Chapter 3

Still Oliver:

She wanted to bathe? “I can only offer a shower,” I said, apologetically. I was aware that I, too, needed to attend to personal hygiene. Our encounter had caused me to sweat, and I was definitely not smelling of roses.

“I expect you can show me how it works,” she smiled, “and perhaps you can wash my back?”

I don’t suppose you, the reader, needs the explanation I gave about how to use a shower, or the various soaps, shampoos and lotions we humans use during or after, and if you do, I don’t want to know, thank you. But I ran the shower, and she tolerated the warm water, a compromise between the cool river water, and the hot water I was used to. I washed her back; hands only. I wasn’t about to turn down the chance of running my hands over her silky skin, and she returned the favour, expressing pleasure at the sensation of using the gentle gel and shampoo I kept.

The shower came to an end, of course, and of course we had to get out and get dry, without the help of the magic of the wood. But I had towels, nice soft ones, and we used them. Then, though, there was a moment where I wasn’t sure what to do, or say. I was okay about being naked myself. I wasn’t quite used to being with a naked Aster. In fact, I was, you might say, saluting her. But she smiled, and some of the tension left me. Not all.

“Those men,” she hesitated, “does that happen often?”

I thought about it. “I don’t know,” I admitted, “I’m too old, and male, so it’s not affected me much. I am intimidated, though. You gave them something to think about.”

“I’d hope so,” she commented grimly. But then she smiled. “Isn’t it getting late?”

“Were you serious?” I asked, “when you said you didn’t need to sleep?”

She chuckled. “I don’t need to sleep, at least, not much, especially if I’m somewhere in the country and can stand and breathe. I said that because I wanted to come home with you.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, at all, and just shook my head. Believe it or not, despite our nudity, despite showering together, I hadn’t thought of sleeping with her, in the sexual sense, that is, and at that moment I still wasn’t thinking in those terms. Forty years previously I might have, though without any expectation of satisfying my desires. All I could say was, “I’m very glad you’re here ... wanted to be here.”

Anyway, she stepped up, took my hand and led the way to my bedroom.

“Turn those lights off, please,” she requested.

Living in the city, even in the fairly leafy district, it’s never really dark thanks to the street lighting, so even with the room light off I could see her lissom figure as she lay on the bed with her arms and legs spread. As for me, I automatically drew the curtains before lying down, when Aster slid over and snuggled up. I had not lost the erection I’d had since stripping for the shower, and it only got harder.

“Ellen is very pretty,” Aster whispered in my ear.

“Yes, she is,” I agreed.

“I am thin by comparison.”

Ah! “You are certainly slim, ” I corrected.

“Those men, they wanted me.”

“They wanted to use you.”

“But you do not...”

I took a deep breath. “Aster, you are very beautiful, and I think you’ve seen that you rouse me sexually. But I am old, and I am afraid I won’t be good for you.”

She giggled. That’s something she hadn’t done before. She grasped my erection firmly. “I think you have everything you need to be good for me. Besides, I am a great deal older than you. Make me a woman, please.”

She was a virgin? I suppose I should not have been surprised, given her origin and status.

“Please?” There was vulnerability and pleading in her voice, and I set aside my reservations and kissed her softly.

When she responded to that, writhing against me, I kissed my way to her breasts. She was, as I’d seen, athletic, a warrior, and her silky skin covered toned muscle, so her breasts, firm, round, and symmetrical, topped with nipples like small strawberries, captured my attention. It was difficult to move on from them and, against protests, find my way to the juncture of her legs to taste her essence. I dread to think what my neighbours thought as she screamed in ecstasy.

It’d been almost fifty years since I’d been in a woman, and my first time with a virgin, but her hymen went without a protest.

Despite my concerns, I found that I was able to satisfy her quite well. It was only later that she pointed out that I’d been blessed by a fairy princess. That, in fact, is the only explanation I have for what has happened to me. Anyway, as I came ... and came ... in her and her pussy spasmed around me, she wrapped arms and legs around me in a way that made me think of an anaconda.

I’m not experienced, as I hope I’ve made clear, so I don’t know whether Aster’s sexual response was, or is, unique. However, I’ve never heard of what happened to me: I didn’t soften. In fact, I couldn’t, because of the way her pussy was holding me. It felt as though I was being sucked into her. I do know that I should not have been able to produce a second ejaculation within an hour of the first.

I don’t remember any more until I woke, still connected, somehow, with Aster sprawled on top of me. I have no idea where it came from, but I whispered, “I love you, Aster.”

She wriggled on top of me, and hummed in her throat. “I love you, too, Oliver.”

Ooops! I didn’t mean to say that. Did she mean it too? Really? A long pause before she spoke again.

“Where will you take me today?”

“Haven’t you seen enough of human society?”

“Don’t you think I should experience the worst of your society?”

“What about the gentlemen we met on the way home?”

“There are antisocial types in every society. In mine, there are hags, were-wolves, ogres, all sorts who threaten your well-being. What’s the worst of the ordinary people?”

“Shopping malls,” I said without hesitation. “Okay. Meadowhall it is. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Saturday ... yes, it’s Saturday, so you’ll get the full experience.”

As it happens, I am deeply prejudiced. I am not fond of shopping, but while I could walk into the city centre and buy just about anything I needed, it was acceptable. Now, the city centre is dead apart from coffee-shops, restaurants and discount stores, and if you want major brand stores you have to travel five miles across the city. At least there is good public transport, which is better than losing your car in the enormous carpark. Of course, I had no car anyway.

The thought of Meadowhall caused me to lose my erection, despite the feel of her pussy, and I dropped out of her. I sighed. “Come on, then. Not that I want to get out of bed, especially to go to Meadowhall.” I realised that I should have needed the toilet anyway, but the urgency just wasn’t there. When we went to shower, I took the opportunity anyway.

I could rhapsodise some more about running soapy hands over her lithe form, and after the previous night I was happy to explore more freely, but I won’t. A breakfast of cereal and juice – she tried my coffee and seemed unsure about it – and we dressed and left.

The ‘Supertram’ is actually quite a pleasant way to travel, smooth and relatively quiet, with no stink of diesel. I used my Senior Citizen card, so we had to travel after nine-thirty, and there were more than a few others on board for the same reason. Of course, I had to pay for Aster. She had no card and wouldn’t have been able to convince anyone that she was entitled to it. That’s also a reason for some other difficulties which arose, since she had no ‘identity’, at least as far as the government were concerned.

The route traverses some less than desirable areas, and I could see Aster frowning over the close-packed rows of terraces and ugly blocks of flats. The time it took to cover the five miles to Meadowhall was taken up with my attempt to explain money, and methods of exchange. I am unsure if she really understood; it was so far out of her experience and world-view. As was Meadowhall. Imagine trying to explain the hundreds of cars (despite being early in the day) or, inside, Victoria’s Secret, for example.

As we were there, I took her into Curry’s to buy memory cards for my camera. That meant trying to explain television and computers, an almost impossible task which I avoided by saying I had both at home (though I rarely turned the t/v on) and would show her when we got back. A break for refreshments – I needed my second cup of coffee – and Aster decided that perhaps cappuccino was acceptable where plain coffee, with or without milk, was not. I still had my work cut out trying to explain personal transport without horses, modern communications, fashion.

“But are people happy?” Her lovely face was creased with a frown.

“I suspect not, for the most part.” I shook my head, thinking. “I find that I am happy in the country, or working on a dry-stone wall, that sort of thing, but most humans have no idea of living like that.”

We got food – salads, and not at all bad – in the Oasis, before returning to the tram and going home. There, I tried to explain how many folks live vicariously through the lives of ‘celebrities’ on television, or in other ways of being entertained. Aster was fascinated that I could get images of events on the other side of the world, wild-fires blazing in California or Australia, warfare all over the place. I mean, how do you explain the invasion of Ukraine?