Rescued by a Snow Angel

by Pettybox

Copyright© 2012 by Pettybox

Erotica Sex Story: Wes Mantel gets stranded near his own home on a cold and snowy evening after making a bad decision to carry on, when he should have turned back. He's rescued in a most unusual, and sexually satisfying manner. It's based on the way a friend of mine met his wife, some truths, lots of fiction, and of course, lots of sex.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Oral Sex   .

1971 was a pretty good year for me. I got the first real big promotion of my career as a home designer. I had worked a lot of years as a builder, an actual hammer and saw guy, when I got a somewhat private gig with a local Montana businessman, Burnett Perkins, who wanted specific perks on his new self designed home. We had met as I worked my way up the coast to Portland Oregon and Yakima and then east to Helena, Montana. I had a crew of 9 independent contractors and usually hired locals as we built a few specific designs of homes. As Burnett Perkins building progressed on paper, via blueprint, the draftsmen I employed and I began to show him how impossible some of his specializations were. He always grew livid with my telling him couldn't do some the things he wanted. He eventually told me he had designed the grocery store's he owned and didn't need me. (they were all essentially retail boxes) Following me, he soon brought in Sylvan Lemke, a professional designer, an avante-garde famous for many of the art-deco, and artsy-fartsy buildings he had done around the world. I was startled he spent that kind of money to get someone with a pedigree to kiss his ass. However, once again Perkins heard about what he couldn't do. He basically wanted to build a home that would fall down because of architectural defeats due to gravity and improper weight bearing. Where I said yes to some things in his architecture, the "artiste" said NO, so he rehired me to work "with" him. Eventually I worked in tandem with the man who would become my mentor, my idol, Sylvan Lemke. He was much sought after by newly minted "rich" of the era. We designed a good part of the "upper middle class mansions" of the early to middle 70's The Population had boomed at the time, peaking around 1976-78, while the home-price index actually went down since its previous all time high in the 50's. Unemployment was at its lowest rate in 25 years at the time and money was plentiful for people who hadn't known such wealth. That building boom would eventually erode by the middle 70's when the unemployment rate quickly went from just over 2% to over 8 %. But Lemke and I were as busy as we could have been. He loved my "eye" and my "middle class sense" where he felt I could speak to the "new" class of people who were hiring him for design. (Lemke was an elitist, but mostly from the way the avant-garde rich treated him)

He signed me to a 5 year contract and put me into one of his homes near the Capital of New York. He had a 9 room home that sat on the edge of the Mohawk River on theold section of River Road. (It was a home he bought at the beginning of his career and hadn't designed it, it simply sat on one of the most beautiful spots in the Northeast) River Road had public parks and recreation areas at one end and High Tech Nuke Research facilities at the other near Schenectady. The old River Road was now a spur of the main road where he was located and the road went to an almost one lane, ending up a No Outlet Dead End. Where the spur began was just off the public entrance to River Road and its amenities and Labs.

It was early December and I had just flown in to Albany from Edmonton, after a 3 week job, via New York City on the last flight allowed in due to a major snow storm. By the time I got my baggage, my equipment, and my car, 5 inches of snow was down, but I still had time to visit a favorite, Charlie's Diner, near the Airport. When I got going towards River Road, the streets and roads had become hazardous.

I got to the entrance to the River Road area and the plow had been through in the last 15 or 20 minutes and I made the right onto the spur instead of the left the plow had taken down the public thoroughfare. I was encouraged because the spur seemed recently plowed but once I turned I saw it was only plowed about 500 feet, to the water plant, and the rest of the road be damned. It was an area of mostly affluent locals and somehow their convenience was not a priority. I had a heavy new Toronado with its new (at the time) front-wheel drive in a full size car, so I felt confident I could make it the little over 3 miles to my digs, if I took my time. It was Friday, I had all night, little did I know...

About a half mile above the water plant it was apparent I made an error in judgment to continue past where the plow had gone. I could go about 20 or 30 feet before I bogged down and would have to back and plow ahead a few more feet. Finally I was going to have to give up. I didn't want to leave my car on the pavement, so I herky-jerked the car off the road up beside a chain link fence that protected a nursery farm. I grabbed a few things I needed, bundled up and, ever so proud of myself because I snowshoe a lot on the winter and was prepared for the cold, put on the boots, gloves, scarf, and snowshoes in the trunk and planned to walk the rest of the way. (Remember this was before cell phones and instant communication devices)

The snow was piling up quickly and it was getting dark fast but I still thought as long as I was warm, could still make home. The wind soon picked up and I realized I was screwed, no two ways about it. Homes were sporadic and far off the road in this area and I didn't see any lights in any homes I did see. I was warm enough but really almost out of strength. I had to keep going or stay in one spot and freeze waiting for a plow and that could be not until morning at best.

So, I pushed myself as hard as I could and I was going to be half the night getting home, IF I could find my way in the near white out it seemed. If I was walking more than 5 or 10 steps a minute, it was a lot. The only sound was the wind in the trees and the snow blowing over the existing snow when I heard what sounded like a farm tractor. I stopped because I thought I might be hearing things, as a farm tractor would be out of the question in this snow, but I grew up in Kansas farm country, and I HEARD A TRACTOR.

As much as I hated to, I stopped and scanned the area in the direction of the sound and saw the oddest thing I think I ever saw. It was what seemed to be a tractor head, it's exhaust spire chugging out puffs of gray smoke, but instead of wheels, it ran on top of the snow on two revolving corkscrew tubes. At first I thought I was hallucinating or seeing some sort of UFO, but as it got closer I saw it was a Fordson Snow Machine or Snow Devil. They were invented back in the early 1900's but never really caught on, but I think it was eventually used for militaria applications. My Grandfather had taken me to the Kansas State Fair and they had one they gave rides on in a field flooded with mud. I remember it seemed to float on the mud as long as the screw propelled drive was active.

Even though I knew what it was, I didn't know WHY it was there. It pulled up beside me and a little man with a mask pulled over his face hollered down to me in his shrill but gravelly voice.

"What in hell are you doing out here? You'll be dead before nightfall. Pull yourself up in the cab."

Well, the "cab" was three sided and really gave you no protection from the cold, it only kept your face out of the wind in your face.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"I live ahead in Rivers Edge Manor." I shouted and pointed due south.

"Sylvan Lemke owns that, but he's never there. He just leased it."

"That would be to me. Can we make it in this?" I shouted, hopefully.

"I don't even know if I can make it back to my place. You're coming with me!"

With a jerk the machine just glided over the snow as the motor chugged, spat and mis-fired following the quickly disappearing path it made coming to get me. Soon a large log house with smoke coming from the chimney appeared through the snow behind a stand of pines. Now I'm not talking log cabin, I'm talking log mansion. Two full stories and just HUGE. A large side building that looked more like a horse barn was open and he pulled right into it. I jumped down glad to have something solid beneath my snowshoed feet. I knelt and took the shoes off and the little man grabbed them and my one bag I took with me and said, "Come on before we both freeze out here."

We plowed through the snow up a couple steps, stomped off our feet and he opened the front door and suddenly I was in a warm house, a fire glowing and a local TV station doing an emergency broadcast about the storm on the big (for the era) 30 inch TV.

The wiry little man unzipped the hood over his head and whipped off the goggles he wore and suddenly the little man was a young girl who shook out her long light brown hair. When I think now, her voice was like Demi Moore, but a little more rough. Looking at her face and hearing her, she was real sexy, whether she wanted to be or not. Maybe it was because I thought it was a little old man. The old contraption, the rough voice that sounded shrill as she shouted over the storm and the machine.

"I was in the upstairs bedroom getting a sweater when I saw you. I was still chilled from going out to get firewood an hour ago. I could just make you out over the pines and at first I thought it was my father, but he called just about that time to say he wasn't going to make it back himself."

"I can't thank you enough! My name is Wes Mantel, I work with Sylvan Lemke, or I should say we are partners in a 5 year venture. Where did you get the Fordson?" I said in a flurry of statements as I blathered on, so happy to be safe and warm after thinking I might freeze to death.

She took off the thick parka, but still in snow pants she stepped towards me very businesslike and said, "Paige Gibbs. Can you feel all of your extremities? You could have had frostbite out there." She asked still more concerned about my well being than details.

"NO, No I'm fine. I just have to get out of these boots. That fire looks fabulous. The snowshoes kept me from being down in the snow, pretty much. I thought you were a little old man." I continued to speak, blathering.

"Sit by the fire, let me get out of this get up and I'll get you a blanket to make sure you've warmed your core. The cold is nothing to play with." Paige said as she strode past me and up the pine slab stairs that led to the 2nd floor.

I didn't have to be asked twice to sit in front of the fire, the hot flames beckoning my cold body. After surveying the home from where I stood, I sat on a leather hassock I pushed from in front of an easy chair to right in front of the fire. I heard the local news anchor on the television saying how the storm caught the area off guard, only expecting flurries from a Nor'easter that wasn't thought to end up this far inland. Now, another foot could be expected by morning.

I heard Paige come down the steps and before I could turn to speak to her she was putting a green and white Indian blanket over my shoulders saying, "Are you absolutely sure your toes, fingers, and face are all OK, nothing tingly or numb?"

"No, really I'm fine, I was dressed for the conditions, and I was just starting to become exhausted, that was worrying me. Thank you for your concern." I told her.

She held out both of her hands and it was obvious the tips of both pinkies and ring fingers were gone at the first knuckle.

"I got off the trail cross-country skiing in Vermont a couple years ago, I was under equipped and lost for 4 hours before they found me. I lost these and a toe and the tips of two other toes as well. Screwing with the cold is bad business." She said as she pulled a pine slab bench closer to the fire and sat for a moment, holding her arms tight to herself, obviously fighting a chill in the thick sweater she had put on and adding a quilt around her.

She only sat for a moment when she stood and asked, "Do you want something hot to drink? I'm going to make some hot chocolate, but we've got instant coffee or tea. You should have something." She said as she paraded with the quilt around her to the kitchen

"Hot chocolate sounds cozy. You're really too kind. As soon as I see the plow go through I'll go down to the road and wait for them to come back and get a ride to my car. Maybe they can help pull it out." I said optimistically as she disappeared into the room I assume was the kitchen.

When she came back out after starting the hot drinks she wore a little grin, saying "You haven't lived here long. That plow won't be coming through here until tomorrow, and not until the snow stops. That's a dead end with no outlet. They have little room to turn around and more than once they've gotten stuck trying. When they do come through, tomorrow, they'll have a payloader following them." She said with a wry smile, like talking to the local neophyte I was.

"Is that why you have the Fordson?" I asked.

"The Snow Devil belonged to my grandfather and we had it shipped here from Nebraska when my uncle sold the farm he got after Grampa passed. It was a curiosity he worked on occasionally and my Dad took it to restore. We just got it running last month and we took it out in the horse yard during the last snow on Halloween. If I couldn't start it, you were going to freeze. It actually runs good, except I think one plug is misfiring." She explained talking like someone who knew her way around the engine.

"The horse yard?" I wondered.

"Our front yard is supposed to corral a couple horses, but my Dad hasn't the time to tend to horses yet. I can do that for him now, but probably not till Spring." She said, speaking rather blankly into the fire, as if she didn't want to talk about it.

"Your Dad is working now?" I asked to make conversation, actually wishing I hadn't. I didn't want her to think I was casing her or the house.

"No, he's skiing in Vermont and the conditions were just OK. Now with the new cover he's staying another day. Ummm, my Dad is divorced from my Mom, he's with his girlfriend, and that's probably another reason he's staying. He won't let her stay here while I'm here."

"I'm sorry I asked, it was none of my business and prying." I said, truly contrite.

"I knew you were from the area once you got your coat, hat, and scarf off. I've seen you jogging by before. Dad was going to stop you some day to see if you were a renter or what. He's trying to form an association to get more services from the town, LIKE PLOWING!" She said with a chuckle.

"I've only been here since August 1st and I've been away a lot, I guess I missed the Halloween storm." I explained.

'Well, it was 60 the next 2 days and all 5 inches were gone in no time, so you could have missed it. So is there a Mrs.Wes you have to call? See, I can get nosy too!" she said with a cute smile in that voice that was driving me crazy.

"No, I'm not married. I travel around so much that I barely have time to meet anyone, except for customers and I don't fool around like that." I said staring at the fire.

"So you design those off the wall buildings with Sylvan Lemke?" She asked frankly.

"He likes to say that he designs the edificial artwork, and I do the one of a kind home designs, with input from him. People pay for his name, not mine. I have a binder with photos of my work in my car, if I ever get it back." I chuckled.

We both stared at the fire in quiet thought, I'm sure about each other, until she got up and dropped the quilt to go to the kitchen to fetch the hot chocolate.

"Do you want a hand with that? I asked.

"NO, you stay there and make sure you're warm." She said as she turned and padded off to get the hot drinks. When she turned without the quilt wrapped around her and walked away I saw she was wearing tight jeans that showed off a cute shapely little ass, and I mean little. She must have weighed 90 or 95 pounds, maybe more because she was definitely muscled, but she was teeny tiny.

She came out with two steaming cups with a dollop of marshmallow crème on the top. She handed me mine and offered hers to clink. "To a long winters night with hopes we can get out of here tomorrow."

"Skål" I said in my best Scandinavic accent to clink her toast.

We each sipped and I had to get nosier.

"So do you work?"

"I'm not the spoiled rich kid brat you probably think I am. I work at my Father's store, up on the main drag, Gibbs – A Clothier"

"I never said or thought "brat" about you. Mmmm, a guilty conscience?" I kidded hoping she would take it that way.

"That's what my Mom would call me. Listen we have all night, I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours, OK?"

I held out my cup to clink, and she did.

"I went to school to be a Fashion Designer in St Louis. I was only 17 when I started; my birthday is late in September. It was a two year school and during my last semester, Mom, who was on the outs with my Dad at the time, made a surprise visit and found my boyfriend living in my dorm with me. She had a fit and all but disowned me. I convinced her that we were getting married, but as soon as I graduated he was gone to move in with a freshman. He was a leach who liked young girls. I had to crawl back to my mother and tell her she was right.

She took me back in while I tried to find a job and in the meantime my Dad opened this store here. He had been a buyer for Nordstrom's back home. He bought for the fly-over stores in the Midwest, you know, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, like that. He got wind of someone selling a successful high fashion store here and he took the business and renamed it, Gibbs – A Clothier. It was an opportunity to get away from my Mom, who just wanted him out, and to be with his girlfriend, a sales rep living here who encouraged him to buy the existing successful business. The store is all high end retail, high-end fashion stuff. When he asked me to design a few originals for the store I accepted the challenge, my Mom took it as me taking sides. My Dad WAS a cheater, but, I'll tell you my Mom is a bitch most of the time and probably a cold fish. I don't even know how they had me. Anyway, some of my things began to sell and my Mom got jealous and tossed me out saying, If HE is what I wanted, HE could have me. I've been here about 9 months with my own design studio over the store, I work as the manager and my Dad has offered to build me a private entrance apartment in the back if I want it. My only codicil was that he couldn't judge me or my lifestyle. I'm just 23 now and consider myself an adult. Once the addition is built in the spring, I'll move in there and his girlfriend will move in here." She finished.

Me, being ever nosy asked, "lifestyle"?

"Well, I'm 23 and like to be on my ... Oh! I didn't mean I was gay or anything. I just didn't want to hear grief when I brought home company, or came home late, or not at all. That's what having your own place is, right?"

"Well, taking care of it and taking the responsibility of paying your bills, making sure you eat right, and all that as well." I added so she would know it wasn't always a party.

"Who do you think washes my Dad's clothes, makes his dinner, keeps this place clean? He pays his bills and I have my own charge cards and pay them myself. My designs sell everyday in the shop. We have pretty affluent customers and they come from a long ways sometimes. When I move out, my Dad will have to get a maid." She said patting herself on the back.

"Maybe his girlfriend will do all that stuff for him, with you gone." I said with a grin.

"She won't lift a finger if she moves in. She loves my Dad, but she loves his money too. Soooo, how about you?" She said cutely.

'Well, I worked family farms all through High School and through building new structures with my Dad, my Grandfather and both of their brothers I learned to be a pretty good carpenter. When I graduated from High School I skipped college and ran a building business with a friend of mine. We were doing good, but he wanted out so he could go to school, so I kept the business myself, hiring just private contractors to sub with me. I had a good crew of workers, but I didn't want to get involved with payroll and all that. One Summer I worked my way across I-70 just working by word of mouth, and I stumbled upon a gig with a grocery store operator who wanted a house built to his specs. I laughed at what he wanted and showed him what was possible, what was ethical, what I wouldn't put my name to, and finally before I got no more than a foundation poured, he fired me. Then he went out and spent gobs of money hiring Sylvan. Sylvan showed him more NO'S than I did and he rehired me. He told Sylvan Lemke that I had said some of the things he wanted WERE possible and Sylvan asked to show him how, thinking I wouldn't challenge him. I was a little brash, but I showed him a few things I knew would work, doing them my way, what I call construction in reverse. Sylvan got pissed and returned the retainer and told the guy, Burnett Perkins, who sells half the groceries in the mid-west, that I was a piss ant and he deserved me.

Four days later Sylvan looked me up and wanted me to sit in on a design session and work with blueprint design engineer. He thought about this way I had of doing things and decided it worked."

"What is construction in reverse?" She asked stopping me.

"It's where you want to do a specific shape or design, but simple architectural theory tells you it won't go. You build what convention tells you, then modify it adding your non-conventional idea on a smaller scale, usually 75 to 90 percent. Hard to explain, but it works. ANYWAY. After a few weeks he told me he had so many private jobs backlogged, he couldn't devote time to his real passion, all those crazy monstrosities he would build. People had money to burn on big distinctive homes and the prices were right. So he gave me a 5 year contract to work for and with him designing houses, all the while sending me to school to learn all the math crap and drawing I would need. I didn't HAVE to become an engineer, just understand some of the crap that I would envision and know why it would and wouldn't work. I like to work with cantilevered projects that show from the side or front of a building, I like shapes and stuff he calls minimalist, but I think just looks neat. If we build one of our houses here on the River Road there would be people driving by all the time, it's always some quirk to them, but they aren't so over the top that neighbors would complain. I suppose it's hard to put into words. But he gave me the house here for my own for 5 years and I'm making lots of money and making a name for myself and I'm only 29. After the 5 years, I'm betting we stay together as working partners as long as prices stay down and money is plentiful. So Paige, THAT'S my story."

"You said there was no Mrs. Wes, how about an ex-wife or a girlfriend." She said cutely.

"Nobody serious at this time, I've never been married. I saw a stewardess for a little while, but she wanted something exclusive and I was never near her, and she never near me. A girl I went to High School with looked me up here just after I got here and that seemed to be working, but she wanted to move in "to save money". But she wanted to run the house her way and undo my style and, I'm guessing, planning a wedding. I don't play those games while I'm under this contract. I can be exclusive, but don't move in under false pretenses and change my house while I'm gone. I was serious about her, but not THAT serious. So I date a little when I can, but I'm not a run around or a bar hopper. I work hard and enjoy my solitude at The Manor."

"You sound a bit like me in your sense of having your freedom, but having someone to hold at night would be nice. Having someone to do something like dinner, or just drinks, at the spur of the moment is a plus too, BUT, I don't need someone needy, constantly wanting to be with me. I can come home from work some days, say hello to my Dad, make a sandwich and go upstairs and read until 11 or 12 and I'm quite happy. Sometimes I don't like being bothered and my Dad is quite good at leaving me alone." She said making her point solidly.

"That's about my gig, as you said. Maybe we should get flags and run them up when we want company. If both of them are up, we're on." I said, unintentionally hitting on her.

"OH! I didn't mean to make it sound like I was propositioning you; I was trying to be cute." I quickly apologized.

"Mission accomplished on being cute, I think you're very cute." She said as she stood and took both of our empty cups back to the kitchen.

"SHIT!" I thought to myself, "She gives me that line and walks away not leaving me an opening."

I turned to see her cute ass walk into the kitchen and she looking back over her shoulder to catch me with a little grin. I heard the cups clink into the sink, I presume, and she was walking back.

"That wasn't fair was it?" She asked with a shit eating grin.

"I'm a guest in your house, you might have saved my life, or at least frostbitten toes and fingers, and I don't want to make you think I'm trying take advantage, or presume anything." I said sheepishly knowing that I, as the older and more experienced at this game, should be taking the lead, but didn't want to assume anything.

"If the plow came by right now, the snow stopped and your car delivered to the front of the house and you went home, would you look me up for a date some day?" She asked, her face suddenly getting serious.

"Not a doubt in my mind. I find you very interesting, your voice MORE than provocative, and on top of that you are just as cute as a June bug. Plus I know some interesting things about you that normally would take a couple dates to find out." I said almost as if I were confessing.

"Well, let me confess something too, these aren't the jeans I was wearing under my snow pants when I brought you here. I changed into them when I got a look at you down here. So put your male ego away, I'm driving this, not you." She said with the first lack of confidence she seemed to have all evening.

"You mean my innocent charm has nothing to do with the fact if I call you for a date, you would go?" I asked knowing she would find my purposeful naiveté also charming.

She moved from the pine slab bench over to my hassock as I skootched to make room for her.

"Listen, if you were as naïve as you're acting right now I'd have you heading home with a shovel and a thermos of coffee. I'm a first date, first base girl; a kiss." She said as she kissed me and then looked me straight in my eyes while taking my hand.

"I'm a second date, 2nd base kind of girl; feeling outside the clothes." She said as she took my hand and pressed it to one of her breasts.

"I've granted you two bases, the rest is up to you and how you make me feel. I must also admit, that the first time I saw you jogging in those little shorts, I rode by you twice. Each time you went by when I was here thereafter I also decided to ride the River Road. You were too into it even notice." She confessed.

"I probably had headphones and transistor radio with me." I said blushing.

We sat without a word for almost 30 seconds, while I was aware she was looking right at me, while I stared at the fire. Finally I turned and kissed her once, then a second time and then a third hard kiss while I moved my hand to her leg, about 8 inches above her knee. She removed it right away. I remembered she had rules, and I was just rounding first and hadn't explored second base real well yet. While I continued to kiss her I reached up and cupped her right breast and she immediately removed my hand again. I sighed in frustration but continued to kiss her lips, adding a little tongue. When I broke the kiss she whispered, "We have all night, there are no guarantees. We're both going to live close-by for a long time. Don't treat me like a one-night stand."

She didn't say it as a reprimand. She didn't say it like she was automatically mine. She was simply stating something that would do us both good to remember before we assume something, did something, to irreparably change things.

I gripped her hand tightly and brought it to my lips and kissed it, telling her we were going to move to the sofa.

She smiled at me like I finally got the idea and got up.

"You know every time we move on the leather it's going to sound like farts, and I don't fart in front of my dates until at least the 10th date." She said sweetly as a joke.

"That's good because by the 10th date my nose is usually close enough to feel how warm they are." I said causing her to giggle and slap my arm as we sat on the sofa as it made rude noises until we settled.

"Naughty boy! That could get you back to first base." She said laughing.

I took the bull by the horns and planted my lips right on hers with my tongue soon to follow as my hand went up and gripped her breast again. She sighed into my mouth. I continued to fondle both of her breasts, massaging the nipples through her bra, until she broke the kiss, obviously flustered.

"Let's slowdown I don't want to get out of hand. I like you a lot and the coach will let you come to third when the time is right." She said as she brushed down the front of her shirt I had wrinkled.

She smiled at me as I sat back a moment and she said, "If I had known it was you by the road you don't think I would have went down there with that stupid hood and goggles, do you? I was mortified when I saw it was you. Here I've been breaking my neck for you to notice me and I show up and you think it's a little old man."

She laughed out loud saying "I'd be a poor stalker."

"If I had noticed you I may have thought I was too old for you."

"The boyfriend my mother caught me with was 34, I like older men. But I was first drawn to your butt when you jogged, I didn't care how old it was."

"Hmmm, that's funny, when you went to get the hot chocolate I first noticed YOUR butt, and I liked that too."

"That was the idea, you know. I haven't been with any man for a year or so. Nice to know I still got it." She said semi-seriously.

"You certainly have it!" I said as I kissed her hard again, turning even more into her, trapping my hand between the both of us with my fingers going between the button holes hoping her bra unsnapped in the front, ... it didn't.

She broke the kiss and giggled, "Third base can be SO far away." I sighed a bit and went for her mouth again, my hand still trapped between us. A got one button undone and slid my hand in quickly and pushed up the cup on her bra and squeezed the nipple. She groaned into my mouth approving the relief I gave her engorged nipple. I couldn't help but pause a second to say, "Sliding in, and he's SAFE!"

I could tell by the feel she had puffy areola and nipples and she was becoming excited causing them to fill with blood, just as my dick was in my pants. She may have wanted to thwart my squeeze, but I know it felt good to her and I was going to make her wait for the other one to be offered to me.

She broke the kiss to sigh again at how good it felt to have that breast and nipple squeezed, whispering in my ear. She had bigger boobs than I had thought as well. They were pear size and filled my hand nicely as I nipped at her ear and then kissed her neck. She was breathing heavy and whimpered as I nipped at her ear and neck, sitting up, moving me away.

"Let me take my shirt off, you're being so nice to me." She whimpered as she quickly pulled it out of her waist, unbuttoned and shucked it off, undid the bra and shinnied it down her arms and lay back as if to invite me in. I went for her mouth using one hand on each of her breasts, rolling the nipples between my thumb and forefinger as I pressed my body to hers. I felt her try to move to get up and I relented, letting her sit right up. She looked at me red-faced and smiled taking my hand.

"Let's go upstairs." She demanded.

I slowed her down and pulled her to me so I could hug her. "Is this what you want? I want to be your friend after this."

"Don't worry, you'll be my best friend if you keep it up." She said pulling away, but keeping my hand tightly in hers.

Now, this was a time when women weren't quite as forward and free as they are in 2012. It was passed "the summer of love" in 1969, but besides the hippie chicks that screwed everyone who came along, women had come to be more respected for their place in society and to think their place in the world was supine with a man satisfying themselves over them was wrong. I wanted the satisfaction she wanted, but I didn't want her to look at me afterward and feel disrespected saying "get out" even though she instigated this. (Don't laugh, its happened before) Since I had become a "man", I never got my rock until I was sure she did. Nothing gets me off more than knowing she had hers before me. It's why I developed such good pussy eating skills. Have them panting on the bed enjoying the aftershocks of their orgasm(s) when you slide into them and caress them while they get over the initial push and rush.

At the top of the stairs there was a second living room or den, I suppose, with a big window that gave you a great view of the road and the river over the stand of pines that hid most of the house. I paused there, but she pulled me into her bedroom that was lit by only a small nightlight. She sat crossways on the bed and let go of my hand and acted as if I was supposed to sit beside her, so I did.

"You're the first man I've had here. My Dad is usually always here and he's even told me I could have company, but would like to see them gone by morning. It's just too weird for me to imagine, but I haven't had a prospect before you anyway. I've really been working my ass off."

"I'm a prospect?" I asked feigning indignity.

"Wes, you're going to have to cut me some slack here. I've been looking for ways to meet you and I really had no idea it was you by the road. I wasn't really positive until I got upstairs to get rid of my snow pants. I came out to see if you had went into the living room and you were sort of looking around, a little dazed. That was when I was sure it was the guy I stalked while he jogged. I DON'T go picking guys up all of the time. But, I haven't been kissed the way you kissed me in a lot of years, maybe ever. I've come to realize that most of my lovers have been users, and I don't want you to think there have been a lot of them, there haven't been."

"Paige, slow down. This isn't true confessions. It's none of my business and it makes no difference to me. We have an attraction and a unique circumstance tonight, and it won't go any further than you want. I would like to explore our friendship more after tonight and if we do anything that would jeopardize that, I would just as soon stop now." I told her honestly.

Hell, I really knew no one in the area and she seemed like a pretty nice first acquaintance.

"No, I want this. I shouldn't tell you this, even though I hadn't really gotten to know your face and demeanor in general, ... shit, this is embarrassing, ... I've thought about you before in this bed." She said turning red.

"I'm flattered, I didn't think I was that type of guy." I said feigning shy embarrassment.

"No, you are definitely a hot guy with a nice personality. In nice shape and good looking." She added.

"How come I'm not taken then?" Already knowing I didn't really want to be taken (i.e.: settled down)

"For the same reason I'm not taken. We're picky and not ready to settle down. I design clothes for good looking affluent women, and when I try them on as my own model in the mirror, I know I'm very attractive. The woman who cuts and pins for me would like to get me alone, she swings that way, always telling me how incredible I look. I'm not stuck on myself thinking no one is good enough for me. I'm just not ready that way after learning by being hurt. But, we're straying from the reason we're here NOW. I still have needs, and from the front of your pants, you do too."

We were both sitting at the moment and when she vocalized her impatience I laid her back and pasted my mouth to hers and filled my hand with her perfect right breast. I squeezed hard and I felt her gasp into my mouth. Without giving her time to react, I thrust my hand down between her legs, over her jeans, and grabbed her pussy hard. She reached for my arm to pull it away but I already had my fingertips ground into her groove. Her grip on my arm loosened and she swooned into my mouth. For the first time since she put my hand on her breast at the start of her seduction, she touched me. I felt her hand cup my balls and package through my pants. I held tight to my grip on her privates and shook them to stir her further causing her to almost cry in frustration. I kept working my fingertips through her groove and gave up her mouth so I could talk.

"No more games Paige, if we're going to fuck, let's get in the shower and bring this to the next level so we really enjoy each other in this bed." I said with determination in my voice.

She turned red, maybe embarrassed by my boldness in saying what she may have been thinking. I was certainly taking the baton from her in this marathon.

"Uh, uh, ... I've never showered with a man before." She said seeming to cry in her admission.

"Well then, your 34 year old lover was using your body for a cum receptacle. If you want wham, bam, thank you ma'am we can skip the shower, but you won't be worshiping me in the morning if you do." I said smugly trying to make sure I had the baton.

Wordlessly she got up and took my hand and led me to the bath. There was a normal sized tub with jets and a fairly large sized walk-in shower along with his and hers sinks, all fairly posh for the time, thinking back on it now.

In the bathroom she turned to me as if to ask what to do next. God. She was so pretty standing there with no top, in jeans and white as a sheet from fear, I think. Her tits were MAGNIFICENT! Baseball sized with dark puffy areolas and hard gumdrop nipples.

I began to unbutton my shirt and asked her if she was going to shower in her jeans. She half smiled and began to turn away from me. I reached and took her elbow to turn her back. Suddenly she smiled big to me, I think knowing how good she would look to me. This was a girl who designed clothes and used her own body as a form; she knew how good she looked.

As she began to alternately push her jeans down, left, right, left right, I undid my belt and let my trousers fall. I wore white briefs that my cock had filled out pretty well, showing a wet spot where the tip lay. She got her jeans off her feet, now wearing bikini sized panties. I put my thumbs in the sides of my briefs and looked at her eyes, now glued to my crotch.

"Together? Going down in 3 – 2 – 1! We both stripped off our undies and stared. For the time, her pussy was trimmed pretty low and tight to her mons. I smiled at how cute it looked. She saw my smiling stare and almost apologized saying, "I model a lot of bathing suits, I have to keep it neat."

"Oh my God Paige, your little pussy is most beautiful!" I said, almost salivating.

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