Her lush nudity drew me like a magnet. I was obsessed with my need for her body, her skin, her inner wetness. We locked eyes and I literally felt the waves of lust wash over my genitals with that familiar feeling of wanting only to enter the forbidden zone. I knew she wanted me as much as I wanted her because she rubbed me with her bare tummy, and with infinite slowness pulled my fingers down lower to her valley of surrender. Then, she lifted her perfect, petite, pretty face to mine and whispered in my ear,
“Darling, please make me take it right now. I think I will die if I don’t have you inside me in less than sixty seconds. You know where I like your lips. Do it to me and you know I will show you my gratitude in that special way that you like so much.”
She certainly didn’t seem shy any more as she pushed my head lower to the pretty pink bow in the center of her silk panties. I could see the line of wetness that identified the exact location of her delicate slit. I knew she shaved with a regularity that bordered on a fetish and I didn’t hesitate to place my lips right over her feminine folds. The scent of her female spoor was driving me crazy with anticipation and I tongued her pulsating trigger with my nasty demanding wet saliva-dripping mouth right though that thin sliver of silk. I still managed to get up inside her deep enough to make her shudder with those vibrations that signaled her fast descent into an orgasm of infinite pleasure.
I never expected to have this sort of experience when I accidently met Mrs. Adeline Abernathy on the bus from Arlington Towers to the recently constructed Crystal City. I liked Crystal City because it had lovely little coffee hang-outs with flocks of bored secretaries escaping from the hub of activity around the Pentagon. It was a place to get lucky if one just bided his time and acted a bit shy around women. I was in uniform that day on the bus because it was Friday and on Fridays we all had to wear the uniform just to remind us we were still in the military service. It was a time when orders from up high were conflicted because the powers that be were not certain if it was better to show a military presence or to blend in as low key as possible in the District.
The fact that all I was showing on my uniform was the lowly “Good Conduct” medal and another embarrassment called “The National Defense” medal was because I was at the beginning of my tour of duty and attending a special school in the Nation’s Capital.
Adeline was particularly nice to me by giving me the proper change to pay the bus driver. It was one of bureaucratic power plays that had the uniformed driver enforcing the strict “correct fare” rules with little concern for sensitivities or adapting to an unusual situation. I was ready to be ejected from the front door when she intervened and put the correct amount in the fare box. After that, we sat down together at the back of the bus like old comrades and I thanked her profusely for her kindness.
It would be unfair to say that the age gap between us was enough to give credence to the impression of a “mother complex” hidden in my personality. She was obviously not one of the immature secretaries giggling non-stop in every direction and must have been a person with resources because of her expensive attire and the jewelry she wore with an air of unconcern. This part of the city was safe for such overt displays because it was out of the danger zone of drugs and crime rampant downtown ever since the heydays of WWII. I had read an article recently that the District had passed Detroit in crime statistics and I was on my guard day or night against becoming an unwanted statistic.
We pulled into the drop-off point that conveniently was right on top of the Metro and my new pal Adeline told me,
“No need for you to go down to that club you were talking about, young man, I have so much beer sitting in my fridge that I may have to throw it away just to make room for my butter and milk.”
I felt a little foolish because it was an offer I couldn’t refuse but the fact this attractive mature woman was married to an officer in the Navy was a consideration that sounded a lot like trouble. Of course, my ever-present below the belt headquarters took charge forced me to answer somewhat weakly,
“That sounds great, Mrs. Abernathy, but won’t it be a bit suspicious with me in my uniform and all.”
She laughed and told me,
“Of course not, silly, and do call me Addie, that is what my Roger calls me. I can pretend you are him visiting on shore leave. I get so lonely with him away at sea so often. You do look like him, except you are a lot younger.”
The mention of our age difference startled me because, in all honesty, Addie was so terribly attractive that it was not on my mind at all. I had noticed from the first time we met on the bus that she was wearing her tight-fitting skirt in a way that accentuated her jutting shelf of twin curved globes bringing up the rear. When she walked, they sort of rocked and rolled in every direction and made me a little seasick concentrating on their delicious firmness.
I was thankful her building was only a short distance away and we were on the elevator and headed to her floor before I could figure out an excuse to head in the other direction. Besides, I have to admit, I was curious if she was wearing some sort of foundation underneath that skirt to keep all that fine female flesh under control. I had been sort of addicted to such items of feminine apparel ever since I had worked at a department store that sold them in every variety to women young and old. I knew most of them just wanted to keep their female parts under control and as curvy as possible to attract male attention.
.... There is more of this story ...