“David, I’m flattered,” I said, meeting his eyes, “but we can’t.”
His hand stayed on my waist, well, where I once had a waist, and he held my eyes.
“I’m not a rapist, Jean,” he said, “if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”
“David, we can’t,” I repeated.
He stepped even closer, his hands squeezing now, our lips almost touching.
“I didn’t hear ‘stop,'” he said and his lips brushed mine.
“David,” I managed but then my breath caught when his lips found that softness just below my ear and I felt his tongue trace a warm, wet circle.
I managed to draw a breath and get my hands between us and push him away.
He was smiling that wonderful boyish smile I had liked when I accepted him as a boarder.
“David,” I managed, taking another breath, “I’m flattered but I’m three times your age.”
He smiled and held my eyes and I felt his hand tug on the belt of the robe I was wearing.
My breath caught again as I felt his fingers lift the top of the pajamas I had on under the robe and touch my bare skin.
He closed the distance again, his hands slowly moving around until they were low on my back, just touching the pajama bottoms.
He kissed me, this time not just a brush of the lips, but a real kiss.
And I kissed him back.
It had been a long time, well, five years now, since I had been kissed like that.
Well, okay, if I’m being almanbahis honest here, I had NEVER been kissed like that before.
It was a good kiss.
It was a lingering kiss.
When his tongue probed my lips I met it with my own.
I didn’t even realize when my arms went around his neck, I just noticed them there.
I DID notice the way his hand moved, slowly up my back, caressing more than squeezing, and then back down, past the elastic of the waistband to lightly cup my ass and then back up.
He broke the kiss and this time it was he who got his hands between us, mildly surprising me when he put them on my shoulders and not my breasts.
He grinned, that million-watt grin, and said, “Okay Jean, last chance, either say ‘stop’ or say ‘yes.'”
“Yes,” I said, “yes, yes, yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes.”
I ran down.
I stood very still as his fingers found the top button of my pajamas.
His eyes held me as if I was a mouse and he the hungry snake.
A second button brought a little hitch to my breath.
The third button almost did me in when he caressed the insides of my breasts.
My whole body shuddered.
He smiled and said, in a very soft voice, “how long has it been Jean?”
I suppose I understood, on some level, what he meant, but instead, I just said, “huh?”
Demonstrating my brilliant conversational almanbahis giriş skills.
“How long since a man touched you,” he said, matching word to deed and gently brushing the backs of his fingers across my breast again.
My breath caught but I managed, “a little over five years but even then not much.”
“Shall I stop?” he asked, undoing another button.
“N-n-n-no,” I whispered jerkily.
He held my eyes with his, undid the final button, and let the pajama top fall open.
“David,” I started but he covered my mouth with his shutting me up.
The kiss started a triangle of electricity between my nipples and my clitoris.
I felt him slowly pushing my robe and pajama top back and down, off of my shoulders, and then down my arms.
There was a very soft whisper of material as he let them fall to the kitchen floor.
When he stepped back and looked me up and down I could feel the blush spread down my neck and I automatically crossed my arms and cupped my breasts, covering them.
He laughed softly and said, “put your arms down jean.”
So I did.
I have never, before or since, felt more utterly naked than right then, aware of every pound, every cellulite dimple, with a man about one-third my age looking me up and down and smiling.
He stuck out his arm, his forefinger pointing down, and made slow circles almanbahis yeni giriş with it.
The universal “turn around” signal.
I turned, slowly.
When I faced him again, he was grinning broadly.
He crooked his finger, beckoning me.
I went to him, holding my chin up, oddly proud.
I didn’t do anything stupid like reach down to stop him when he pulled the drawstring on the pajama bottoms and then pushed them down.
Now I stood naked before him and I met his eyes.
I hoped I looked defiant or proud but I felt terrified.
He put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me until I faced away from him.
I shivered again as I felt his fingertips slowly exploring my back.
He started at my shoulders and worked down until he was cupping that little gluteal sulcus crease where my gluteus group (my ass) muscles met my legs.
I realized that the soft humming sound I was hearing was me as he reached around, cupping my breasts in his hands, gently rolling my nipples between thumb and forefinger, and then tracing down, touching my navel, and down.
When he gently probed under my clitoral hood and found that center of purest pleasure my knees actually went weak.
I could feel the hardness of his desire when his hands found my hips and pulled me to him.
“Shall I stop?” he whispered, his breath warm in my ear.
“Please no,” I surprised myself by saying, covering his hands with my own.
I turned and took his hand.
When I started to bend down to pick up my pajamas and robe he chuckled and said, ‘leave them.”
So I stepped across the pile of clothes and led him to my bedroom.