Loading...I had a good job. I was the editor and part owner of a weekly newspaper in Waverly, Kansas. It was a town of about 1000 souls, settled after the Civil War by a group of pioneers from Ohio. In fact the main event of the year was a large gathering in a clearing on the edge of town and it was called Old Ohio Days. I had a good house, a modest three bedroom bungalow within walking distance of my job. I had two good children who had long-since grown up and moved away.
I had four grandchildren who I rarely saw but who entertained me with occasional letters and pictures which they had drawn in school. I had all the good things a man could desire save one. I did not have a good woman.
I had had a good woman, my wife of many years, but she had passed away after a long and fearsome fight with cancer. I was still in good health, good being a relative expression for a man who had recently seen fifty. I was still considered marriage material but unfortunately in those days, the tail end of the 19th century, and in that place the pickings were slim.
Perhaps I was too picky. There were several widows of my age in our small community. I rarely lacked for dinner invitations, some of which I accepted, some I declined. The women came in various sizes with various backgrounds but none of them lit my fire. Perhaps I was looking for too much wit, too much intelligence, too much articulateness.
My late wife and I had shared many intellectual conversations. We were both avid readers of the Saturday Evening Post and Harpers Weekly and eagerly awaited the arrival by mail each week of the Sunday New York Times and enjoyed solving the crossword puzzle together. For daily news of a more local nature we read the Emporia Gazette which was edited by William Allen White. He was one of my idols having gained national publicity in 1896 for an editorial he had written entitled ‘What’s the Matter with Kansas”.
We also enjoyed a robust sex life, while she was healthy and I missed that greatly but I mostly missed the wit and the conversation. I had learned that the hours one spends making love are dwarfed by the hours one spends just living together.
I shared my loneliness with my daughter who was living in Illinois. She suggested that I explore the possibility of a mail-order bride. At first I resisted but she persisted and even sent me a page of advertisements from the Chicago Tribune. I sat it aside and forgot about it until I came across it several weeks later under a pile of things on my desk.
What the hell, I thought, let’s see what’s out there. Turns out there were a goodly number of women out there who were looking for a husband and willing to travel.
There were no pictures of these women and most of the ads were poorly written but one in particular caught my eye.
College-educated woman seeks articulate man. I am in my late 40’s and have never been married. I have been a school teacher and care-giver to my father who recently passed away. I am in good health and I am willing to devote all my energies to building a lasting relationship with a husband. I seek a man of good character, preferably with a college degree who enjoys reading, writing and intelligent conversation. Please respond to Box 182 c/o The Chicago Tribune.
Being a firm believer in the old adage of ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ I decided to reply. I wrote: I am a widower in my early 50s and the editor of a weekly newspaper in the small town of Waverly, Kansas. I have two grown children and four grandchildren all of whom, unfortunately, live a good distance away from me. I own a modest home and I am not wealthy. I have a bachelor’s degree in Journalism from the University of Kansas and attend the Presbyterian Church on a fairly regular basis. Truth be told I am probably what is referred to as a “free thinker” and enjoy reading the thoughts of the notorious Robert Ingersoll. Politically I am also considered a liberal by those who know me. I place high value in a woman’s intellect and would consider my wife my equal. I do not require a cook or a housekeeper. I have acquired those skills over the years, particularly since my dear wife of many years passed away. That said I would gladly share those duties with a wife. Should you wish to continue your career in teaching I would be supportive and you should have no trouble finding employment here on the prairie if you wish to work. I am in good health, for a man of my age. I have blue eyes and a full head of silver-gray hair. I wear spectacles. I have never been arrested although some of my more conservative readers have threatened to lynch me after some of my progressive editorials. (I say that in jest.) If you are interested in continuing this dialogue I welcome your reply. You may reach me at my business address: Jerome Bender, Editor, The Waverly Gazette, Waverly, Kansas.
I mailed the letter and went on with my life. Several weeks passed without a response which was not disheartening given the slowness of the U. S. Postal Service. Still I watched the mail eagerly every day. Then, on a bright, crisp October morning while going through the mail – bills, some checks for subscriptions, letters to the editor, etc, I came upon a handwritten letter which was obviously the work of a feminine hand. It was postmarked Springfield, Illinois and I opened it eagerly.
It said: Dear Mr. Bender, Thank you for your most informative missive. You express yourself very well and I appreciate the value you apparently place upon those of us of the fairer sex. I would enjoy further correspondence with you if you choose to continue. Yours sincerely, Rebecca Thurston.
I smiled, carefully put the letter in my desk and sat down to write a response. Our letters back and forth continued for several months and brightened what otherwise proved to be a typical, cold and windy winter on the plains. She indeed proved to witty and literate and thankfully she shared many of my liberal views on politics and religion.
We exchanged photographs. Hers showed a 40ish woman standing next to a seated older man – probably her father. She had a small face with a nose perhaps a bit bigger than the norm but I liked her looks. I have heard that type of face described as rat-faced, an apt if not enticing description. She had dark hair streaked with gray, done up in a bun on the back of her head. She appeared to be rather petite and not overly endowed but femininely shapely. Her long dress gave no hint of what her legs looked like. She was certainly not a Gibson girl but I found her attractive and hoped that the photograph was fairly current.
In March I sent her a modest diamond ring and asked her to come to Kansas and become my wife. I hastened to add that, since we were still relative strangers I would not expect her to immediately become a conjugal partner.
She replied promptly and my heart leapt as I read: Dearest Jerome. I would be pleased and honored to become Mrs. Bender. I adore the ring and am wearing it proudly. I must say that I am the envy of my lady friends. Several of them have asked if you have a brother or a friend who might be interested in correspondence. My darling – if I may call you that – I appreciate your thoughts about conjugal relationships. I have never been with a man but I am a good student and an eager learner. Write me as soon as you can so we can work out the details and arrange for my travel to the wild, wild west. With all the love a woman can muster I remain,
Yours Forever, Rebecca (the future Mrs. Bender) Thurston.
Thus on a bright April afternoon I stood at the Santa Fe depot with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. The train chugged up to the station and stopped and one lone passenger got off. It was Rebecca, carrying a small valise and followed by a porter with two large suitcases. I hurried to them and tipped the porter after he had put the suitcases on the boardwalk next to the train.
I turned to Rebecca and shook her hand.
“Miss Thurston, I presume?”
She laughed. “And who would you be, Sir?”
“I believe you know my name. Suffice to say that I’m a bedazzled, befuddled, bewitched believer that dreams do, indeed, come true.”
She smiled and said, “My, my. What a greeting. What a welcome to Kansas.”
We walked to my carriage, loaded her luggage and drove off. I gave her a tour of the town which didn’t take long. I showed her our school, our new library, the newspaper office and then took her to my house.
“Here is my, uh, our home. It’s not much but it’s paid for,” I said.
“It looks fine,” she said.
We went inside and she looked around. After my wife had passed away I had removed most of the feminine additions, mainly because they reminded me of her and possibly because I hoped another woman would want to add things of her own.
“As you can see we definitely need a woman’s touch,” i said.
“We?”
I laughed. “We…the house and the owner.”
She laughed and reaching up tenderly touched my on my cheek. I put my hands on her shoulders and slowly brought my lips closer to hers, stopping just inches away. She pressed her lips against mine and we kissed for the first time. Our lips connected lightly at first and then I moved my hands from her shoulders and wrapping them around her trim frame I kissed her more passionately and even darted my tongue into her mouth. She responded in kind. There was definitely some chemistry and hunger between us. I moved my mouth away from hers and said, “In my all-time ranking of first kisses that has to be number one.”
She laughed, squeezed me tightly and said, “I told you I was a good student and an eager learner.”
“Rebecca, you are exactly as advertised. In fact you are even better than I had hoped for. We need to see about a marriage license and a preacher.”
She smiled and said, “I don’t mind waiting for that for a few days. I know that I want to marry you but I don’t want you to feel that we have to get married immediately.”
She paused and then said, “You still don’t know how well you will enjoy, uh, intimacy with me.”
“Alright.” I said, “I appreciate that and thank you for the option. As I have written to you I value you more for your mind than for your body although your body is most pleasing to the eye. If you want to wait for a while that’s alright with me. However, while we decide we’d best get you a room at the hotel – at least for the sake of appearances.”
She agreed and we rode back to the center of town. We checked her into the only hotel in Waverly and carried her luggage up to the room. I watched as she put her things in the closet and chest of drawers. She was efficient and orderly and a pleasure to observe.
“I hope your stay here in the hotel will be a short one,” I said.
“I agree,” she said.
“It’s about dinner time,” I said, “Are you hungry?”
“In more ways than one,” she said with a chuckle.
“I’m afraid our choice of restaurants is somewhat limited but the hotel dining room downstairs isn’t too bad. Unfortunately we can’t get any alcohol. Carrie Nation’s influence is still very strong here in Kansas.”
“I can remedy that,” she said and, reaching into her valise, she brought out a small bottle of brandy.
“You think of everything,” i said.
“I try.”
We rinsed out a couple of glasses and I poured a small amount of brandy into each one.
“”Here’s to a long and happy relationship,” I said.
“Here, here,” she replied.
We toasted and drank and walked downstairs. The restaurant was busy but we didn’t have to wait too long for a table. I noticed the patrons noticing us including some of the Waverly widow women who regarded this strange woman with some degree of interest and animosity. Perhaps that last part is just my male ego talking.
We even had a short conversation with the mayor, John Senior, who was a lawyer and the President of one of the two banks in our little town.
I introduced Rebecca to him, saying, “John I would like you to meet my fiance Miss Rebecca Thurston from Springfield, Illinois.”
“Miss Thurston I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I wondered who that attractive woman sitting with our Editor was and couldn’t help but notice the glares from some of the ladies in the room.”
Rebecca laughed, we chatted for a few more minutes and Mr. Senior departed, saying, “Miss Thurston, welcome to Waverly and I hope your stay is a long and happy one.”
The waiter brought our menus.
“What would you suggest?” she asked.
“Do you like steak?”
“If it’s well prepared.”
“Than I would recommend the Kansas City Strip sirloin. Back east they call it New York Strip but here we call it Kansas City.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We ate and talked and some more people stopped by to meet this mystery woman. I had not told any of the locals about our postal relationship. I introduced her as my fiance, Rebecca Thurston from Springfield, Illinois. The word fiance drew some raised eyebrows and glances at the diamond ring she wore. She seemed very comfortable with what to her were strangers and I smiled proudly. After dinner I said, “Would you like to stroll along Main Street and see a little more of your new home?”
“Lead the way,” she said.
We paid our bill and, hand in hand, strolled through the modest village. The sidewalks were paved with brick and I explained that Kansas boasted a number of small brick plants primarily in the southeastern part of the state. Waverly was in the northeastern part of Kansas about 100 miles from Kansas City. We walked and talked and then I said, “You’re probably tired after your long trip. Let me escort you back to your room.”
She nodded with a shy smile and we went back to the hotel. At the door she said, “Please come in.”
I nodded and bowed graciously and said, “Lead the way.”
She closed and locked the door and said, “It would not be seemly for you to spend the night but I would like to lie with you for a while, if that’s alright with you.”
“I was hoping you would ask.”
She gazed at me lovingly and said, “Before I lie down with you I would like to take a bath, how about you?”
“A capital idea,” I said.
“Perhaps some time we can bathe together but, for now, you go first.”
I went into the bathroom and removed my clothes and drawing a lukewarm bath I cleaned up the best I could. I put my underwear back on and walked back into the bedroom.
“I didn’t bring a robe,” I said.
She laughed and said, “You look fine.”
She had drawn the bedspread and top sheet back from the bed and, motioning toward it, she said, “Make yourself comfortable and I will join you forthwith.”
She walked into the bathroom and I got into bed, covering myself with the sheet. Soon I could hear her running a bath, humming contentedly to herself – a positive sign. After a bit she returned, wearing a white night gown with a lacy trim at the hem and some flowers embroidered around the neckline. The night gown ended at about her knees and from what I could see of her legs she looked fine. She had unpinned her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. She turned out the light and slipped into bed beside me.
We laid together quietly for a few minutes and then she turned toward me and said, “I’m ready for my first lesson.”
“I thought you were the teacher,” i said.
“This is not my usual classroom. You’re the one with experience and there’s much truth to the old adage that experience is the best teacher.”
I laughed and drew her body close to mine. We kissed deeply and this time our tongues probed and danced in each other’s mouths. She tasted like peppermint, she smelled like lilacs and she felt divine. I left the bed momentarily and walked to the window. I pulled back the curtains to let the moonlight come into the room providing just enough light so we could see each other.
“Let’s get undressed,” I said and began to remove my underwear.
She looked at me expectantly and then sat up and slowly pulled her nightgown over her head and dropped it to the floor. In the moonlight I admired her. Her breasts were not overly large but very nicely formed with small hard nipples. Moving my gaze down her body I saw a nice thrush of dark pubic hair which contrasted nicely with her pale skin.
“Do you like me?”, she asked.
“I adore you.”
She dropped her gaze to my hard cock and said, “Is that for me?”
“For whenever and where ever you want it to be.”
I laid back down beside her and kissed her again and said, “May I touch your breasts?”
She nodded and I gently touched them. Keeping my touch as light as possible I cupped them in my hands and then coned my fingers and began to caress her nipples.
“That feels very, very good,” she said, “How do they feel to you?”
“Very good hardly describes them. May I kiss them?”
“Do you want to?”
In reply I moved my mouth to one and than the other, licking and nibbling and savoring the taste of her.
She sighed and said, “You’re making me wet down, down there.”
“Show me,” I said.
She took my hand and placed it gently between her legs. I played with her pubic hair and then moved my middle finger lower and began a gentle up and down motion on her labia, gradually inserting my finger. She was, indeed, very moist. Moving my finger up a bit I found her clitoris and with tender touched coaxed it out of its nest.
“Are you okay with this?” I asked.
She responded by putting her hand on mine and pressing it firmly.
“I’m going to move my finger inside now and let me know if it hurts.”
I carefully inserted my finger into her tunnel and encountered her hymen. I probed it and she winced a little bit. She was, as advertised, a virgin.
“I’m going to try to open you up a bit more,” I said, “you may feel a little pain but it should quickly go away.”
I added a second finger to the penetration squad and probed again. She responded by putting her hand on mine and forcefully pushing my fingers inside of her. She winced and cried out momentarily and I could feel a modest amount of blood flowing on my hand. I stopped my manipulations and allowed her to compose herself.
“I’m glad that’s over,” she said.
“I hope it wasn’t too painful for you.”
“Just part of the learning process, I suppose,” she replied. She paused for a moment longer and than said, “Go on.”
I kissed her sweetly and began to probe with both fingers while I rotated my thumb on her clitoris. She pulled my face closer to her and kissed me passionately, ramming her tongue into my mouth in rhythm with my stroking hand. I pulled my mouth away from hers and said, “I love you Rebecca. I love you and I want to please you.”
“Oh, you are,” she said, “you are, you are, you are, YOU ARE!”, and with a a gasp and a heave she climaxed. I smiled contentedly and slowed my pace, petting and patting her pussy.
She caught her breath and said, “What a glorious climax. I must confess that I have had some in my life with my own fingers but nothing to compare with this and I’ve never had fingers inside me before tonight. Thank you for a glorious initiation.”
“Always glad to be of service, my dear,” I said with a chuckle. I put my arm around her and held her close and she sighed with contentment.
“Speaking of service,” she said, “I believe it’s my turn. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to be comfortable with me.”
“I’m already there, thank you very much,” she said, “Teach me how to give you pleasure.”
I smiled and said, “Whereas women have many erogenous zones, most of a man’s are centered in one particular place.”
She laughed and, reaching down, put her hand on my penis.
“Let me guess,” she said with a chuckle.
“Bingo,” I replied, “You are such a quick study.”
“Let me examine this more closely,” she said, “I’ve seen pictures of a penis but this is the first time I have ever touched one.”
“Nothing beats hands-on experience,” I said, “If you’ll pardon the pun.”
“Penis sounds so clinical, doesn’t it,” she said, “I’ve heard there are other terms.”
“Like what?”
She paused and said, “Cock, for instance.”
“Cock is good,” I said, “It connotes a bit of the rooster which all men harbor. It’s sometimes also called a prick.”
“Well it certainly doesn’t feel prickly.”
“You’re right,” I said, “And for the life of me I don’t know where that term originated.”
“Perhaps we can do some research.”
“Perhaps. we can.”
“It’s so stiff and hard,” she said.
“All the better for cocking and pricking,” I said laughingly.
“It’s stiff and hard and yet your skin is so soft and tender.”
“Tender is good,” I said “Any my testacles are even more tender.”
“Oh yes, testacles,” she replied, “Where the sperm is manufactured.”
“Yes,” I said, “And right about now a whole bunch of them are clamoring to get out and go about their business of making babies. They are single-minded little fellows.”
“I’d like to make a baby,” she said.
“If that’s what you want perhaps it will happen but we’ll save that for a future lesson,” I said.
She stroked my balls and said, “I can almost feel those little fellows clamoring to get out.”
“Then turn them loose,” I replied.
She giggled and said, “I’ve done some reading in some hard-to-find books and I think I know how to do that.”
“Show me.”
She moved her hand to the tip of my cock and captured the pre-come which was oozing out.
“Your cock comes with it’s own dispenser of lubricant,” she said.
“So does your vagina,” I said, “Mother Nature plays no favorites”
“That’s debatable,” she said, “But vagina is also such a clinical word.”
“What other words do you know?”
“I’ve heard it referred to as a quim or a cunt,” she said, “And I don’t know where those words came from either.”
“I can’t say about quim but I believe that cunt has a connection to cunnilingus.”
“Are we going to do that? Have you ever done that?”
“Yes I have and yes we will but only if you want to,” I said, “But that’s also for a future lesson.”
“How exciting,” she said with a chuckle. She stroked my penis with one hand and fondled my testacles with another. “This feels good in my hand,” she said, “I wonder how it will feel inside me.”
“Another future lesson,” I replied.
“Oh, shoot,” she said, with a laugh.
“One step at a time my darling.”
“How am I doing so far?”
“You are doing a wonderful job of doing me.”
“I’m so glad and this is so exciting.”
“Put your hand in your mouth for a minute and make it wetter.”
She did, moistening her hand nicely and said, “I can taste and smell you on my hand.”
“How is it?”
“It’s not at all unpleasant and it has a sort of musky smell.”
“Musky is an apt description,” I said, “Now stroke me harder and pay attention to this spot.” I put my hand on hers and showed her the place on the underside of my penis just under the crown. She continued stroking my cock, paying particular attention to that special spot.
“Rebecca,” I said, “I’m about to climax.”
“I want you to, I want to see your seed.”
“Well, here it is, ” I said and with that I ejaculated heartily.
“Oh my, oh my,” she said, “That was beautiful. I never imagine there would be so much of it.”
I laughed and said, “I’ve been storing that and saving it for quite some time.”
“Then the amount fluctuates?”
“Yes, according to how often it happens.”
She paused and then said, “Can we do it again.”
I laughed. “Not tonight my darling. This old man is only good for that about once a day.”
“Well,” she said, “I suppose once a day is enough.”
We laid close together and a drowsed off to sleep. I awoke a few hours later and saw her sitting at the desk across the room, writing something.
“What are you writing about?”
She smiled and said, “About you and us and our first night together.”
“Sweet thoughts, I hope?”
“The sweetest, my sweet.”
“I had best get dressed and go to my house. It wouldn’t be seemly for me to be seen leaving your room in the morning. But I’ll come and fetch you for breakfast.”
I got dressed and slipped quietly out of the hotel. I walked to my house and slept soundly the rest of the night. Next morning I took Rebecca to breakfast and than to my office. While I worked she read my scrapbook of old editorials and stories I had judged worth saving.
That evening after dinner at the hotel dining room we retired to her room. We got undressed and this time we got into bed without any night clothes. We kissed and caressed for a while and then she said, “I’m ready for my next lesson, teacher.”
I smiled and said, “Our next course will be intercourse.”
“Aren’t you the clever one,” she said.
“First of all,” I said, “Let’s prepare each other.”
I began to touch and caress her nether lips and she stroked my cock, lovingly. Soon she was wet and ready and so was I.
I moved between her legs and said, “There are several ways we can do this. I think we’ll start with the old tried and true – the missionary position.”
I moved closer to her and began to caress her pussy with my cock, paying particular attention to her clitoris.
“You may or may not climax from intercourse but if you don’t I”ll find other ways to satisfy you,” I said.
“You are so very thoughtful. You are a dear, sweet man,” she replied.
“Is there any soreness in your special place?” I asked.
“If there was it’s all gone now thanks to what you’re doing.”
“Do you feel a longing to feel me inside you?”
“Oh yes.”
“Then take hold of my penis and put it right at the entrance and I’ll take care of the rest.”
She reached down and guided my cock to precisely where it wanted and needed to be.
“I’m going to enter you now. If you feel any pain or discomfort just say the word and I’ll stop.”
“Go ahead,” she said, “Make me a woman.”
I kissed her sweetly and slowly began to glide my penis inside her. She spread her legs wider to give me more access. Her pussy was incredibly wet and incredibly tight and felt incredibly good.
“How does that feel?” I asked.
“It feels, it feels good. It feels fulfilling. It feels uh, natural.”
I started to move in and out of her, gently at first but then as my passion increased so did my speed.
She moved her hips as best she could up to match my thrusts.
“I’m fucking! I’m fucking! I’m truly, and actually fucking.” she cried, trying to keep her voice as low as possible.
“I am too, my sweet. I am fucking a woman that I deeply love and admire.”
I picked up the pace and said, “Wrap your legs around me and hold on.”
She did. The sounds and smells of some serious coupling began to fill the room. I was amazed and delighted that I was able to keep from coming. Perhaps last night’s hand-job had paid dividends. But inevitably I could feel those rascally little sperm about to exit.
“I’m almost there, Rebecca, almost there.”
“I am too, I am too!”
I came first but was able to sustain my momentum long enough for her to come also. She dug her fingernails into my back and let the moment take her. We stopped and fell away from her.
“I could feel your sperm when you erupted,” she said. “It was an indescribable feeling and then I felt even better when I erupted too. Was it as pleasurable for you as it was for me?”
“My darling,” I said, “It was incredible. We came together and not every couple, even those who have been making love for years, can say that.”
“My, that is something,” she said. “I wonder if we’ve made a baby?”
“Well those little spermatazoa are even now swimming toward their destination. We’ll know soon enough but in any case we need to get married.”
I got out of bed and bowing down I said, “Rebecca, will you marry me.”
“Oh yes I will,” she said, And then she laughed and said, “I’ve dreamed for years about a man proposing to me but I never imagined he would be naked.”
I went back to my house and the next morning I collected my bride-to-be. We went to the courthouse, found a judge who was an old friend of mine, enlisted some people from the city clerk’s office to act as witnesses and we were married.
We returned to the hotel, gathered up her things and went to my, now our, house.
I went to work, leaving her at home to put away her things and get accustomed to her new surroundings. I arrived home that evening and was greeted by the smell of pot roast, lilacs and a lovely smiling wife.
“How was your afternoon, Mrs. Bender?”
“It was wonderful. How about yours?”
“It was okay. What is that I smell?”
“Pot roast, potatoes and carrots. I made a little trip to the grocery store. I thought my dear, sweet husband would appreciate a home-cooked meal.”
We sat down at the table and I savored every bite.
“Rebecca, you are not only an incredibly beautiful woman and a great lover you are a fantastic cook.”
She laughed and said, “I fear that you’re still in the throes of an early romance but thank you for the compliment.”
I helped her clear the table and wash and dry the dishes and then we sat for a while on the front porch swing, held hands and talked.
“If this is what married couples do I think I really like being married,” she said.
I smiled and said, “I love being married – to you. And, I might add, this is not the only thing that married couples do.”
She laughed, “What exactly is on your mind my dear husband.”
I took her hand and brought her to her feet and said, “Follow me.”
We locked the door, turned off the gas lamps and went into the bedroom. She looked at the bed and said, “Our marriage bed, my classroom, I pray that we spend many happy hours in it.”
“I second that supplication. Shall we resume our studies?”
“Oh yes.”
We undressed and got into bed.
“It’s time for our third course. As you probably know, having read extensively there are many ways to make love or have sex, if you will, but all or most are variations of the three basics,” I said.
“And those would be,” she asked, smiling.
“Manually, conjugally and orally.”
She hesitated and than said, “Well we’ve done the first two. Are you proposing the third?”
“Only if you are willing.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” she said.
I laughed and said, “In this venue there are variations, we can pleasure each other simultaneously,”
“Soixante-neuf,” she said.
“You are indeed well read,” I said.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“Or,” I said, “we can do it individually or sequentially.”
“And which is to be, kind sir?”
“I think the first time we’ll do it sequentially. I think it’s easier to concentrate on the process if one is not distracted.”
“You find me distracting?”
“Delightfully distracting.”
“Okay,” she said, “Who goes first.”
“I’ll do you first and then you can do me, but only if you want to.”
“Ladies first,” she said, “How very gallant.”
“Nope, just practical, because after you do me I may not have the energy to do you.”
“My husband the pragmatist,” she said with a laugh. Then she said, “Should I lie down on the bed?”
“Yes,” I said, “but not in the middle.. Let me show you.”
She laid down and I positioned her sideways on the bed with her petite bottom right at the edge. I knelt in front of her, put one of her legs on the bed post and draped the other over my shoulder. She was opened wide and invitingly in front of me.
“My goodness,” she said, “I feel so exposed.”
“Indeed,” I said, “and you you look enticing.”
I began to lick slowly up the sides of her thighs getting closer to her prize with every passage. She responded with a moan and a burst of heady vaginal aroma. I put my hands on her labia and lovingly spread her nether lips apart. Sticking out my tongue I made a darting swipe up her pussy, starting near her rectum and ending with a suck on her clitoris.
“Oh, that feels fantastic,” she said. “Like your fingers although wetter and more sensitive.”
I licked her again and yet again and she said, “How do I taste?”
I stopped licking for a moment and said, ,”Like strawberries and burgundy wine.”
“Really?”
“Well, not exactly. It’s hard to describe but I thought that sounded good.”
“It feels wonderful.”
“It tastes even better.”
I pushed my face eagerly into her entrance and moved it from side to side, coating my face with her essence. She gasped and moaned and I inserted my middle finger into her tunnel and began to move it in and out while I nibbled on her clitoris.
“Oh my dear sweet man!”
I probed and licked harder.
“Oh my dear sweet man!”, she cried, louder.
I probed and licked and nibbled harder still.
“OH, MY DEAR SWEET MAN!”, she shouted as she climaxed.
“Oh, my dear sweet woman,” I said, “I love to please you.”
I stood up and moved her still trembling body lengthwise on the bed and then walked around the bed and laid down beside her. I took her in my arms and kissed her. My face was still dripping from her juices. She licked around my taste and said, “Maybe raspberries and burgundy wine.”
I laughed and held her close.
“What do you taste like,” she asked.
“Taste me and see,” I said, “but only if you want to.”
“After what you just did for me I could hardly refuse.”
“Then, Mrs. Bender, help yourself.”
She put her hand on my cock and said, “It feels like dinner is ready.”
“Ready and willing,” I replied.
She moved to between my legs and I reached behind and put two pillows under my head so I could watch her.
“Do you want to watch me eat my dinner?” she asked, “In case I have bad table manners.”
“Madame the viewing is simply for my pleasure. I want to watch you pleasuring me.”
“I’ve never done this before, you know.”
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem learning how.”
She laughed, looked lovingly at my cock and balls and began to touch and stroke them.
“Is it alright to eat with my hands?”
I laughed and said, “I’m not sure what Emily Post would have to say about that but you certainly have my permission.”
“Well, here goes,” she said and took her first taste of masculine menu. She lovingly licked up the base of my cock, paused and said, “Sort of like Kansas City strip sirloin, medium rare.”
I laughed heartily and said, “Mrs. Bender you are a saucy little wench.”
“Wench, is it?”
“You’re my wench. You’re my wife. You’re my life.”
“Thank you,” she said.
She put her tongue on the sensitive spot just under the crown and licked up and down.
“Ah, you remembered,” I said.
“I told you I was a good student,” she said with a laugh.
“Now, take it all in your mouth,” I said.
“Like this?”
“Exactly like that. No response is necessary. It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.”
She laughed while she sucked and her mouth moved enchantingly on my hard cock.
“Touch my balls, very gently.”
She did and I said, “Good girl.”
She stopped and said, “Just good?”
“I’m sorry. Let me re-phrase, wonderful, marvelous, fantastic, phenomenal, stupendous, mind-boggling.”
She stopped again and said, “You sound like Roget’s Thesaurus.”
“I am a journalist, you know.”
“Well, I hope you won’t write about this for your newspaper.”
“It will be our secret.”
She went back to work, plunging her mouth deeply down on my cock and then pulling back, pursing her lips and paying special attention to the sensitive head.
“Oh, Rebecca, I’m about to climax!”
She grunted approvingly and worked even faster and sweeter. I could feel my love load rising and rising and rising and then I erupted into her mouth. She stopped sucking and, looking directly at me, she rolled my seed around in her mouth and then she swallowed it. She sighed and said, “Very tasty.”
“And rich in proteins, I am told.”
“Proteins are good,” she said.
She laid back down beside me and we drifted off to sleep with sweet dreams of many more nights to come on our marriage bed in our little house in our little town on the prairie.