Thanks again to my patient editor, Kenji Sato.
As pleasant as winter can be… the winter I spent at Gail’s was glorious. Gail and I slipped into a pleasant companionable routine. She expected absolutely NOTHING of me and, for my part, I helped out in little ways as best I could.
We rearranged furniture; the large bed we moved from ‘Kurt’s room’ to mine, I never understood why I couldn’t just switch rooms. But, ‘Erica’s room’ DID have the morning light; and as the winter progressed, I often also had ‘Erica’. I still had not come to grips with what this ‘young Erica’ was.
Not a ghost, as Erica is very much alive in Leominster; but thirty-eight years old, not twenty.
Not a dream; to me, she was very much flesh and blood. I was wrong about the ‘young Erica’ being finished with me; this one time lesbian affair; of simply punching a ticket on life experiences. I saw and loved Erica with some regularity, not quite every week, but more than once a month. Whatever freedom she needed in her married life, her life as a mother in Leominster; whenever she could ‘get away.’
Not that Erica hated that life. Her husband was loving, attentive, and supporting; her daughter was in school, the first grade, I think–and if not a genius, a very well adjusted, happy and intelligent child–at least to hear her mother’s side of it.
Oh and as a bonus to me, and certainly to her; she no longer came as a young girl with the memories of an older woman; but, fully as a 38-year-old mother and wife. Ah that body! No longer a wisp of a girl–but a WOMAN; strong and strong willed, knowing what she wanted, what she needed. She was actually slightly taller; had she grown a bit after twenty? or was it the confident manner in which she carried herself that created the illusion of greater height? I never measured…
She still appeared nude. And, of course, after the heat had been turned down, we needed to be under the covers; but that first time, the first time she appeared in her true form, I insisted that I inspect her as she had scrutinized me when she saw me naked.
To her, I was still the ‘greyhound’; lean and fit, built for speed, and physically tough.
To me, she was a mother; only twelve years older than myself, but motherly in form. She was strong from work; and kept herself fit with yoga, pilates, or some such; but, her breasts were those of one who had suckled young. They were still firm though large; her hips had widened; and her ass was soft, but not jiggly. I guess she thought it fashionable, or her husband liked it bald–she never said–as her sex was shaved very close. Erica had but a hint of tummy–this, she worked hardest, to keep small.
Her appetite for me was huge. The nights she spent with me–I blush to say this–were almost too much. We got no sleep, as I was her confessor, her confidant; we would cuddle for hours, and I would be the listener. She unburdened her life–well, unburdened is, perhaps, too strong–there was little that was painful in her life; it was just very busy, I was… recreation, a respite from responsibility. I never asked how she managed these ‘getaway’ nights; it was all too weird, anyway…
The talking–or, in my case, listening–eventually gave way to quiet. In the quiet, we drew closer; as we drew closer… we touched more. It, almost, always began shyly, as though it was the first time with another woman for… both of us. We discovered each other’s bodies. All soft touches at first, always first. The lightest of touches to the hands; to the forearms; to the face, the cheek; a stroking of the hair… Silent gazing into the other’s eyes; then, and only then… the lightest, the almost chaste kiss. Then, the pulling away; our eyes downcast. It was, as if, in that pulling away, we both, simultaneously, remember our erotic pasts–all of it–with all our lovers.
Our passion is suddenly stoked to furnace levels. We pull at each other, violently pulling the other’s head in; so we can devour her mouth, to taste her, swallow her spit, probe her ear with tongue and finger. She would rub against me, as she did that first night, like a demented tigress. Her first orgasm was nearly always thus; kocaeli escort frenzied, explosive, lightning fast, and…searing.
I guided her hand to my sex; instructed her on how I deserved to be touched. I wanted to savor it–I made her take her time. Still, she was very enthusiastic, making me climax sooner than I wanted. I punished her by making her eat my cunt. She was never very good at that; but, it was just as well, as it lasted… much longer. I instructed her, step by step, on how I wanted her to suck my clit, to lick me, to tongue my holes…
All the while, she would play with herself in her usual manner, bringing herself wave after wave of splendid, but not massive, orgasms. After a series of climaxes she would be quiet; that was my time to suckle her motherly tits. This was the peak of my experience with her.
I revisited the wonderful erotic bliss of suckling a mature woman. Her breasts were not like Meg’s; they were firmer and not as pendulous, her nipples not so grand. They did not compare with Lucinda; though, I had never actually suckled Lucinda, except in fantasy or dream.
Sometime before daybreak, she was gone. It was all part of the mystery… there, and then, NOT there.
I had not seen Erica in almost two weeks. In some ways I was glad, as I was getting a full night’s sleep. She generally–there was no USUAL with Erica’s appearances, arrivals, or whatever they were–showed by midnight. So, one night at 1:00am, I pretty much had given up on her… when the door opened, and someone entered. Well that was new, she never used the door; and Gail never left her room after her shower, except for occasional calls of nature.
What the fuck… a MALE voice!?!?
“It’s okay. I’m Kurt… Erica told me about you?”
Far from being frightened–I was LIVID. “What the hell! Your sister talks to YOU about her lovers!?!?”
Kurt recoiled back several feet; his hand defensively in front of him expecting me to leap on him in fury.
“It is not like that. We have always had… a connection. Like they say twins have a connection, even though I am a couple of years older than her. It is not perfect communication; I had no idea my bed was moved to this room, so I originally went to my old room, expecting to find you there.”
“Wait… if I understand you… you just knew Erica was in your old bed with me; but, no other details?”
Even in the dark room I could sense his embarrassment… he was blushing!
“Well, some OTHER details.”
At that point, rather dramatically, the moon made an appearance. I never pulled the curtains in that room, so that I could be awakened by the magical morning sun; but now, as the moon rose, a silvery beam streamed into the room illuminating the most beautiful–yes, BEAUTIFUL–naked male I had ever seen. As a lesbian, I have not seen that many naked men; but, I read books, look at pictures–I was floored; I was speechless; I gasped for air…
Kurt was short for a man, maybe five foot six, one hundred thirty pounds, and outstanding abs. But what caught my eye the most, was his face; lean, sharp-featured without being severe; a long, thin, pointed nose; slightly hooded eyes; short blonde hair, cut really short at the sides, and just a bit longer on top.
He stepped forward, confident I was not violent. Now, he could see me sitting up in ‘his bed’, open-mouthed. A small, confident, and yet not arrogant, smile played on his lips; as he was aware of the effect his naked physical presence had, even on confirmed–I have my lifetime membership card–lesbians.
As he moved, those few steps revealed the grace of a trained dancer. His undisputed maleness was visible now by moonlight. He was uncircumcised like Bill; but, it was there the resemblance ended. Where Bill was *ahem* modestly endowed, Kurt was amply blessed by the gods… whatever gods were in charge of cocks.
Damn, that thing is soft now… what happens when he gets aroused? Bill looks small and soft, but doubled in size when I aroused him–the thought made me blush–making me VERY curious; and being of a scientific mindset, an experiment was in order. That makes all this sound so sterile; kocaeli escort bayan but, besides being curious, I was genuinely enchanted by this ‘magical’ brother of Erica’s.
I left the warm bed to meet him. He sensed I was practically salivating in hunger for him; well, not HIM, but the most male part of him.
He stopped looking questioningly at me, wondering at the manner of my approach; as if he could smell the lust emanating from me.
I answered his unspoken question, “Yes, I know you’re gay and presumably, you know I am a lesbian; but, in this past crazy year, I have discovered parts of my libido I either didn’t know existed, or had deeply buried.”
“I have ZERO capacity or desire, for penetrative sex with a male; I would hazard a guess, you have almost no desire to fuck me?”
“I wouldn’t go that far; certainly NOT no desire,” as his manhood thickened before my eyes.
I gulped… oh my fucking god, it is now as thick as my wrist; but no longer than it was before.
“Look, I don’t really know you… just that your sister adores you, and your mother thinks you’re the most perfect male since Jesus Christ. Frankly, right now, I am consumed by a desire to touch your dick; very objectifying of me, I know; but, I just LOVE dick–just not IN me.”
Now it was Kurt’s turn to gulp, as he stared expectantly into my eyes, they suddenly realized that I was waiting for a response. He blinked and nodded.
Blessed with his assent, I put both hands on the shaft of his still thickening dick; as I did, I rested my head on his chest. In response to my slowly stroking him, Kurt clasped my head close to his well-muscled chest, inhaling deeply through his nostrils. His nipples erect, I could not resist giving one a lick. His whole body stiffened, I mean his ENTIRE body. I had erected his manhood to the point that his glistening cockhead was fully exposed; but, still not fully erect. It stood eight inches straight out from his body; his large balls tight against his body; I kept one hand on his shaft, the other caressed his balls. His dick elevated, the glistening tip now pointing to the ceiling of ‘my’ room.
I was in no hurry, as this was fun. I felt such power over this man; this icon of this family; this famous dancer, now in his forties; and a professor… naked, with his aroused manhood in my hands–his SEX in my hands. All power of speech had deserted him. He held me ever tighter to him, apparently enjoying the closeness of ME, as much as he enjoyed what my hands were doing to him. Without lubrication, I loosely held his cock, reveling in the hardness of his shaft, occasionally allowing his foreskin to cover his cock head; then, gently pulling it back. I have since discovered that many men make signals to hurry the process; or take the matter into their own hands, so to speak, to hurry the process along.
Kurt was content to be in my power; perhaps, bemused by the situation–a lesbian giving him a sensual hand job.
But, he was no Greek statue; well, apparently NOT, as he was vastly better endowed than any Greek artwork I had ever seen. I could sense from his breathing and state of his erection–pressed HARD against his superbly defined abs–he was nearing his climax. I felt playful and teased him by leaving off my stroking and testing how much of a springboard this magnificent dick was. I pulled it down away from his belly, almost parallel to the floor. This caused Kurt to grimace. I smiled evilly back at him and released his cock, which slapped hard against his belly with an audible ‘thwack’.
I pulled it from vertical to horizontal again; this time putting it between my thighs, which were slick from my excitement. This surprised Kurt a great deal, but not as surprising as my wetting of my hands in my pussy juices, and wetting his dick. I then turned and bent over again, dipping my hands into the well of my lust, and lubing my ass crack.
I turned and looked sternly into his eyes, “You can use the crack, NOT the hole. Got it?”
My tone was menacing enough and Kurt nodded meekly. He was really well past needing to cum; as barely a minute of thrusting his swollen member kocaeli escort between my ass cheeks, caused a massive eruption of sperm from his dick. I could feel the stream of jizz pulsing up the channel on the underside of his dick shaft, as he shot his load the length of my spine–the first splat landing on my neck, the last puddling at the base of my spine. As Kurt finished, I was fingering my pussy to finish with him.
He whispered in my ear, “May I help…?”
“Huh? Oh god, yes!”
The idea of this beautiful man fingering me to orgasm made me faint–fucking nineteenth century, I know.
But, that was not to be. Instead, and beyond my lewdest dreams, he cleaned my back with his tongue; and effortlessly picked me up and placed me gently on the bed, where he spread my legs and gave me the best pussy licking, I NEVER expected from a man. Truth be told… he was better than all but a handful of my girlfriends–okay, maybe that is being generous… to the girlfriends. There may have been one who was better… maybe. I did not want to admit that a gay man could know MY body so well. The teasing, the licking, the sucking, the stopping… for–oh damn–too many microseconds. He was driving me mad, to the brink and then… knowing I would cum in seconds… backing off and teasing until I was at the brink again. So, instead of multiple orgasms; he built layer upon layer of arousal, culminating in a mind blowing world class, head-splitting, bed-wetting, screaming cumfest… WHEW.
Like Erica, Kurt was gone by morning. I had fallen asleep with my head on his chest; a lesbian and a gay guy appreciating the closeness with the ‘other’.
Just in case you think winter was all debauchery, I did learn to snowshoe! Joe and his buddy, Pete, took me out several times–and yes, I am positive they are not lovers.
Lots of trails nearby, but you really need transportation to get to them. Pete had a very capable SUV that got the three of us in and out of a lot of snow. The best was a midnight snowshoe in a game management area; a place where the state releases pheasants for hunters in season. In mid winter, it is a deserted highland paradise, and snow covered in the moonlight, it was magical. Objectively, I was probably in the best shape, but the least used to snowshoes. Joe was maybe the least fit, and Peter was a fan of winter hiking, climbing, and other outdoor activities. Lean and fit, he was in his seventies. No fooling around, no naughty tales to tell with Joe and Pete. I was fit and confident enough now, to risk a pint or two, with the fellas after a sweaty time of snowshoeing; NOT after the midnight expedition, though magical, it was very cold; therefore, hot beverages were required.
As the snows began to melt, it was time for me to move on. I had not, at least, I don’t think I wore out my welcome with Gail. She did meet with Tom at least once a month; but, they mainly went out for dinner. Once or twice, Gail made it clear that she was not coming home that night. Well, all she said was ‘don’t wait up for me’; but, I guessed she was spending the night at Tom’s. She was usually back by mid-morning the next day. They would have breakfast together and then she would come home tired but glowing; and then yawn, announce that she needed a nap, and would disappear into her room for several hours.
Joe had another friend lined up. I don’t wish to give the impression that I was being foisted on these ‘friends of Joe.’ The two of us would discuss the possibilities. I did get a final say. I had developed an online business based on my data management expertise. I had recovered my identity, but not any of my funds. My former employer was convinced that I was the victim of crime, as much as they were, and decided that pressing charges against me would do no good.
I had cash coming in and things were looking up financially. My dreams of an academic career were on hold for the time being, but I still needed a place to stay. The next day, I packed up, and said goodbye to Gail. I had already said my goodbyes to Erica; I had only seen Kurt that one time, but I imagined he’d hear of my departure from Erica. I helped Gail move Kurt’s bed back to ‘his’ room, and also returned Erica’s bed to hers.
I wondered what erotic adventures would transpire between those sheets in the future. One thing was sure, though– or, was it… I would not be part of those adventures.
(Next: Fiona and Karen: Fiona Finale? )