I walked down the hill on the west side Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown, crossing the C and O canal, and stopped outside the window of a small women’s boutique. The window displays indicated a variety of fine clothing and accessory items, immaculately arranged and appointed, so I entered. A small bell attached to the door jingled, announcing a visitor.
As the newly appointed general manager of Georgetown Park less than a month ago, it was part of my job to canvass the area for potential tenants willing to leave their storefront stops for a place inside the struggling, but beautiful, enclosed mall on the corner of M and Wisconsin streets. And, there are worse places to sight-see than the streets of Georgetown, for a variety of reasons.
In the first few weeks in my new position, I had already come across some of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Washington DC was a haven for beautiful, educated women, and Georgetown in particular was popular was a bevy of international tourists, mainly European. The streets of Georgetown attracted a veritable potpourri of pussy, on a daily basis, in every conceivable shape, size, age, and color.
It was the early Fall of 1990. The venerable DC-area department store, Garfinckel’s, had just closed its doors, which is a crushing blow for any shopping center that loses an anchor store. A slew of other smaller stores were already on financial life support, either severely delinquent or on reduced rent structures.
Though no one quite knew it yet, there was a recession on the horizon which would last a few years. But at the somewhat tender age of thirty-one, I had already created a bit of a reputation for turning around the fortunes of shopping malls. Georgetown Park was my third assignment in less than three years, and I had relocated from New Jersey for this particular opportunity. So, my interest in this particular shop was purely professionally related.
I heard her before I saw her. A voice came from the back of the store. “Hello,” that voice called out, in a distinctly Scandinavian accent. “Welcome to my store.”
My instinct, at first glance, was that she was a drop-dead ringer for Jane Fonda. Now, that may sound funny to imagine, but back in the day, Jane Fonda, then also in her early fifties, was a stone-cold fox. Regardless of what anyone may think of her political beliefs, no one could logically dispute her “hotness”. Her fitness videos in that era were the impetus for exercise for millions of America’s women, and masturbation fodder for men of all ages. Myself included.
As she strode toward me, the resemblance became even more striking, down to the shaggy, stylish bob hairdo, layers of honey-colored locks, tumbling down onto her forehead, with one loose bang that dangled sexily over one eye. She brushed if off with a wave of a manicured finger, and my professional interest was suddenly long forgotten. A burgeoning hard-on will make a man’s memory and conscience very short indeed.
She smiled at me, while seeming to take inventory of my own goods, her ice-blue eyes scanning up and down quickly. I was dressed in a navy blue suit and black wingtips, and I noticed that she looked for an extra second at my feet.
Women always notice the shoes. Why is that? Most men wouldn’t really notice right away if a woman is wearing muddy work boots. We have other areas of attention to focus upon. But a woman? A woman sizes up a man’s shoes with the same level of curiosity as a grizzly bear sniffing a honey pot. Go figure.
“My name is Ulla, I am the owner,” she proclaimed with an obvious amount of pride. “Are you looking for anything special?” she asked, grinning mischievously. “Or searching for ideas for that special lady?”
Somewhat bashfully, I introduced myself as the new manager of the neighboring mall, and explained that I was just getting acquainted with the area.
She listened to me stammer for a moment, her eyes piercing into my own. Finally, she nodded knowingly. “Ah, yes, I have several friends who work in your mall. I heard they had a handsome, new manager. You are already quite popular. It is my pleasure to meet you.”
I couldn’t help but blush at her compliments. The blushing was accompanied by a quickly growing rock-hard bulge in my pants. Mainly, I found myself attracted to younger women. In fact, my own girlfriend was twenty-two years old, still back in Jersey, completing her master’s degree at Princeton.
However, I knew instinctively that Ulla, despite being twenty years my senior (I found out later that she was fifty-one) was something different. I just didn’t know, not just yet, how my world would change.
We made small talk in her quiet store for maybe fifteen minutes, while her associates, two middle-aged and very elegant women themselves, catered to the few shoppers that ventured inside. I asked most of the questions, at least at first. Inquisitiveness is a sign of profound interest in the subject matter, right?
I learned that Ulla was a native of Finland, and grew up in Tampere, the country’s third largest city. She moved to the states to go to “university”, as she called it, in 1959 (the year I was born). She married one of her professors, who was much older than her, a few years later. Their marriage lasted until the mid-80’s, when she was widowed, and Ulla opened her boutique shortly thereafter. She was independent, worldly, and engaging. I hung on every word. Literally.
She had a townhouse just a few blocks away, and professed her love for all things Georgetown. It was clear that she was entrenched in the area and knew pretty much everyone and everything there was to know regarding local matters. I decided immediately that if nothing else, she would be a valuable resource of local retailing information for my leasing efforts.
And that’s how I hit on her. Professionally, that is. “Tell me, Ulla, have you ever considered relocating your lovely store to our mall? I think we could offer you a very attractive lease structure and term.”
She threw her head back and laughed, causing her thick, golden hair to fall down onto her shoulders. “Ah, I knew it! So that is your interest, eh? A consummate business man.”
I waved my hands defensively. “No, no, believe me, I’ve enjoyed every moment that we’ve conversed. I was just……well……” I stammered again slightly, trying to measure my words carefully. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and crossed her arms across her chest. She wore a silk ivory blouse that clearly showed the outlines of a lacy bra beneath, and black linen slacks. Her chest was proportionate to her lean body, and though I hadn’t yet gotten the chance to take a peek at her ass, I had no doubt that it would be quite alluring.
She tapped her stylish heels on the marble floor (no, she wasn’t wearing muddy work boots), making me squirm, enjoying my discomfort. The pumps made her about my own height, just under six feet tall.
“You….what….?” she demanded, toying with me. Her eyes sparkled teasingly, a Cheshire-cat grin curling on the corners of her lips. She was clearly reveling in the hint of intimidation. A confident older woman imposing her will upon a younger man. She was testing me, the professor giving the first pop quiz to her student.
I remained silent, returning her stare. When, just as suddenly, she let me off the hook, giggling delightedly. “I know how you leasing guys are, always looking for a deal.” She leaned in close to me, as if sharing a secret. She smelled, um, sensational.
I don’t know what her combination of expensive perfume, lotions, and shampoo might have been, but they all combined to form a powerful cocktail of olfactory stimuli.
“Your predecessor, or should I say predecessors now that I think about it, have been trying to get me into your mall for quite some time.” I was relieved to not have to talk, so I let her continue.
“I could never be persuaded why I should leave my location here and go through the inconvenience of packing everything up, re-merchandising my store, and losing my storefront visibility. Plus, what should I pay all the extra common area charges that go with a mall lease? So, how would you persuade me otherwise?”
She had good points, I had to admit. I began to formulate my counter-argument, the prototypical leasing spiel. But I realized this was no ordinary prospect, in more ways than one. So, I tried the disarming approach. Charm.
“Well, if nothing else….” I began slowly. “….I would give you a personal tour of our many vacancies.” I emphasized the word “many”. She laughed. All one had to do was walk through the mall to notice that more stores were closing each month.
“And we could spend a few hours together to discuss possibilities and give me a fair opportunity to see how persuasive I can be.”
I let the double-entendre hang in the air. Now, I saw an almost imperceptible trace of blush on her own cheeks. It was clear I was speaking her language by letting her know that my own intentions may not be purely business-related.
I reached into my wallet, extracted a business card, and placed it softly into her palm, holding her hand a few seconds longer than necessary. Her full lower lip trembled slightly as her index finger brushed against my wrist.
“Have your people call mine to set up an appointment,” I said, huffing out my chest, mocking the silly ritual of self-important people using subordinates to arrange their schedules.
I then gave her my best schoolboy grin. “Or, seeing as how the principals are in the room now, come over anytime that works for you. Just give me ten minutes notice to make sure my shoes are shined.”
She blinked for a moment, not understanding what I meant at first. Then she laughed, joining in on the joke.
“What can I say?” she asked. “A woman always looks at a man’s shoes. They tell a lot.”
She escorted me to the front of the store. She turned around to catch me checking out her taut fifty-one year-old butt, which would have made Jane Fonda envious. She smiled at me, not the least bit annoyed.
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “A man always looks at certain things, too.”
Two days later, when I returned from lunch, our receptionist Trish greeted me with a question. I did make my own appointments. This was long before the day of Microsoft Outlook or smart phone calendars. My appointments were scribbled down on my desktop blotter, so generally Trish didn’t know who I was meeting.
“Were you expecting a woman named Ulla Lehtinen? She stopped in to see you, and said if you were free when you returned from your shoe shine, that she would be in Dean and Deluca’s at the café.” She glanced down at my feet. “Where’d you get your shoes shined? I thought you were grabbing a sandwich at Clyde’s?”
I grinned at the inside joke and went to the box on the wall in the security office where we kept the keys to the vacant spaces. “OK, thanks, Trish. She’s a prospective tenant.”
“Yeah, I know her store down the street. It’s fabulous. She’d be a great addition. Do you think you can get her?”
Yeah, I sure hope I can ‘get’ her, I thought to myself, gathering up a half-dozen keys and a walkie-talkie, which is how we communicated back in those days when someone was out in the mall common area.
“I’ll do my best,” I called over my shoulder. “I may be a couple hours, so call me on the walkie if you need anything.”
Ulla and I never did tour any vacancies. Instead, we sat in the outdoor coffee tables outside the ole carriage house on M street and talked. Not once did we talk about leases. Under the guise of a business meeting, we talked about everything but business for close to three hours.
She was dressed elegantly conservative in a maroon cashmere sweater and a charcoal gray knee length skirt. Every so often, when she shifted, I could see lace stockings beneath, and silently pondered if they were garters. I was always a sucker for garters.
Several hours into our afternoon, the conversation became more personal. Ulla started asking some questions of her own. Remember what they say about inquisitiveness.
“So, handsome mall manager, is there a special woman in your life? Or two, perhaps?”
I told her about Yvette, back in New Jersey. I’ve learned that most women become even more intrigued if they discover that there is already a woman in a man’s life. Ulla seemed no different in this regard.
“So far away,” Ulla purred, twirling a thick lock of hair in her slender finger. “And so young. How often have you seen her since you moved here?”
Once, I told her, last weekend. And probably wouldn’t see her again for a few more weeks, at least. This seemed to further spark Ulla’s interest.
“So, you will go for sometime without seeing your young lover. Do you think she is sitting at home studying when you’re not there?” Ulla’s question immediately hit a nerve, and she sensed my discomfort as I squirmed a bit in my seat.
On her last visit, Yvette showed a marked and rather sudden improvement in her oral skills. I chalked if off to the enthusiasm of sex in a new long-distance relationship. But, still. I wondered where and how Yvette had developed almost overnight expertise in technique……..
My silence did not go unnoticed by Ulla, but she did not press that line of questioning. Her point had been made, and Yvette’s perceived philandering was not at all relevant to where Ulla was heading.
“There are many lovely women within your mall, John. I’m sure you have noticed.” Ulla glanced down at her exposed stocking tops and took the hem of her skirt within her index and middle fingers, rubbing the fingertips over the wool hemline. “After all, you are quite observant,” she added in a soft, sultry voice.
I took her up on the implied invitation to admire her lean thighs now visible beneath the skirt. While never lifting my eyes from her legs, I answered her.
“I won’t ever date a woman who works in one of my malls. That’s a recipe for trouble, ultimately.” I smiled at her, bringing my gaze to her eyes. She had leaned in closer across the table now, her chest jutting out, nipples poking through the sweater.
“That’s another reason, then, why I wouldn’t be interested in a landlord-tenant relationship with you,” she said. “Who needs that kind of trouble?”
We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, which only served to increase the growing sexual tension. I suddenly became aware of my surroundings and realized I was still within the boundary lines of the mall for which I was responsible. Dean and Deluca was one of our tenants, and I glanced around quickly to see if we were being observed.
My paranoia was unfounded. Nobody seemed to be watching. Nobody cared. In most places, folks love to gossip and people-watch, it’s true, but in DC, most people don’t really give a shit. They’re all too self-absorbed to pay attention to others.
Ulla broke the awkward, though sexually charged, silence. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.” It was somewhere in between a question and a demand.
“OK,” I said, almost too quickly, hard as a rock now.
She smiled. “Filomena’s, have you been there yet?”
“No, I haven’t. I heard it’s wonderful.”
“It’s fabulous. I’ll make the reservation, I know the owner, she’s a client. I’ll see that we get the best table so that we can enjoy each other’s company. Seven-thirty? Meet me at the bar?”
I nodded. Ulla stood, and I rose to meet her departure. She gave me one of those European air kisses, and as she grazed my cheek, she whispered surreptitiously into my ear.
“I’m so very wet. I could never be your tenant, now could I?”
Ulla was already seated at the bar when I arrived on time the next evening, wearing the quintessential little black dress, her long legs adorned in black stockings with a seam running up the middle. She was talking with a dark-haired woman with an olive complexion who appeared to be in her early sixties.
Ulla greeted me with a hug, and introduced me to her friend.
“John, this is JoAnna, the owner of this incredible restaurant. JoAnna, this is my new friend, John, the new manager of Georgetown Park.”
I shook JoAnna’s hand as she shook her head at Ulla and wagged a finger. “No, between men and women, there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.” She let those words sink in as she patted me on the cheek.
She grabbed Ulla by the hand and patted her palm warmly, in a matronly way. “So do not treat each other as friends. It is a lot more fun that way between a handsome man and beautiful woman.”
JoAnna turned to me. “And you. You are a very lucky man. This is the sexiest woman in Georgetown. Every man in Georgetown would die to be her companion tonight. So, please, you two, do not pretend to be just friends.”
I reached out and took Ulla’s other hand. It was the first time that she and I had really touched, and the sexual sparks by the mere contact of skin nearly detonated the exquisitely appointed dining room.
“I know it, JoAnna, I am truly a fortunate man. And I have been looking forward to dining here, I have heard such wonderful things.”
JoAnna smiled proudly and leaned in to whisper something into Ulla’s ear, and the two women giggled like conspiratorial schoolgirls.
JoAnna led the way through the crowded restaurant to a somewhat secluded table in the very rear of the room. I walked behind slightly, admiring Ulla’s sublime buttocks sway under the sexy, tight dress. I was reminded of the saying, “A whiskey glass and a woman’s ass are the downfall of many a good man.”
I didn’t drink whiskey, so I figured this was a more pleasant way to go, if indeed there was going to be a downfall.
JoAnna sat us down, fawning over us like a mother hen for a few seconds, and then insisted she bring a bottle of valpolicella, her treat.
When we were finally alone, I said to Ulla, “Um, if I didn’t know better, I’d say JoAnna reminds me of the “matchmaker” from “Fiddler on the Roof”. What did she whisper to you, anyway? Or is that a classified secret between women?”
Ulla smiled at me. “Let’s just say she encouraged me to save room for a creamy dessert.” She picked up the menu and began to peruse it.
“So, I cannot be your tenant nor your friend, so it seems,” she said, without picking up her head. “Hmmm, what does that leave for us?”
I looked at my own menu. “I’m sure we can think of something by the time that creamy dessert rolls around.”
She closed the menu and waited for me to look up at her. When I did, she said quietly, “There are some things you should realize about me.”
I nodded, encouraging her to continue as I closed my own menu.
Her glacier-blue eyes blazed into mine. “I am a few fundamental things, at my core. I am Scandinavian, and come from and embrace a very open and sexual culture. I hope you are prepared for that.”
“Go on, Ulla,” I said, trying to exude confidence. My rock-hard dick was scraping the bottom of the table, threatening to make indentations in the wood.
“I can be very dominant, and I can be very submissive, and I enjoy both roles. Is that something you could be comfortable with?”
Inside I was most uncomfortable, but my words came out almost instinctively. “Very comfortable,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t call me on the lie.
“I choose my sexual partners discerningly. I can be alarmingly slutty given the right motivation, but not a common whore. And there is a distinct difference.”
This time, I remained silent, aroused beyond description. She continued.
“I am experimental and insatiable. I like to be licked and caressed very gently, but fucked hard and rough. I prefer young men, much younger men, because of your stamina. I ask you not to judge me, nor shall I judge you. But by the time the morning comes, I am confident that you will appreciate that you will have experienced the most memorable sexual experience of your life.”
Though tiny sweat beads had formed on my brow, I did my best to act nonplussed. As always, when nervous, I tried to use humor to deflect the tension.
“I see. So……” I began haltingly. “What would you recommend, the Cannelloni di Vitello, or the Ravioli di Chiacchieri?”
She stared at me incredulously for a few seconds, and then threw her head back in uproarious laughter. She nearly convulsed, tears running from the corner of her eyes. “Oh, my God, have I chosen wisely. You are hilarious.” She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Sometimes I can be far too intense, thank you for bringing me back to a sense of perspective.”
She took me by the hand, the mood lightened. “The ravioli is orgasmic. You get that and I’ll nibble from your plate. I’ll go with the linguini cardinale.”
One of the many great things about Filomena’s is that they conclude the meal by bringing carafes of sambuca and amaretto to the table, gratis. Ulla added to the foreplay by continually dipping my fingers into each carafe and sucking the liquor off of my fingers, down to the last knuckle. As if I needed to get any more aroused……
So, by the time we were ready to depart, both of us were more than high and sexually charged. We thanked JoAnna for the hospitality and the sagely advice. She winked at me and whispered, “Lucky man,” once again as we hugged goodbye.
We began the five-block walk to Ulla’s townhome, just off the Georgetown University campus, my arm alternating between being around her shoulders and waist, and then easing down to caress her ass. It felt as tight as a snare drum.
We walked north on busy Wisconsin Avenue, and made a left onto N street. We had gone a block when she pointed to a rather nondescript rowhouse. “That was one of John F. Kennedy’s townhouses when he was a Senator,” Ulla pointed out, displaying her local knowledge again. “He and Jackie lived there, and had Caroline and John Junior there. They lived there as a family until the day he was inaugurated.”
What she said next was even more informative. “He owned and kept several other townhomes within a few blocks of here. One of my first girlfriends when I moved to the states was a page at the Capitol building when JFK was running for the presidency. Kennedy brought her to his home on Dent Place after an event one night in between the time he was elected and inaugurated in late 1960.”
She linked her arm under my elbow as she continued her tale. We made another left onto 35th Street. “He fucked her all night while the Secret Service stood watch on the front steps. Then they drove her home in the morning, and Kennedy must have then walked over to his home there. I wonder how many times Jacqueline put up with that?”
This was fascinating stuff. You don’t get this kind of info in the Washington Post.
She giggled. “Her name was Linda. She swore me to secrecy, but told me Kennedy was a great fuck. I was jealous.”
Despite knowing better, I couldn’t help myself. “Did you want to fuck him?”
“Of course. Every young girl in Washington back then wanted to fuck the Leader of the Free World. And if you believe half of what you hear, a fair amount of them did.”
Hail to the Chief, I thought.
“We’re here,” Ulla said, stopping in front of a house on the corner of 35th and Prospect. I looked up at the white structure and began to get nervous again.
She kissed me sweetly on the cheek. “Well, good night,” she said, climbing up the outdoor steps. “Call me.”
She began to unlock the door as I looked on from the sidewalk in disbelief, a puppy dog left out in the cold. What the fuck…….?
Ulla put one foot in the doorstep and looked back over her shoulder. “Get your ass up here, funny man. You’re not the only one with a sense of humor.”
She took me by the shirt collar as soon as I entered the door and pushed me against it, slamming it behind us.
It was our first kiss, despite the days of teasing, and it was hot and passionate, not at all timid and awkward like so many first kisses that I’d experienced. The kiss of a man and woman who had anticipated this moment and could finally release their mutual hunger.
Ulla pressed her lithe body into my own and began to unloosen the knot on my tie with the fingers of her left hand while toying with my belt buckle with her other. She pressed a knee into my thigh to hold me in place to assure my own gyrations in no way slowed down her attempts to remove me of any and all clothing with fevered alacrity.
She moaned into my mouth as the back of her palm lightly touched the bulge in my crotch. “Uuumph, you’re big,” she mumbled into my mouth.
She had succeeded in unbuttoning almost all of the buttons on my dress shirt and whipped the belt buckle from the confines of the loops in my trousers. She was beginning a slow descent to the hardwood floor, trailing kisses down my chest, when I heard what sounded at first like a freight train rumbling down the stairwell.
A huge yellow lab tumbled down the stairs and virtually leapfrogged over Ulla’s back and jumped up on my chest with its front paws. It looked quizzically at me at first, black eyes just inches from my own, and it sniffed furiously into my face. Quickly sizing me up as a “friend of mom’s”, apparently, the animal began licking my face with wet sloppy kisses of its own.
I much preferred Ulla’s technique. I heard her laughing heartily as she rose from her crouching position, tossing my belt aside.
“Shelby! Down, girl! Didn’t I tell you to expect a guest this evening and be on your best behavior? What kind of naughty girl are you? You barely know this man. You’re such a slut, Shelb!”
The lab ran around Ulla in small circles, as if caught in a revolving door, its tail wagging like windshield wipers on high speed.
Ulla patted the snow-white dog on her head. ” She’s too friendly for her own good at times. I’m going to let her out back to do her business and then put her in her room, or else we’ll never get any privacy. Shelby would see to that.” She took me by the hand and led me to the living room, and pointed to a large white sectional sofa that wrapped around two corners of the room.
“Sit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Shelby panted heavily and danced back and forth on her rear paws, vying for mom’s attention.
Ulla looked at me with a seductive grin. “And at the risk of sounding like a cheesy movie, you wouldn’t mind if I slip into something more comfortable, do you?”
Ulla played with her loyal pet for a few moments in the kitchen, made sure Shelby had water for the night, and put her in the den. Ulla passed me as she went upstairs herself . “Be right back, handsome.”
I waited for about fifteen minutes, which any man will tell you is an eternity when you have a steel-hard erection.
It was worth the wait.
I heard the unmistakable click of heels when she came off of the steps and walked across that hardwood floor before entering the living room.
I suppressed a gasp when I saw her attire.
She stood in front of me, hands on hips, legs apart. A completely sheer sequin lingerie coat was wrapped around the sensational package beneath.
A black push-up half cut bra that left her large pink nipples exposed. A silk ebony garter and G-string set with pink strings and bows on her slender hips. Black lace fingerless gloves that went up above her elbows. Five-inch black spike sandals with ankle straps.
But the sexiest of all, at least for me, was a Victorian choker collar on her neck, adorned with a large turquoise pendant that hung down in front of her throat.
I sat there speechless, hoping the precum leaking into my briefs like a babbling brook wouldn’t puddle into my suit pants enough to be noticeable.
The mature beauty eased the transparent coat from her shoulders and made a half-turn. Her stomach was as flat as the surface of a Scandinavian fjord on a windless day. With one hand she leisurely pinched her gumdrop nipples, alternating between them, and the other hand caressed her washboard tummy.
“Not bad for fifty-one, John, would you agree?”
I did my best to recover any semblance of control. “Amazing, Ulla. Now, get over here. Please.”
She walked toward me, hips sashaying entrancingly with practiced synchronicity, and knelt between my legs, pushing my thighs apart. Since my belt had been removed despite Shelby’s earlier best efforts to intrude upon the proceedings, my trousers were quickly shimmied down to my ankles without anything impeding their fall.
I sat there in my briefs and dress shirt as she removed my shoes and socks. “Nice shoes,” she purred teasingly. “Nice shoes always get me hot.”
“Yours aren’t bad yourself, lovely lady.” I said, playing along, matching compliments. “Are my shoes the only reason why you’re so hot?”
She smiled, lowering her head to my shaft, still covered by my briefs, the impossibly swollen cock head poking over the hem. She licked up and down around the head. “Your big fucking cock tip makes me hot.”
She began to stroke from the base to the tip with her left hand, as she took first one, then the other, cotton-covered testicle between her lips, cupping my balls with her right hand like she was teeing up two golf balls. “Your big fucking balls make me hot.”
Ulla then lifted her mouth to the mushroom knob twitching out into the open, and sucked tightly on my cock head, pulling my briefs down at the same time. I lifted my hips to assist her efforts (“Such a gentleman, thank you”, she cooed) and she slowly engulfed my rod, half-inch at a time, lifting her head after she had descended about maybe three inches. A long strand of saliva hung from her lips and she slowly inhaled it back into her full lips.
“And this gorgeous fucking piece of manhood makes me super hot.” She looked up at me and wrapped both of her hands around the length, one hand stimulating the tip, the other moving up and down at the base of the shaft. The lace stockings on her hands only added to the tactile and visual pleasure.
“Mmmmm, young, handsome, and hung. My kinda man.” She gripped the shaft firmly and began to rub it all over her face, moaning animatedly, which at first I thought was a bit dramatized for my audible pleasure, but as she continued, I realized that she was sincerely aroused beyond any woman I had witnessed. At least in person.
I thought of my young girlfriend, Yvette. Until recently, when her cock sucking skills had rather mysteriously improved, Yvette usually nervously handled my cock like it was a explosive device that would detonate unwittingly at any time.
Ulla, on the other hand, was most obviously a true cock worshipper. A connoisseur, as it were. She mumbled contentedly in what I assumed was her native Finnish language as she consumed more and more of my dick. With each expert ministration, both orally and with her hands, I became harder in her mouth. My balls swelled to the size what felt like lemons.
Almost as though she were reading my mind, Ulla looked up at me while vigorously running her hands up and down, up and down, up and down, my seven-and-a-half thick inches.
“Does your little girlfriend, so far away, appreciate your magnificent cock? Does she tell you what a masterpiece it is?”
I grunted, maintaining my Miranda right to remain silent. Anything I said could be used against me. Besides, Ulla already knew the answer.
Ulla continued stroking, stroking, knowing I was on the brink. Her taunting words only served to make the entire situation more exciting, more taboo, more forbidden, and she knew it.
“Do you think she would be jealous watching me work over your big cock?” She lowered her head, taking me to the base, deep throat accomplished.
I grabbed the upholstery of the sofa, desperately trying to hold off my release. When she came up, gasping for breath, another strand of spittle fell onto her chin.
“Or do you think it would turn her on, watching her boyfriend’s cock get sucked by a woman old enough to be her mother?”
Quite honestly, this was a bit thought provoking. Would Yvette explode with rage or desire if she could watch this? I actually pondered this for a nanosecond, which at least delayed the inevitable.
Ulla positioned my missile dead center in front of her mouth, and opened wide, her long, wet tongue dancing like a serpent’s, ready to strike.
“And, I’m just taking a wild guess, but I’m sure she doesn’t like your cum all over her face like I do. Does she?”
That did it. The first shot of semen rifled over Ulla’s head, like errant buckshot, until she got a tighter grip on my wildly pulsating cock and let it dangle right on the tip of her tongue. Splash after splash of warm cum flew from my tip and ricocheted off of Ulla’s tongue and the inner walls of her mouth.
The liquid load bubbled in her mouth like a carbonated beverage that had been shaken up, as the last few drops fell down onto her chest.
Ulla rubbed the ejaculate into her nipples as she blinked the stray cum off of her eyelids, all the while voraciously sucking me, coaxing whatever was left to drain from my balls.
Ulla had already sort of set the bar about her expectations regarding my performance during her little diatribe at dinner. But from the look on her face, I’m not quite certain that she was anticipating what I would do next.
Although she never voiced any complaint.
Back in that day, even for a young man, I was fortunately blessed with some natural stamina. And tonight, stimulated as I had never been by any woman, Ulla was going to get my very best. Quid pro quo.
Still rock hard, I roared, literally, and forcefully gripped the back of her head. My still throbbing cock, harder than ever before, plopped from her mouth. I couldn’t help but notice that her jaw looked stretched from the oral assault that we had just performed as a tandem.
I rose from the sofa, lifted her up high in the air, and tugged at the tiny pink bows on both hips holding her G-string in place. I had every intent on ripping it off of her, but it looked very expensive, and for some reason, I resisted the impulse. In hindsight, knowing now what I didn’t know then, such an action would have driven her crazy with lust. Hell, she sold the lingerie in her own store.
For the first time, I had unfettered access to her saturated cunt, framed with closely trimmed golden pubes, forming a perfect triangle above her mound.
I threw her back on the sofa, and lifted Ulla’s lean, muscular calves over my shoulders, took a swipe of my cum from her face, and brought my fingers to her mouth and watched as she licked the surplus semen from them.
I felt animalistic sensations that I hadn’t quite experienced before, and growled to the older vixen, legs lewdly spread high in the air, “I’m going to fuck that needy hot cunt now, you fucking slut.” Ulla gasped loudly, obviously surprised by my sudden show of force. Yet I saw her labia tremble in anticipation as she reached down to pull herself open for me.
In one motion I grabbed her ankles firmly in each hand, and inserted my raging cock deep into her steaming cauldron, doing my utmost to virtually split her apart. As my cock almost immediately bounced against her cervix, I felt her cunt clamp around my shaft and convulse in an instant, volcanic orgasm.
“Be careful what you wish for, you fucking tease. You might just get it,” I hissed. She snarled back at me, eyes ablaze. “Give it to me, give me all of that dick, don’t hold back, you bastard. Ruin my cunt.”
Just to be contrarian, to further indicate that I was in control for the time being, I lightened the rhythm, pulling in and out of her completely with each stroke, lingering outside of her gaping twat, teasing her by slapping my dick on her clit.
I pulled my Finnish lover’s legs together in the form of an ‘x’, watching her intently, her eyes half-closed in lust, listening to her growling and moaning.
I pushed her over on her right side, taking her from the side now, my cock reaching deeply inside of her cunt at another angle, the tip of my head touching her clit, feeling her spasm yet once again.
I next rolled her over on her stomach, and placed her flat on the sofa, and spread her legs with my knees. I took her wrists and pulled them behind her back with one of mine, for all practical purposes tying them together. With the other hand, I slipped my finger softly around her rim and gently into her anus, as my cock continued its relentless pounding of her humid pussy, splashing in her streaming juices now, my heavy balls banging against her lovely ass.
And then, I released her wrists and picked her up by her hair and fucked her as hard as I could doggy-style, completely controlling her body now. Her wails echoed off of the walls, her body and will completely surrendered to me. My balls slapped hard against her ass cheeks, my finger now inserted in her backside, and I continued to pull her hair frantically with the other. She grunted, “Oh, yes, pull my hair, finger my ass, fuck that cunt, fuck it!”
I repositioned and put myself on the couch on my back, and pulled her on top of me, so that she was now riding me reverse cowgirl. I watched, gritting my teeth in intensity, as her tight, tiny ass slapped against my stomach, her nectars cascading down onto my skin. The sight of my cock disappearing into her sopping cunt was so exotic, the sounds of her moans and cries and screams of desire filling the room.
I lay back even further now, and pulled her directly on top of me, Ulla’s back against my chest, my hand reaching around, rubbing her hot clit as she jammed her fifty-one-year-old magic pussy down onto my cock.
Knowing that I couldn’t sustain such fervor much longer, I finally rolled her on her left side and grabbed her ass with one hand and her firm tits with the other and simply fucked Ulla as hard as I could for as long as I could hold out, my only selfish thought now to cum deep inside her.
For her part, she seemed to be in the throes of one prolonged orgasm after the other. I never imagined a scenario with the sexual energy and ferocity and mutual ability for two new lovers to turn each other on like this. My cock began to twitch now, the load filling within, and her talented inner muscles began to milk me within her walls.
I stood and turned her lastly on her back, completing our voyage, back to the original port, and I withdrew from her.
I took her gorgeous face in my hands, and stuffed my cock once again into her waiting mouth, her lips quivering with desire, and I fired another shot of cream into her throat, the second onto her lips, the next two on her face, and then let my cock dangle between her tits. I wiped the residue all over her gorgeous breasts, and she moaned and licked her lips, savoring my milky seed.
I held Ulla tightly as the aftershocks of our excitement pulsated through our entire beings. We looked at each other and could only smile. Suddenly, we realized that Shelby was yelping frantically from the den, no doubt fearing for mom’s safety.
“Wow,” Ulla said simply, understating the obvious. What was there to say? She reluctantly released her kegel muscles’ death grip on my cock and stumbled off the sofa. “I need to go calm my poor baby. She hasn’t ever heard mom quite like that, I don’t think.”
Ulla gave some love to Shelby, which placated the lab enough for her to sniff my still naked crotch with the curiosity only a canine’s nose can evoke. “Mommy’s scent is all over you,” Ulla said, giggling. “I think she’s jealous. I’ll put her back, but I think we should go upstairs now.”
I liked that idea. I followed Ulla up the stairs, my eyes fixed on her resplendent ass. “You want that ass, don’t you?” she teased, looking over her shoulder as I practically drooled.
“You know I do,” I replied. “I have plans for that gorgeous ass.”
Ulla began to take off her half-bra, undoing the snaps in the back, leaving her in just her garters, heels, and choker. “I’m sure great minds think alike then,” she said, beginning to slide her heels off so that she could remove the suspenders and stockings.
“Leave the heels on,” I requested. “And the choker. I love that fucking choker. Interminably sexy.”
“Hmmm, naughty. I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
Ulla’s bedroom emphasized the “bed” portion more than the room. Unlike most people’s bedroom, which is a room with a bed in it, Ulla had a bed with a small room around it. I don’t know exactly what the size of the bed was, but my own was a king and this was twice the size. The best part was the brass headboard and the four brass posts. There was also a canopy over the bed with sheer curtains surrounding the mattress. It reminded me of a tropical cabana.
This was a woman who clearly liked to entertain in the privacy of her quarters. The bed could easily accommodate at least four people, and I wondered how many times that it actually had.
I was still navigating my way around the downy pillows, trying to find the best spot, when she emerged from her bathroom.
The choker with the pendant was replaced with one that was leather with diamond studs. It took a few seconds for it to register, but I realized that the diamonds spelled out the word, “Slut”. It also had a tiny brass loop on the side, which appeared to be made for a leash.
Ah, but that was only from the neck up. Below the waist, since it was now apparently a leather-themed ensemble, Ulla wore a pair of over-the-thigh boots.
And there was nothing in between.
“Jeezus,” I muttered, my dick rising like a swollen river. “Um, thanks for keeping heels and a choker on. That was sweet.”
I barely noticed that she held a small box with the name of her store on it. “You’re in my favorite spot, lover. Scootch over a bit, please.”
She slid in next to me, and placed herself in the epicenter of the mattress. She propped a pillow between her head and the headboard. She removed the lid from the box. Inside were perhaps a half-dozen multi-colored silk scarves and two small chains with what looked to me to be two small jumper cables for a car battery. Little did I know…….
Sensing my naivete’, Ulla picked them up in her slender fingers and held them next to each breast. “They’re nipple clamps,” she explained. “Haven’t you ever seen them before?”
Again, I exercised my Miranda rights to remain silent. I shook my head slowly. Yikes, I thought, this is the big leagues of kink. I’m not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
“Help me put them on and adjust them. I like them kind of tight.”
I picked one up and held it between my thumb and index finger like it was a tiny bird’s egg, ready to shatter at any time. Meanwhile, Ulla had already attached the other end to one of her distended pink nipples, groaning when it pinched into place. She helped me put the other one on her, like I was a tiny boy with a box of crayons, trying to draw between the lines. They didn’t teach this part in Sex Ed.
“Mmmm, God, this drives me wild. It’s like my nipples have a direct path to my clit. Speaking of, that little nub of mine is going to require a lot of preparatory attention before you can have my ass. After you tie me up, that is.”
I was officially in uncharted territory now, but I was in for a dollar, so to speak. In a few minutes, Ulla’s arms were tethered to the headboard, spread wide like the wings of the mythical Phoenix.
My dick twitched despite my apprehension, not knowing exactly what was in store for it, but willing and eager to dive in. “Uh, we have two scarves left over,” I reported, having a guess where this was headed.
“Mmm, hmm,” Ulla nodded. “Blindfold me with one. And stuff the other as far into my cunt as it will go.”
I placed the scarf over her eyes and tied it around her head. Then I gently folded the other into her soaked pussy so that only a small piece protruded from her swollen labia. It looked like a pocket hanky for a pussy. I admired my handiwork. Even the colors blended in with her salmon-hued pussy lips. She squealed and groaned as I fingered her cunt with the silky material, teasing her.
“Put that pillow squarely behind my head, please. It needs to be up a little higher. That’s it. Much better.” She made one final adjustment, craning her neck slightly. Her lips curled in almost a sneer.
“Now fuck my mouth.”
I stood over her, my legs on either side of her body, and complied with her request. Again, it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and I was respecting my elder. At least, that is how I reasoned it as inch after inch of thick dick disappeared into her throat.
Saliva poured out of her mouth and she spit all over and then swallowed my cock alternately. She finally pushed out with her tongue, and I got the message, withdrawing, my cock now hard as it had ever been.
“Slap my face with that big hard cock. Hard. All over.”
I whacked away with my rod on her cheeks, chin, and forehead like a crazed percussionist performing a one-handed drum roll.
Ulla was going wild, screaming out things in a combination of English and what I assumed to be Finnish obscenities. “Oh, God, yes, punish me, stud. Slap my face, you bad boy. You’re gonna make me cum without even……aaaahhhrrgggggghhhhhh….”
Her entire torso writhed up and down despite her restraints. I glanced back over my shoulder and watched her stomach muscles ripple as she came repeatedly. I also noticed that the scarf that had been pushed tightly into her cunt was now dangling almost all the way out, and drooped on the mattress, completely saturated. The scarf was surrounded by a puddle of moisture that looked to be about the size of the reflecting pool around the Lincoln Memorial. A magic trick, I wondered? An illusion?
Ulla was recovering, her breaths becoming less shallow, her chest still heaving, the nipple clamps thrashing about like reeds of pampas grass in a hurricane. I climbed off of her and circled around her on my knees, anxiously surveying the carnage like a first respondent to a car crash.
“Is the scarf completely out of my cunt?” she inquired. I had to admit, that was the first time I ever heard that particular question.
I peered down warily, like a spelunker with a lamp on his head, navigating the mist. “Um, just about,” I said. “Is that good?”
“When I’m really aroused, I use the muscles in my pussy to try to squeeze the scarf. Eventually, when I’m super turned on, I squirt, and the pressure pushes the scarf out.”
I could only think of one thing to say. “Oh.”
She went on, excitedly. “It serves to completely relax me, all of me. And with the natural lubrication of my cum and with your cock covered with saliva from when you were fucking my mouth, I’m ready to take you anally. So put a pillow under my butt and take what you’ve been waiting for. Fuck my tight little ass, baby.”
I shook my head in fascination. But that didn’t stop me from positioning my throbbing cockhead to the entrance of her little star, now properly elevated and covered in warm woman cum.
“So……..not to pry, but, um, you’ve done that before?” I asked.
She smiled, her eyes still covered by the blindfold. “Not quite like that, no. Not so many things at the same time.” She lifted her boot-clad legs around my waist and wrapped them tightly around me. “Mmmmmpph, your cock feels good in my ass, lover. Not too fast. Wait….that’s it…..let’s get it past the ring and then you can really have your way.”
“Ok, but a few adjustments,” I replied, tossing the soggy scarf on the side of the bed. I reached up and removed the blindfold, all the while easing more deeply into her rectum. The insertion was impossibly tight, and her sphincter radiated heat. Our eyes met, and I leaned down to kiss her deeply.
“I want out first anal journey to be a bit more intimate, if you don’t mind,” I said through locked lips. It took me a few more minutes to untie her hand restraints, kissing and fucking her as simultaneously.
“You’re such a romantic, a traditionalist. Aren’t you?” she teased. I pushed past the anal ring and about two thirds of my shaft buried deep into her anal tunnel. I began to pound her rhythmically, though perhaps not as rough as she had hoped. Her hands, now free, dug into my shoulder blades and the leather of her boots felt cool on my back.
The last words I remembered before dozing off after shooting another load of cum into her asshole, was “Damn, you’re a great fuck………”
I wasn’t even sure which one of us said it, but it would be fitting either way.
We slept for a few hours, and when we woke, deep in the night, Ulla suggested a shower, for both hygienic and recuperative purposes. We soaped each other liberally, and I licked her delicious pussy for the first time, letting the spray mix with her cum as both splashed down on me. Once my cock was completely cleaned and rinsed, I fucked her against the tile wall with one leg of hers up in the air.
We retreated to the bed, where I took her slowly in a spooning position. We fucked like that until, exhausted, we both fell asleep again as I held her tightly.
With the sun peeking through the drapes hours later, we ended up in a heated sixty-nine that lasted for at least a half hour. We made oral love to each other and licked and rimmed each other’s assholes, exploring every channel, nothing taboo, all inhibitions long gone. We came in each other’s mouths, and shared our fluids in deep kisses.
She rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on the bedside nightstand. It was almost eight. “Do you have to work today?” she asked, looking into my eyes.
I groaned. “Are you kidding me? I’m going straight to the first defibrillator I can find and then sleeping until the paramedics revive me. You fucking killed me.”
She beamed proudly, happy that she had worn out the young neophyte. “I told you. Insatiable.”
She climbed off of the mattress and brushed aside the curtains surrounding the bed. She opened up the curtains on the bottom side of the bed and walked to a drawer in her mahogany dresser. “Well, you rest while I shower again. Some of us have to make a living today.” She pulled out a cassette tape and popped it into the chamber of the VCR beneath the television.
She flicked the “on” button and handed me the remote, before disappearing to the bathroom. “Enjoy the movie.”
I heard the shower water as the video began. The tape was still running twenty minutes later when Ulla came out, wrapped in a plush baby blue shawl robe. I was stroking myself as without a word, Ulla let the robe fall to the floor, crawled up in the bed, and took me into her mouth.
She knelt to the side so as not to block my view, and we watched the tape together, in silence, while she continued to suck on me. The movie ended, and Ulla increased the urgency of her blowjob, inducing one final explosion of my cum into her mouth.
She stood on the side of the bed, idly rubbing her damp pussy hairs.
“I recognized her,” I said finally, breaking the silence. The video was one of Ulla and a beautiful young brunette in various carnal activities, culminating with Ulla piercing the lovely woman’s asshole with a huge strap-on dildo while she was tied to the same bed on which I now reclined. The bed built for various forms of entertainment.
Ulla nodded. “Yes, she works in your mall. Katherine, from the boutique on the first floor.”
“Who was filming, curiously?” I asked.
“Did you fuck him, too?”
She smiled. “He was compensated appropriately for his cinematic services.”
“Did you film that, too?”
Her eyes began to show a bit of annoyance at my questioning. “I really don’t recall.”
“There seem to be a lot of tapes in that drawer.”
She looked back at me, a combination of bemused and defensive. “Yes, there are.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I asked you not to judge me.”
I realized that I was probably showing my age here, or lack of maturity at the very least. “I’m not, Ulla. Or, at least, I don’t mean to. It’s just that……I don’t know…..” My words trailed away.
She reached over to tenderly caress my forehead. “We could be so very good together. Keep an open mind. Relax today and come over on Sunday afternoon. We can take Shelby for a walk, have brunch, and make love the rest of the day. Bring a change of clothes, you can walk to work with me on Monday morning.”
She placed a finger on my lips. I resisted the urge to take it into my mouth.
“I don’t know if I can, Ulla.”
“Try,” she said simply. “Try.”
She kissed me on the forehead. “I have to get dressed.” She went into the bathroom.
I went downstairs and gathered my rumpled clothes. I made the half-mile walk back to my car in the Georgetown Park garage in stockinged feet. I left my shoes by her door.
I had to decide if I was going to go back and get them on Sunday, or leave them as a reminder, a parting gift of sorts, a token of appreciation.
Was I going to proceed with a woman who would undoubtedly provide me with the most unimaginably torrid sexual adventures? Yet, with it, almost as a toll to pay to enter her sexual highway, end up in a video archive somewhere to be shared with who knows who?
Clearly, that was the inevitable path we were heading down. That was infinitely apparent to me after just one night with Ulla. What did I know about this surreal woman except that she was an unabashed sexual freak? I sensed that I was in over my head. Not physically, but psychologically.
I never saw those shoes again. Sometimes, the things that pleasure us the most can also be the most self-destructive, and it takes maturity to realize that.
The eternal conundrum.