A Dickens of a Tale

"Ah, oh, um . . . " I stammered, "OK, if we're going there, and why not, I think in retrospect what I really wanted was intimacy, and over the years, her denying me those little bits of herself - meaning she was always guarded and I couldn't believe there wasn't a level of sexual fantasy at work in her brain as well - over the years, I guess I magnified the little bits I did get and dwelled on them.

"Like," I continued after another pause to collect thoughts and wrench my eyes back to hers, "ok - like I wanted to know how it was for her with other guys. We'd both had some experience before meeting, but she always claimed not to remember any of those those guys, beyond the most general, vague descriptions. I can tell you about the lips, the eyes, the breasts, the hips (hell - for most, the taste!) of every woman I've been with and certainly have forgotten no names. She was generally a helluva lot smarter at recalling the most minute details of the past (people's names, what she and I each wore on thus and such occasion, what I said when, you know, that sort of thing). So why couldn't she remember virtually anything about someone that she'd gone to bed with?

I kept on, "Several possibilities: (1) she was repressing for some reason and really didn't remember, (2) she had only had sex with all the lights off and with guys - until me - who were all alike (which I doubted),or (3) she just wasn't willing to share that with me and was willing to lie (or at least evade) to protect whatever that meant."

Belle took all that in with a contemplative air. "Maybe she really did have nothing more complicated than the standard case of repression about sex that her generation grew up with. And maybe she wished there were some way she could make up for that, but she never realized it was as important to you as it was."

"Maybe," I thought out loud. "I hope that's it, and that there was nothing more. We guys, of course, all have our hang-ups. I doubt this one will kill me - it certainly hasn't yet!" I managed a laugh, hoping for a topic change. I felt a bit exhausted by the short conversation - intrigued, certainly, that a woman I hardly knew had managed to delve so deeply in such a short amount of time - all while looking terrifically enticing to boot.

"You know, this will sound a bit unworldly, but would you like to do some role playing, maybe help get this out of your system, come to grips and all that?" she asked.

"Role play, eh? Sounds interesting, but Belle, I'm a lousy actor, all self-conscious and with no talent."

"We can see about that. I've done some of this before, and I'll guide you along, if you're willing."

"Ohhh kay," I replied, unconvinced.

"All right then, you get to be you and I'll be Mary. That's all there is to it - you just have to suspend your disbelief and go with the flow. Any time you want out, you can just say so and that's that.

"I'll start: Welcome home, Ben! I'm sorry you had to work so late but glad you say you've eaten. Here, put your arm around me and let's just get comfortable, ok?"

That part was easy, and she fit right into the crook of my shoulder, laying her head back. From somewhere, I recall vaguely, Christmas music playing softly. Turning her head, she raised her mouth to me, I leaned in and kissed her, gently, tentatively, knowing it was Belle, not Mary, certainly, but still - there was something about the softness of her lips that seemed familiar, comfortable.

We shifted a bit and the kiss deepened. She wrapped a hand behind my head and both my arms went around her. I heard her sandals hit the floor as she lifted her legs onto the couch behind her. I slipped out of mine as well. She opened her mouth a bit and I felt the tip of her tongue testing, nudging between my mostly closed lips. Without a conscious thought, we were soon tasting, exploring each other's mouths, moving with more urgency. "Oh, Ben - that's so nice," she said, breaking the kiss for a moment to look at me. Her eyes were lovely, and her kisses had taken my breath away for a moment, as well as having given me an erection that felt nice, as erections do! Then she continued, "Can we move off the couch? This is going to just get too constricting in a minute."

I was all for that and rose, with her taking me by the hand, while trying to process the suddenness of it all. I wasn't quite sure if I was imagining this, but I was surely enjoying going with the flow, and I'd already have recommended her unreservedly as a role player. She led right to my bedroom (how'd she know where it was?), and I followed without complaint. She stood by the bed, and I moved to kiss her again, feeling my erection press into her lower belly. OK, I figured - no more mystery as to where this is going! Not sure how I lucked out to end up in this situation, but I sure wasn't fighting it. As we kissed, I began unbuttoning each fastening on her blouse, then tugged it free of her skirt and eased it off her shoulders. As it dropped onto the bed, I looked down, seeing the wonderful swell of her breasts, the tops of the nipples bared to me as each globe rested in its bra half cup. Her nipples were a darker pink, not brown, her breasts milky smooth, a faint tan line running just above the nipples, making me want to see her in that bathing suit someday. Not today.

"You're so lovely, Belle," I said truthfully. I'd already dropped the role playing - Belle really reminded me in a lot of ways of Mary, but Belle was Belle, purely if not so simply.

"Mmm, glad you think so," she murmured, returning the action, pulling off my shirt and letting it fall onto the floor. Pushing me back gently, she looked at me, up and down, now clad only in my sweat pants with the tent in front. "I love a man's chest, and you have a nice one. Now, let's see, what else do we have here?"

I'd expected to undress her fully first, but she was in the lead now, as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the sweats and pulled them down slowly, watching me carefully as if really being interested in what she was uncovering. Mary was never that interested in this sort of foreplay - when she wanted sex, she just wanted to me to get to it, and it seemed that my cock, my hands, my lips were means to her orgasms' ends, but not of particular interest otherwise. Belle was a researcher, taking mental notes, and I was enjoying being her subject.

As the sweats lowered, my cock became bent downward and she continued to move maddeningly slowly, watching it come into view from the base toward the tip. When it finally popped free, she actually gave a little happy cry of what I took to be joy - she'd made it hard, and now she'd found it, something of a game and she was winning, and I certainly wasn't losing! With that, she swept the pants down and I stepped out, now totally naked.

She stood, watching, and I was momentarily worried - was I a disappointment? I knew I wasn't hung like some porno stallion, and had the usual wished-I-was-bigger side, but had always felt serviceably equipped and certainly never heard any criticism from Mary on that account. Of course, I never heard a compliment on that account either - Mary would occasionally tell me that of course I was the best lover she'd ever had, in an auto-response to some query or similar remark from me, but never anything more. Maybe I had been a disappointment and Mary had just been kind or not willing to be honest. All this was running in my head as Mary checked me out.

"This is going to be great, Ben - you're such a fine specimen!" she said, finally, to my relief, and reached behind her to undo her skirt, letting it drop to the floor as well. Now it was my turn to check her out. Sure enough, the peach panties had accompanied the peach bra, and they were both wrapped around gorgeous breasts, full hips, the soft curve of a woman's belly just above the bikini line.

"You're so gorgeous, or have I already mentioned that," I murmured.

"I think so, but don't let that stop you. Now turn around for me," she said. I turned, feeling again very self-conscious, my prick straight and angled upwards a bit, seeming to me to be on the verge of comical. Fortunately, she didn't laugh when I completed the 360.

"Now you," I replied, and she complied, the crack of her ass visible through the thin material, the full globes of her cheeks begging for attention, as was all of her, absolutely all of her. "So nice, now, just stand there. OK if we take our time?"

"Mmm... I dunno, convince me," she smiled back..

Determined to give her as much enjoyment as I knew I was going to have, I let her just stand, a statue to my Pygmalian, and started circling, slowly, a touch on her hip, a nibble on her bare shoulder, a hand slipped up between her legs, behind her, from her knees and upwards, to caress the gap between her cheeks in passing before sliding further up along her back. Bringing my mouth down on the nape of her neck, again, from behind, elicited a low moan, and I lingered there, sucking at her skin, not enough to mark, but enough to be felt, my teeth holding her as a stallion might a mare. And around to the front, kissing her eyes closed, bending to stroke my tongue up between the curves of her breasts. Standing back for a moment, her eyes still closed, guiding my hard cock to between her legs from the front, the shaft pressing against her mound, nothing else touching. I continued, and she started to squirm a bit, keeping her eyes closed of her own volition now, as I cupped first the right, then the left bra-supported breast in my hand, tweaking each nipple, hefting each breast.

"Now, this is a most convincing case you're making," she murmured as I turned her around again.

"I hope you like it, because I'm finding it hard in more way than one not to hurry things up," I answered, my dick brushing across her buns. Next, I edged each bra strap off her shoulders - no change in anything, really, but the thought apparently worked, as she sighed audibly. In fact, she was sighing audibly to about everything now, her breathing labored a bit, mine as well. Noting that it was a front-closure, I quickly slipped my hand to it and released - thankfully, it took no effort, immediately cooperating as the bra fell free to the floor, and her breasts fell free. I took a moment to memorize just how full they were, and how they sagged just the slightest bit - clearly a woman's, not a girl's breasts.. Circling again, I hefted each one, noting the left just a bit fuller and its nipple just a bit more constricted.

Stopping in front, I kissed her again, my bare cock resting against her belly above her panty line, her breasts pressed into my ribs, her arms pulling me close as my hands ran through her hair. Holding her head back, I lowered my mouth to the nape of her neck and sucked firmly, eliciting another murmur of pleasure. Then, stepping back, I knelt, intending to pull down her pale bikini bottom, but stopped, recalling that they were, although it wasn't apparent, the ouvert style. I'd never fucked anyone with her underwear still on (Mary would have considered that impractical, I'm sure), and thought it could be interesting. Accordingly, I pulled the material apart just enough to confirm that she was not shaved but was well trimmed, the light brown hair doing little to hide the top of her opening which concealed all within. "Gorgeous," I summarized to her, my vocabulary limited but sincere. "Now, lie back."

She complied, first sitting, then lying on the bed, her knees at the edge. I stayed on my knees and pulled her toward me, wrapping her legs across my shoulders. Slipping my hands under her ass, I lifted her by those wondrous globes until her vagina was immediately in front of me. Moving the material of her panties aside so that it framed her pussy to my gaze, I took another long look, noting the lips fully encased, the clitoris hidden, with just a glint of moisture along the slit, and a faint, faint odor of the feminine reaching my senses. Sticking my tongue out, I ran it lightly from back to front along her pussy, and felt her legs pull me forward a bit more. Still exploring, I repeated the gesture, opening her bit by bit, finding her soft and inviting, opening to me. First one, then the other side got a more intimate investigation by my tongue, then the opening to her tunnel. By that time, she was squirming, and I knew I wanted to have her come for me soon. Licking upwards again, I finally got to her clitoris, finding it just emerging from its cloak, even firmer underneath. She gasped her approval, and I started to get serious, circling the clit, then flicking it, slowly, then a bit faster, then sucking it into my mouth, trying to find out just what would work best for her. It turned out she seemed to like it all, so I varied and varied, as she rose higher and higher. When I heard her whimpering and felt her hips starting to thrust while her lower belly seemed to convulse as I watched it, I covered her with my mouth, sucking the clit into my mouth firmly, as my tongue lapped at its underside, urging her on. She was nothing if not cooperative, and cried out softly, "Oh, oh my yessss!!!!" as she came, writhing and squeezing her breasts herself, the nipples hard and rising above her small fists.

Not through yet, I slowed my pace, returned to a steady circling of her clit with my tongue, letting her come down a bit on the far side, then repeated the call for her urgency, this time inserting a finger into her opening to ream around it as I sucked and licked. She bucked and came again, quickly, crying out again, softly, unintelligibly.

Climbing up, I gathered her into my arms and shifted us so we were aligned with the bed. Pressing my leg between hers, my erection pressed into her belly, I grasped her ass in one hand, my other arm around her shoulder, and just held her close as she regained her breathing.

"Oh my!" she said softly. "What a treat, and what a fortunate lady Mary was to have had you for those years!"

"I'm so, so glad you enjoyed that," I said. "Mary never went in for as much foreplay, and I did say I wanted to take my time."

"Mmmm, well, give me a moment here, and then I want to return the favor, however you'd like it. In fact, make that 'however it might be that you'd wished Mary would have given you that maybe she didn't' - I think she'd approve now that she's in a better place with a better perspective, no doubt."

"Goodness, what an offer," I answered. Then, after a pause, "Let me give that some thought." And another pause, then I figured what the hell, and admitted to her, "OK, there were so many things that were fine, but I've got to admit, some that weren't all I'd wished for. Most of those not all I wished for parts, I think, boiled down, like I said, to wanting a deeper level of intimacy that would yield a deeper level of honesty, I think."

"Well, I won't hold back, I promise you," she smiled.

"Well, for one thing, I did say I wanted to take my time, and with time, I've gotten slower on the trigger but slower to recover as well, so I don't want to end my side of this too soon. Let's take a break, maybe have a glass of wine, let me savor what we've just shared and think a bit more on your offer."

"Fine with me - let me know when you want to . . . what you want to."

And with that, we took a break, as I busied myself with getting her a glass of wine, my cock dwindling to tumescence. I was puttering about in the kitchen, selecting some crackers and cheese and sausage and olives, anything to keep occupied while I thought through just how willing I was to bare myself to her. There was so much baggage, albeit pretty pedestrian, but still, my baggage. Was I up to just laying it all out to someone virtually a stranger? Someone who'd merely appeared as if out of nowhere, into life, yet merely cut to the quick of my relationship with Mary, someone offering to fill in all the gaps I was never quite able to get Mary to fulfill? I puttered and thought, delayed and deferred, and finally was ready to say ok, fuck it, just . . . ok.

I'm still not sure about some of this, but my next recollection was with her, sitting on the couch back in the living room. I have no idea what happened to the food or wine - there was none to be seen. It was sort of like a scene shift, and I was momentarily unsettled, almost dizzy from the shift. She was now totally nude, and seemed quite comfortable that way, her wonderful breasts resting against her ribs, sagging just enough to confirm her womanlinesss, and still gorgeous, her nipples now relaxed and lovely. Seated, her pussy was hidden, the light brown hair just visible. I had on my sweat pants again. I didn't recall putting them on either. Mary had conditioned me, maybe? She always liked seeing that I was erect for her, sort of a compliment, which it was. But she'd never more than glanced at my penis in its soft state - and I may have projected or it may have been real that she seemed to have a distaste for such an ugly appendage unless it were swollen just for her. I'll have to admit, it's not my idea of beauty that way, but just as I've come to love the sight of a vagina (another not immediately beautiful thing in some folks' eyes) maybe initially borne of what it could do to bring me pleasure but now seeing its Georgia O'Keefe beauty for its own, I always wished Mary had come to like seeing me in any state, from any angle, in a similar way.

Startling me back to the moment, she asked, "I take it you like me dressed like this?"

"Oh yes, the outfit is exactly right - as you learned earlier, I do enjoy fondling the lingerie, and while your leaving some of it on doesn't seem to have hampered us thus far, your leaving it off is wonderful as well."

"That's good to hear. Kinks but no real fetish there. Now, what it is you really want?" she smiled.

"OK," I said, tentatively, "I have no idea what's going on here, but it appears to be special, and I don't want to let such an opportunity pass, for whatever reason."

"And?" she fed, making it easier.

"And, OK, I wish she'd have been more verbal. I wish she'd been able to share with me whatever it was she'd shared with other men before me - that would have cemented our relationship. But she couldn't, or wouldn't. She knew that she was holding that back, and she knew it was important to me, and over time, she realized it in fact turned me on - maybe just that it was something she was denying me, maybe I'm a voyeur, maybe whatever - at any rate, one night when we were making love, I pressed her a bit to tell me about one, any one, of her past lovers. I wanted to know what they did together, and how, and what her favorite parts were, and what the guy liked, and yes, what the guy's equipment was like and how it worked. I even told her it didn't need to be true, that this was just sex play, and she told me that my wanting her to talk about other guys (all of whom she steadfastly swore she couldn't remember any details about - this from the woman who could tell you what I wore on our second date decades before) wasn't something she was going to do. I think she probably thought if she talked with me about being with another man, it would progress to my wanting for her to do it for real, and that that would be beyond all limits. It's all hypothetical, but I really did think that through and told her that no, it wasn't about her fucking other men - it was about her sharing the intimacy with me, and that her past would be plentiful ammunition for that, but she didn't buy it. Then, the coup de grace, she told me that my wanting her to talk about other men was sick. That's the term she used - "sick."

"That one struck, and stuck. So, I stopped that altogether, never mentioned any other men, her past, or my desires, to her again. I realized over time that we were drifting apart as a result of that issue. We didn't fight, we still had sex but we virtually never spoke during sex (which was fine with her it seemed, and she was multi-orgasmic to the end) - she never initiated even a remark that I can recall when we were in bed. I learned to fantasize while we fucked in order to get off. I fantasized about me with other women - always ones I'd known or knew - and I fantasized about her with other men - sometimes nameless, sometimes characters she'd admitted on the rare occasion to having dated in the past. I even tried fantasizing about her with other women and me with other men (something of a self-test, I suppose), but that just isn't my thing, and I found out it didn't work for me. Externally, we shared various enjoyments from cooking to music to exercise, and especially our never abridged love of our kids. But it was less and less a marriage as I'd envisioned it, and more and more a roommates with bedroom privileges thing.