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Betty Gets Her Big Mac

Category: Mature
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I have always thought that Betty had a lot of balls to do what she did. Big brass ones. I was at least 20 years younger than Betty and I don’t think I had ever exhibited any attraction toward her. She was just another pleasant acquaintance in the workplace. But, like so many of the remarkable women who have graced my life, she knew what she wanted and she had the inner confidence to go for it.

I had known her for about two years prior to that fateful evening. Betty was the court reporter for all general courts-martial (or felony cases) in my military district and, as the senior defense counsel in the jurisdiction, that was where I practiced my art most often.

It was in the nature of her job to be practically invisible during the trials and I fear that she was almost like a piece of furniture, seated to the side of the Judge’s bench quietly transcribing the testimony. She always wore pants and loose fitting conservative clothes as befits a silent court player, so I knew nothing of her physical attributes other than that she was slender and petite. That she wore little or no makeup, with her hair pulled back in a bun, added to her relative anonymity.

She was a judicial employee, which meant that we really didn’t socialize outside the courtroom. If she had not been a smoker, I would not have known her at all but she frequently joined me outside for a smoke during court recesses. The extent of our conversation was usually the weather. I did come to realize that she heard content as well as words, so she had a good idea of the personalities and skills of the advocates who appeared in her court. I guess that is how she got to know me better than I her. It also helps that the military uniform that I wore carried the various badges and medals that distinguish the members of that community.

The day that she became something more to me was the end of a grueling two-week murder trial that had occupied my undivided attention for some six weeks. My client was charged with a death penalty homicide that presented gruesome evidence followed by extensive psychiatric testimony as I presented an insanity defense. After a trial that had everything from tense cross-examination and high drama to some very unusual laughter, the jury came in late on Friday afternoon with a verdict of involuntary manslaughter.

It was a great victory for my defense and I was justifiably proud of the skillful craft I had brought to bear during the trial. But my exhilaration occurred in a relative vacuum. My wife was traveling back East visiting family during the second week of the trial and I had no one to share my triumph with at 6 PM on a Friday, when all of my companion attorneys back at my office had already gone home.

So the high quickly gave way to exhaustion as the long mental strain subsided. And that is when Betty made her move.

“Can I buy you a congratulatory drink?”

I was alone on the court balcony, savoring a second cigarette, when I turned to see Betty standing behind me with a smoke in her hand. I had thought I was the last one still at the courthouse and was a little startled to see her standing there.

“That would be nice, but I think I’ll just go home and unwind,” I replied with a smile.

“A verdict like that deserves a suitable celebration, Mac. That was a hell of a piece of work. The best I’ve seen in 15 years recording this court,” she admonished me.

“Thank you, Betty. I used to think you just tracked the words, but that is high praise indeed coming from an old pro like you.”

“I mean it. You were great. And I know you don’t have anyone to share it with at home, so why don’t you let me buy you that drink?” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“No thanks, but I appreciate the offer. It would be nice to share the victory with someone who knows what was involved but I think I’ll just soak in my hot tub for a while before packing for my early flight to Boston tomorrow,” I explained.

“Is that an invitation?” she prompted. “I have a new bottle of Jack Daniels that needs to be christened.”

For probably the first time ever, I really looked at Betty as the thought of seeing her naked, or nearly so, in my hot tub made this much more personal. I guessed her age to be almost 50, although she looked younger. I tried to imagine her with makeup and without her hair pulled back, and decided that she just might be very attractive away from her job. She had high cheekbones, dark eyes, a cute nose and a very inviting smile when she allowed it to appear.

And she knew I liked Jack!

“I am beginning to think you are serious about that drink,” I chuckled. “Tell you what. Give me a little time to grab something to eat and pack for my trip tomorrow, and then you can join me for that drink around eight.”

“You’re on. I have never been in a hot tub before, so this should be a real treat. And I’ll bring the Jack!” she replied, with that cute smile.

I gave her instructions to my bungalow in the small seaside community nearby and finished packing my trial materials. With a wave in the parking lot, I headed home after grabbing a Big Mac on the way.

The more I thought about it, the more intrigued I became by Betty and the possibilities of the evening. I had not said anything about bathing suits in the hot tub but figured she would set the tone when the time came. I didn’t wear one unless my guests insisted, so Betty could bring one — or not. I felt a modest excitement at the prospect of seeing what she looked like under those conservative court clothes.

At 29, I had been with an “older woman” once before, a buxom blonde nurse who was about 15 years my senior. But Krista had been a beautiful 40 year-old and she was divorced. I assumed Betty was married from the ring she wore on her wedding finger but I really knew nothing of her personal life other than vaguely recalling that she lived about 15 miles from my home. If Betty were anything like Krista, she would be a responsive lover.

But I was getting ahead of myself. I was amazed at Betty’s persistence about that drink but that may be all it would be. Before that night I had absolutely no reason to believe that she was romantically interested in me, or me in her, for that matter. It promised to be an interesting evening nonetheless, if for no other reason than to get to know a pleasant woman whose professional work I had admired for a long time.

At home, I showered and did the necessary packing for my weeklong seminar in Cambridge. I had an early flight and a friend was picking me up at 7 AM to take me to the airport, so I didn’t want to worry later about those preparations. Then I checked the hot tub to insure that it was hot and balanced.

My redwood hot tub was outside on a wooden deck off my bedroom. We had very small lots in that seaside city, but I had built the deck for maximum privacy from the neighbors who were right up to the fences dividing our property. The deck had been built around a large oak tree that rose next to the tub, giving it a sense of seclusion despite the nearness of the neighbors. They could see into the tub area, but they had to get up on a stool to do so. Consequently, I had never been concerned about lack of privacy for various party activities that had taken place there, as long as we kept the noise down.

I was dressed just in a light robe when I saw Betty at the door a little after eight. The string of pleasant surprises continued as I welcomed her into my home.

She wore a short black cocktail dress that complimented her dark coloring and petite stature – tasteful, with a high bodice in front showing only a delicate neck and clavicle. I was almost stunned to see her shoulder length black hair, nicely swept to one side to show dangle gold earrings and very tasteful makeup. The change from her business look was startling and very becoming. Capped off with black stockings and open toed black high heels, I was quite taken by this attractive woman who had inexplicably attached herself to me for the evening.

“You clean up real nice, Betty,” I said with a chuckle.

“I know, you probably think of me as an old matron lady who is bolted down to the floor like the rest of the furniture in the courtroom. But I do have a life, you know,” she replied with a grin.

“Not a piece of furniture, but definitely not the beautiful lady who has presented herself at my door,” I said with a hint of embarrassment at my previous inattention to this lovely woman. “It is so nice to meet the real Betty!”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mac,” she said as she gazed into my eyes and reached up to feel the lapel of my robe. “I hope I’m not overdressed. But I heard you had a lovely home and I didn’t want to dress too casually.”

“Whatever it took, I love you all dressed up. Ready for that drink?”

In retrospect, I probably should have welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek but I was still sufficiently reserved to think that I didn’t know her well enough to greet her with such familiarity. Ever the gentleman (albeit one who was naked under his robe), I pointed her toward the counter between the kitchen and dining room, where I offered her a stool while I moved to fix the drinks. In doing so, I was able to surreptitiously observe that her dress and heels showed off a very nice ass that had escaped my notice all these months. When seated she handed me the Jack and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon with an impressive vintage.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to drink too much Jack tonight, so I brought a nice bottle of wine for the hot tub. I don’t want you traveling with a hangover tomorrow,” Betty explained.

“How thoughtful,” I smiled. “Now I really am impressed. A beautiful woman AND a wine connoisseur. The hot tub will appreciate your good taste.”

We laughed at my little funny as I fixed her Jack and ginger. We began to talk about our lives in a give and take of mutual discovery, made the more interesting by the preconceptions we had both derived from a long association that had been uninformed by actual knowledge. She told me of an adult daughter by a first marriage, and a second marriage of some 16 years. I spoke of my marriage without children thus far and confirmed that she had met my blond-haired wife at court on at least one occasion.

When I subtly probed to suggest that she should have brought her husband with her to celebrate tonight, Betty revealed that he was out-of-town for a few days. Hmm. We talked about the trial and I was once again impressed by the questions she asked about tactics and the intuitive grasp she had for the action. All the while, I watched her dancing eyes and gesturing hands as I gained a greater appreciation for her charisma.

As we moved on to more mundane discussions, I began to imagine her as a sex object and romantic partner. I was still too tied to my professional role and reticence to imagine making a first move, but I now wondered whether she would. If she did, I knew I would respond with an interest I had not known before she came to my door.

She seemed to be very aware of my gaze upon her stocking encased legs and was not bashful about crossing and re-crossing them. Finally, a hint of stocking top was revealed. No pantyhose!

“Gee, Betty, I didn’t know you had legs,” I said with a grin. “It is probably well that you keep them covered in the courtroom or they would be quite a distraction.”

I felt silly as soon as I said that, but she was soaking it up.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mac. That’s why it is so nice to get to know you on a more personal level after all this time. Are you going to show me this hot tub?”

“Let’s get our wine and I’ll take you back, M’am,” I chuckled, imagining I was the spider to the fly.

After pouring us both a glass, I led her back to the bedroom and opened the sliding glass door leading onto the deck. Walking out with her to show her the layout, I removed the cover to emit the steam into the cool night air. I placed our glasses on the deck next to the controls and led the way back into the bedroom.

“You can change in the bathroom,” I explained, nodding my head toward the door. “I’ll get some bath towels and be right back.”

Neither of us said anything about bathing suits. She had brought her purse back, which could have contained a suit. But I was going to let her take the lead on nudity. It was up to her — I was not going to try to talk her into anything.

When I returned, she was standing between the sliding glass door and the bed, her hands crossing her chest to grasp the shoulders of her dress. She had an enigmatic smile on her face.

“Here’s a towel,” I offered. “Don’t you want to undress in the bathroom?”

“If I did that, you wouldn’t get to see this sexy underwear,” Betty whispered as she dropped her dress to the floor from her shoulders. “When a lady buys expensive lingerie, she wants it to be seen and appreciated.” Shock and awe. There she stood in a black and red lace bustier with straps holding her stockings and demi-cups lifting her brown, erect nipples to my gaze. A black bikini with string bows at the hips, stockings and heels completed the vision.

I was speechless. And breathless. Had she been standing there naked, I would have handed her a towel and led her to the tub while trying to conceal my stare. Nudity expresses freedom but is not necessarily an invitation. But her guileless display of sexual allure left no doubt as to her intention. This delightful woman, who had never entered my imagination as a sex partner until an hour ago, wanted to fuck me.

And in an instant, I knew I was desperate to fuck her. Did she have any doubts that I would? How had she known that I would drop my reserve like a hotplate, totally smitten by a woman twenty years my senior?

Nothing was said as we gazed into one another’s eyes but my grin almost hurt. I don’t think I have ever gotten that hard, that rapidly. Then, after a long pause, she stepped over her dress to stand in front of me. Pulling the towels from my hands to throw them on the bed, she reached inside my robe to spread her hands over my chest.

“You know, I’ve wanted you for a long, long time, Mac,” she whispered in my ear and then tilted her head up to kiss me ever so softly on my lips.

My heart was surging as I felt her warm tongue and smelled her essence in my nostrils. I reached for her ass to pull her to me but she held herself away from my chest. Taking a step back, she reached for the bowstrings at her hips.

“Did you notice this convenient little tie? When I bought them, I wanted to be sure you would have no problem getting into my panties,” she whispered as the gossamer thin bikini floated to the floor, baring her thick black bush.

It had been a number of years since I had been tongue-tied in front of a woman, but my silver tongue quite deserted me at that moment. All I could think of was that muff and her pussy. I suppose she must have read some confusion on my face.

“You do want me, don’t you Mac?” Betty said softly as she untied my robe and pulled it from my body to bare my rigid penis.

“I knew you’d have a nice one,” she cooed as she grasped my dick with both hands.

Her touch finally snapped me out of a seeming trance and I crushed her to me in a passionate embrace. I couldn’t get enough of her lips and her tongue as I tried to possess her mouth just as she now possessed my soaring passion. Her lips were incredibly soft, loose and wet. For long, long moments, my lips and tongue played with hers as we breathed through our nostrils like we were running a race. My cock was trapped between us and began to ache.

“God, Betty, you are something else,” I breathed into her ear as I kissed her neck and squeezed her tiny butt.

“I’m all yours,” she moaned back.

I lifted her onto the bed and lay beside her petite frame. She maintained her grip on my rod with one hand while caressing my neck to pull my lips to hers. Running my hand up and down her thighs, I lightly massaged the soft, naked junctures at the top. With my middle finger, I dipped into the furrow of her pussy, gently separating her labia to encounter the heat and wetness that were waiting for my pleasure.

Every passionate woman has a signature uniquely her own when she invites a man to love her body. Betty turned out to have several, but the first was the most delightful juice coating my finger. She was positively gooey, like running my finger through béarnaise sauce. I soon discovered that it flowed profusely from her, following my finger in a short string as I withdrew. The tactile sensation and visual stimulation were extreme. Her outer lips engorged as I slowly slipped my soaking digit up and down and around her opening. I don’t know that I have ever found a woman more wet and welcoming, nor a pussy so responsive.

She raised and spread her knees to give me greater access, softly groaning as she practically sucked the breath from my mouth, “Yeeessssssss!”

I was in no hurry, loving the sounds she was making and utterly enjoying her pleasure. I pulled her bodice down to expose her thick nipples and began to suck, marveling at the thickness and length adorning her small breasts. Lightly nipping her with my teeth, she began to squirm, letting me know that she liked the pinch on her thimble-like nipples.

I went back to her neck and ears when my finger found her opening after circling it for moments. As I carefully slid one finger into her vagina, her hips began to undulate and her breath quickened. Time seemed to stand still as I worked my second finger into her, massaging the top of her cunt with languid strokes. She raised her hips to impale herself further, adding her hand over the top of mine to push. When I raised my thumb to circle her clitoris, her response, and my excitement, soared.

I don’t think I had spent so much time finger fucking a woman since my high school days (when that was all I was going to get). In fact, I forgot about my dick, so intent was I on giving her pleasure. Ten minutes must have passed, my hand covered with her delightful goo up to my wrist, when she suddenly stopped breathing and slammed her thighs shut.

I leaned back to watch. Straining her hips toward the ceiling, eyes closed and face flushed, she jerked to a breathless, silent orgasm in the grandest way. The bones of my wrist gave an audible crack as she came with thighs clenched.

Wow!! I couldn’t remember when I had given a woman an orgasm with just my hand. I guess I was usually too anxious to get my dick in action. But with Betty, her pleasure was intoxicating. The more pleasure you gave her, the more she responded. And the more pleasure you wanted to give her.

“That was sooo nice,” she sighed as she relaxed her thighs and reached up to kiss me.

“That may be the most fun I’ve ever had with a still dry dingus,” I smiled, pulling her tightly against my chest. “Speaking of which, you need to loosen your grip if you want this thing to function for the purpose for which it is intended.”

“Oh! Sorry,” she giggled. “It is so nice and hard, and soft to the touch. I think it’s about time we got it wet, don’t you?”

I kissed her with unabated passion and dropped my hand to caress her back and butt. After massaging her mound and belly below her corset-like garment, I began to lower my head to taste her sweetly dripping juice. But she pulled my head back to her eyes.

“No, I want you in me now. No more teasing. Please,” she whispered as she lay back, spreading her legs and pulling me over her.

I had been almost painfully hard since she dropped her dress some fifteen minutes before. I moved between her gaping thighs and we both watched as she grasped my shaft to slide the knob up and down her furrow. After a few shuddering pokes at her clit, she nestled my cock at her wet opening.

The first time entering a woman is always a memorable moment to be savored but rarely, it is almost overwhelming. It is as though my cock knows before my heart does that this woman is special, that being inside her will involve more than just physical sensations, that fucking this woman will never be “just sex.” It was that way with Betty and my animal instinct was right on.

As I pressed gently in and out to push the glans through the too tight hole, my stomach rippled and my eyes closed in a white light vacuum of sensation. Time stood still and the earth stopped spinning on its axis. A freeze-frame where nothing existed in the world but the head of my penis and the hot opening to her vagina. I doubt I would have noticed the house on fire for those few delicious moments until I popped through into her wet cunt.

I opened my eyes to see Betty gazing at me with hooded eyes, her mouth agape with passion and her hands on my hips to pull me farther in. It is well that she was not inordinately tight inside, or I should have cum before I reached bottom. As it was, I reached bottom too soon for this small woman. She jumped when I found her cervix before getting all the way in.

“Oh, Oh. Not so deep! I’m too small for you. Gently, but please don’t stop.”

I had never thought of myself as particularly large or long, but I quickly adjusted what was now a long, slow stroke to accommodate our dimensions. Her vagina was no less exquisite for my inability to bury my shaft to my balls, and I suppose this restraint helped me last longer than a first fuck would usually do. After all, I had not been laid in a week.

Her legs nestled around my waist and I raised my hips to insure I would not probe too deep, riding the top of her pussy. And then we fucked each other. Hot, wet and loud. It was as though I had inserted my cock into an electrical socket. No part of her could remain still — her hands, her arms, her hips, her legs, her lips. I became acutely aware that she was still wearing her strappy heels and the garter clasps were chaffing my flanks raw. And her mouth!

“Oh ….. God …. Yes … More …. So good …. Don’t stop … Mac …. Faster …. Ah …. Eeee!”

Betty became the poster child for “How a woman should fuck back.” She never stopped her exhortations. She never tired. She was the energizer bunny before its time. And she made me feel like a fucking god — a fuck god! I wanted to go on and on. I was in awe of what we were creating together.

When she approached orgasm, she seemed to shift into a higher gear. She lowered her thighs around my hips and hooked the toes of her shoes around the inside of my shin to leverage her groin. And then Betty began an extraordinary rolling motion with her hips. Up and down she rode her cunt on my bent cock until I thought it must fracture.

She came with a screech, almost like she was in pain. And then she relaxed for a moment, thrusting her mouth to mine for a hard sloppy kiss.

“Don’t stop!” she whispered, “I might cum again.”

I didn’t stop, beginning my careful thrusting into her gooey core once again. I felt like the luckiest man on the planet to have this woman on the end of my cock.

I don’t know how long we continued this electric coupling, but we were both covered with dripping perspiration when she came a second time. And finally, she had had enough.

“Cum for me now,” she purred, and when she saw the question in my eyes, she added, “Cum in me. Fill me up. Let me feel it deep.”

I could have cum with her orgasm, so it didn’t take me long to explode. She didn’t seem quite so pain sensitive when I energetically spurted against her cervix, but I was beyond self-control. Shorn of any inhibition whatsoever with her, I bellowed my orgasm as I spasmed into her glorious cunt.

Neither of us stirred for long moments as we regained our breath. I softened inside her but was loathe to withdraw. I felt like I had had a religious experience inside her vagina, and I felt acutely the petit mort. Bonjour tristesse.

As she stroked my back and butt, I finally rolled off of her to the side. I leaned in to kiss her lips softly when I saw the watery eyes that I did not understand at first, and then I did.

“Thank you,” I whispered as a drop of sweat rolled off my nose, landing squarely on her upper cheek. Then she smiled.

“Does this mean you will not be wearing a bathing suit in the hot tub?” I asked with a grin while wiping the drop away from her eye.

“Only if you promise we can do this again,” she replied with a giggle. “Actually, I didn’t bring one. If the lingerie hadn’t worked, nudity was my fallback.”

“Such a Mata Hari you are,” I laughed. “You realize, of course, that those garter snaps can be sharp.”

She laughed and stood up. I knelt to remove her shoes. When I raised up to unsnap her stockings, her wetness captured my attention. Her labia still engorged, my semen was starting to drip down her inner thighs. A delectable sight — one my wife never let me see. Yet there is an almost metaphysical joy in seeing this proof of our intercourse.

“Either it has been too long for you, Mac, or I have forgotten how ripe a younger man can be,” Betty said as she placed her hand over her pussy to stem the flow. “I’m glad I don’t have to sleep in that wet spot tonight.”

I helped her off with her corset and she disappeared into the bathroom. She reappeared wrapped in a towel, which I removed to hug her naked body to me.

“You are a marvelous lover, Betty,” I said when I broke the kiss.

Taking her hand, I lead her outside onto the deck. Steam was lifting from the water as I guided her into the redwood tub, where she was immersed up to her neck. I felt like my body was already made of rubber after that fuck but the 100 degree water was wonderfully soothing and restorative. We sighed and whirled around in the water before I lifted her onto my lap as I seated myself on the wooden bench.

She remarked on the sensuous setting and asked me about the parties she had heard about. I told her they were usually not very sexual, but very liberating and mildly erotic to see the naked bodies displayed unashamed. We decided that was a good thing and she lit a cigarette to share with me.

After a sip of her wine, I sighed and asked her, ” So Mrs. Consoli, do you do this often?”

“If you mean make love with a man who is not my husband, I would have to say never,” was her reply after searching my face to confirm that the question was light-hearted.

Some what more seriously, I asked her, “Then why now and why me, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do, kind of, but having stepped off that terrifying cliff an hour ago, it wouldn’t be fair to clam up now.”

Stepped off a cliff? What did that mean, I asked myself. I had not imagined I was singular, nor that her naked lust was complicated. But Betty was full of jaw-dropping surprises that night and I just listened.

“I have watched you for two years. I don’t know exactly when the fantasy of you started for me, but it has grown stronger over the past six months. You are big and tall, soft-spoken, deep blue eyes, and all those medals to make you unique. But I think it was your passion when you thought you were arguing against injustice that captivated me. Oh, and what Wendy said.”

“Wendy! What does she have to do with it?” I exclaimed. Wendy was a twenty-year old uniformed servicewoman who did clerical work in and around my office.

“I overheard her telling Natalie about your prowess as a lover during one of those Hail and Farewells at the JAGC office last spring. Seems you “fucked her brains out” on more than one occasion,” Betty said with a chuckle. “You don’t mind earthy language do you, Mac?”

“Not from a naked woman whose pussy is plastered over my dick,” I replied in kind. “You women are so indiscreet, I can’t believe it. Besides, it was the other way around. She fucked my brains out, although she’s too young to hold a candle to you after tonight, my dear.”

“Must have been that red-haired beaver, huh?” she giggled, and when I raised my eyebrows, she added, “Don’t get your hopes up. I was just guessing about her natural hair color.”

We laughed about the unspoken male fantasy and I poured some more Cabernet. She was finding it as easy to open her inner self to me as to open her thighs and I relished her defenselessness. A woman who I could talk to in bed without inhibition.

“I am flattered that you have found me attractive, really very flattered, but that doesn’t really explain tonight, does it?” I asked as I pressed my curiosity.

“Which part of tonight?” was her puckish reply. “The multiple orgasms that I haven’t had in years, or the fact that this previously respectable married woman insisted on getting fucked by her fantasy?”

I was flattered again but I just smiled. She knew what I wanted.

“You don’t mind talking about this then?” she asked. “I would imagine most men would be happy for the free pussy and not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“There is no such thing as free pussy, Betty,” I replied. “I am on something of a journey myself, and I want to know why I got so incredibly lucky tonight. And don’t tell me it was the spoils of victory or some such bullshit. We’re on a roll here, so don’t try to hide.”

“OK,” she sighed. “When I found out your wife was gone, I thought this was an opportunity that may never come again. It suddenly became very important that you want me as much as I wanted you, Mac. So I waited after the trial and jumped you.”

I kissed her to acknowledge another compliment. But I persisted after a pause.

“I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you acted, but why was that so important, Betty?” I prompted.

“Jesus, isn’t sex enough — do you have to know everything?” she cried as she punched my shoulder.

“Forgive me, but that’s the way I am, I guess,” I grinned at her, holding her close. “You must have sensed some of this when you were setting your cap on me. You see, what we just had was rather spectacular for me. You aren’t just another exciting fuck and I want to know why.”

She closed her eyes and burrowed her face in my neck. Maybe she didn’t know why any more than I did. Maybe I should have just let it rest. I found myself stroking her and relishing the feel of her naked body. Her back, her flanks, her butt, nestling my fingers in the crack of her ass, kissing her ear and neck, I inhaled the scent of her hair. It wasn’t particularly sexual, just a serene sense of well being to have this female human being so close and available to my touch. Why didn’t I do this more often? Why did Betty bring this out to me?

She started talking again, into my neck.

“I guess I was beginning to feel older and very mortal. I haven’t taken very many risks in life and I wondered whether I have missed some things. I have grown to love my husband and will love him to our death, but we have never been “soul mates,” never each other’s fantasy. Not just sex, which has been pretty good but never adventuresome or uninhibited. We occasionally have sex, he usually gives me an orgasm, but then we sleep. That is all he has ever wanted. Am I making any sense?”

I squeezed her and murmured my encouragement. She was pondering the conundrums of my particular Zen, my pursuit of quality in a marital union that had eluded me thus far.

“I began thinking that my infatuation with such a younger man was silly, but it wouldn’t go away. Please don’t give me the fine aged wine bullshit. My tits, small enough to begin with, are sagging and thin. I actually would prefer that you were much older but for me there was this intuitive connection that I needed to try on for size.

“I didn’t know whether I could actually do it if you didn’t try to seduce me. And when I dropped my dress, my heart was in my throat like I had just stepped off a cliff. But you caught me, Mac, and the reality was even better than the fantasy.”

I kissed her softly and thanked her for her struggle to explain her feelings. I attempted to reciprocate, although I could not begin to analyze this brief, wholly unexpected encounter. But I did share thoughts about my marriage, experiments with open marriage and swapping, and a fruitless search for intimacy. I came from a place that was different than hers, but yet the same.

“This is so right, Mac,” she sighed. “Where were you 20 years ago?”

“In the fourth grade, I think.” We laughed.

“Then it is a good thing I waited until now to fall in love with you,” she said quietly into my neck again.

Uh-oh. Love was a word that I used very, very sparingly. It always involved a commitment and a reciprocity that created expectations and, too often, disappointment. She no doubt felt me stiffen and inhale. She looked up into my eyes.

“No, don’t respond or worry that I am a crazy woman for saying that after a first date, or should I say “first fuck,” she whispered. “I don’t mean a “let’s run away and get married” kind of love, or an “I can’t stop thinking about you” obsession. I’m as surprised as you that I said that, but I feel so open and tender and intimate with you now that I couldn’t stop. If I never saw you again after tonight, you would be one of the loves of my life. You have made me feel so good about myself, so cherished and womanly. So “just what I needed” to feel whole and alive.”

I told her she had made me feel the same way about myself, but didn’t know quite what to make of her profession of love. I knew she had tapped something extraordinary in me but it would take some time and daylight to understand it. So I just thanked her for her emotional compliment and we lapsed into the cozy silence of our own thoughts and warm physical contact.

When the air jet timer went off, we had been talking and snogging (as the Brits say) for 30 minutes. I told her it was time to sit out for a while to enjoy the full effect of the bracing, 55 degree, night air. Lifting her out to sit on the deck, I poured the last of the wine, relishing the steam drifting off of our heated nakedness.

“Oh, this feels wonderful,” Betty sighed as she lay back to stretch out on the redwood deck, gazing at the starry night through the lone oak tree.

I laid beside her for few moments, holding her small hand in mine. Her eyes were closed but it did not take me long to become, again, very aware of this naked female body. I sat up to gaze at her form, wondering at the chemistry she had sparked with me this evening.

Hers was not a pneumatic Playboy body, nor one I would have drawn or fantasized about. Her small breasts were somewhat deflated, her hips boyishly slim, her legs thin, but not without some muscle definition from jogging and tennis. Her best physical features were an attractive, intelligent face and those thimble-like nipples, now proudly erect in the cool air. But when she raised one knee to open her thighs to my viewing, I smiled to myself to remember the passion and heat between her legs. Lust and wanting are not mathematical equations where you plug in breast size and other objective criteria for pulchritude. I wanted this woman and her oozing pussy.

Betty sat up to kiss me as we both reached for the other’s crotch. She was (still?) gooey and my soldier began to show renewed interest. She gently squeezed my dick to feel it filling up and then grasped my balls.

“God, I don’t think I’ve ever felt balls so big and loose,” she whispered.

“It’s the hot water, Betty,” I explained. I loved the feel of my scrotum in the hot tub, something I never experience elsewhere because of being an inveterate shower taker. The sac lengthened several inches in the warmth and became like a velvety smooth purse partially filled with olive oil to float the large olives within. The walls become so thin that you can (carefully) discern the semen tubes running from the testicles. It is such a singular and pleasant tactile sensation that I confess to enjoying fondling myself, even alone in a nonsexual setting in the hot tub.

Betty was fascinated with the same tactile experience and my shaft quickly rose to its full glory, highlighted by steam still emanating from our skin.

“Have I discovered the smoking gun?” she giggled, as she lowered her head towards it.

“Me first, dear,” I whispered as I stepped back into the tub between her thighs. “Your pussy is also smokin’.”

“You don’t have to, Mac,” she began to protest. The reticence of women of my generation and older to cunnilingus was a phenomenon I had observed before. Beginning with my wife who allowed my lips no lower than her tits, many women had been inculcated with some sense that they were dirty or ugly there. I suppose many men felt the same way but I had grown to relish the intimacy of tonguing and sucking a pussy.

“I want to taste you, luv,” I said. “You don’t want to take a backseat to your friend Wendy with her 20 year old red-haired clam, do you?”

Betty laughed and relaxed her thighs. Despite the throbbing dick and hanging balls that floated below the surface of the water, I felt very mellow as I began my descent to her core. I kissed and sucked the toes of each foot as I massaged her legs with strong hands. Kissing my way up each thigh in turn, I heard her intake of breath as I neared my goal. Her scent was strong and sweet by the time I gently insinuated my tongue between her engorged labia.

“Oh, God, that feels good,” she cried as I pressed around her opening. I did not have to ask her to hold her knees above her breasts, or to shift her hips up to obscenely open herself from anus to mons. Her thick juice tasted a little salty, not unlike my own semen. But perhaps there was some still left where I had so energetically deposited it an hour before.

I did not then think that I was particularly proficient at eating pussy, as young Wendy was the only woman who had ever let me eat her to orgasm. Even then, she quickly wanted to fuck before I had my fill of her sweet twat. With Betty, I felt like I had all night to worship at her altar. And worship I did, savoring a pussy that delighted me in every way.

Standing in five feet of hot water is the ideal comfortable position to savor pussy. Before that night, I had always thought it was the most intimate of sex acts for a woman to receive pleasure without giving anything back, without being concerned about her partner’s pleasure in any way. After Betty’s initial inhibition, she let it happen and it was all that I had ever hoped it could be.

I was voracious. I licked her with the flat of my tongue from her backdoor to her hood, taking care to tease and avoid the clit for a while. I took her lips between mine to suck and found she responded to a light nip with my teeth. I sucked her hole and then plunged my tongue in and out as far as I could reach. She seemed to enjoy my tongue on her asshole; so much that I think I spent more time there than ever before. I breathed in her intoxicating scent and wallowed in her abundant goo to the point where I was covered with it from eyelashes to chin.

It did not take Betty long to erupt into her electric mode. I had to hold her hips tightly as her legs flayed around my head. She was not as loud as in the bedroom but her response was nonetheless overwhelming. The more pleasure she demonstrated, the more pleasure I wanted to give her.

“Oh, yes!” she moaned when I carefully slipped one finger into her anus. Then one, and then two, fingers into her cunt. She came for the first time with my tongue massaging her clit, but with barely a pause, I continued. I coated her turgid nipples with her juice and squeezed, to her obvious pleasure.

She came the second time with my finger in her ass and my thumb in her cunt as I sucked the little nubbin at the top of her pussy. This time she squeezed my head with her surprisingly strong thighs as she soared into her orgasm.

When she relaxed her thighs, I began again. But she lifted my head and sat up.

“Enough! God I’ve never cum like that. …. My back is getting raw, Mac!”

I had forgotten that, as comfortable as this position was on my neck, she was laying on bare redwood planks.

“No one has ever done more than a 10 second kiss down there. Did I taste alright?” she asked when her breathing had begun to recover.

“Taste for yourself, my love,” I said as I pulled her against my chest and into the tub.

We kissed tenderly and then she kissed and licked all over my face in a most sensual moment. We held each other and I thought to myself that this is as good as life gets. A man and a woman, so in tune with each other, so joyous in each other’s flesh. I wasn’t prepared to say or think the “L” word but it was a spectacular feeling that we shared.

“I guess it is an acquired taste,” she concluded when she was finished cleaning my mustache. “But I think it is time for you to get out of the hot tub and cool off, Mac.”

Knowing what was coming, I climbed out and sat on the very edge of the tub with my balls and semi-hard cock hanging over the edge. I thought to protest that she didn’t have to feel obligated but after what we had just done, I did not want to inject my inhibition into the moment.

I confess to have been somewhat wary of the act of fellatio. My dick had been in a few mouths but it had never before been an entirely satisfactory experience. The women who had attempted the act had always conveyed some sense of obligation, reluctance, or unfamiliarity that put me off. I had never been convinced that my lover really wanted to do it for the purpose of physically or emotionally pleasing me. It usually became mere obligatory or by-the-numbers foreplay; no joy for me except to the extent that it got me up for another fuck. Of course sometime it had the opposite effect if the woman was particularly awkward.

As a result, I had never asked for it and found it mildly uncomfortable. Those men who say there is no such thing as a “bad blowjob” are either still fantasizing about a first time they have never had, or they place no value on the emotion of the act. Of course, those same men probably think there is no such thing as a lousy fuck either. Anything that is warm and wet and gets their cookie will do for them.

Such delicate sensibilities I have! But that does establish the setting for what was about to happen. I feared it would spoil the evening. I was wrong. I don’t really know whether Betty knew her way around a stiff dick or whether she just wanted to know mine, but she blew me away.

Spreading my knees to position herself on the bench in the tub about mouth high to my groin, she grasped my cock with both hands and contemplated this hardening tube of flesh with a shy smile. She softly squeezed and pulled on it before putting the crown in her mouth to suck me to final rigidity. After glancing up at me to express her satisfaction at my response, she began to lick the shaft like the proverbial ice-cream cone. There were long licks up and down, pausing to swirl around the glans at the top, as I groaned my pleasure.

Then she dipped her head to my scrotum, licking the sac and kissing the balls gently. Again, I don’t know whether it was a practiced technique or a moment of inspiration presented by my long, loose, hot gonads, but when she pulled the whole sac into her mouth and began to roll my balls around with her tongue, I was quickly transported to heaven. Locking her eyes into mine, she rolled my nuts over and under her tongue, twisting them around in her wet mouth, putting me in addled mind of Captain Queeq with his steel ball bearings. And all the while, she sucked just hard enough to put me on the edge of pain and fear that she would break the delicate string-like tubes that tied them to my body.

No one had ever made love to my testicles, and certainly not like that. It was such an exquisite sensation that I shall never forget it. And it wasn’t just foreplay. Betty obviously enjoyed the sensation in her mouth.

“I just love your balls, Mac,” she whispered when she finally withdrew them from her mouth with a “plop.”

And then she went back to work on my penis. Taking me about halfway into her mouth, Betty firmed her lips over her teeth and rapidly moved up and down, squeezing over the knob, pausing after each 2 or 3 piston strokes to swirl the sensitive glans with her tongue. At the same time she gripped the lower half of my cock with one pulsing hand and rolled my balls between the fingers of her other hand.

In just a few minutes, my shaft and sac were soaked with her saliva. When it was tickling and dripping off my scrotum, she shifted to another technique that was equally mind blowing. Holding the crown in her mouth while she sucked and swirled her tongue, Betty grasped my wet rod in both hands and began what I could only describe as a reverse corkscrew motion up and down the smooth shaft.

I don’t know how I didn’t cum almost right away from these loving efforts. Like so much of this extraordinary evening with Betty, I was in uncharted territory and I suppose I didn’t know how to react. No woman had ever before made love to me like that in my life. No one had ever led me to believe that she really enjoyed sucking my cock, that she adored having it in her mouth, that she wasn’t just trying to impress me or fulfilling a quid pro quo.

I closed my eyes, lay back on the deck with my feet in the water and surrendered my jewels to Betty’s voracious mouth and tender hands, listening to her harsh breathing through her nose and the wet slurping sounds emanating from my groin. I felt sensations quite unlike those naturally provided by a wet vagina, designed as it is for a clasping embrace of ever centimeter of my manhood. Betty was playing a symphony on my dick, utilizing pieces of the orchestra that I had never heard from before, and I loved her for it. Again she made me feel like a god, the god of penis, at whose altar she enthusiastically worshiped.

“Cum for me,” she said, as her hands worked energetically to replicate a cunt.

I could have floated along indefinitely with this incredible pleasure but that brought me back from the clouds. I wasn’t close to orgasm and I didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because of my earlier explosion into her warm body, or perhaps because I didn’t want the emotional joy to end.

Whatever the cause, it wasn’t because Betty was not giving me the most spectacular blowjob of my 29-year life. I began to feel selfish and guilty. I was receiving this amazing pleasure and giving nothing back to my lover. And just as I had sometimes thought of my ejaculation as a tribute to my lover, I began to feel that I was withholding Betty’s reward.

The more I thought of that, the farther away my orgasm went. After another 5 minutes, I sat up and pulled Betty’s face from my cock to share a slow, wet kiss.

“I’m sorry luv, but I have never cum from a woman’s mouth before,” I explained. “You have given me the greatest gift imaginable, unlike anything I have ever experienced before in my life, but now I think I’d like to fuck you again.”

I lifted her up onto my chest and lay back, shifting to the side to get our feet out of the hot water. I guided her hips over mine and pushed my erection between her thighs.

“I love this position but you must promise to tell me before you cum,” she whispered into my mouth. She rubbed the crown up and down her slit and then sat down on it with a groan. Her copious love juice allowed my complete entry on the first plunge.

“Oh, yeah, fuck me, Mac.”

It took her a little while to find the right angle of her hips to allow her to hump me without banging her cervix. But once she did, she began a slow, delicious ride up and down my nearly bent dick, grinding her clit against my pubic bone at each pass. I gripped her ass cheeks in my hands, pressing into the crease and nudging her anus as I pulled her down on me. Her eyes locked on mine, closing only at the end of each down stroke. It felt like we were fucking each other with our eyeballs. Whatever this chemistry was between us, I had never enjoyed a cunt more than I did hers that night.

I knew I was going to cum soon and I stopped worrying about it. Betty was getting as much pleasure as I was, so I no longer felt guilty. I just lay back and enjoyed this lovely woman on the end of my cock. Her nipples were turgid and her moaning was incredibly hot.

We both wanted to kiss so she adjusted her position to lie on my chest with her legs closed over mine. I couldn’t thrust as far into her but I could thrust hard without going too deep. Hard in and slow out, all the while kissing her lips which felt as wet as her pussy.

With the exquisite blowjob she had given, I was ready to cum before she was but I didn’t hold back. “I’m close,” I gasped.

She quickly moved off of my cock, kneeling on the deck as she grasped it in her hands. When she sucked the head into her mouth, sucking her juice as well as mine, I lost it. My groan warned her to back off and I exploded the first shot onto her cheek almost to her eye. The second spurt hit her upper lip, and the rest dribbled out over her milking hand.

My euphoria was boundless. Betty was doing things that I had never known before and I loved it. She smiled at me with my white cream dripping off her chin and a drop in her eyelash.

“I didn’t think you had that much left, Mac,” she giggled as she carefully daubed the semen from her lash. “You guys love this don’t you?”

“I can only speak for this guy, who keeps getting wonderful surprises from you, but “like” is not a word that does justice to shooting my load all over your face,” I said.

I meant jocular but knew there was an intangible there even if I didn’t quite know what it was. Betty had taken my essence, my seed spurting onto her cheek and mouth for me to admire. She had sucked her juice off of my cock. Both of those things had never happened to me before and I was joyous, almost giddy. Why? Was that degrading or disrespectful to her or any woman?

She proceeded to play with my sauce, spreading what had oozed over her hands and the shaft onto my balls and abdomen, with some for my nipples and hers, all the while staring at me with a mischievous grin. I reached out to her lips to wipe a drop of splooge away and leaned in to gently kiss her. If she could stand the taste, so could I. It seemed like the least I could do to thank her for the joy.

“Another acquired taste I guess, huh?” I said.

“Not really. At least I never have. But then I don’t do it for the taste,” Betty smiled.

I reached out to carefully wipe the semen from her eyelash and then the rest of the mess on her cheek as she pushed the cum up from her chin and licked around her lips, with a happy show of “good to the last drop.” And then I understood my joy and hers. The intimacy of tasting and swallowing each other’s juice, the compliment that “I want anything you produce”, the passion to share in the other’s pleasure. I realized that my last orgasm was less a physical sensation than a reward for her love and adoration of my penis. Like a child, I was proud of my show, safe in the feeling that Betty was applauding me. How easily I reverted back to a little boy instead of the conquering, powerful man, when this woman had convinced me that she loved my cock.

Maybe there was something to this love Betty had described. I had never felt so uninhibited with a woman in my life.

“Why is your cock still hard, Mac?” she asked as she continued to stroke and lick my slimy dick.

She let go to show me and I was pleased to see my shaft gleaming in the moonlight as I flexed my groin muscles and waved it back and forth. The crown was quite deflated and flaccid, but the shaft was as hard and long as when she first sat on it. Like so much else that night, we were writing on a blank sheet of paper in my life journal — another of many firsts.

“Actually, Betts, I have no clue. Sometimes my dick can be a bit of a donkey, going its own way without the least conscious control by me. Hard when I’m embarrassed and don’t want it hard; soft when I want nothing more than to drive it into a receptive pussy. We are making this up as we go along tonight but I am sure that you have everything to do with its current condition. I prefer to think of it as refusing to retreat for fear it will not get another chance to be inside you again.”

“Then he shall have his reward,” Betty giggled as she swung her leg over me. “I was close before and I’d like nothing better than to have you fuck me some more, lover.”

With her back to me, she centered the smaller knob under her opening and slid her dripping cunt down easily. “Oh, yes,” she sighed.

This was too good to be true. I had just spurted all over Betty’s face and now I got to fuck her again. Or rather she got to fuck me. Does life get any better than this?

I didn’t have a lot of feeling in my dick at first but I had an awesome view of her cunt riding up and down my shaft in another first, the reverse cowgirl. And I got to see her little brown starfish, winking at me with each down stroke. I was mesmerized as she did all the work, shifting her hips forward to control the depth and riding the end of my penis against the front wall of her vagina.

“Your cock is sooo hard …. Fuck …. Ahhh …. I love it …. So close,” she murmured as she shared her pleasure with me.

I could not tell whether the white stuff coating my dick was hers or mine, but I loved looking at our union. I had been massaging her ass cheeks and couldn’t resist that ass. Coating my fingers with our goo, I rubbed some around her anus and began to press one finger into her ass.

“I like that …. Don’t stop,” she whispered as her breathing quickened.

I began to feel my glans again filling with blood and wondered how long I could last with her controlling the pace. And then she pulled another courtesan move. Betty pulled my still very loose and long scrotum against her pussy, rolling the balls alternatively against her clitoris. That put us over the edge as I sat up to thrust into her and extended my finger all the way into her anus.

Her screech and my groan may have woken the neighbors. Mine wasn’t a big climax but hers was. For me it was almost like a continuation of the previous one but my gonads were drained to be sure. Betty’s release started from the earlier fuck and seemed to overwhelm her. She fell forward and I fell back to catch our breath.

“God, you’re incredible,” I gasped.

When my heartbeat had neared normal, I sat up to lift her back onto my chest. In the process, my now very soft penis slipped from her vagina and I reveled at the flood of our juice onto my pubic hair. I crossed my arms over her chest and squeezed her hard. The smell of her hair in my nostrils was distinctly Betty’s and added another sensory prick to the overload I was experiencing.

No words had been spoken for a long time when I rolled us over into the hot tub to soak some more. She was as a small child allowing me to cradle her and shift her around to sit on my lap. She finally opened her eyes and leaned in to kiss me tenderly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done sex like that or at least too long ago to remember,” Betty said. “The fantasy was better than the reality. Much better.”

“Well, thank you, but my effort was ninety percent inspired by you, Betts,” I replied.

“You were marvelous, Mac, but that’s not what I meant,” she said with a chuckle. ” I mean I don’t think I’ve ever gotten so into it. Wanting you inside me, to capture you in me, to be possessed by you — by a long, hard penis. Maybe I’m getting older, but the metaphysical experience of intense fucking is new to me, a revelation. Sex is wasted on the young, you know.”

“Tonight, it has not been wasted on me, Betts. I can only think of one other time when it has been this intense for me. Maybe I am beginning to understand this thing that can be between a man and a woman, so much more than friction and orgasms. And I think I am beginning to see what you were talking about earlier. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring but thank you for tonight.”

“Nobody has ever called me “Betts” before. My given name is Elizabeth, you know. I think I like it. Call me Betts from now on, whenever you want to fuck me,” she said quietly.

“Then you will get called Betts a lot. After tonight, I can’t imagine not wanting to fuck you,” I said as I squeezed her to me.

She sighed, “I’m not worried about tomorrow. It will take care of itself. Even if I never see you again, this night will be one of the highlights of my life, Mac. Thank you!”

We drifted into silence, each thinking our own thoughts about this perfect evening. I continued to touch and stroke her soft body wherever I could reach. It was so very, very mellow to hold her almost weightless body in the warm water.

I did not have my watch on but I thought it must have been approaching midnight.

“I think we’d better be getting out. Jim will pick me up at 6 a.m. and I can’t be late for the plane,” I explained. “Can I scrub your back in the shower?”

“You can scrub anything you want, Mac,” she giggled.

I helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel. The cool night air was invigorating and gave us some restored energy. Betty grabbed my ass as I replaced the tub cover. We laughed as I led her to the shower.

While waiting for the hot water to come, I watched her in the bright light of the bathroom. She had such a nice, tight body, even if she was self-conscious about her breasts. But she was not bashful about letting me stare at her. Another rare delight with Betty, a woman who was proud to have her lover adore her form and beauty. Some women are so used to hiding their bodies that they never quite enjoy sharing it with a man who they want to admire it.

Stepping into the warm shower, I grabbed the soap and began to lather her body. There is nothing quite as sensual as slipping and sliding my soapy hands all over a soft female body. Squeezing her bum, pinching her nipples, massaging her neck, running both hands down her crack and into her slit — it is all wonderful. It is a wonder to me how, even in longstanding relationships, the simple act of bathing your lover can arouse erotic impulses. Every time, without fail.

It was now after midnight and I had had a long grueling week. Inexplicably, my prick responded as I kissed her while teasing her front and back with both hands, a finger in her cunt and one slightly into her backdoor. I would not have thought it possible after three voracious fucks but we were on a cloud that night.

Betty turned to begin washing me and quickly discovered my budding tumescence. Her two handed corkscrew motion brought me to a full stand as she looked down with a smile.

“Oh, my! I don’t remember when I have ever been fucked three times in a night, let alone four,” she whispered with a giggle. “Is this all for me?”

“It’s all because of you, Betts,” I replied. “It has been 3 years since I did four or more, and the last time took the attention of two women.”

“Tell me that story some other time. Tonight, you have made me feel like the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world and Betts is going to fuck you again, Mac!”

She spent more sensuous time stroking my shaft and balls before moving around to my ass to return the favor. It was a strange sensation to have her probing my anus. Exciting, but not really pleasurable until she concentrated on the frenum between my sac and asshole. That definitely put a little more lead in my pencil.

“God, I could rub this hard cock all night. I just love the big vein on the top and that turnip head.”

I was beginning to think of lifting her against the shower wall to plunge into her wet cunt. I was definitely not going to settle for a handjob with this gift from the donkey. But before I could move to lift her, she interrupted my line of thought.

“How about a Big MAC?” Betty asked coyly. “It would be so appropriate for the man and the moment.”

The blank expression on my face as she reached up to kiss me let her know that I didn’t know what she was talking about. She directed the showerhead to rinse my dick and then turned the water off.

“You know — Mouth, Ass, and Cunt?” she whispered. “You’ve fucked my mouth and cunt. On this night of nights, I want you to fuck my ass.”

I was dumbstruck. I had never done anal intercourse before and I don’t even think I had fantasized about it up to that time in my life. I suppose I had thought of it as a homosexual thing. While greatly enjoying playing with the ass of several women who had allowed it, the thrill of being very naughty and intimate was my motivation. My wife wouldn’t let me anywhere near her “dirty” ass. I had never imagined asking for it and certainly never imagined being invited. Women didn’t enjoy that, did they?

“Actually Betts, I’ve never done that before,” I immediately confessed.

“Oooooo, another first for Mac in a night of firsts,” she proclaimed. “Actually, I’ve only done it twice, a long time ago. The first time I gave in and it was not as bad as I thought it would be. The second was too painful — he was not gentle and I haven’t wanted to do it since.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Luv,” I protested.

“I’ll teach you to go slow, Mac. I want you to have my ass tonight. You’ve had everything else, including my heart and imagination. I want to give you everything a woman can give to her lover in one night. Do you understand?” she asked with a serious, almost tremulous look.

I hugged her and followed her into the bedroom, still wet from the shower. The blood-engorged lance that bobbed in front of me was ample evidence that somebody was definitely interested in Betty’s butt.

The first thoughts that came up for me were that I couldn’t do it without causing her pain. The second was that it would be messy. This had been such a spectacularly perfect night that I didn’t want it marred by an unpleasant experience. I just wanted to bury my rod inside her and listen to another of her orgasms.

Betty asked for some KY or Vaseline and, fortunately, I had the latter in my athletic bag. After retrieving it, I returned to the bed to find her seated on the edge. My cock seemed to be permanently stiff as she bent to suck the head into her mouth while lovingly fondling my balls.

“Let’s get you nice and wet and then I’ll tell you what to do. Just remember to go very slow at first. When I say “stop”, that means to be still, not to pull out. It will take a while for me to get used to this dick in my asshole,” she said looking up at me. She was talking to me about sex in a way that no woman had ever done before.

With that, she turned to get on all fours at the end of the bed. To say that I was thrilled to see her ass spread in front of me would be an understatement. But I wanted to give her some pleasure before attempting her back passage. I knelt on the floor and licked her pussy first. Her moaning began immediately and turned into a groan when I licked her anus.

“Yessss, that feels good,” she whispered. “Now fuck my pussy first.”

Much to my excitement, she certainly had lost whatever inhibition she had had about four letter words! I stood and dipped my knees to line up my cock with the opening of her vagina. Betty’s slit was filling with goo again and I slid in easily for the fourth time that night. Knowing well by then the depth that was comfortable for her, I gently touched bottom and began slowly thrusting. I would have been content, indeed ecstatic, to remain in there for the rest of the night. But she pulled her cheeks apart with both hands and looked back to capture my eyes.

“Put some Vaseline on my asshole and slowly work it in with your fingers,” she commanded.

I stopped fucking her long enough to collect a glob of the lube and applied it on and around her brown anus, winking at me from between her hands. Then she put her head down and began moving her hips to encourage my cock while I tentatively pressed my middle finger into her rosebud. Betty encouraged me to go deeper with my finger and then asked for another.

When I had two fingers in her, she began fucking back against my fingers. It took about 3 minutes to get them both in to the second knuckle. I twirled them around a little for several more minutes before she looked back again.

“OK, I’m ready. Give me your cock,” were her next words.

With more than a little trepidation, I withdrew from her cunt and placed the glistening knob at her anus. It was loosened somewhat from my fingers but a gentle pressure from my hips got me nowhere.

“Push! It’s OK. Push!”

I pushed harder. She seemed to tense up and stop breathing. Betty reached back with both hands again to spread her cheeks and pushed back with her hips to match my thrust. In a sublime moment I will never forget, the head and glans popped inside.

“Stop! Don’t move!” she cried out.

Neither of us moved for a full 2 minutes. Except her anus did move. As I reveled in the exquisite pressure seizing my crown, I was amazed to see the anus pulsing around my shaft. Another farm boy moment, I suppose, but I was startled to see the anus working like a rotary turbine, rotating open and closing around my rod as Betty squeezed some muscle that I had never imagined before. I was breathless from pleasure and wonder.

“OK, a little more,” she groaned.

Another half inch and stop. I felt like the foreskin was being scraped off my dick, so tight was her anal ring. Half inch by half inch, I fed in more of my cock at Betty’s pacing. It seems like it took me most of ten minutes to get my cock most of the way in. It is well that I had a total stiffy or I should have lost some firmness due to inactivity. But actually, that anal ring was so tight that I don’t think any of my blood could have escaped going the other way.

Betty must have breathed during that time, although I didn’t hear it. It seemed like I was holding my breath almost as long, so afraid of hurting her. Sweat beaded on her back. Finally she raised her head again to look at me with an expression of lust on her face.

“Pull out and in. Short strokes. Slowly,” she said quietly.

And so I began to fuck Betty’s ass. A soft, slow one inch stroke became two, and two inches became three. And then Betty began to breath and then she began to moan softly. And then she started to fuck back. The strokes became longer and I finally felt that she was enjoying this “unnatural act.” And then my ecstasy knew no bounds.

I stared at my rigid, oily cock pistoning in and out of her ass as though I were in a different world, transported to a place I had never been before. Fucking “doggie-style” is always a thrill, thrusting between the perfectly symmetrical buttocks as though this faceless sex machine in front of me exists only for my pleasure. Without the eye contact, the ass could be any fantasy woman dedicating herself subserviently to my pounding manhood.

But the sight of that tight ring clutching my rod made it very different, much more personal and intimate. There could be no other fantasy than the exhilaration of being in Betty’s ass, in being where she wanted me desperately. For it could be no other way, considering the pain she had accepted to get to this pleasure.

And, emotional thrill aside, being inside the backdoor is so different than inside a vagina. The inside seemed hotter than a cunt and so much looser. As though emerging from the small opening of a bottle into a much larger chamber that had no bottom. Instead of a clutching, grasping, wet vagina, my cock was free to roam around in this hot chute. But always the clenching opening of her anus, trying to skin my penis of sensation.

There was no mess, no unpleasantness, just pleasure for both of us. My strokes became deeper until I ended with a strong attempt to bury myself as far up her bottom as I possible could. And the more I fucked Betty, the more she liked it, until we were practically in a frenzy of copulation.

“Yesss …. God…. Fuck me …. Fuck my ass …. Deeper … Harder ….” she chanted, pushing back at me as though wanting me deeper and deeper inside her.

I reached for her tits and she placed a hand on her pussy to catch the wave she was feeling. She looked back at me with hooded eyes to share a little of her pleasure before collapsing with her head on the bed. When she came the first time, she literally screamed into a pillow.

That was heaven on earth, as we paused for a moment while her orgasm pulsed around her anus and my shaft. Then I began long slow strokes again, amazed at the pleasure she was receiving. I began to feel a tingle after another few minutes but that was different too. It did not emanate from my testicles, but from my groin, my lower abdomen. It derived from the effort to burrow my cock as far into her bowel as possible, rather than from the massaging of the vagina.

But even then, I wondered whether I could cum again for the fourth time in less than four hours. Betty was not thrusting as energetically now as before. She still seemed to be enjoying it from her moaning but I became self-conscious about overstaying my welcome in her ass. Then she turned her head for my eyes and again grasped her cheeks to spread them wide and open to me.

“Cum for me. Shoot it deep inside me, Mac. I want to feel it spurting,” she said with an encouraging smile.

I realized that the ever-tight anal ring around my glans was the answer. My strokes had stopped before popping the ring with my knob but now I extended my backstroke to pull all the way out through the ring before plunging back in.

Its tightness seemed undiminished to the head of my cock, and the tingle quickly grew to a roar. Betty resumed slamming her ass back to me and I was in a frenzy. I was driving into her so hard that I could feel my balls banging against her pussy.

I exploded in a roar as I ground my groin into her ass and unloaded at deepest penetration. I don’t know how much semen I had left but the force of my ejaculation felt like it should have reached her throat. God, that was good!

Betty collapsed forward from her knees and I followed her down, not wanting to break the connection with her lovely butt. We were both perspiring profusely and I slid around her back until I rolled us to the side to remove my weight from her delicate form. I was exhausted.

I inhaled her hair and sweaty scent as I kissed the back of her neck and held her tightly around the waist.

“You can have my ass anytime you want it,” she whispered without turning around. “It’s never been like that for me. I thought I was going to pass out.”

I hugged her more and we were silent for a while, content to listen to each other breathing. I had nothing to compare with my first ass fuck, but knew I would never forget this night and the woman who introduced me to it.

I was sad that I couldn’t go to sleep like that with her in my arms. But finally she stirred and squeezed my limp cock out of her ass. She turned to me and shared a long, tender kiss.

“Shower, and then I’ve got to go,” she said.

The soapy shower was just as sensual but my dick was done for the night. She dressed and gave me her panties. At the door, we both pushed the tristesse away and parted with a kiss and a thank you. I think we both knew we would do this again and would be lovers for a long time, but neither of us sought or made commitments.

Sleep came quickly for me that night. I would savor Betty tomorrow.

Betty and I saw each other for five years, during which time she introduced me to her daughter. I will post that story if there is sufficient reader interest.

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