Chapter 2: I Already Bought the Dream

The next couple of days dragged. I had dropped my meditative practice when I “returned to the world” and I am effectively retired from practice as a therapist. My normal fishing, diving, hanging out activities somehow seemed less appealing than usual. We had agreed to meet in the weekend, and I badly wanted to call Leslie before then, but we had both been really clear that we would never be lovers in any relationship sense, and that we would get together only when it suited us both. I suspected that I was much needier than she was, and I was wary about displaying any signs of being “love-struck”. Many years ago, well before my dive into “spiritual celibacy”, I had been quite free sexually, and I knew how quickly a “friends with benefits” arrangement could turn sour if one party got clingy. “Taking seriously something originally poked at you in fun” was a classic way of screwing up.

So it was lube and paper towels and delicious fantasies.

My first time with Leslie was vanilla. That is actually my preference. I don’t care much for bums and water sports or B&D. But somehow, I had been expecting fireworks in terms of our fantasies – Old man seduces friend’s granddaughter etc.

It wasn’t like that. We met for a meal at her place, with me providing the scallops and the Chardonnay, and Leslie doing salad and a crème brulee. We were easy and warm with each other, and talked freely as we demolished the food. We dipped in and out of our personal situations, shared a variety of stories about our lives, and eventually snuggled on her couch.

We had both clearly done lots of snuggling before. There was an ease about the way we adjusted our bodies and moved gently against each other. No heavy panting, no great sexual buzz (though there was certainly a little bit there) no squirming and humping, just a calm, peaceful, and very sensuous cuddle.

Gradually, we started making out. Leslie laid her cheek against mine, and we started to nuzzle each other’s necks. She gave a little shiver as I started to lick very gently and blow even more gently on the soft skin under her ear. She moved her body sideways on the couch and I wondered briefly whether she was about to straddle me and get down to serious engagement.

She wasn’t. But instead, she took my face in both her hands, turned my head, and kissed me very gently and tenderly on the lips. It was quite electric. Her mouth was partly open and her lips were soft, warm and wet. My cock did more than stir. It sprang to attention like a teenager. My arms went around her and I half turned to press my groin against her hip. My cock pressed against her side, and she felt it at once. She moved her body away, and I felt a small pang of disappointment for a second. But Leslie took one hand away from the side of my face and moved it down to my crotch. I parted my legs a bit and she pushed down in between my thighs and then came up quite firmly against my perineum with her four fingers together.

“Christ!” – Not that I’m religious in anything other than a deist sense, but the stimulation under my sac, combined with the soft warm wetness of her mouth on mine was almost too much. “Whooooaaa!” I could feel the tension building round my bum hole and I heard myself panting. Great gasps of air as though I was fighting for breath.

“It’s been a long time” I muttered. At least I thought I muttered, but it came out sounding more like a moan.

“You need to come” murmured Leslie. “I want to see your cock and make you come.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but took her hand away from my perineum and started to unzip and undo me. I raised my hips and she slipped my pants and briefs down as far as my knees. She took her other hand from my face, but kept kissing me softly, with just a little space between her soft wet lips and the odd teasing flick of her tongue.

“Mmmmm.” We kept kissing. Leslie’s right hand went back to my perineum and sac, but not with the pressure that had so nearly made me come a few seconds before. This time the touch was feather light, brushing the inside of my thighs, the tiny fine hairs on my perineum, and the curly but sparse hairs on my sac. Her other hand went under her long skirt, and then to my glans and shaft. It was slippery with her juices, and suddenly the whole world smelled of her arousal. It was too much.

My cock started to twitch, and I felt the tingling bum hole, tightening balls, and tension in my groins that signalled an approaching orgasm. I moaned and tried to thrust against Leslie’s slippery hand. She had other ideas. She let go of my cock completely, and the feather touch on my perineum became a strangling grip round the very base of my cock and balls until the twitching subsided and my body pulled back from the verge.

“I promise I’ll get you off”, Leslie whispered. “But it’ll be more fun if I keep you on the edge for a while.”

And she did. She went back to tickling my balls and perineum with one hand while she stroked me with the other and kept my mouth occupied with hers. Leslie had small hands, but managed to circle my girth with her fingers. She kept her hand wet with her own juices and saliva, and some lube that magically appeared from nowhere. She kept polishing my helmet with her palm each time she stroked up to the tip of my penis. She held me just tightly enough for her slippery fingers to slide over the skin as she stroked down, and she grasped harder at the end of the stroke to pull my skin deliciously tight so my cock felt ready to burst.

On the upstroke she held me tight enough so that the skin of my shaft didn’t slide through her fingers, but was pulled over the rock hard muscle beneath it. So with every upstroke my scrotum tightened and my groins came under pressure, which was released as she passed her palm over and around my glans.

Like most New Zealanders of my vintage, I am cut. Many of our fathers fought in the North African desert in WWII, and their experience with sand and foreskins markedly increased the popularity of circumcision in my generation. So my frenulum was exposed to contact with Leslie’s slippery fingers each time they stroked up and back. And each time she used her palm to stroke up and over and around my glans

But she didn’t simply stroke me. Sometimes, she circled the base of my cock with thumb and first finger while the other fingers pushed my balls aside and pressed the base of my cock against the underside of my pubic bone. Then she would corkscrew her thumb and first three fingers of her other hand round the groove where my shaft becomes my knob. When I started to squirm, she would begin to jack an inch up and down in synch with the corkscrewing, and I would feel an orgasm start to build really quickly.

Leslie’s timing was exquisite. She would pleasure me fast enough and hard enough to bring me to the edge, and then back off just enough to keep me hanging there. My own hands were occupied with her small breasts, kneading them and teasing her rapidly engorging nipples through her blouse, which was as far as she wanted me to go at that stage. I was happy to let her run the show, just as long as she kept doing those amazing things to my penis.

I don’t know how long it went on for. It seemed like hours. Maybe a dozen times I had the urge to brush her hands aside and finish myself off. But on some level I knew that this was some sort of test, and that trusting Leslie to stay in control and finish me in her own way was the key to more benefits and would ultimately be worth the frustration.

It was. The umpteenth time I felt the pressure starting to build, Leslie seemed to come to a decision. Instead of backing off, she increased the pace and intensity of her pleasuring and pushed me over the edge.

“Come for me.” She was panting almost as loudly as I was, and a part of me on the very edge of my consciousness noted the flush on her face and neck and the tension in her body. My own tension was climbing out of control, my back was starting to arch involuntarily, my buttocks were squeezed so tight they were on fire and my groins were abuzz with energy. This was an ORGASM. And this time it was really going to happen!