Chapter 3: They Got a Name for the Winners

The second time with Leslie started much the same as the first. Rock Lobster instead of Scallops, and Sauvignon Blanc rather than Chardonnay from my end, and asparagus replaced salad, but crème caramel appeared again from Leslie’s. The conversation was again warm and easy.

We chatted about our kids and the various things we had done with our lives so far, and talked about our bucket lists and immediate plans. Leslie was still working as a lecturer in the School of Nursing at her local Community College, but was thinking about quitting and doing some more travelling. She asked if there was any place I still wanted to see, and cracked up when I replied that the only place I wanted to see right then was between her legs.

So we snuggled down together into one of my oversized beanbags, and started to make out like a pair of horny teenagers.

I have never much liked tonsil hockey, I love my tongue in the front of a partner’s mouth and I love a tongue in the front of mine, but I don’t go too much for trying to swallow or be swallowed. Again, Leslie did it just right - a pair of soft wet lips held half open and a little, tentative, and very sensuous tonguing. The temperature seemed to rise very fast, and we were soon both panting. Our previous intimacies had made us both much less tentative and we started some way down the path to a full coupling. It wasn’t long before I was wanting to shed our clothes.

“Lets get nekkid.”

“Undress me!” Leslie had shown no reluctance to get my pants off on our first time together the previous week, but hadn’t been willing to let me have much contact with her skin, so this was progress. I went straight for the zip of her long dress. No preliminaries, but I tuned into Leslie’s body as I seized the tab of the zipper. She stiffened very subtly and I stopped at once.

“Too fast?”

“No, but lots of guys start by tearing my clothes off and speed up from there.”

“I am planning to tear your clothes off and slowdown from there. Or perhaps Go Down from there.” I tried to muster my best wolfish grin, hoping it wasn’t too cheesy. Leslie giggled and relaxed her body, starting to undo the buttons on my shirt and proceeding to my pants as her own dress fell away.

Her underwear was silky and red, and I wondered idly whether this was every day wear, or a “fuck me” special. It was as if Leslie read my mind.

“Special bra and knickers. Op shop dress. I didn’t know if you had a thing for underwear.”

“Nah. Just another obstacle on the road to paradise. You didn’t wear any knickers last time. That worked well!”

“Sure did – but I got juice all over the sofa cushions and the whole place still smells of sex.”

“Perhaps we should go to bed. Sheets are washable.” I had put clean sheets on specially, in hope I suppose, and I was delighted and a little surprised that Leslie agreed immediately, so we struggled out of the beanbag, still groping and kissing, and adjourned to my bed.

I haven’t quite got the digital music thing sussed yet, I have most of my favourite stuff on my HDD but there is still only a CD for the bedroom speakers so choice is limited. An old Steely Dan compilation was already set up. Not most people’s ideal music for sex, but it was fine for me. As things turned out it was fine for Leslie too. Actually, a selection of Victorian Temperance Hymns would have been OK for us in the state we were in. The crotch of Leslie’s red silky panties was soaked, and I had a smear of precum on my briefs for the second or third time in my life.

I had turned the lights down quite a long way, figuring that if I did get Leslie into my bed, we would be doing more interesting things than gazing into each other’s faces, so we lay down semi naked in semi darkness. Too dark for Leslie.

“I want to see you.” She cranked up the light and eyeballed me. The level gaze again. “I want you to do me, but you can’t put your cock inside me.” She must have seen my look of disappointment. “Fingers and tongue, but no penis”

“Why not?” My tone was carefully neutral.

“Because I don’t want that.” Leslie paused, searching my face for my reaction, but I tried to keep the extent of my disappointment under wraps. “Yet!” She flashed a brief but very wicked leer, and I twitched uncontrollably. She put her hand back on my shaft and gave me a squeeze through my briefs, then pulled them down far enough for me to kick off,

My genitals were familiar territory for Leslie, in terms of sight and smell and touch, but she had kept all her clothes on during our previous encounter, and up to that moment I hadn’t done anything more than smell her arousal. Her musky smell was filling the world again now, but I hadn’t even seen her breasts. We kissed softly, and I removed her bra without breaking contact and pressed her skin to mine - mouth to mouth, perky little breasts to hairy chest, my fat belly to her thinner one, and steel hard cock to soaking panties. She was much smaller than me, but we seemed to fit really well. Our legs intertwined, and we began to hump each other gently, delicately rubbing our bits together, separated only by a few wisps of soaking silk.

The skin contact was fantastic! Leslie felt smooth and warm, and our bodies seemed to know how to engage and what would be pleasurable on an instinctive level. We tuned in to each other and our increasingly sexual cuddle like a couple who had been lovers for years. During our previous encounter, Leslie had been exquisitely sensitive to my responses and had been able to take me to the edge of orgasm and keep me there. But she hadn’t let me touch her skin and had taken her pleasure from mine “second hand”. Now she was open to letting me pleasure her and it felt as though the focus of her attention was mainly on her own responses. That was fine by me. I was more than ready to throw off seventeen years of sex with, for, and by myself and tune back in to another person’s body. I was going to do her. Bigtime!

Our bodies were doing just fine, but after a few minutes, my head started to give me trouble and get in the way of what was happening between us. Was my old saggy body a turnoff? Did the fat and lumps and wrinkles and varicose veins make me visually unattractive? Could I still tune in to a woman’s body like I used to be able to?

Again, Leslie picked up that I was actually off someplace in my head rather than fully with her, and again she pulled her body away from me and eyeballed me.

“What’s wrong?” She was concerned rather than impatient or angry, but I was embarrassed or perhaps a bit ashamed that I was letting my head get in the way of our lovemaking once again. I briefly considered brushing her off and trying to fake it, but quickly let that idea go. Just as well.

“I’m worrying about...” I trailed off, thinking about how to explain my self-doubt and irritation that my head kept getting in the way. Leslie jumped in.

“It’s the same old body bullshit isn’t it? Too old, too fat, too wrinkly, forgotten how - blah de blah?” I nodded sheepishly. Leslie looked at me shrewdly and carried on. “You really don’t get it do you? I like that you are wrinkly. The grey hair on your chest is a turn on for me.” She toyed with it for a moment, then continued. “I got super juicy last time when I saw your grey pubes. I nearly came when I saw the veins on your cock. I love old men. They remind me of my grandad and my fantasies of fucking him have been more powerful than any other sex I have ever had. Get over yourself for Chrisssake!”

“I’d rather get over you.” It wasn’t much of a joke, and I wasn’t quick enough with it anyway, because Leslie evidently had some insecurities of her own.

“I don’t want you to get over me – not yet anyway. I want you to do me.” She paused and just for a second, a little doubt crept into her voice. “Unless I’m too wrinkly for you?”

Bingo! Reassurance has always been my specialty, and the trace of doubt in Leslie’s voice was enough to push my own doubts to the back of my mind and bring my senses to the front of my consciousness. I took a measure of control for the first time since laying eyes on Leslie.

“Let’s see.” I started to nibble her neck and lick gently under her ear. She sighed and wriggled to bring her crotch against my thigh. “Doesn’t seem too wrinkly.” I kissed down to her collarbones, leaving one hand around her lower back stroking gently and brushing over the tiny hairs above her butt crack, while I used the other to trace lightly from the base of her throat out and over her shoulder.

“Not too wrinkly there either.” I gradually licked my way down her neck and over her shoulder to her armpit, and nuzzled and licked her there, eliciting a giggle that was almost a purr. I breathed in the scent of sweat and musk. “Mmmmmmmm...” What started as a normal breath gradually became a sniff and I burrowed my whole face between her upper arm and breast. Leslie stiffened almost imperceptibly, and I pulled my face up far enough to see hers.

“Do you like my smell?” her tone was light and the little pout was back, but I knew she wanted reassurance. My reaction was instinctive. I dived back into her armpit and snuffled like an old boar. Leslie giggled, and I brought up a hand to press her breast into the hollow of my cheek as I licked my way to her nipple

“Wrinkly there though!” I took my mouth away from her areola to reassure her some more, as she drew her breath in sharply. “But I think they always wrinkle when you get turned on.”

“Always – as long as I can remember. I love it”

Leslie’s breasts were small and her nipples large and hard enough so that my mouth could make free while my hands were busy elsewhere. I went back to nuzzling and licking, gentle biting, and some hard nipple sucking on one breast, while one hand kneaded, cupped, and stroked the other or gently twisted and pinched the nipple. My other hand went down over Leslie’s hip and cupped her soft little bottom, squeezing gently

“Bit wrinkly there!” I ventured lower on the outside of her hip and moved backward as I went lower until my middle finger rested lightly in the groove under her buttock, just on the leg of her briefs and very close to some very interesting wrinkles indeed. “I think you are going to need a complete examination.”

“Doctors and nurses?” The half pout was there, but there was real excitement with it. Leslie was evidently comfortable enough with me to play some roles without getting too serious or heavy. “I have some wrinkles between my toes.”

“I’ll have to examine you.” I kept my hand busy toying with her nipples and started to move my face down over her body as if searching for wrinkles.

“The most wrinkly wrinkles are between my big toes!” The excitement in Leslie’s voice was matched by the leer on her face.

“All In good time young lady.” I tongued her belly button and Leslie wriggled. “It seems we have a wrinkle here.” I moved my other hand from her bum to her stomach, placing it flat just above her pubes, and I wondered how to reach the pump bottle of massage gel at the bedside without breaking the mood. “I prescribe an application of my extra special massage gel.”

I shifted my body and licked my way quickly back up to Leslie’s mouth, momentarily distracted by the heat and power of her kiss when I made contact with her open lips and gently probing tongue. Her hands left my body briefly and as I felt her lift her hips I realised she was shedding her own knickers, and felt myself twitch involuntarily. I reached over to the bedside table.

A couple of pumps produced a palmful of liquid gel, and I kept kissing Leslie’s mouth while one hand spread gel over her breasts, and the other lubed the area around and just above her sparse pepper and salt pubes.

Most women over about twenty five have a good layer of fat over their lower abs even if they are fairly trim elsewhere, and Leslie was a certainly trim, but she was a long way past twenty five. Still keeping her mouth occupied, and still toying with her breasts, I pressed down with the heel of my hand and side of my thumb, feeling through the fat layer to the muscles beneath, tuning into her reaction as I pressed quite hard and slid down towards her pubic bone. Without oil or gel, that hurts. But Leslie’s skin was lubricated to slide under the pressure of my thumb, and very soon it was pressing down into her bush and back into her abdomen just above her pubic bone. She started to arch her back, then physically pulled away.