Chapter 21

With spring officially arriving in early March, the snow gone and days growing longer, outside activities demanded more time. Sia, while not the most athletic girl, liked field hockey. She might not be the tallest girl, but she could move when it mattered. Jasmin was at every practice and game rooting for her. Unlike Sia, she didn’t participate in team sports.

I became accustomed to Jasmin being in our house. We were located within walking distance of the school and Alia would drop by to pick her up after work. Inevitably, Alia and I would chat and share a drink.

Two weeks after our last date, when our schedules finally meshed, Alia asked me out. I accepted. When I asked where she was taking me, she smiled and told me to dress comfortably. The two holy terrors were conveniently going to another sleepover at Lara’s - no risk of our house burning to the ground.

Alia picked me up on Saturday. She was very elegant. A knee-length dark blue cashmere-wool skirt was matched with a powder blue silk blouse, a long black wool coat open. I felt underdressed in dark brown slacks, a polo, and leather bomber jacket.

“I thought you said to dress down.”

She smiled. “I am. You look great.

Leaning in, rising to her tiptoes, she gave me a soft kiss, before urging me, “Come on. We’ll be late.”

We took her Lexus SUV. In the car, when I asked her where we were going, she smiled.

“Just wait and see.”

She took me to the movies! I wondered when she bought tickets to Brooklyn. I was very curious when, at the snack counter, without consulting me, she ordered chili fries and a Root Beer, passing them to me.

As we took our seats, I asked, “How did you know I have an addiction to chili fries?” While eating a crispy fry with a dollop of chili, I added, “And how did you know I wanted to see this movie?”

Alia smiled. “I was given a detailed agenda by Sia and Jasmin.”

“What else did the agenda specify?”

Alia gave one of those amused smiles. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

With a laugh, Alia disagreed. “Not according to your daughter.” Brooklyn’ was a charming character study. When food was finished, Alia casually reached over and took my hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with mine. I felt like a teenager again, excited by holding a girl’s hand, wondering if intimacy would ensue. At cute moments in the movie, Alia would give my hand a soft squeeze. I wondered if she’d ever played the game of footsie, smiling at the thought.

She held my hand all the way back to her car.

“Where are we going now?” I asked, envious at how her car responded to the ignition key with such alacrity.

“You’ll see,” she replied, handling the Lexus with competence.

“Nice car, by the way. Does it ever belch?”

She laughed.

We arrived at her home. She escorted me in and instructed me to sit, disappearing towards the kitchen. I followed the sound of a cupboard opening, a refrigerator opening, ice clinking. Returning, she sat next to me and handed me a cut-crystal glass half full of rich amber liquid.

“Cheers,” she said, raising her own glass. Ice tinkled, crystal rang as the rims of the glasses touched.

I tasted. “Mmmm. Glenlivit. A woman after my own heart. How did you know?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“The holy terrors?”

Alia laughed and nodded.

We fell into an easy conversation. Once again I was reminded how nice it was to chat with someone so insightful, intelligent, witty, and knowledgeable. She had wide-ranging interests, expressed outrage at how women were still being treated in the world, and liked Putin as much as I did; not at all.

Scotch softened us. As the drinks finished, Alia leaned towards me and our lips met in a light kiss. She stood and, without a word, extended her hand to me. When I took it and stood, she turned, leading me by the hand down a long hall and into her bedroom.

As I would have guessed, Alia’s bedroom was just as elegant as the rest of her house. Her bed, queen size, was white iron forming an intricate headboard and shorter footboard. White with sky blue striped linen sheets, a thick matching quilt covered it, four plump pillows at the head. Two low-watt side lamps cast a soft glow over the room. My feet sank into pale blue, almost white, thick wall-to-wall carpeting. Two Queen Anne chairs were arranged at a small round table in front of expansive windows. To my right a long dresser rested against the wall, a small flat panel television on it. An open doorway led to a dark bathroom.

Small personal picture frames were haphazardly placed on every flat surface, all family pictures; although, I saw none of Alia with her husband Jerry.

Alia dropped my hand and turned, a gentle smile emerging that made her look so pretty. She approached. In the middle of the room, she rose onto her tiptoes, sliding her arms around me, her hands on my shoulder blades. We kissed. It was a soft kiss that evolved, pressure growing, then the tip of her tongue tasted my lips.

That dizziness that comes with sudden desire washed through me. As our tongues touched, tasted, and explored, Alia pressed against the erection forming in my pants. My hands dropped to her ass. Once again, I was reminded of what I’d missed in the last eight years. Her soft cashmere skirt glided on a silky slip. I caressed her remarkable rear, the contours, the sexy swell of her buttocks, the pear shape of perfection. Our kiss deepened. Alia ground her pelvis against me, our tongues probing, pressing into each other’s mouth. She ended the kiss by biting my lower lip.

“Mmmm. You can kiss,” she murmured. “Do you do everything that well?”

Before I could assure her that I did, she stepped away, smiled, and with a twinkle in her deep ebony eyes, said, “According to the instructions, you’re supposed to undress me at this point.”

“More advice from the girls?” I asked.

She nodded, still smiling softly with amusement.

A thrill of anticipation hit me. I adored undressing women. It was such an erotic adventure, especially the first time. Rarely did their bodies match my preconceived notions, always surprising and delighting. Seeing a woman change, from unknown when dressed, to sexy in lingerie, to finally pure beauty when naked, was a journey too many guys rushed through.

Petite and slender, Alia oozed class, a dark exotic class. Moving closer, I brought my hand up and gently cupped her breast over her blouse. While small, it filled my hand and had heft to it. I caressed lightly, Alia’s eyes softening.

ALIA FELT HER BREASTS respond to Philip’s gentle touch. She studied him. Slight crinkles gathered at the outside corners of his eyes as he smiled. Her nipples stiffened, areolae puckering at his touch. He was such a gentle man.

She wondered what making love to him would be like? Soft, slow and loving? Hard and exhausting? How big was he? She’d felt the bulge of his erection but it was hard to judge.

Watching him carefully, as he opened each button of her blouse then gently tugged it out of the waist of her skirt, she felt the stir of excitement, that tingle of arousal at the prospect of intimacy with a man. It had been so long a wait, six years too long.

The blouse fell from her arms. Philip stared at her pastel peach lace bra. She smiled to herself when his hand trembled slightly as he reached behind her to unhook her skirt. It fell to her feet.

His sharp gasp pleased her.

“Jesus, Alia. Did my daughter...”

Alia laughed. Sia had been very specific. Lacy bra, dark stockings and garter and, surprising Alia, gossamer full cut panties she’d normally associate with her own mother. The pastel peach material was thin and translucent, showing the dark shadow of her pubic bush, the gusset double lined. When she’d checked herself in the mirror she’d seen her but crack, too. She had to admit the panties were sexy in an odd way, and they sure felt wonderful to wear.

Philip moved close, wrapping his arms around her. He smiled. “What else did those two plan?”

“The instructions specified I was to undress you next. Fortunately, Sia and Jasmin kindly left the rest up to our best judgment.”

Philip’s hand caressing her ass felt wonderful. She realized with a shock that she’d been expecting a hard, painful grope, the only thing her husband had known to do. Philip was behaving as if he adored her, cherished her, and was being given a gift. How strange and wonderful was that?

Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed him, sighing with pleasure. Boy could he kiss.

“My turn,” she announced easing away from him.

Tugging the Polo shirt from his waist, she drew it up, studying his body. Philip was slender, fit, but not toned like an athlete; more like someone who worked hard, took care of himself, and was active in life. His stomach was flat with a delicious trail of soft baby hair running in a line from his navel to disappear into the top of his pants. As she drew the shirt higher his chest emerged, soft hair spreading thinly from nipple to nipple. With his arms raised, she paused and kissed his nipple, inhaling his scent; peppery and woodsy, and intensely male. She liked the intensity in his dark hazel eyes when she dropped his shirt to the floor.

Brushing her hands over his chest, she smiled to herself remembering Sia’s enthusiasm as she’d talked about her father. She opened his belt and toyed her fingertips inside the waist. Looking at him, she opened his pant button and unzipped him. Moving closer, she eased her hand inside, under the waist of his boxers, an exciting tickle washing through her. She saw the excitement in his eyes. Fishing down, she touched his erection. A throb of excitement hit her pussy. With her fingers, she straightened him and gently held his shaft. Another stronger wave of arousal hit her. He was thick, warm, and so hard. It pulsed when she squeezed.

“Jesus. You’re killing me, Alia,” Philip groaned.

“Your daughter was right. Feeling you inside your pants is very, very exciting.” She felt his response.

Shoving his pants and boxers down, she moved into him, one hand returning to gently stroke his cock. She rose and kissed him lightly, a brush, a tease. “Why don’t you get in bed? I’ll be right back.”

I WATCHED THE SENSUAL sway of Alia’s ass as she walked to the bathroom. She was an ebony Goddess. My cock throbbed at her sexy ass crack showing through those full-cut, pastel peach, gossamer panties, the lower part hidden by a double gusset. Alia had a gorgeous, world-class ass. She walked with a sexy sway, buttocks moving in perfect counterpoint.

What was she doing? I slipped into her bed, soft sheets cool against my naked body. A couple of minutes later Alia emerged sans garter and stockings, walking with that same sexy motion. I loved the shadow of her pubic bush and how the gusset of her panties hugged her vulva, a rounded mound between her legs.

Alia moved into my arms when I rolled towards her, pulling the quilt over her. We kissed slowly, seductively. I found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it. Rolling onto her back, Alia removed it. I leaned over her. Her breasts were full but not overly large. The areolae were almost black, her nipples large, firm, succulent. Bending, I took one into my mouth and sucked, tasting a trace of saltiness and the texture of a dimpled areola. Cupping a breast, I felt the heft of motherhood, yet still firm, a perfect handful.

She pulled me into a kiss, our lips touching as my hand trailed down her body, feeling the slight sensual feminine swell below her navel. My hand touched gossamer panties and slipped down to cup her, the springiness of her pubic bush pressing against my palm. Alia moaned almost silently when I squeezed her pussy, pressing herself up into my hand, her own hand reaching for my erection, holding it, her thumb caressing the tip. I throbbed from the gentle stimulation.

Our kiss intensified, tongues playing, mouths opening. With a finger, I eased her panties over one hip. She rolled onto her back and raised her hips to let me ease the other side down, and finally I was touching her; silky soft pubes, a beautiful mons, warmth below. Probing gently, I discovered moisture and her clitoris, exciting, arousing.

No words had been spoken. But, with hand movements, caresses, and kisses, we knew. Her hand pulled my hip. Her knee dug under me. I rolled on top of her. Alia held my cock, guiding me, rubbing the tip up and down her cleft.

We kissed again. I caressed her breast. Suddenly, moist warmth greeted me, my tip pressing, her labia hugging. I eased forward and Alia gasped quietly. With small movements, I penetrated her, my erection slowly enveloped by a silken moist sheath. Slowly, very slowly, Alia took me in, fully, her pubic hair pressing against mine. She felt wonderful, sexy, and exotic. Her thighs cradled my hips, her soles caressing my calves. For a few moments we didn’t move, just relishing this most intimate connection. She smiled, finally speaking.