I stepped out of the shower and began drying off. My wife, Linda, was still asleep in our bed. That’s one big advantage of being retired; you can get up whenever you wake up. We hadn’t used an alarm clock in nearly a year.
As I combed my hair, I unashamedly admired my body. At age 56, I looked like an Olympic gymnast, except that I was too tall and few gymnasts were as healthy and injury-free as I was. My body wasn’t the result of hours working out, although I did hit the gym three times a week. It wasn’t due to genetics, either. Both my parents had died of clogged arteries in their early 70s. I’d carefully arranged to have just the body I wanted. The trick to getting the body you want is in finding the right person to ask.
Linda had kicked off the sheet and was laying there nude when I walked into the bedroom. She was my age, but looked 25 or 30 years younger. Her skin was flawless, without an age spot, mole, freckle or wrinkle. Her face was unlined and her dark hair had no hint of gray. She never shaved, yet there was no hair anywhere on her body. Her stomach was as flat as a swimsuit model’s, her abs well defined, with just enough softness to maintain her femininity. Her breasts were perfectly symmetrical, wonderfully firm and her nipples were, in my opinion, the ideal size, a little longer than they used to be. Her figure was, again in my opinion, perfect. Luckily, it was my opinion that counted.
I stood near the bed, watching her. She was gorgeous. Magnificent. Totally sexy. I’d carefully arranged for her to have just the body I wanted her to have.
I’d done a hell of a job.
Linda’s breathing changed. She sighed and opened her eyes. “Morning,” she whispered. “You look all nice and clean, but you missed a spot with the towel.” She reached out and lightly touched the spot, which happened to be my scrotum. With her fingertips, she gently wiped at the moisture and smiled as my cock swelled. “Come closer,” she said. I moved to the side of the bed and she rose on one elbow. Her hand went around my cock and she pulled me to her, taking the head of my cock into her mouth. Her tongue slid around me and licked the underside of my shaft as she began to pump me slowly with her hand. I put my hands on her head, not to guide her, but just because I loved having them there when she sucked me.
“I love it when you do that,” I sighed. “Your mouth feels so good, I can hardly believe it.” By this time, she had me all the way down her throat and I could feel her tongue sliding against me, moving with just the right pressure. As she blew me, she swung her legs around so she could sit on the side of the bed and use both hands on my shaft and balls.
After a few minutes, she pulled her head back and grinned at me. “Are you going to cum in my mouth, or do you want to fuck?”
“Both,” I said. “Why settle for one? Actually, I want to cum in your mouth and then I want to eat you and then I want to fuck you.”
“What a great plan,” she said. “I like the way you think.” Her mouth went back to my cock and I relaxed my control. After all, there was no reason to delay my orgasm. Maintaining an erection and cumming several times wasn’t a problem for me. I’d carefully arranged to have that ability.
Linda stroked me and licked me and sucked me wonderfully for the next five minutes. She could tell from my breathing and the way my hips were moving that I was getting close, and she deep throated me at precisely the right time. I came, still holding her head and feeling my cum shoot into her throat. Swallowing wasn’t a problem for her and she held me with her lips pressed against the base of my cock until my orgasm stopped. Then she let me slide out until just the head of my cock was still in her mouth and continued to suck and stroke me gently, the way she knew I loved.
After a minute or two, I pulled out of her mouth and pushed her back on the bed. “Is this step two?” she asked. “Are you going to eat me now and make me cum?”
I smiled at her. “Right after I kiss you.” I scooted her back on the bed, moved her legs apart and lay between them with my cock against her pussy. I kissed her softly, tasting my cum and her unique flavor.
She moaned. “God,” she breathed, “you’re making me wet.” Her eyes closed, her arms went around me and her heels pressed against my ass. I moved up and down slowly, rubbing her outer lips with the length of my cock while we kissed. She increased the pressure of her heels, but I resisted. It wasn’t time to fuck yet. Better stick to the plan.
She pressed harder with her heels and I could tell she was getting frustrated with my teasing. I broke the kiss and moved to her neck for a while. She loved having her neck kissed and I stayed there until I felt her arch her back. I moved to her breasts, licking and sucking each nipple in turn while I gently pinched and twisted the other with my fingers. She moaned steadily and ground her crotch against my stomach. Soon, she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down toward her pussy. I made the trip slowly, kissing her beautiful belly and spending some time licking her navel. My hand left her breast and went to her pussy. Using my two middle fingers, I stroked her outer lips until she raised her hips, and then slipped my middle finger into her. Her butt cheeks tightened and she kept her hips raised while I slid a second finger in and found her G-spot. She gasped. “Oh. Yeah. Right there.” Now my mouth was on her pussy and my tongue on her clit. She was as wet and slippery as any horny seventeen year old. I sucked and licked her clit while pressing firmly and rhythmically on her G-spot. She raised her hips further, clutched at the sheets and came, moaning and gasping. I kept at it, not changing a thing as her next orgasm shook her, then the next and the next. I could see her face now and then as she arched her back with each orgasm, and then relaxed a bit before a new one carried her off. The look of total ecstasy on her face was wonderful.
Eight months earlier:
My canoe glided slowly over the calm water of the Banana River. A little over two miles to the east, the shoreline of Kennedy Space Center was still invisible in the pre-dawn darkness. While I couldn’t see them, I was sure the security troops at KSC knew exactly where I was.
This area had been declared a manatee sanctuary and wildlife refuge decades before. Anyone caught there in a motorized craft would quickly find themselves slapped with a $5,000 fine and their boat and motor confiscated. But if you wanted to sail or row or paddle into the area, no one would bother you. That changed after 9/11. Now, the whole place was off limits, period. I was, technically, committing a Federal felony, but there was an unwritten agreement between KSC security and the local fishermen. As long as we stayed close to the string of small islands to the east of the main channel, we wouldn’t be considered a threat. If we got within two miles of KSC, we’d be hit with a powerful spotlight and if we didn’t move damned fast, we were going to have lots of heavily armed airborne company in a hurry.
I stayed close to the island I was passing and scanned the surface of the water for signs of redfish. The water was only a foot or two deep. Reds like to grub along the bottom looking for crabs and shrimp and baitfish. Their tails break the surface and that’s what I was looking for. Twenty minutes before dawn, I saw a tail waggling off to the right. I cast my surface lure about 30 feet in front of the red and gave it a soft twitch. The fish’s tail disappeared and a large wake formed, heading for my lure. I twitched the lure again to keep the red on course. Suddenly, the lure flew into the air as the water exploded from the strike. The red had hit the lure, but missed the hooks. When the lure hit the water, I popped it. The red hit again and missed again. The third time was the charm and I set the hook. The red took off on a fast run, heading toward KSC. The fish was big enough to pull my little canoe pretty far, so I held my rod tip up with one hand while dropping a small anchor off the stern.
Twenty-five minutes later I had a very nice 28 lb red next to the canoe. I quickly weighed it, took a digital photo and released it. As the red swam away, I rinsed the fish slime off my hands in the brackish water. Most of the bottom was covered in sea grass, but my canoe was in the middle of a bare spot. Poking out of the sand was the side of a smooth object that looked like it didn’t belong there. It was a bright, smooth, polished white with distinct red and gold markings. I tossed my bow anchor out and tightened the line to hold my canoe in place. The water was only knee deep and I stepped out onto the sand with my paddle in my hand. Sweeping rapidly with the paddle, I blew the sand away from whatever it was until most of it was revealed. Dropping the paddle back in the canoe, I dug my fingers under the object and tugged it loose. I swished it back and forth in the water, getting the last of the sand off. It was about twenty inches long and twenty-five inches around. It weighed maybe thirty-five pounds. It was so smooth it seemed to be Teflon coated. Red and gold patterns and swirls covered the flawless white surface. Its shape was really odd. If you took a bronze statue of a man in fetal position, heated it until it started to melt and then finished it with a very high quality ceramic coating, you’d get the object I was holding. I set the thing in the bottom of my canoe and climbed in.
.... There is more of this story ...