. Again, I'm probably too serious and not enough fun to attract the girls who are easy or ready to party and the girls who are smart are either looking for something more than I'm ready for or too smart to want to just do it for its own sake. I've read a lot about sex, both handbooks and literature. I've read a fair amount of porn, of all kinds, and I've also read both serious literature and popular fiction where sex is a central subject and it just strikes me as being a scarier and more complicated subject than can be dealt with in the back seat of a car when you're buzzed and horny and not thinking about consequences. Life has all sorts of consequences and I don't think I'm ready to risk being a teenage father with a teenage mother who I would fell obliged to marry. I have a good theoretical knowledge of the subject and I've certainly had some practice learning my own sexual responses. When I'm ready, and I'm with a girl who's ready, I think I'll be OK but I'm not about to stumble into something that I'm not ready for just because I have an urge."

"God, what a serious fellow you are," she said. "Maybe your parents were right and you were born old. I can't be critical of someone who makes so much sense but it's quite a surprise to run into it in someone of your tender years. I have to say, though, that you sounded no more sensible than me a few minutes ago when you told me about what you'd been doing while thinking about me. What's that all about?"

"I don't really know," I said. "I know I must have seen you around the school in previous years but I guess I'd never really looked at you, really seen you. The first day of this school year, when we were given our home room assignments and I got into the classroom, you were standing there talking to a handful of students, handing out forms and answering questions and, for some reason that I still don't understand, I felt like I'd been hit by a mountain. I sat down at my desk because my head started to spin and there was this surge of energy—lust—that went through me and made me feel like I'd been attached to a car battery and been shot through with a zillion volts. My skin was burning and I suspect I was flushed. The only thing I can compare it to that I know of is that scene in The Godfather where Michael Corleone sees the girl while he's hiding out in Sicily. His buddies call it the thunderbolt and they're worried that it's going to get them all killed. You paused in your conversation and just looked at me hard for a few seconds, then you turned and answered another question and I could barely draw a breath. Ever since then, I've spent a whole lot of time thinking about you, watching you when I can and have a good excuse or know I won't get caught out. I felt like there was some sort of connection, or at least the potential for some sort of connection and I had no idea what to do about it. Other than giving you that card and the flower, I probably wouldn't ever have done anything about it on my own, either."

"I got through the rest of that day in a kind of daze—not a great start for a new year of school, I suppose—and hung around afterwards to try to catch a glimpse of you, mooncalf-style. When you came out of school, I trailed along after you and was stunned to see you heading off down my usual route home. I saw you enter your house and realized that you lived only a few minutes' walk from here. I continued on home, came down into the basement here, took a shower and jacked off while thinking about you, dried off and then did it again almost right away. I did the same thing again later that evening, when I went to bed to go to sleep and again first thing in the morning. My aunt remarked a couple of weeks later that we seemed to be running through a lot of boxes of Kleenex and asked me if I'd had a bad cold and she just hadn't noticed. I claimed that I'd had some sniffles and she wondered if I might be developing allergies. The run on Kleenexes has slowed down just a bit, because I've been more careful about how I clean things up, but I haven't missed a single day and I don't think I've jacked off less than three times a day since that first time."

"Wow!" she said. "It sounds like you've got a serious case. Do you mind telling me what you think about when you're doing it?"

"Pretty much everything, I guess. Hugging, kissing, holding you, having sex in a vague general sort of way, eating you out, having sex in all the positions I've ever read about or seen a picture of, having you suck my cock—you name it, I've fantasized about it. It's all stuff I've never done, of course, so I suppose some of the details are a bit hazy and undefined but we've both had quite a workout and my wrist has gotten much stronger than it used to be from all the exercise."

"Even bigger wow!" she said. She paused for a few seconds, looking me straight in the eye the whole time. We were still sort-of cuddled but she had scrunched around, and so had I, so that we were pretty much facing each other. There wasn't a lot of distance between our faces and our knees and legs were in contact and half-tangled together but I couldn't quite reach to keep my arm around her shoulder. We had both reached out and her hands were in mine, or mine were in hers, depending on how you look at it. It felt warm and close and comfortable but not really sexual. I should have been embarrassed at my naked confessional but she held my gaze and I felt keenly observed and almost cradled in her look. Her expression showed interest and warmth but no judgment or criticism. She clearly wanted to know who I was and what I was thinking but she wasn't shocked and she wasn't embarrassed and she didn't seem to feel that what I had done was wrong or crazy or weird, which made me feel better about being truthful, even at the risk of coming across as off my rocker.

"I have a confession to make," she said. "That first day, I saw you looking at me and I noticed that you were getting a little flushed. When I looked at you, there was a version of what you described going on inside me as well. I didn't get shaky but I felt like there was a bomb going off inside my head and there was a flush of excitation and awareness that I can't remember feeling in many years. It felt good but very strange and completely unexpected. I tried to shrug it off because I had a class full of kids to deal with but it was a major distraction for me all day long. When I headed home that afternoon, you were the only thing on my mind. I noticed you out of the corner of my eye as I was leaving but I had no idea what I would say to you and I was in quite a rush to get home and get inside to be alone and think about what was happening so I didn't even notice that you were following me. I didn't even know where you lived at that stage although I made a point the next day of reading through your school record and I've been very conscious ever since of the fact that your house was only a few minutes away from mine."

"I did almost the same thing you described when I got home. I took a shower and, for the first time in years, I masturbated while I was doing it. I was thinking about you when I did it. I held you in my arms and we kissed and then I was on my knees in the shower and your cock was in my mouth and I felt you ejaculating and I came like crazy. It's been pretty similar to what you described for me, too. I do it a lot and it's always with you as the focus. Like I said earlier, I think I'm losing my mind and I don't seem to care. There's something happening and I just want it to happen."

"I guess we're both pretty good at hiding our feelings from the world," I said. "I've certainly kept an eye on you and I haven't noticed any unusual attention from you and you haven't remarked about seeing anything from me."

"I've kept it all pretty much inside," she said. "First of all, I have a lot to keep me occupied when I'm at school and teaching and I absolutely believe in doing my job and giving it maximum effort. It would have been unprofessional to let anything really distract me or to let it show. Secondly, there are rules about these sorts of things and I could get in a lot of trouble, professionally, if I showed any of this kind of attention to a student and it was noticed. When I came over here this evening, I wasn't planning on things going the way they have but I was conscious of my surroundings and I took a walk through the woods and came here by an inconspicuous route. Both our houses back onto the forest that surrounds this development. I've done a lot of walking in the woods and I know the whole area pretty well and I know where to get in and out of parts of it that aren't much traveled. I'm quite sure no one saw me come knocking on the door. Call me paranoid, but I know I need to be when my emotions are this raw and this far out of the normal track of things."

"When I came over here tonight, all I was planning on doing was to thank you for the card and to wish you a Happy Birthday in return. I was surprised that Jane wasn't here and then surprised when you made that spontaneous invitation and it was just too tempting to pass up. I thought we'd chat and have a nice time and then you hit me again with some heavy emotional stuff, without even meaning to or being conscious of it, and I found myself throwing my heart and soul at you and hoping you wouldn't drop them or smash them. My heart has been pounding a lot since then. I'm scared and curious and I want to risk everything and I feel as giddy as a teenager on a prom date. What's going on is so not like how I act most of the time and it frightens me at the same time that I'm exhilarated and keyed up and excited and...and..."

"...about to completely lose it?" I said, and she quickly nodded. "Me, too, in spades. If I were any less shy and cautious about what is going on here I'd already have made a complete pest of myself and started pawing you and slobbering all over you. I want to do this but I want it to be right between us. I want to understand where you're coming from and I want you to understand where I'm coming from—if only I knew myself, of course—but I'm afraid that we're both running so fast toward something big and unknown that we're going to smash into each other and ruin everything and I just don't know enough about how these things really work, emotional things like this, that I'm just stuck in motor-mouth neutral and don't know what to do next."

"How about this?" she said, as she folded her legs under her so she was on her knees and then leaned over and put her lips on mine, very gently. Her eyes were closed and mine were open for just a few seconds until I closed them and let myself get lost in the sensation of her lips on mine, the gentle pressure and the slight movements as she puckered them and let them gently circle on my lips. I was smelling her sweet, floral perfume and feeling her arms reach around my shoulders and neck as she pulled herself closer to me and her breasts pressed against my chest. I moved my arms around her, down a bit, around her lower back and I let my hands spread out on her back and pull her in tighter towards me. We were both playing with the other's lips as we gently teased and circled and I felt her lips part and the tip of her tongue dart out to brush across my lips. I parted my lips as well and let my tongue reach out to touch hers and they started dancing and swirling and swooping around each other. I felt like my heart might hammer its way out of my chest and I was so totally focused on the sensations of our tongues in contact that I only realized that my head was starting to spin when I had to break contact to gasp and gulp for air—just enough so that I could plunge right back in to what was turning out to be a kiss so intense that what I had done in the past (hot and heavy as it had felt at the time I was doing it) seemed, in retrospect, to be the same as a chaste peck on my aunt's cheek when she was heading out the door on one of her business trips.

Some timeless minutes later, we both broke contact and did some heavy catch-up breathing. She opened her eyes just as I was opening mine and I saw the most radiant smile on her face just as I realized that I was producing one of my own.

"Wow!" we both said. Again, we were talking in unison. I was beginning to think there might be something to all that stuff I'd heard about extra-sensory perception and minds on the same wavelength and such.

"If this isn't love," she said, "then I have no memory of what it felt like when I kissed my husband. I used to get this same feeling of my heart pounding and my loins getting all excited and I'd know that we were going to get down and dirty and hot and sexy. I felt like this every time we were together, even before I knew anything about sex at all. We kissed first right after I met him. Like I said, I was ten years old and I had no clue about anything about sex but I knew that he excited me and that there was something that we needed to do about putting our bodies together. He was a few years older than me and he told me that he'd been to bed with an older woman who'd taught him some things that he wanted to teach me when the time was right. I was ready to start right then but he said that wouldn't be right and he made me wait until I had had my first period and we'd received permission to marry. I was raring to go and he showed me how to kiss and, when he felt the time was right, he showed me where the body parts went and how to do all sorts of things. I don't think I ever had any hesitation or inhibitions about doing anything he told me to do because I knew that whatever we did together was right and good and honest and true. We kissed and petted for hours while we were engaged but he didn't let me have him in me until we were married. I'd had orgasms from his hands and his mouth before that, and I'd given him orgasms with my hands and my mouth, too, but for some reason he felt that we shouldn't fuck until we were blessed by the church. He also taught me to use all the crude words: fuck, tits, cock, cunt, pussy, prick, dick and all the rest. He said that sex was basic and straightforward and that you didn't have to dress it up with big words like penis and vagina and intercourse and the short, blunt words could add something nice and nasty to the feelings but he also said that sex was also holy, divinely inspired and that most often, and when it was at its best, fucking was also making love and that it should be done with the person who was the most important in your life and that it would just keep getting better and more intense and more deeply felt. Which it did the whole time we were together. So, pardon my language if you feel the need, but I talk bluntly and I make love when I can but I also fuck, too. And I have a cunt and I know how to use it and right now, or at least very soon, I want you to use it with your cock."

"There's a saying that a wife should be a lady in public and a whore in the bedroom. He taught me to be a cunt and a whore and a slut when we were having sex. I wanted him and I wanted to do everything with him and we did pretty much everything I've ever heard or read about and I loved him and I loved everything we ever did together.

"I loved every time we were together and I loved him deeply and I miss him terribly and I know I always will but you have made me feel alive again and you've made me want to feel all those feelings again with you. I've tried dating a couple of times but there hasn't been even a spark of physical interest. I kissed a couple of men and it was like touching uncooked liver with my tongue—cold, icky, shuddery-making. I gave up even thinking about sex because I just couldn't bring myself to think or feel anything like what I knew it could be. Until now, that is. I'm hot and aroused and I want you in the worst, and best, way. I'm ready to burn bridges and risk everything and I want to make love with you and I really, really want to fuck you and have you fuck me."

She leaned back, while keeping a steady gaze on me. "I can feel your cock and it's hard. I'm talking too much because I'm so nervous and so hungry to be touching you and kissing you all over and showing you what I learned about fucking. I think it's your turn to say something now."

I kept looking her straight in the eye and said, "I defer to your age and wisdom." And her eyes opened wide and she started roaring with laughter as she grabbed me in her arms and hugged me even more tightly than before.

"You should probably get a smack for being such a smart-ass," she said, "but I love how you make me feel and I love that you're comfortable enough to clown around a bit while we're in the middle of something that could get very serious if we're not really careful. But, I have to know, how exactly do you defer to my age and wisdom?"

"I put myself in your hands and I trust you completely. I want to make love to you and fuck you and I want you to teach me everything you ever learned about sex and loving. I want to learn how to make you feel good and all the different ways that I can do that. I want to find out for real how the body parts fit together—our body parts—and I want you to be my teacher until I know enough to be able to teach you some lessons of my own. I'm officially and legally an adult as of today and I've made my first adult decision and I choose you, and you only, as the teacher who is going to open this world for me."

"It's probably more than a bit premature to say this but it's what I feel: I love you. I think I'm in love with you, as much as I can begin to know what that means. I know I feel more passionate and excited than I've ever been before and my own heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest. I said I was ready to wait to find the person with whom I'd want to have sex but I know in my heart that I've found her and it's you. I've been horny many times and gotten myself off and I've been attracted to some girls but it's never felt even remotely like this. Please, show me what to do to make you happy and give you pleasure and love you completely."

"Would you like me to show you what I used to do whenever my husband and I started to make love and/or fuck?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I said, "I'm completely in your hands. I'm yours to command and to instruct. Teacher, teach me."

"Okay, lean back against the couch and let me get at those buttons on your shirt." I did as she said and she reached over and started undoing the buttons, working from the top down. As she got each button open, she pulled the sides of the shirt farther apart and gradually kissed her way down my chest. When it was fully undone, she made me lean forward and pulled it off my shoulders and then worked the sleeves down my arms, leaving me bare from the waist up. She knelt on the edge of the couch between my legs as she tossed the shirt aside and then leaned in and kissed and suckled each of my nipples in turn. Little jolts of excitement shot through my body as she was doing so and they grew even more electric as she increased the pressure and the suction, giving me little nips and nuzzles and fluttering her tongue on my now-hardening nipples.

"Ahhh...," I groaned. "I had no idea that my nipples could be so aroused."

She paused for a moment. "Relax, and enjoy," was all she said before she went back to licking and sucking my nipples. Soon, she started to use her hands to caress them and then slowly moved her hands up and down my chest and stomach, gently stroking with her fingertips as she continued mouthing and kissing my nipples.

After a few minutes, she leaned back, panting slightly, and said, "Another time, I'll teach you how to undress a woman but this time I want to concentrate totally on you." As she said that, she was unbuttoning her own blouse. After she had it undone, she shucked if off quickly and tossed it aside. She was wearing a pretty, almost sheer, rose-colored bra. I could see her nipples through the fabric of the cups and they were poking out. She took my hands and put them on her breasts, saying, "Feel how hard my nipples are. That means I'm excited and I'm excited because I'm with you and we're going to make love—and fuck—and I want that to happen and I really want you to be the one I'm with and the one who does sexy things to me and that I do sexy things to. You should be pleased that my nipples are like that because it means you're making me very excited and very aroused." She moved my hands over her breasts for a few seconds and then let go when I started moving them myself, caressing her breasts, cupping them, rubbing my palms over her nipples and then using the tips of my fingers to feel them and gently squeeze them through the fabric.

She sucked in her breath and moaned deeply and then whispered, "There's a little clasp in the center between the cups. Twist it a little and the cups will separate. I'd like you to do that for me, please."

I did as she asked and when the cups separated, I leaned forward a little to pull the straps off her shoulders and down her arms and, when they were clear of her hands, I tossed the bra away to wherever the shirt and the blouse had gone—the somewhere to be picked up later place. As I was leaning forward, my chest touched her breasts and I could feel the nipples, like little points of heat against my chest, surrounded by a warm but slightly cooler and softer but amazingly wonderful pressure of flesh on my flesh. My head was a little lower than hers so I leaned forward and twisted it sideways a bit so I could put my lips on her throat and I kissed it, nibbled it with my lips and began to run my tongue up and down the hollow in the center and around the side and then up and down from the base of her ear to her collar bone and back. She shivered slightly and moaned again and murmured, "Oh, God. That's wonderful. I'm very sensitive there and if you keep doing that you'll own me forever and I'll do whatever you want." So, of course, I kept doing it as my hands started to caress her breasts again, also roaming down her sides and up and down her back as I concentrated on licking and nipping at her neck. After a couple of minutes, she tensed and shuddered and wrapped her arms tight around me. She made noises that sounded like she was choking or trying to say something and she rocked against my tongue and lips several times and then I felt her whole body relax against me as she drew a sharp breath and buried her face in my shoulder.

After a minute, she raised her head, pulled back just far enough to stare into my eyes and said, "God, you're a natural. Either that or those books you've studied so thoroughly have taught you a lot. That was amazing. I just came from what you were doing to my neck. I wasn't touching myself and I've never done that before. It's probably also at least partly because I'm on fire, horny as hell and completely turned on by you and this situation. It might be risky, too many ways, but it's also very stimulating in a lot of ways, too. And, boy, do you do something to me and my previously-long-absent libido."

"Can I do some more?" I asked, leaning forward and taking one of her nipples in my mouth as I gently took hold of the other one with my thumb and two fingers. I spent a few minutes sucking, licking, mouthing and nipping at her nipple, swabbing my tongue back and forth across her breast and then switched with my hand and did the same thing to the other breast. I could hear her breathing as it got deeper and deeper and then she was gasping again, her body vibrating and her throat making little noises, "Uh, uh, uh, uhhh, uhhhhhh..." before it died off into heavy-breathing silence again.

She focused in on me again and said, "I thought I was supposed to be in charge here, teaching you about sex and loving. You just did it to me again, faster than I can ever remember it happening and in a way that's always made me feel good before but never quite that good. The teacher is learning a whole lot about herself and the student is doing a pretty good job of playing the master. I think I'm squishing down there in my cunt and you haven't gotten anywhere near that yet so who knows what the rest of this night is going to be like?"

"Well," I said, "I told you I'd read up a fair amount on the subject. I think you probably have noticed by now that I really apply myself to my studies. I try to learn more than just what's in the standard textbook and I put in the time and effort to try to excel in my favorite subjects. And I hope I'll be able to make the rest of the night even better than it's been so far—for both of us. So far, I think I've done reasonably well in translating theoretical knowledge into actual practice, don't you?"

She was laughing again, as she hugged me and then ran her hands up and down my chest, occasionally letting them idly, but very lightly, stroke across the tent that seemed to be a permanent fixture in my pants. She was kneeling with her legs on either side of mine and the evidence of my excitation, although not directly visible, was quite obvious. After a minute or two, she managed to gasp out, "Absolutely, my dear student, top marks all around so far. I have very high expectations that you will graduate with the highest honors."

As we were starting to calm down again, I remarked, "I should also point out, if I may, that all the authorities seem to agree on a very cogent point."

"And what might that point be, O my beloved scholar of the arts of l'amour?"

"According to pretty much everything I've read, you're right dead in the middle of the age period when you as a woman should be at your sexual peak. It shouldn't be that much of a surprise that your responses are really strong and that you're more orgasmic than you were a few years ago. Physiology alone...."

She stopped my talking by leaning in and kissing me hard, open-mouthed, with her tongue darting into my month and snaking around and around, moaning all the while, pressing her breasts into my chest and rubbing her crotch back and forth over the tent in my pants and seriously risking the possibility that I would lose control and come all over the inside of my pants. I kissed her back and we went at it energetically for a good few minutes, damn the risk. Everything we did was arousing and exciting and I was very eager to try out and learn all the ways of making love but even just the kissing was taking me emotionally and physically to places I'd never been and had never even begun to imagine. I thought to myself, so that's what all the fuss is about. What an idiot you are to have waited so long—but what a way to learn and what a wonderful teacher!

Once again, we both needed to catch our breath and while we were doing that she leaned back again. I felt that loving gaze boring deep into my heart and soul. She looked happy and aroused and excited and, dare I say it, truly loving, and my heart stirred and my throat clenched and I felt my soul swelling with happiness and joy and pride and, let's not forget, lust, as I stared back into those dark pools and poured forth all the love in me back at her.

She grinned and said, "I'm sorry I interrupted your lecture, Herr Doctor Professor, but I was swept up with feelings of need and love and I just had to have another long taste of that gorgeous mouth and those beautiful, loving lips. I hope you don't mind too much."

"Not at all," I said, "I remember exactly where I left off..." was all I got out before I started giggling so hard I practically fell off the couch. Since she was leaning on me and her breasts were mashed against my chest again, it felt really good and it looked like she was enjoying things, too, so I thought I'd probably at least come close enough to getting away with being a smart-ass to avoid abuse and injury. I had to push my luck, though, and I eventually continued by saying, "It does my heart good to know that all that peak sexuality of yours isn't going to waste and is getting a full workout and, whatever the issue might be if this connection should ever become publicly known, it's an almost perfect pairing because according to all those same authorities, I, too, am at or near my own sexual peak. How much better a match could we be? I know that my own manual activities of the last few weeks have been, for me at least, a convincing demonstration of the nearness of that peak for me and I think what you're reporting says the same about your peak. I say, 'let's make the most of it while it lasts.' "

"An excellent theory, Professor, and a truly excellent plan. Pray, let us continue. If you'll allow me a moment to collect myself, I'd like to return to the planned demonstration which you so rudely, and lewdly, interrupted with your wandering hands and your wandering lips. I was about to finish showing you how I'd start things off when my husband and I decided to fuck."

She stood up in front of me, stepped out of her shoes, which I hadn't realized were still on her feet, unzipped and dropped her skirt, revealing a lovely pair of thin and skimpy panties that matched the long-departed bra and, to my small surprise, no nylons nor panty-hose but thigh height stockings. She noticed my glance and said, "Much easier on and off and more comfortable for the legs and the body. Very practical and, I'm sure, not very teacherly. But as long as the skirt is long enough, no one need ever know." She quickly removed her panties and the stockings and stood there in front of me, completely naked and, to my eyes, completely beautiful. I was also surprised to notice that her pussy was completely bare. I'd never seen anything like it, even in the dirty magazines I'd had a chance to peruse and I think my eyes went wide. Again, she noticed and said, "Pure practicality again. Very comfortable and easy to clean, sensitizes the skin a bit and makes for quick no muss, no fuss after-sex clean-up. My husband preferred me this way and I've continued to keep myself prepared and ready as he would have wished as my own private memorial to him. Oh, and I apologize again for the practical and not-particularly sensuous way I just disrobed. I'll do better another time but I find myself, at this moment, extremely anxious to get completely and immediately intimate with you and I chose to rush through some preliminaries to get right to it. If you wouldn't mind standing up for a moment, I'm really quite anxious to proceed."

I stood up and she leaned in to kiss me briefly on the mouth as she was reaching for my belt buckle. She was briskly efficient as she undid my belt, unbuttoned the top of my pants, pulled down the zipper and then pulled down my pants, managing to disentangle my still-raging hard-on from my underwear in the process and getting the whole ensemble of clothing down off my waist and bunched just above my knees. At that point, she said, "Sit down again, please, and relax and lean back against the back of the couch."

I did as I was told and she knelt in front of me, untied and removed my shoes, pulled my pants and underwear off and sent them off to the 'pick up later' pile, then added my socks to that same pile and, within a matter of what seemed like mere seconds, I suddenly found myself completely naked, with a beautiful naked woman kneeling between my legs and her hands gently clasping my cock. Again, the stimulation, largely visual but also much enhanced by the soft fingers gently grasping and massaging my cock was almost enough to cause me to let loose. Thank God for the discipline I'd been developing in the last few weeks with the regular masturbation I'd been indulging in. I think that alone is what prevented me from spraying my precious bodily fluids all over Maria's hands and tits and chest, as well as the couch, the floor and everything else within about two or three feet of where I was sitting.

Maria was gently stroking my cock, looking it over very closely and with what appeared to me to be a critical and judicious eye. After a few moments, she looked me in the eyes again and said, "I knew you'd have a lovely cock. You're not a big man and I doubt you ever will be but you're very nicely-proportioned and quite fit and I love the definition of your muscles. Since I'm small, I think your cock will fill me nicely. I've never dealt with a really big cock and I'm actually very pleased that yours is not too large. It will give me the opportunity to do one of my very most favorite things in the whole world, just like I did with my husband. He loved all forms of sex and we did everything we'd ever heard about or read about but he was especially fond of oral sex in all its forms. He considered it one of the most important components of our sex life and he always said that a fuck wasn't complete that didn't also include a suck as part of it or, regularly, all of it. He didn't have a problem with premature ejaculation, by any means, but he always loved it when I'd suck him off first, make him come in my mouth and then suck him some more to get him hard again so we could fuck. He said he always lasted longer and enjoyed the fucking more when I'd taken the edge off for him with that first mouth come. He sometimes said he thought he was being selfish in liking to start that way but I always insisted that if anyone was being selfish it was me because I got to have all of him first before he got to have anything much of me."

"I should add that he was a wonderful oral lover himself. He loved to do it and he made me come many times and he never missed a chance to do it. I'm very much looking forward to teaching you how to go down on me but what I need to do right now is show you how much I love to do this to a man and, most specifically, how much I want to do this to you and for you."

As she finished speaking, she held my cock upright with both her hands circling it at the base and cupping my balls at the same time, leaned over with her mouth open and her eyes on mine, fastened the circle of her lips around the head of my cock and started to lick all around the head with her tongue. I couldn't see anything but an occasional flex of her lips but I could feel every exquisite moment of tongue contact and my state of excitation, already high, skyrocketed to the point where I was twitching and moaning and felt like I could explode at any moment. My attention was riveted to her mouth and the point where my cock disappeared into it, although I also noticed that her eyes never left my face as she was doing what she did. After a minute or so, while straining her neck to keep her eyes on mine, she slowly lowered her mouth down my cock until she engulfed my entire length and I could see the ring of her lips buried in my pubic hair and could feel them touching my pubic bone. I could feel her throat rippling on my cock and I imagined that she must be choking but she held all of my cock in her mouth for long seconds and began to move her tongue all around and up and down its length and then she moved her mouth back up again until just my cock head was still engulfed, paused for a moment and then plunged all the way down to my pubic hair again. She did the same thing she'd done with her tongue again and then repeated the whole up and down movement, and then did it again and again and again while slowly increasing the speed of the cycle. I was wildly, uncontrollably aroused and my eyes never stopped watching both her eyes and the disappearance and reappearance of my cock as she moved up and down, fucking my cock with her mouth and her throat. It can't have been more than a dozen or more stokes before my cock exploded in an orgasm of astonishing intensity. I felt like the top of my head was about to explode and I was convinced that my entire essence and my soul were pouring out the end of my cock and into the bottomless well of her loving, all-engulfing mouth. It felt like I was pouring forth gallons of come and I know that there were at least a half-dozen major spurts and a few final dribbles as I was coming. Her rhythm kept increasing up to the point of the last big spurt and then gradually slowed down as those last few convulsions occurred. Her eyes never left my face and I never saw even a drop of my cum. She sucked me completely, drained me totally and never missed a beat. My entire body was trembling for minutes after I had stopped ejaculating but it took me a while to notice because I was totally lost in the sensations her mouth was imparting to my cock and I was somehow equally lost in the depths of her eyes as they, too sucked the essence out of me and poured her love into me at the same time.

When I was finished coming, my cock became extremely sensitive, particularly around the head and at the rim just below it. She stopped moving her mouth and her tongue but she held me in her mouth, completely still, bathed in her saliva and cushioned by her lips and tongue for several minutes before she let my now-deflated cock slip slowly from her mouth. She bent down and kissed the tip of my cock, looked up at me and smiled the most amazing smile and said to me, "Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed that. I hope you understand now why I was so pleased that your cock wasn't extraordinarily large. I might have been able to do that if it were a little bit bigger but I was right near the limit of what I can do without choking and gagging and coughing endlessly and it makes me feel wonderful to be able to do that. I love all kinds of sex and all the ways there are to put body parts together but I think that's the single most satisfying sexual feeling I've ever had and I love that I could do that for you. I feel completely fulfilled and unbearably smug and I can't wait until the next time I do that—except that I really want your hard cock inside my cunt and I want to feel you ejaculate there, too. I love you and I don't ever want to stop being able to do that to you, for you and also for me."

She paused for a moment and the smile on her face seemed to get even bigger and broader and then she added, "Oh, I should also mention that I'm beginning to completely believe your theory about that whole sexual peak thing, too. When you started spurting in my mouth, I started having orgasmic convulsions in my cunt, too. I think they were exactly in rhythm with and in response to your spurts, too, which is just way too weird and wonderful for me to even begin to deal with yet. That's yet another first for me tonight and I swear each one has been more astonishing and revelatory and exciting than the last. You've turned me into an orgasm machine and we haven't even tried any of the usual ways that I know will get me off. I assume they'll all still work, despite my many years of lack of practice. My own recent self-pleasuring would seem to indicate that it's very likely but there are bunches of ways that need physical input from a partner and I'm very curious to see what happens when that partner is you."

"Oh, by the way, I hope you liked my demonstration and I hope you enjoyed yourself."

I could barely manage to speak for a few moments but eventually I managed to get my tongue working and say, "Quadruple wow. Squared and cubed. That was amazing. That sets a benchmark for orgasmic pleasure that I didn't even imagine existed. I don't know that I'll ever bother to jack off again because I'll want to save all my orgasms for something as good as that. Did you really mean it when you said that that's the way you started every time you and your husband fucked?"

"Well, not every time, maybe, but most times. When we were pressed for time, he'd decide whether he wanted me to suck him off or whether he'd rather fuck me and we'd do just one or the other but he didn't like to rush if he didn't have to and that was the way we started pretty routinely. We sometimes finished that way, too. He had a really good recovery time, usually, and when we were fucking for fun he'd often come three times or more in a session lasting several hours. It always seemed right to me, even if it sometimes felt a bit selfish on my part, to start and end that way. I also loved to wake him up that way. It always seemed to me to be the perfect way to start the day. So, you liked it, did you?"

"Liked doesn't even begin to encompass how and what I felt about it. I loved it. Almost as much as I love you and I swear I love you more now than I did before and I expect I'll love you more soon than I do now. You're astonishing. That was extraordinary. I now know what all the fuss is about with people and their fascination and obsession with sex. If it can be that good, why ever do anything else? I think I want to worship you, if I may."

"Are you going to build an altar and sacrifice goats and chickens? I'm not sure that would be a good idea and I don't think I'd like it much."

"Ah, no. I think what I had in mind was something a little more like a kind of quid pro quo, if that's OK with you. I felt almost like you were worshipping my cock while you were doing that and I think I'm ready for a lesson in worshipping your cunt."

"You've got me completely pegged. I do, very consciously, see what I just did as a form of worship, indeed. I do love cock and I find that I dearly, deeply love your cock and I hope and plan to worship it regularly. At this moment, however, I would be delighted to have you indulge in your own version of religious observance. Would you like detailed instruction in advance, or pointers as you go? I'd certainly be prepared, based on recent past performance, to lie back and spread my legs and let you wing it. I expect your natural enthusiasm and your dedicated book-learned studying will set you on the right path. I reserve the right to steer you back on course if you somehow drift away from what works well but I'm equally ready to bet that you will, all on your own, be able to work some more of your miracles on my mid-life libido peak and set some new standards for cunt-licking orgasm-producing muff-diving magic without any real direction from me."

"By all means, feel free to guide me if I go astray but I think I have the general idea and a few thoughts about methods I'd like to explore. I must admit that I'm still just a teeny bit hazy on the exact position of some of the important body parts but I do know roughly where to look and I'm perfectly happy to do my own exploring. If I get lost, I promise to ask for help and guidance. I do love to pursue those self-teaching courses, though, and, if I do say so myself, I'm usually a quick study."

"Hmm," she said, "sounds good to me. Ah...since we're both naked now, I think it might be nice to relocate to that lovely, comfortable-looking bed over there, don't you?"

"As milady wishes. May I take your hand and lead you to it? Also, would you like to take a break for some light refreshment or would you like to plunge straight into it, so to speak?"

"If that's a pitcher of water next to that glass, some of that would be lovely right now. I might feel peckish in a while but right now my pulse is racing and my juices are flowing and I'd like nothing better than to continue finding out more about how very well our bodies work together."

I took her hand and let her to the side of the bed. I poured her a glass of water and she downed about half of it fairly quickly and then set it on the bedside table, ready-to-hand for when she might want more. While she was drinking, I had grabbed the top corner of the covers and swept them down toward the foot of the bed. Once she had set down the glass, I pulled her into a hug, bent down to kiss her on the lips and then pulled backwards and tumbled her onto the bed on top of me. She gasped and giggled and then wriggled and squirmed until we were tightly intertwined and kissing. We explored each other's mouth and lips and tongue with our own and got to that heavy-breathing stage again in a while and paused for a break. By that point, we were lying on our sides facing each other and she pulled her head back a little and fixed me with that penetrating, loving gaze again.

"You're amazing," she said. "This is amazing. I haven't felt this alive in so long and I couldn't even admit to myself what I was missing. I was shut down for a very long time because it seemed like the only way I could keep on living and I wasn't even sure that I wanted to do that—keep on living, I mean. I'm not the suicidal type so I didn't even think about ways of ending it but there was a long time when I really felt that there was no particular purpose for me in being alive. I suppose the teaching was what kept me going. I know I'm good at it and I love doing it and the rewards are wonderful but there was a long time when I was—not just going through the motions, exactly—but somehow doing everything that I needed to from a distance, without a lot of personal involvement or awareness. I think I was still doing a fine job of it but there wasn't any real spark in me and there wasn't really anything in my life that got me charged up. My friends bugged me about it so I tried dating a few times after a couple of years and sporadically since. The men were nice enough, I guess, and I'm almost sorry for how unresponsive I was to their attempts to be friendly and romantic. I might have needed it but I just wasn't ready for it and they just weren't the right people to spark anything inside me. I didn't know it but I guess I was waiting for you. You're the difference. Ever since that morning in the classroom, I've been firing on all cylinders at work and I can feel the difference. In fact, I can feel, which is the difference. I've been distracted, of course, just as I described it to you, but that has actually helped me be completely immersed in the teaching when I'm on the job and in the class. I let myself realize how almost-dead I'd let myself be for all that time."

"I also let myself realize how much, and for how long, I'd been craving sex. I'm probably a complete sex addict. When we were married, we played almost every day and sometimes several times a day and sometimes for days on end without stopping. That's not easy when you have a growing child around the house who needs love and attention but we managed and I don't think he ever felt neglected or ignored or unloved because I wouldn't let that happen. We went short on sleep sometimes, because we were so busy fucking that we lost track of time. I had to drag myself out of bed some mornings and push myself through the day but there was teaching to energize me and my son to come home to and fucking as the reward for getting through the day and life was good. And then, bang, it was all over in an instant and everything, I mean everything, seemed to stop for me, for a long time. I survived and kept on because there really wasn't a choice and, gradually, slowly, some things came back, sort of. I've kept myself active and busy and distracted but I now realize that I've been in a holding pattern because that daily reward wasn't there. Teaching gives my life some real meaning but I think sex is the other absolute necessity and it, too, gives my life meaning. I need sex and I want sex and I crave sex and I can't ever go back again to a place where there's no sex."

"But it's not just sex—it's you. I've never had casual sex, or one-off sex with a stranger and I don't even know if I could. I was fixated on my husband from very early on and that was what completed my life. Now, I'm afraid, I'm fixated on you and that scares me. You're very young and I'm a lot older and there's a whole lot of life out there that you should explore, including girls your own age, and I'm afraid that I'm going to need and want too much of you and that I'll stunt your emotional growth and smother you to satisfy my own needs. I was so greedy just now when I had you there on the couch. I've been rushing things and taking short cuts and skimping on foreplay and on sweet, slow loving because I just absolutely needed to have you the way I did, to feel you deep inside me like that and to feel you climax and pulsate in my throat. I want to do everything with you and for you and I want you to do everything to me that you want. I'll try to be patient and good and generous and take things slow but at the same time I can't even begin to convey to you how much, how deeply, how desperately, I just want to get down between your legs and take you in my mouth again and go all the way down on you again until I feel you coming like you just did a few minutes ago."

"I hope it's clear to you that, although in the abstract I can say that I want and need and crave sex, that there's no real abstract here. This is absolutely personal. I don't just want sex, I want sex with you. I want you. And there I go again, being some sort of all-devouring mass of need and desire and want. I'm surprised, and very grateful, that you haven't run screaming, although I realize that could be a little awkward since you're stark naked and we're in your own house so there's not really a good place for you to run to if you wanted to do that. Maybe I'm just really grateful that you haven't bundled me and my clothes out the back door and told me that you'll see me in class on Monday morning and that it was nice chatting."

It was my turn to laugh. After that intense monologue, the final image she conjured was too precious and too stimulating for me not to. I think it took her aback for a second until she realized what had set me off and then she, too, laughed heartily and we melted into each other and snuggled and guffawed and giggled and snuggled some more until we calmed down again.

I leaned back enough to look her in the eyes, leaned in again to kiss each eye, her nose, her cheeks, her chin and then her mouth, each time and each place lightly and quickly, rapid-fire, before settling back again and losing myself in those big dark eyes for a while. When I had had my fill, temporarily at least, I started talking again. "You need to remember that you're talking to a guy who has been masturbating many times daily for a couple of months with thoughts only of you in his mind the entire time. If there is obsession going on here, you're not alone and I'm as far gone as you are. I know the risks and that's why I never said or did anything or even tried to hint at anything about what was on my mind. Aside from the terrible and unbearable likelihood that you would not have been interested, there was the crushing fear of being found out and either ridiculed or punished. The fullness in my heart since you made clear to me that my own desires were matched and returned in full is something it will probably take me a long time to get used to."

"I swear to you that I'm just as greedy for you as you claim to be for me. There are a thousand images running through my brain of the things I want to do with you and to you and I don't know where to start. I'm bursting with joy to know that you don't see what we're doing as an aberration or an accident or a one-time thing. The idea that we can make love and fuck tonight and that you'll want to keep doing it again and again makes me so happy that I'm on the edge of bursting into tears or into song and I don't know which would be worse, or more appropriate. It could take me a hundred years to run out of the things I want to do to you and I know that by tomorrow there will be so many more ideas in my head that the length of time we'd need to do them all will have at least doubled. The more of you that I've had, the more I've wanted and we've only just gotten started. I may be young, on the scale of things, but I've always known my own mind. Maybe that's what being 'born old' is all about. I know that what's happening between us is serious and long-term and all-encompassing."

"I know that in a few minutes I'm going to go down on you and learn what I need to learn about you and your body to get you off. I know that after I while I'm going to kiss my way up your body until I reach your mouth again and that when I can start kissing you deeply again I'm going to want to put my cock in you and try my damnedest to fuck you for a long time before I empty myself into you and that I'm going to be thinking about how quickly I can get hard again and where I'm going to put my cock in you next."

"Have you thought at all about the fact that this is Friday evening? I don't have anything planned for this weekend and I hope you don't either. I don't want to leave you or this bed until Monday morning except for physical essentials like the bathroom and re-fuelling so I have the strength to keep getting hard and to keep fucking you again and again. You've given me the key to a treasure-house and I plan to spend a long time exploring everything it has in it and I don't know that I'll ever want to stop."

"Omigod!" she said. "You're right. I hadn't even thought about what day it is. Shows a little too well how un-engaged in my own life I've been, I'd say. No, I don't have anything on the go this weekend but I've just started making some plans for what I'll do to fill the time, and myself, with you and your beautiful, wonderful, delicious, perfect cock. I do have one wish, though. I want to spend tonight and maybe all of tomorrow right here fucking you until we can't move but at some point I want to get you over to my house because I want to fuck you in my bed, too. And I want to fuck you and suck you in my living room and at my desk, and on the kitchen table and on the floor and in a whole lot of other places. Maybe not all at once in a row on the same day, but over time at least. Does that sound OK?"

"That sounds lovely. I like the idea of being in you and in your bed at the same time—and all those other things, too. But now it's time to stop talking again for a bit and get back to our originally scheduled program. Do you want covers? Are you at all cold? I know the basement can be a little cool sometimes and I definitely don't want you to take a chill.

"I'm lovely, thanks. If I get chilly, I'll let you know but right this minute I want to see all of you and watch what you're doing so I can perform my teacherly duties and instruct you in the manly art of eating my cunt. In fact, I'm going to pull myself up just a bit and prop these pillows behind me so that I can watch you closely, see what you're up to and properly supervise your maiden efforts in learning a skill that every man should know and practice. Do you want any initial thoughts on the subject or do you still plan to just wing it?"

"I'm ready to go, thanks. I count on you to let me know if I'm doing something that doesn't work but I've got a bunch of ideas about how to go about it, based on my reading and research. I hope you're not in any hurry, though. I would not even hint at complaining about what you did for me and to me on the couch but I came surprisingly quickly and I would have expected to last longer, even after lots of arousing foreplay. I'm thinking more about slow and easy and a playful and indirect approach for my first try—if that's alright with you."

"Now I'm embarrassed," she said. "I love slow and easy and I like to tease things out and make them last and I'd absolutely love for you to take your time and explore and play and get comfortable with me and my naughty bits. I cheated you out of something more leisurely and relaxed because I just couldn't wait for what I wanted—needed, rather. I can only plead for forgiveness and promise to be more patient and take it more slowly next time. It has been a very long time since I've felt what you let me feel and I do love it so and I just had to have it right away, greedy little minx that I am. It shows a lack of adult discipline and maturity on my part, no doubt, but greed and lust overcame me. I'm sorry."

"I wasn't kidding about not complaining. I absolutely enjoyed what you did and it felt spectacularly good and I have no regrets. And I look forward to you doing it again in whatever way suits you at the time. If my cock was just along for the ride that's no problem because it was one hellaciously wonderful ride. I'm truly blessed and honored to be the man who gets to bring you back into your sexual life and if that was a sample of what it will be like, feel free to do exactly what's in your mind whenever you want."

I wasn't determined to stop the conversation but I didn't have much more to say right then so I started a long, deep slow kiss as a preliminary to my intended exploration. After a minute, a trailed my lips down her cheek and nuzzled for a while along one side of her neck and then the other, noting with interest that the right side was responsive but the left side seemed to be a whole lot more responsive in comparison. I made a mental note to research that further in future to see if that was an artifact of this moment in time or a significant variation to be taken into account during future make-out sessions. Just as she was starting to get a little hitch in her breathing and also starting to let her body flex and undulate a bit, something I'd noticed when I was stimulating her neck earlier and which I assumed to be an external sign of mounting arousal, I started moving again and kissed my way down to her collar bone and then slowly down between her breasts. I made short but apparently very effective stops at each nipple (more of the beginnings of that slow body flexing and breathing change) in between extended explorations all over her chest, shoulders, sides and arms, all the way down to her hands where I sucked each finger briefly. I also made longer visits to the inside pits of her elbows and her armpits, all of which proved to be nicely sensitive and responsive to nibbles and licks. I spent some time circling in on her belly button and would have spent a fair amount of time there except for the fact that she turned out to be very ticklish there and, though tempted to continue, I chose not to break the mood of slow, gentle arousal that I'd felt building in her as I tongued my way around her body. Maria was moaning and sighing and flexing and sometimes murmured a "Nice" or a "Lovely" or a "More, please" but other than that she felt no need to critique at length so I figured I was doing OK.

I was actually feeling a little dry so I paused momentarily to get a quick drink of water and then plunged back in, so to speak. I licked around the edges of her hips and across her belly and made a close pass at the insides of her thighs before moving on down first one leg and then the other with a pause at the backs of her knees, which I reached by raising her legs to a folded position. I continued alternating legs as I worked down her calves and ankles and I spent quite a lot of time on her feet, sucking each toe for a good long while and playing with the soles of her feet, which also turned out to be quite ticklish. After I felt that I had done her feet complete justice, I started meandering back up her legs only this time I pushed her legs apart, set myself between them, and worked my way up on the inside of her legs, hitting those lovely knee backs again for a long stop. She was starting to get a little giggly and I asked her what was so funny. She said, "You are, of course. This is the most thorough and detailed tongue bath I've ever received and it's been quite lovely but it also strikes me as more than a little obsessive."

"Just getting thoroughly acquainted with some territory that interests and attracts me greatly, ma'am. I plan to re-visit regularly and I'm memorizing small blemishes, irregularities and other milestones so that I'll recognize it all blindfolded if I need to. You never know when there might be a power failure and I want to be able to navigate entirely by tongue feel."

She hooted with laughter and said, "God, you're a crack-up. You make me laugh and you make me happy and you make me feel enveloped in care and attention. I want to put you in my pocket and take you home but, at the moment at least, I don't have any pockets to hand and I'd hate to miss the really interesting part that I think you're getting set to get to real soon now."

"Well, I was thinking about turning you over and doing your back for a while, maybe an hour or so, but if you're so all-fired anxious to get this thing in gear I suppose I can let that wait for another occasion."

This time she roared with laughter and rolled onto her side and curled up in order to lunge at me and smother me with a hug and a quick kiss that turned into a slow, deep, exploratory kiss. After a few minutes she stopped and said, "I love you, William. I really do, honest to God, love you. You're so serious sometimes but there's a beautiful, sensual, truly loving clown inside you that peeks out from time to time and reaches straight into my heart. I haven't laughed like this in ages and it feels so good and so free and so natural and I think I'd better shut up or I'm going to start to cry because I feel so good and so happy."

I was holding her in my arms and I managed to sit up and then lay her down on her back again. I crouched over her, leaning on elbows and knees and kissed her deeply, then pulled back my head to stare straight into her eyes, stealing a trick from her, as I thought of it to myself. "I love you, Maria. I think I've been kinda locked down a bit myself for the last few years and this really does feel very free and natural to me, too. I think I can be so light-hearted because I feel very, very happy to be here with you. I feel like we've started something truly important for both of us and I feel like we're building our own little universe of protection and love and communication and intimacy. I'm so very glad that you came over here, even if you were a bit upset about what I'd done, because what has happened since seems to me to have been probably the best thing that has ever happened to me in my life and I hope it's a very good thing for you as well. It certainly seems like that from what you've been saying and I don't think you're exaggerating or sugar-coating or imagining it. It feels genuine and I'm desperately happy that I could be the one to make you feel so alive and happy again. But now, there's something that I have to get very serious about again for a while so please be patient with me."

Once I finished speaking, I bent down and gave her a quick but intensely felt kiss and then crab-walked down her body and stuck my face into her crotch, maneuvering her legs apart and sliding my arms underneath them so that I had her upper thighs in a firm grip. I started again, nibbling and licking and making small sucking moves on her inner thighs, moving gradually closer to her center. Finally, I spread my tongue wide and reached down and back as far as I could before making contact and dragging my flattened tongue loosely and wetly all the way from the bottom of her ass cheeks, up the center of her cunt to her lower belly and then down again and back up and down, repeating a slow, rhythm of up and down movement for a handful of cycles. She had started to breathe more deeply again and I noticed that characteristic, slow flexing undulation of her body so I was pretty sure that her low-key state of excitement had been quickly dialed up a few notches and it felt like time to start raising the level more thoroughly and more quickly. When I reached her bottom a last time, I folded my tongue into a narrowly-pointed conical shape and brought it up and forward again, using some tension and push to spread her labia and get inside her lips as I moved my head up. I felt a gush of moisture as her cunt opened wide and demonstrated for me that her arousal was already pretty acute and I also felt a little nubbin poking out just above the top of her slit. I circled it for a moment and then moved back down to the center of her cunt, searching for the opening into her vagina and finding it at the very center of a small flood of a sweet-tasting, very slick and slippery, slightly viscous, fluid. Once I'd pinpointed her entry, I plunged my curled up tongue as deeply into it as I could, pulled back and then plunged, again and again and again, as I felt the tension mount in her body, heard her starting to make that almost sighing sound I'd heard from her once before and then, very quickly, after a dozen tongue thrusts, felt her whole body release its tension, felt a fluttering and flexing of the entry circle around my tongue as it plunged in and out and also felt a fresh flow of her juices onto my tongue. At the same time, she moaned loudly and then started chanting, "Yes, yes, yes..." I kept up the tongue thrusts while I could feel her vibrating and fluttering and for a little while thereafter.

As soon as her body started to relax, I moved up a little and started kissing and nibbling around the edges of her clit as I slid my longest finger inside her cunt hole. I made a circle with my lips and pushed it down around her clit, started to move my tongue back and forth across it first gently and then gradually a little more firmly and began to move my finger into and out of her cunt in rhythm with the movements of my lips and tongue. I added a second finger and then a third as I clamped down my lips and started sucking gently but firmly on her clit. Her excitement level was clearly rising rapidly and then, again suddenly, she started thrusting her pelvis upward into the movement of my tongue, let loose with almost a roar of excitation and went completely rigid for many seconds while her entire body seemed to vibrate at very high frequency. She had been gasping for breath, gulping air deeply and repeatedly but she froze for a moment and then seemed to go into a very rapid, shallow breathing rate as she moaned continuously and loudly.

I had barely noticed it because of my concentration but she had, for some time, been gently caressing my head with her hands. At the point where everything seemed to ignite, as she was thrusting her pelvis onto my tongue, her grip stiffened and she pulled my head strongly onto her clit and her cunt, and she started a litany, "Yes. Don't stop. Yes. Yes. Don't stop. Don't stop." interrupted continually by gasps and moans but maintained for what must have been almost a minute.

Finally, she stopped all movement, with her pelvis thrust high and her body supported mostly on her shoulders and her lower legs, froze in place for about ten seconds and then collapsed bonelessly backwards onto the bed. If she hadn't been breathing rapidly, I might have thought she'd passed out, so thorough was the instantaneous relaxation of all her muscle movement and tension. After a brief period of time, I felt her hands reach around and under my arms as she frantically pulled me upwards along the length of her body until she buried her face in the crook of my neck and hugged me so fiercely that I wondered if she was having a seizure. She had started babbling as she pulled on me and I couldn't really make out what she was saying. It was a jumble of words, mixing and repeating, "God," "love," "fuck," "wow," and some other short words that I couldn't even begin to make out. She calmed down, and her words slowed down and she stopped hugging me so fiercely fairly soon but she didn't let go of me and I was beginning to get worried that she was in some sort of distress until she straightened out from her curl into my neck and started kissing me so fiercely I was overwhelmed. In a moment, and with a sudden movement, she managed to flip us both over so that I was on my back and she was lying on my chest. She lay there, with her head on the center of my chest but turned to one side and I felt her breathing gradually slow down and her body melting into me.

After a minute, she finally spoke a coherent phrase. "The earth moved. About a million times. That was truly amazing. I thought I might be gonna die but what a way to go. Are you sure you haven't done this before?"

"I'm sure, ma'am. I was just putting my book learning into action, I swear. Mighty glad you seemed to like it so much."

"You have no idea," she said. "I've had really wonderful orgasms before but that was absolutely one for the books. You most definitely know what you're doing and I want you to teach the master class."

"Aw, shucks," I said, "I was only just getting started. I plan to do better next time."

"I hope my heart can stand it," she said.

After a moment she added, "What's that I feel under my belly?"

"That's a bit of a lake of your fluids, in the middle of which is my erection."

"Were you hard already or did what you did to me get you excited?"

"A little of both, I'd say. He was getting quite interested there while I was rootling around in your crotch but he got almost painfully stiff when you started getting all vibrating and trembly and vocal."

"Well, let's put him to work, shall we? I'm on top right now but I think I might be just a bit shaky to try to climb on board. Let's reverse that rollover and see if we can get things properly aligned. I most desperately need him inside me and I do believe what I most want is to lie here and be fucked if you'd be so kind."

"Your wish is my command," I said, wrapping my arms around her back and doing the flip myself this time. "It's very handy to have this nice wide bed, isn't it. It feels like there's a big wet spot where we were lying just now and we don't actually have to lie in it, until we make a brand-new one over here anyway." I moved my legs between hers and she spread her legs wide and pulled them up until they were stretched along the outside of my thighs, pressing lightly.

"I think you know where to go, don't you? Shift down just a teensy bit and then...Ahhh, that's perfect. I think I was ready and I know you are. That feels so good. Do whatever feels right but I think it would be nice if you just stayed there still for a minute or so and we'll see whether my old muscles can remember how to do an internal massage."

I felt a strange and wonderful rippling and squeezing sensation, although we were both lying quite still. It felt heavenly as she flexed the insides of her cunt around my cock, making it harden even more than it had been already—something that I would have guessed to be impossible.

"There baby," she murmured. "So nice, so nice. Let mamma feel you there for a while. You're a perfect fit. I love how this feels and I almost don't want to do anything but lie here and feel it."

We lay still for several minutes as she slowly and gently worked the interior of her cunt on my cock. Gradually, surely, slowly and deeply, I felt myself starting to thrust into her. I was in deep already but I discovered that as I slowly withdrew and re-entered her, I was feeling even more deeply embedded when I reached the end of my thrusts. I was very excited and the sensations on my cock were wonderful and kept getting more and more intense. Maria raised her legs even further and I felt her hook her ankles and feet over the backs of my thighs, which opened her even wider and made me feel my thrusts going even more deeply inside her, at least partly because I could also feel her using her feet and legs to pull me inside her as I thrust. After a few minutes, Maria started whimpering and vibrating and I felt her come around my cock as I moved steadily in and out. I kept a slow, even pace and went on thrusting for a good many minutes and, twice more, I felt her orgasm around me as I thrust, each time a little more intensely and vigorously than the time before. Eventually, I don't know how many minutes later, I felt my hips starting to move on their own and I was thrusting deeply and quickly and violently into her depths and, as I felt her come once again, even more energetically than before, panting and trembling and moaning and murmuring. I reached for her mouth with mine and started kissing her lips with bruising urgency, thrusting my tongue into her mouth at the same time I was thrusting my cock deep into her cunt—and then I exploded into her, spurting over and over again as my cock jackhammered in and out faster and faster and more and more deeply until I felt like I must be pinning her to the bed as I thrust and spurted and I let out a bellow or a moan or groan of a primal noise at the crescendo of my release. After the last spurt, I strained to hold myself all the way deep inside her until my muscles could hold me no more and I want limp on top of her, still buried deep in her womb and wanting never, ever to leave.

I was still supporting myself above her, mostly, afraid that I might crush the breath out of her, when she murmured in my ear. "Let go, baby, let go. Relax. I want to feel all your weight on me. Relax. Let go." I relaxed completely for a moment and felt myself pressing her whole body into the bed. I felt her sigh through my chest and she murmured, "That's my love. That's my precious. I need to feel you on me like this and in me like this. I'm home and so are you. Relax, relax, relax. You're mine, now. I'm yours. I love you. I love you. I love you." Her gentle murmur relaxed me and I fell into a momentary doze. It was only a few blinks but I felt so wonderful and loose and relaxed when I snapped awake again and then I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her with me as I rolled onto my side and it felt so sweet because I could still feel my softening cock inside her as I drifted off to sleep again. I could just reach to pull the blankets over us and make a little warm cocoon where we rested together.

**

I awoke abruptly and she wasn't there in my arms. I felt bereft and wondered if it had all been a dream. Then, I heard the rattle of a glass in the bathroom, along with a familiar flushing sound, and a moment later she padded through the door of the bathroom, naked and beautiful, and I could feel my cock start to stir again at the sight of her. It had not been a dream. She was looking at me with the most relaxed and contented smile on her face and, when she saw that my eyes were open, her face lit up with joy and my heart gave a thump and flipped over in my chest.

"I don't know how much I swallowed the first time you came," she said, "but you had a huge lot left over for when you came in my cunt. There was quite a puddle where it had dripped out of me onto the bed and some more just came out when I peed."

"A certain amount of that liquid is yours, my love. I drank down a hearty dose when I had the opportunity but you have a very healthy flow when you get properly worked up as I tried so hard to do to you."

"Hmm," she said, "Bodily fluids. You know, there are people who are icked out by bodily fluids. I wonder how they ever manage to enjoy sex? It's never been an issue for me and you seem to have taken to them like a duck to, um, something wet."

"In my limited experience, and very much according to the expectations I developed while doing my research reading, you're just not doing it right if there aren't a lot of bodily fluids involved. If you don't want to deal with them, take up a less challenging and neater leisure-time activity like tiddly-winks or backgammon."

"Not for me, thanks. Good and messy is the way to go. Drenched in fluids, mouthfuls of cum, that's my style. Speaking of which, she said just a little too disingenuously, is that a lump I see growing down there? Mama's hungry again."

I was just starting to wince and writhe a little and I think I moaned a bit, too. There must have been a lot of fluids because they had all dried and my cock was practically welded to my belly, which wasn't good because my cock was trying to straighten out and harden and flesh was pulling on flesh and clotted hair.

Quick as a flash, she was on the bed with her face down in close to my belly and I could feel her tongue and lips slithering around on my cock and belly as the dried cum loosened and my cock straightened out. I could still feel matted hair and crusted cum here and there but Maria was fast at work and she tongue bathed the entire area, gobbling up all that was accumulated and running her mouth up and down on my cock until it was slick and glistening. She stopped and turned her head to me and I could see her mouth shining with cum and saliva. She kept one hand on my cock, working it up and down slowly, squeezing gently and occasionally letting some fingers slide down and cup my balls. Her touch was delicate but firm and she knew how to keep me at a high pitch of arousal.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said. "I was so relaxed after you finished in me that I just drifted off to sleep for a while. I'm sorry I neglected my duties and didn't do a proper clean-up."

"What do you mean—a clean-up?"

"Well," she said, "you told me you were a bit of a neat-freak but the fact is that I am, too. Maybe just about slightly different things, though. After I fuck, I usually let my Little Oral Annie personality out to play and she 'polices the area.' I lick up any stray cum that happens to be lying around and I make sure your cock isn't all sticky and crusted so that things like what just happened don't happen. I love your little baby there a lot and I don't want anything not nice to happen to him so I make sure he's clean and relaxed and ready for a rest—or for the next go-round, whichever comes first. You can understand how that is, can't you? I saw the way you left that kitchen after dinner was over—ready to start the next meal at any moment. I've always wanted my play area to be neat and ready any time, just the same."

"You're amazing," I said, "You're probably also a little nuts and a lot perverse, too, but it works for me. Don't feel obliged but feel free to do your clean-up any time. I certainly liked what you did just now so I'm sure I'll like it whenever you feel the need."

"Why, thank you, sir. All part of the household service, don't ya know. It comes with the rest of the package, including the teaching module."

I chuckled and leaned up to kiss her. "We're only just starting to learn about each other's habits and peculiarities, love, so feel free to educate me about everything, including your most intimate personal habits and bodily obsessions. And, by the way, do you sleep on the left side of the bed or the right or do you not have a preference?"

"I'm pretty flexible on that one." she said. "I can generally fall asleep almost anywhere so if you have a preferred side, I can accommodate. But sleep isn't what's on my mind right now. I've got a particular subject in hand that I want to examine more closely and I think I owe him a nice, slow version of what I rushed him through first thing a few hours ago in my greedy, piggy little frenzy. Can I get you to lie back for a while and let me play again?"

"You have a slight advantage on me," I said. "You woke up first and took care of some personal business that's high on my own agenda at this moment, but, please, hold that thought." As I was getting up from the bed, I added, "It may take an extra minute or so because your lovely hand work has made it hard for me to point him in the right direction. I hope you won't mind having to start all over again."

"That will be my pleasure, sir, as I look forward to demonstrating as soon as you return."

Needless to say, I tried not to dawdle but my cock had his attention elsewhere and it took a couple of extra minutes. That gave me time to drink a glass of water, swish some mouthwash and give my face a quick splash rinse and my hair a brushdown. When I came out of the bathroom, she was kneeling up in the middle of the bed, watching me approach. She pointed with her finger and said, "Could you stand right there at the edge of the bed, please?"

I did as she asked. She then said, staring the whole time at my cock, instead of into my eyes. "There are a lot of ways to do this and I've done a lot of them and I intend to do them all to you and, I hope, invent some new ways, too, but I do like to please and I wonder if your extensive researches have made you curious about any particular style of cock-sucking. Is there any way in particular that you'd like me to demonstrate? You standing with me here on my knees? Lying on your back? Sixty-nine? You kneeling over my face? With or without hands? Or some version of mouth-fucking where I hold position and you thrust into me? Since your cock seems to be a perfect fit for me, any of those would work and I think it would be particularly fine for you to fuck my mouth because you could go all the way in without making me choke too much. I also get off a lot on the feeling of being used when I'm fucked in the mouth like that so keep it in mind even if we don't do it right now. I like being controlled and if you want to hold my head or my hair and ram your cock into my mouth, that's wonderful and absolutely fine with me. I'll take it all and beg for more."

She shifted her gaze and looked me in the eyes as she had done so often already—and I knew as I had known all along that when she looked at me like that what she said was coming straight from her heart. "I should say this right now. I've known it in my heart and in my head from the beginning, from the first time we hugged, but I want to say it out loud and make it unmistakably clear. I'm yours, completely. I want you and I need you and I love you. I will do anything you ask me to do, even at the risk of my career and reputation. I wouldn't want to do risky things like that but if you asked me to I would, that's how much, how completely, I feel committed to you. Between us, there will never be any constraints or hesitations. If you tell me you want something, I will make it happen for you. If it involves pain and discomfort, that doesn't matter as long as you want it. I'm going to trust you to take care of me and not hurt me but it's really all trust. I will do whatever you ask of me, any time, anything, anywhere."

I stood there, surprised and maybe even a little shocked. I was trying to find words to respond when she said, "Don't feel the need to say anything right now. That's quite a load I just laid on you and you don't need to respond immediately. I've been thinking about what I was going to say for a while and you should get to think for a while about your reply. I think I know enough about what's in your heart and you can tell me whenever you're ready but I just had to get that off my chest. But now, what I want is you on my chest, or wherever else suits you, with your cock in my mouth. You probably noticed that I wasn't looking at you when I offered that catalogue of oral possibilities. I was watching your cock to see if there were any special twitches when I said anything in particular. I'm at a loss, though, because your cock was bobbing and twitching like mad. Maybe you like the sound of all of them."

"I did like all of the ideas and approaches that you listed," I said. "I'm trying to commit them all to memory so I can ask for each one at some future time and try them all out. Talk about an embarrassment of riches. If anything, I probably twitched the hardest when you talked about me holding your head and fucking your mouth. I'm not quite sure what that's all about but I felt an amazing throb in my dick when you were talking about that. And that whole list doesn't even begin to address all the lovely things I can do with your cunt and your hands and your tits and everything else you've got. But, I guess I'd like to ask for some of your teacherly guidance here. I assume that what you did first came completely naturally to you and that you liked doing it that way—"

She immediately made an interjection, "No! Loved—loved—doing it that way."

I continued, "—loved doing it that way. I'll absolutely want it like that again, soon and often I suspect, but it would seem silly to repeat it right away when I've got a banquet of choices that I haven't tried yet so I'd like to ask you what you'd do? What's your fallback preference for how to have a cock in your mouth?"

She looked at me for a moment and then said, "I do love them all but it's all about mood and opportunity and position. So, for instance, at this precise moment, I'd do this." And as she finished speaking, she lowered her arms to the bed and crawled to the edge with her mouth open and took the head of my cock between her lips. She licked and suckled for a bit and then stretched her neck and ran her mouth about half-way down the length of my cock and set up a rhythm of bobbing up and down as I stood there looking down at her head and at my cock disappearing and reappearing as she rocked. After a dozen strokes, during which my cock felt like it was swelling to double its previous size, she stopped and leaned back on her heels and raised her eyes to me. "That was nice," she said. "I could feel you responding and there's something kinda special about not using my hands like that. It makes me feel really dirty and sexy, somehow. All mouth and all cock-sucker. But the angle is wrong so I can't keep watching your eyes while I do it and I love seeing you watching me and watching what I'm doing to your cock. When I can do that, the feelings go straight to my cunt and my clit and I get really turned on—as you must have noticed earlier. From here, it could go anywhere, like this." And she leaned forward and started lapping at my cock as it bobbed in front of her face, twisting her neck and reaching down to slobber juicily on my balls and sliding her tongue up and down on the underside of my cock as she peered up at my face past the side of my cock.

She paused again. "On my knees is really good for me inside my head," she observed. "There's a quality of submission that hits me hard on a psychological level. I'm a servant of your cock when I'm like this and I can be free and inventive in how I use my mouth or I can be completely obedient and directed if that's what you'd like. Sometimes, I need to be told what to do because that, too, sends a shot of pleasure right through my clit."

"Put your lips around the head of my cock again," I said. Her eyes lit up and she did what I told her. "Swirl your tongue on the rim of the head and suck." Her eyes glowed as she followed my instructions. "Reach your head down and take my balls in your mouth, one at a time, and caress them with your tongue. Make it wet but be very gentle." She did exactly what I told her to do and kept on, making it clear to me that she would continue until I told her to do something else. "Go back to the head and hold it in your mouth. You can move your tongue like you were doing just now but hold still otherwise." She gathered a mouthful of saliva as she was removing her mouth from my soaking balls and drooled it out on my cock as she trailed her flattened, gushing tongue up the underside of my cock and took the head in her mouth, just as I had instructed her to do. "Unless you need to talk, keep going back to that position."

"Did you like being told what to do like that? Did you get off on it? Did you get that thrill of pleasure you talked about?

"Yes, absolutely. When I follow orders like that I know I'm doing exactly what you want. There's a sort of flush of fulfillment in my heart and another, completely different flush of excitation that centers in my cunt and also flares in my clit."

"I think my brain is ready to explode. You really meant everything you said when you told me that you had something you should say. You're completely ready to be my live sex-toy, aren't you? Whatever I tell you to do, you'll do. I could order you to suck my ass or to bend over that chair over there so I could fuck yours. I could tie you up and hang you by your heels if I wanted to."

"Do you want that? I'm ready. I swear I'll not say 'no' whatever you ask. I'm yours. Blanket statement. Full stop. No qualifications. No restrictions. You tell me, I do....And I love seeing your cock throb like that when I talk. That goes right to my clit, too." As she'd done the time before, she finished talking and then took the head of my cock back in her mouth. Each time, I could feel her tongue drawing lazy circles around the head and under the rim of the head.

"Back to an earlier question, what would you do now, what would you choose from all the possibilities if it was up to you? I know what you might do if you were cum-hungry and didn't want to wait at all, or at least I know one way you could do me to get what you wanted but what if you were feeling mellow and loving? What if you wanted it to last a while so you could just enjoy a good suck, make me feel good, play all you wanted with my cock and then somewhere along the way end up with your mouthful of come? Nothing fancy, just basic and easy and sweet and comfortable, old shoe cock-sucking if you will—although that's probably too horrible a metaphor to ever be used again. I think I apologize for emitting that grammatical/literary dud of a phrase."

She looked thoughtful for a moment or two and then said, "Hmm. There are plenty of ways to go slow and easy but I'd probably ask you to settle down on the bed with some pillows strategically placed to prop you up...." I raised my hand to stop her for a moment and then assumed the pose on the bed just as she had suggested it. She smiled when I looked at her and grinned when I gestured at her to continue. "Very teachable fellow, you are. Thank you. Then, I'd probably spread your legs wide apart—" accompanying the thought with the act, "—and kind of curl myself up between your legs and facing you, part propped on one of your legs for some support—" she moved between my legs, suiting her actions to her words again, "—and then I'd stretch out my arm over your supporting leg to brace myself a little better and take some of the weight off your leg—" the deed following the word, "—and I'd take your cock in my other hand and lean down and put my mouth around the head just like you told me to do a few minutes ago—" and then she stopped talking for a minute while she concentrated on gently sucking and licking the head of my cock.

After a short while, she raised her eyes to my face as she continued her delightful ministrations, raised her eyebrows a little and puckered her lips in a sort of smile while keeping the head of my cock in her mouth. Her hand was gripping my cock, lightly but firmly, and she began to move it up and down the length of what wasn't in her mouth, occasionally letting go of the shaft long enough to fondle and cup my balls. Again, this went on for several minutes. It was very pleasant and certainly arousing but it felt very gentle in comparison to the devouring moves she had made a few hours ago and I was floating on a set of truly delicious sensations but I had no sense that I might be about to come anytime soon. She kept her eyes on me as much as possible and she went on sucking the head and swirling her tongue around it, moving her hand steadily and slowly and, after a few minutes started to take her mouth off my cock head long enough to bathe the entire length and circumference of my cock and sometimes suckle my balls briefly before returning to her initial set of movements. After another while, she started interspersing the varied patterns with gradually deepening plunges partway down the length of my cock from the starting position with only the head inside her mouth, holding for a second or two and then withdrawing back to that initial position again. The pleasure was always intense but I could feel a slow rise in the level of excitation and I recognized that she was completely in control, totally conscious of her position and power and that I was being given a master-class demonstration of a single, simple variation on the art of sucking a cock. At some point, she started very gradually tightening her hand grip and then twisting her hand around in each direction as she moved it up and down and I felt another slow degree of increasing excitement. She must have done all of this for at least twenty or even thirty minutes before she paused briefly and said, "Could you please hand me that water glass?" I gave it to her, she drank until it was empty and then switched from leaning on one leg to leaning on the other, switched hands on my cock and started in again with the same slow evolution of variation and movement. After at least another twenty minutes or more, she paused again and said, "I told you I owed you a sweet slow one after that greedy display earlier. I could keep doing this for hours. I hope you're not getting bored."

"I think you can tell from the increasing excitation in my cock that I'm very not bored. You're amazing—and I'm starting to repeat myself. Do you want to go on doing this for hours?"

"That's entirely up to you. If you'd like me to, I will. If you want to fuck me, tell me how to position myself. If you want to come in my mouth, which you know I would absolutely love, just say so. I'm yours, really and absolutely, and I will do whatever you tell me to do."

"I like this—no, I love this, just as I love you, and I'd like to continue for a while. It feels wonderfully peaceful and relaxed and yet highly stimulating at the same time. Why don't you keep notching up the stimulation gradually and see how long I can hold out before I can't resist letting go? That sounds like a perfect ending to a slow, loving blowjob, doesn't it?"

She didn't say anything more, she just started again, slow, intent, most of the time with her eyes on mine. I could feel the love pouring out of her onto me and around me, enveloping me in a feeling of comfort, bliss, security and affection, as she watched me watching her suck my cock. Some timeless while later, while I stared into her soul through the windows of her eyes, my cock started pulsing, almost gently it felt like, as I pumped jet after jet of cum into her warm, wonderful welcoming mouth and she gazed back at me, looking radiantly happy and fulfilled. The icing on the cake, if you will, was that as I felt myself coming, so effortlessly and so completely, I could also sense the movements of her body that I had come to recognize as the signs of one of her own orgasms.

When I had stopped ejaculating, I reached down and pulled her up towards me. She melted into my arms and we kissed gently at first and then with increasing urgency. As my tongue explored her mouth, I tasted something that I knew had to be my own cum. It felt like Maria was working at somehow burrowing into my chest. She seemed to want to have as much of her body as possible in contact with mine and pressed hard against me so I stretched us out flat and reached around her and pulled her hard against me. And, then, she started to cry again. I was puzzled but I didn't think there was anything really wrong so I just held on and slowly rocked her back and forth, like a baby in a cradle and murmured little, loving phrases, just as she had with me after I'd first fucked her, just before we went to sleep.

This time, however, we didn't fall asleep. After a few minutes, she calmed down and, after simply lying with her head on my chest for a few minutes, she rolled herself back far enough to look at me. "There, now. I promised myself that I wouldn't get greedy this time. That was nice and slow and lovely and sweet and I still got that mouthful of your cum that I crave and you weren't rushed or treated like a piece of meat like before. I guess that once the pressure of the hunger is off I can be a good little girl about being a completely bad little girl, can't I? She paused briefly and then said, "You know I came again there at the end, don't you?"

"Yes," I said, "I think I've learned some of your body language already and I was pretty sure of it. I think I felt you start coming right after I started ejaculating."

"I think the feel of your cum starting to spurt into my mouth is what set me off. Sucking you for so long and with such gradually increasing intensity was very stimulating for me, too, and I actually felt like I was on the edge of an orgasm for some time there. I held off because I wanted, if I could, to come together with you. I'm very happy that it worked out just as I wanted it to. I came for you, you know. I wanted to give everything of myself to you including my orgasm and I wanted you to know that doing what I did for you just now was as rewarding and arousing for me as it was for you."

"I'm tempted to make a stupid joke about the myth of simultaneous orgasms as covered in the sexual literature but I shall refrain. I'm feeling serious at the moment myself and I think I have some reasonably well-formulated thoughts about what you told me a while ago."

"I knew from the time I first saw you that I was attracted to you. I've known since you started teaching us that you are an extraordinary woman. I know that there are many obstacles, practical, social and societal, that could well come in the way of a relationship between us. But I also know that I love you as completely as you say you love me. I know that as much as you want and need me is as much as I want and need you. I don't want what we have to cause you any difficulties and I don't want you to risk your career but I do want us to be together. Whatever it takes to make that happen, I'm willing to do. It might seem ridiculous to even suggest this but if I could I'd marry you this minute. I have a lot of life ahead of me, or at least I hope I do, and I want to spend all of it with you. You've given me a tremendous gift—all of yourself, completely and without reservations. I'm honored by your gift and by the trust and love that are embodied in it. I accept your gift and I return an equal gift to you. I give myself to you as you have given yourself to me. The difference in our ages means nothing to me because our souls are as one and mere years have no meaning in that context. I pledge my body and heart and soul to loving you as long as I live." I stopped for a moment and then continued, "And I hope you live to be a hundred and I plan to be the hardest-fucking eighty-year-old that ever gets his cock inside you. And I won't mind if you age really significantly because I'm quite curious to find out what it would feel like to have a woman with no teeth suck my cock."

"Why are you laughing so hard? Don't you believe that I'm absolutely dead serious about everything I just said?"

Through gasps and guffaws, she managed to say, "Yes, I absolutely believe you, about all of it—and that's what I love about you—and that's why I'm laughing."

**

I'm two-thirds of her age now. We just celebrated a personal anniversary along with our joint birthday. It's been a wonderful ride, with a few challenges along the way. Maybe some day I'll get around to telling more of our story.

TO BE CONTINUED?? (Don't hold your breath, please. I've just gone two years between stories so I have no idea what my pace of writing will be. Or even if there will be a second part.)