Gentle On My Mind

Blowjob

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STANDARD DISCLAIMER

Although there are elements of fact, the following should be regarded as a piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment.

It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you are offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO NOT read any further.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (C) 2012 Jack Wellard. All rights reserved.

Gentle on My Mind

Chapter One

“I have to tell you something!”

Strolling through my local park, gently humming to myself, I didn’t realise that I was being addressed.

“I have to tell you something!” More insistent this time.

I stopped humming and paused in my stride. Naturally any bloke hearing this particular line checks his flies! Mine seemed OK, so it wasn’t a zip malfunction. I turned and saw a slim woman behind me. She was staring hard at me and repeated “I have to tell you something!” She stopped a few feet from me, still holding my quizzical gaze with great intensity. I began to be nervous and looked all around; maybe this woman might not be quite balanced. On this cool cloudy morning there was no-one nearby. I turned back and smiled, hiding my misgivings.

“Do I know you?” I enquired.

“No, I don’t think so. That’s why I want to tell you,” the woman was less intense now that she had my attention. Her blue eyes held mine steadily.

I looked around. “Look, there’s an empty seat. Why don’t we sit down,” I suggested. She nodded and, keeping close, followed me the few steps to the cold metal bench. I sat at one end, she at the other pulling her long grey coat around her narrow shoulders. I leaned back against the uncomfortable rails and waited, raising one eyebrow inquisitively.

The woman smiled nervously. She immediately seemed like a different person, not so intimidating or scary. Her coat had a soft lavender sheen which lightened the underlying grey colour. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, preparing herself to speak. Eventually she said “I need to tell someone . . “

I wondered if she had left a dead body in her bedroom but waited apprehensively until she could find the words.

“I saw you and thought I could tell you,” she started. As I waited patiently I reckoned her age as probably nearing forty and she looked much too thin for her own good.

“You look a bit like my father,” she murmured looking away. “He died years ago but he was just like you.” She returned her eyes to mine, intense again. “Were you in the army?”

I nodded, still waiting for the great statement she seemed determined for me to hear.

“I would have talked to Daddy,” she looked sad and I thought she might start with the waterworks. She steeled herself and looked hard into my eyes again. “I . . I have . .” she took another deep breath, raised her chin defiantly and blurted “I have never had an orgasm!” almost shouting as it finally came out.

I raised both eyebrows. “Oh,” I responded feebly, “that’s a shame!” Furtively I looked around, almost expecting a candid camera or some sly observer witnessing a set-up.

She kept her gaze on me, leaning towards me expectantly. She appeared unfazed by what she had told me or my unhelpful response, indeed her brow was now less furrowed. As she was clearly waiting for more I tried to compose my thoughts. The sun edged around a cloud and the lavender colour of her coat turned almost blue. That was fascinating but didn’t help to clear my dismal thought processes.

“Well,” I began, searching for something more helpful to say. “I believe that many women don’t actually enjoy a full orgasm, or so I’ve read somewhere . . “

Still she said nothing and continued holding her eyes on mine. Clearly she wanted more than this; I wondered how to play it. I think I now had some idea why she picked an older man who she didn’t know. It didn’t really matter what I thought, I was nothing to her and vice versa. I decided to play along, it might be interesting but I then realised that I actually wanted to help her.

“OK, sorry about my feeble reaction,” I shrugged my meagre apology. She returned my smile and nodded for me to continue. “I guess I would need to ask some personal questions. Will that be OK?”

She nodded, no hesitation, in fact she looked more relaxed than she had since I first saw her. The shoulders were no longer hunched, her face less stressed.

“Are you married?” She shook her head.

“In a relationship?” Another negative.

“How long since you last . . er . . you know . .?” I stammered.

She smiled and reached for my hand. It almost felt as though I was the one being counselled!

“It’s OK,” she said. “Really it’s OK, ask anything, I promise I’ll tell the truth.”

That sounded a bit heavy, almost courtroom theatrical, but it emphasised in my mind that she wanted to open up. I checked Ankara travesti around again for the candid camera team before continuing. “Are you sure you want to talk here?”

She nodded. I noticed her hair, it hardly moved. It hung limply, dusky blond but quite unremarkable, straight, lank and seemed to be desperate for TLC, rather like its owner.

“I was trying to ask . . when you er last had sex,” I got the words out and managed to hold her steady gaze. She still held my hand and gave it a squeeze as she nodded again.

“Six months ago, but it really doesn’t count.” Her eyes dropped as she spoke and she released my hand, drawing hers back to clutch the other hand in her lap. I stayed quiet as she was apparently going to continue.

“My husband died eighteen months ago.” Her eyes were brimming, I moved closer and put an arm around her. She went rigid for a moment then relaxed against my arm. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “My husband had cancer; in fact we both had cancer.” She held off her tears and continued. “He lost the battle; I seem to have been spared.” She slumped, and then took a couple of deep breaths before starting again. “Six months ago, just over a year after George died, his brother Tony decided I needed comforting. Tony’s wife was away on a training course and I think he considered me an easy target.” Another pause, more deep breathing. She looked up into my face, she epitomised sadness. I drew her head gently against my shoulder.

“You don’t have to put yourself through this,” I started. She cut me off immediately pushing against my chest but staying close.

“Yes I do,” she hissed. “I need to talk about it all and I want you to listen, to hear, to help me . .” She slumped against me again. I held her without speaking. After a few minutes she straightened and smiled.

“Sorry about that, it’s been bottled up for too long. Thank you for staying with me so far, you must think I’m crackers!” She smiled weakly and I returned it, trying to look re-assuring.

“Tony really is a brute, he knew how vulnerable I was, he’s twice my size and I was too exhausted to do more than . .” Her face set hard as she reflected on the event. “He raped me and said if I ever told anyone he would kill me. I didn’t leave the house for a week. I showered almost every half hour, didn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat properly and contemplated taking too many sleeping pills. I couldn’t even get that right, there were only two left in the bottle!”

She leaned back and searched my face. “I’ve never told anyone about it till now.” Without realising what I was doing my hand reached up to her face and gently caressed away the tears.

“Do you want to stop now?” I whispered.

“No!” She retorted firmly, determination almost sparking from her eyes. “Now I’ve started I want to keep going. What about you? I’m dumping all my grief on you and I don’t even know your name!”

“Names don’t matter at this time. Go ahead when you are ready to continue. Is it OK to hold you like this?” I asked.

“Yes, thanks — it’s actually quite comforting.” She sighed deeply and looked up with a feeble smile. “I’m ready if you are.”

She straightened her back. “I thought about why Tony did it. Was it just to get his pleasure? Was it a control thing? He would never have done that when George was alive, George would have killed him even though Tony was bigger.” She sighed again and glanced up to see that I was listening. “It got me to thinking about my experience of sex. I had only ever been with George, you know, all the way. I think George was very considerate but I never really enjoyed ‘it’. I was just happy to make George satisfied. We rarely saw each other naked, usually by accident — is that strange?”

She looked up into my face waiting for an answer. “Well it seems a little er Victorian to me,” I started. “Adoring a lover’s body and feeling one’s own body being looked at and explored is one of the pleasures of making love.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I think I can appreciate that. I wonder why we never did that?” She straightened again. “Anyway it seemed to me that I should have enjoyed the experience a little more. I started looking in magazines and realised that many ordinary women have lots of orgasms; that just frustrated me more. I wanted to talk to someone but everyone I could think of was too close and would judge me. That’s when I thought I would talk to a stranger. I’ve been plucking up courage for weeks, today I actually did it! What was that tune you were humming?”

“You certainly did!” I responded. “The tune? Well, it was ‘Gentle on My Mind’ it often seems right for the mood of this friendly park.” I smiled and continued “Luckily I’ve nothing special planned for the day so this has been a most unusual interlude for me. But what to do to help with your problem . . as you aren’t in a relationship it makes things more tricky!” We both fell quiet.

“Do you personally have a problem with nudity?” I asked bluntly.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I usually avoid the possibility I suppose. Konya travesti So maybe I do have an issue with being naked with someone else. Now you mention it I’m not too thrilled at being naked on my own either.” She stopped and looked at me. “I can’t believe I’m actually talking about this with anyone!”

“OK,” I said, “I think you seem to trust me enough to move forward.” She nodded so I carried on “Your coat is covering you almost completely, can you open it?” She nodded and reached for the buttons. “No, you stand in front of me and let me watch you open it. Be fully aware that I am looking at your body while you do it, OK?”

Without a word she stood squarely in front of me, in between my outstretched legs but not quite touching me. Keeping her eyes on mine she slowly unbuttoned the coat like a nervous trainee stripper! This seemed like quite a big ordeal for her, even though she was fully dressed below the coat. As the last button was anxiously unfastened she drew the coat slowly open wide, biting her lower lip as she revealed herself. She posed with one foot slightly in front of the other. I kept quiet but smiled and nodded my appreciation so she hammed it up further by pushing her coat back, placing her hands on her hips and rocking one hip slowly down and up. She even raised a half smile.

I pretended to applaud so she played further to the ‘audience’ by giving a twirl. Unfortunately this was where her feet and mine tried to occupy the same space. She lost balance and fell backwards while was facing away. She landed in my lap, her head just missing my face as I dodged sideways. As I tried to support her fall one arm went around her and I ended up cupping a small warm breast in my hand.

“Sorry . .” she started, then “Oh . .”

I didn’t move. She hadn’t pulled my hand away and her breast did feel so nice under her sweater. “Are you OK,” I whispered as her head was still next to mine.

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I tripped and landed on you.” Still she didn’t move my hand; in fact she closed her coat over it. I gently squeezed her breast, even through her clothes I thought I could feel the erect nipple nudging into my palm. Still she didn’t stop me; in fact she seemed to settle more comfortably into my lap. That gave me another problem! The pleasure of holding her breast along with a hot bottom pressed into my groin was causing my sleeping cock to get interested in proceedings! I caressed her breast then gently started to squeeze her nipple. I could hear her breathing quicken and it felt as though she was pressing her bottom harder into my now full erection through several layers of material.

“I seem to be taking advantage of your predicament,” I whispered, still caressing and squeezing.

“Yes,” she replied. “I should move.” But she didn’t! Her hands tightened the coat concealing my errant fingers. She said it again, “I should move.” However her only movement was to shift her bottom backwards and forwards across my cock. I guessed she could feel it through her coat and her clothes. I moved my other hand to her knee, expecting the stop sign to go up straight away. The only signal I got was that her knees parted a little, inviting my hand further.

As I eased my hand between her nylon clad legs under her coat and skirt I whispered “Are you wearing tights?”

She giggled, squeezed my hand with her thighs and replied “That’s for me to know and you to find out!” She was breathing harder, my attention on her breast and under her skirt was apparently arousing her passion. I wondered why she had problems reaching a climax.

Then I found out. “Bugger!” I muttered fiercely, “I hate tights!”

She giggled and stood up, none too steadily. I reached to support her. “Enough already,” she said. “Let me sit down and clear my head.”

I decided to push my luck and play along. “I really enjoyed holding your breast, I’d like to see them.”

She laughed. “You were lucky there, you don’t know how lucky!”

“I certainly know that was a lucky catch, one perfect peach of a breast. I could feel your nipple. I’d love to see you naked.” I used direct language deliberately and it actually seemed to awaken a response.

She blushed. “Stop, you dirty old man. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked you after all,” she joked with a broad smile. “When I said you were lucky it was because I only have one breast and you found it. I enjoyed your touch. It was very pleasant and maybe one day I might be brave enough to let you see it.”

“Your cancer — you had a mastectomy?”

She nodded and grimaced. “Yes, it stopped the disease, for which I am most grateful but left me lop-sided and dreading moments like this.”

“I would still like to see them — it. Let me be the first to see you naked!” I looked her in the eye hoping for some encouragement.

“Hey, stranger, this is all going a bit too fast. I don’t know you, you don’t know me. This has been an unusual experience for both of us and I think we both ended up enjoying it!” She grinned. “Maybe I’ll see you here İzmir travesti tomorrow. We can talk some more about my problem if you don’t mind?”

I nodded. “On one condition,” I tried to look serious; she looked worried. “Tomorrow, if you come, no tights! Stockings would be nice, but definitely no tights!”

She laughed “I’m not sure about that. Do you think you might get lucky again?”

“I think we both got lucky, don’t you?”

“Yes, maybe you’re right. I did enjoy the whole encounter; you have eased some gloomy clouds away and given me something to look forward to.” She smiled, leaned closer and kissed my cheek. “Thank you for listening. Same time, same place!”

I watched her walk away. Well, I had nothing planned for tomorrow so why not!

Working in my garden that afternoon I thought about my unexpected morning encounter and found myself getting a hard-on as I recalled the pleasure at holding her breast and feeling her bony bottom on my lap. I shook my head and concentrated on pruning.

During the evening I thought about her again and came to a decision.

The morning was bright and clear, warmer than the previous day. The park had more people enjoying the sunshine.

I saw her approaching, wearing her long grey coat buttoned up just like yesterday. In fact without the coat I might not have recognised her! Her hair was different, shiny, bouncy and curly. Her step was more assured and her eyes sparkled. I smiled, she smiled. My estimation of her age dropped by five years! I wondered how the greeting would/should go. She just reached up and pecked my cheek, good start!

Without a word she took my hand and we started walking towards the seat. It was unoccupied so we sat, rather like yesterday but she was half-turned towards me so I did the same.

“Yesterday,” she said, holding my gaze. “Yesterday gave me something to think about. I was grateful for that stimulation.” She paused looking almost grave. “I surprised you with my approach and strange announcement, but you surprised me by caring.” She smiled warmly. “Thank you for that but I’m not sure where to take the conversation today, have you any ideas?”

“I can’t say I’m an expert on why some women might suffer the problem you have so maybe we try to focus on that to begin, OK?” I looked up to see her nod. Her freshly-groomed hair bounced, her encouraging smile almost cheeky.

“When you made love with your husband did you initiate any of the sex?” I thought she might be surprised by my dropping straight into the heart of the matter but no, she responded without hesitation.

“I think it was always George. I might have been a bit affectionate on occasions but that was never allowed to lead to anything serious. It seemed as though he felt he had to be in control of that aspect. He preferred a regular schedule; always in bed, each time in the dark. I didn’t mind, I was always a shy girl. There was never anything spontaneous like with you yesterday; I know we didn’t actually have sex but you know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Sure. But those spontaneous times can be quite wonderful, I’m sorry you missed out on them.” I paused, then smiled. “I remember a teacher when I was in primary school. He often emphasised the fact that life gives opportunities which may be brief and, if not taken, will be lost forever. I don’t think I actually understood at the time, but when I had moved on to my next school his words echoed in my mind and I started to watch out for ‘opportunities’. I then realised that if an unexpected opportunity presented itself the time to think about it before it ‘vanished’ could be incredibly brief.”

She was watching me as I continued. “Take yesterday for example. When you approached and spoke to me I could have walked on, ignored you and not stopped. But at my age any opportunity to meet someone new, different and interesting is an important one, so I took it. Later when you fell, fate placed my hand on your breast. I could have let go immediately hoping you hadn’t noticed but the opportunity was too tempting. Again, at my age, the chance of holding and caressing soft female flesh doesn’t occur too often!”

She smiled as she listened. “It may be that your sexual encounters with George became so predictable that they became mundane. You were probably thinking about the next day’s shopping and what to do about weeds in the flower beds rather than enjoying your copulation.”

Her face was flushed. “Yes,” she said. “You must have been there! It was just like that. I would get into bed, remember it was Friday night, kick off my knickers and pull up my nightdress. George would make some noises which signalled he was ready. He would climb over me, pull my legs wide apart, jab into me, jerk away for a few minutes, groan and fall off without saying a word, snoring almost immediately.” She looked tearful so I moved closer. “It’s OK,” she said. “Maybe I could have become more involved, made him slow down, try new things but we just got into a rut. Maybe everyone does, what do you think?”

I smiled and nodded “You are probably right. That pattern, the predictability gives many people comfort but it can also lead to complacency. It also closes off opportunities for experimentation.” I sighed in sadness for her missing out on so much fun and pleasure.

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