Berlin Diary (A Virgin's Release)

He looked closely into her face: her eyes were brimming, one tear had escaped and was half-way down her cheek. He put his hands gently on her shoulders, thumbs just at the base of her neck. His touch, no matter where or why, felt good, she thought. Soothing, comfortable, friendly. And also belly-roiling exciting. "Jerry, believe me please. I have never had a boyfriend. In fact, I have never gone out on a real two-person date. Nobody has ever asked me!" The bitterness didn't escape his notice. He winced internally... and abruptly realized that she was almost certainly trying to tell him that at the "advanced age" of 32 she was still a virgin.

He thought for long seconds, then gently slid his hands to cup the base of her face, tilted it upwards, moved much closer. She was suddenly terrified – she had never kissed a man, not seriously – the brief touch moments ago certainly didn't count as REAL kissing - but reality was certainly what appeared to be coming. She pulled back slightly. He stopped, held the distance as she said quietly "Jerry, I do not even know how to kiss a man. I have no experience, no practice. I don't know HOW! I'm sorry to disappoint you – and to disappoint myself, also! It would probably be a waste of your time to kiss me since I don't know what I'm doing."

He raised one eyebrow at her, a silly, friendly expression, his face now so close it was out of focus. He said "Baloney, my dear Ildiko. Of course you know how. 'No experience' and 'not knowing how' are two entirely different things. Don't you DARE pull away from me this time! If you've really never been properly kissed, then it is far, FAR overdue! And it means that you inhabit a world full of very unobservant, insensitive and foolish men!" His thumbs, side by side, tugged gently down on her lower lip, exposing its soft inner surface. She was shivering inside – her heart had accelerated even more, and there were those wonderful, disconcerting wetnesses scattered about her body, intensifying rapidly. He moved closer. Her eyes closed. Something touched her lip... she studied it. It was his own. Then, gently, delicately, the tip of his tongue, exploring the inside of her lip. Warm, smooth, gentle. The very idea of such intimate mouth contact had always been puzzling and -intellectually- vaguely repugnant. Those feelings evaporated completely with this first touch. Sensuous. Delightful. Over her teeth, under the upper lip, then their mouths were joined, and hers fell open without volition to welcome his slow, exquisitely gentle, rapidly deepening exploration. Wine. Plus something very definitely and excitingly male, the subtle scent twisting itself about far down inside her belly. How wonderful, how odd, to have another person inside her like this! Then he was inviting her, no words needed, to reciprocate – which she did, at first tentatively, then with growing enthusiasm and vigor.

They didn't break until she had to breathe, heart thundering. Surfacing, she found that his hands were cupping her bottom – and although they seemed to fit perfectly, and were VERY comfortable, she didn't know quite when they had gotten there. Nor had she noticed her own arms going around his neck. He grinned at her. "SEE!? You knew how all along – you just didn't give yourself credit! You kiss very well. If you have no practice, then I declare you a number one speed-learner. And, LADY, if you think I am lying about being sexually attracted to you, then you can just try to find another way to explain this little phenomenon down here!"

He took her hand, slid it down his front until it pressed firmly on the serious bulge of his fully-formed erection. He thought to himself, virgin or not, she HAS to understand what that is!

He was right.

Then, as she studied this "phenomenon" his hands slid upwards atop her shirt, his thumbs sliding firmly across her nipples. She trembled violently at the sensations, but managed to grin back at him when he said "Seems to me that THESE parts..." He thumbed one nipple, then the other. The sensations were blindingly intense, so much so that she had a near panic reaction, but she managed it. Then he kissed her lightly again. "I can tell from your reactions that THESE parts are in fine working order, despite what the owner thought. We should arrive at conclusions only after gathering enough data!"

His hands returned to her bottom, and the thought passed through her mind that perhaps he was being entirely TOO polite! That condition didn't last.

Bellies together now, in a slow, firm primeval grind, they kissed again, long and slow: it was impossible to say who initiated it. His hands slipped upwards from her bottom, under the hem of her shirt, began a slow trip up her ribcage... moving at a rate and with the care that suggested 'Understand this - you can tell me to stop and I will do so.'

She didn't stop kissing, and didn't stop the hands. His thumbs slipped over her nipples, his fingernails traced lightning through her armpits [didn't he care about how drizzling wet they were?] and the whole panoply of sensations set her to shivering violently, which seemed to please Jerry inordinately. Then, somehow, the shirt was bunched up under her pits, and she realized that her inexperience extended to having no idea at all just how well an experienced man might understand a woman's clothing!

Her breasts were exposed between their chests. Now he leaned backwards, his face was dipping, lips and tongue were inhaling not just her nipple but the whole little package of breast, and she was about to explode. He nibbled at the few random dark hairs around her areolas, her breasts' only concession to her dark, dense hair. She had to fight down the near panic again, but succeeded admirably. Such mini-battles were fast getting easier to handle.

"Jerry..." she asked into the back of his head as he nursed, "... are you going to make love with me? Are we going to have sex together?"

He paused, pulled back slightly and said carefully "All circuitry in fine working order, Madam!" That made her laugh. "NO, to answer your specific question. We are not. Not unless YOU decide that you want to, and not unless you actually ASK me, invite me, to join you in such a thing. Then of course I'd love to do it, teach you how to make love. So far, this is just a small and unusually intimate science experiment, checking on the condition of your equipment! But it can be anything else you wish. This is your body, therefore your choice, not mine. But I would love to!"

She shook her head: "I would never want to interfere with a science experiment. Perhaps, Doctor, you are in need of replicate samples? After all, in statistics we learn that N should be as large as possible, but never so low as a mere ONE!"

He laughed, bent his head, used his tongue to jump-start her nipples again. Many times, many replicates, a good thorough design. Then he stepped back half a pace, hands on her shoulders again, and said "When we started talking, I was joking about taking a shower. But I'm now serious. I would love to give you a shampoo. If you would like to do that. Shall we? And, we can continue this nice little private scientific experiment, sort of a team effort to check and see if all your systems are really functioning properly in spite of you thinking otherwise. It doesn't have to be anything more than that, and if you become uncomfortable then you can just tell me to stop whatever we are doing and that is what will happen. I promise. I will stop. And, I would be happy to bet anything you would like that the systems will all be found to be in perfect shape!"

She looked at him, studying. He watched her studying him – it was disconcerting. He told her everything again - slowly, carefully. "Ildiko, a shower, nothing more, is what I would expect. And it is what I plan for. If anything else happens, well –- who can say? But I promise that I will make no attempt to go further than just a shower. Unless I am invited. And then, I strongly believe I would accept any invitation you might offer. But it has to be your idea, your invitation. Okay? Believe me? Trust me?"

Her mind was awhirl. She did like the way he was being so gentle and non-judgmental, and how it was always "we" not "I". That was good, the idea of a team, and the not being pushed was also quite special. Yes, in fact, she did trust him and believe him – but WHY? Was it just that she wanted to so desperately? Self-delusional perhaps? Her body was screaming for more touching, screaming in a way that was quite disconcerting - and they hadn't even gotten to anything very significant yet. Just simple eleven-year-old stuff: preliminary eleven year old stuff!

She began to feel as if perhaps his opinion about her systems was, in fact, correct – after all, surely he had many, many times her experience? And he had promised to stop if she asked. Stop what? What did she want, expect, hope for, fear about the next minutes? She could, she supposed, get embarrassed and just ask him to leave – he would undoubtedly do so. But he clearly didn't want that: regardless of this looming sex business he plainly enjoyed her company for many other reasons, and she certainly enjoyed his!

And mirabel dictu, there was this business of him being absolutely for certain sexually attracted to her. Even without any experience, the hardon that still so solidly filled her hand was proof positive that he was actively, and strongly, attracted to her. To HER! Miss Never-a-Date, Miss Never-a-Kiss, Miss Never-a-Bra.

She made up her mind – trust and belief were real, not figments.

"A shower together would be nice. Good ecological practice, as you said. Perhaps we should make a toast, to our success in this experiment?" She raised her glass: he joined her. Then, "But I don't know what to do, Jerry. This is all quite new to me, you know. How do we proceed? You will have to design this experiment – you have more experience. And if there is a reason for me to do so, I will say 'stop' – it is very nice of you to be so insistent about that. Thank you."

Ildiko felt an unexpected whoosh of relief gust through her mind, a sensation of sudden freedom – she was now committed, to this experiment. And she knew precisely where it was going to end up, precisely what it was that she was getting herself into, namely the two of them in bed together. HER, and this gorgeous man! Much older than she, but gorgeous nonetheless – even her gay friends thought him awfully good-looking! A miracle, perhaps? Should she convert to something, some philosophy or religion, in thanks for this improbable event?

The abrupt unwinding, the evaporation, of decades of tension and worry was boggling. Only to be replaced almost instantly by a small nagging worry that she really, REALLY didn't know what she was getting into, that she might not be able to do whatever would be required of her, that she would somehow emerge from all this even more frustrated and embarrassed and – yes – repressed than she'd entered. But she consciously batted down that little trickle of worry with the way she handled Jerry's next question – he was busy being gentlemanly and considerate again, asking about contraception, worried that he didn't have any materials with him for this unexpected occasion.

At first, she was instantly pleased at how he simply assumed they would be making love shortly. He must really like this silly face and body and mind of hers. Then, moments later, she wondered whether she ought not be insulted that he was so certain of her reaction, of her course? Then she worried for a second about just how utterly transparent she must be to him – all her doubts and needs and intentions showing clearly. And then she consciously told herself "To hell with all that! Just enjoy the ride!"

Aloud, she said "Jerry, you don't need to worry. I take the contraception pills, because all my life, since leaving childhood, I have had very strong, very painful monthly women's cycles. The doctors insist the pills are the best for removing those pains. They do work well for that. And now, perhaps they will get a chance to work for their main function?" THERE! She'd agreed OUT LOUD, not just mentally. Could there be any other meaning to what she'd just said, other than "We will be going to bed together!"? She doubted it, and she felt as if she'd jumped into ice-water. Jerry's pleased expression fixed that!

Jerry set both glasses down carefully on the counter, out of harm's way. "First, for any shower, we have to begin by making one another naked..." She flushed once more. He started things off, raised his arms overhead: "You begin. Help me here." Ildiko felt as if this were some sort of moment of truth, crossing the Rubicon, point of no return. She carpe-ed the diem, stepped forward, tentatively grasped the hem of his tee-shirt, began to raise it. The trapped, moist, maleness-laden air from beneath it hit her in the face almost like a solid object: she could feel her insides, down behind her pubis, contract and knot. The shirt came off smoothly. Now she surprised herself by being forward, pushy - trailing three fingers down his chest, smiling up at him, saying "It's nice that you are not hairy. We German girls call men with hairy chests "BEARS". I have always thought, at the swimming pool, that I would not like to have to touch a hairy man."

How suddenly bold she was! And proud of herself for it, too.

Slowly, they progressed. Standing there before the window, perhaps (excitingly!) visible to some random passerby on a boat, someone with good binoculars, they explored one-another's mouths at her pace – gentle at first, then with increasing abandon developing into near ferocity, deep and utterly thorough.

He broke the long clinch, not she - smiled at her and said "No experience doesn't equal no ABILITY, Ildiko. You are VERY good at this kissing business! So far, everything is in working order, believe me. I'm the expert here!"

Her turn to lose her shirt now: shivering slightly, she raised her arms. He slid the fabric up and over, dropped it on the floor, dipped his face to her armpit, raked his tongue across the five-o'clock shadow of what had to be this morning's shave. She nearly swooned with pleasure and surprise. Then his face was against her chest again, he was a hog for her chest, she was amazed at his interest, at his technique, and especially at her own sensations as he tantalized her nipples, left, right, back and forth, sensations she could not imagine producing for herself. She was instantly addicted, forever lost to indifference. And she knew it from the first ten seconds.

Ildiko pulled him away from the window, her insides churning violently. Out of view of the world, she waited as he squatted slowly before her, his lips and tongue tracing her midline as he settled, checking out her deep-set navel. He helped her slip from her jeans – she'd been right, Doktor Jerry really did understand female clothes, he'd not hesitated or fumbled in the least, nor had he asked for help or directions. That was marginally disconcerting. She wore a tight white plain thong, her bush springing from under the elastic edges like jungle reclaiming grassland.

He went slowly. With his face pressed against her abdomen, he let his mouth locate her navel while slowly, delicately, almost reverently he stroked her smooth, taut legs, studying and enjoying her muscles, cupped her buttocks into his palms. He laughed with her about the swarms of goose-bumps running wild across her belly and thighs, told her how beautiful he found her legs. All the while, his hands were roaming slowly from the edge of her panty-crotch to the tips of her toes and back, while keeping his face pressed firmly against her flat belly.

She held his head against her, giggled gently and asked him "You cannot see me from down there, Doctor Jerry – so how do you know whether or not I am beautiful?"

"I have eyes in my palms and fingertips – and, Ildiko, you will very soon develop palm-eyes of your own." And then he pulled the thong down to her feet using only his teeth.

She whispered a compliment about his ability with women's clothes, especially their underwear.

He just grinned briefly up at her, told her that it was best that at least ONE of the party had experience.

Through the storm of sensations coming from his mouth and fingers, she managed to find a calm mental spot, from which she studied the top of his head as his face slid slowly back up between her close-spaced legs, the inside of her legs gently sandwiching his face.

Him over sixty, twice her own ancient age, and yet no tiniest trace of a bald spot! Most of her male fellow-students were in their twenties and had palm-sized bald spots. What might that portend, anyhow? She vaguely remembered something about virility and hair loss and testosterone, but it was faint and blurry. And it didn't seem important- because she knew, intellectually, exactly where his face was headed. She had another momentary near-panic and stopped him by holding his ears. "Jerry! I don't know – I mean, of course I'd like for you to continue, but we have been exercising all day and we have not yet taken our experimental shower. Perhaps I will not smell too good, and so therefore we should wait until after that–– what do you think?"

He let her know in no uncertain terms what he thought – "Don't be silly – your smells, especially this combination of sex and exercise, are the sexiest thing imaginable. It's MY CHOICE just now. Your job is to sit back and enjoy being touched – we have parts to check, science experiments to perform!" His fingertips on her hips swayed her forward. She had a large, easy-to-find clit snuggled between two long inner lips, lips that protruded out beyond the deep bush. They had always worried her, how they made her look different –so she thought, erroneously- from the other women in the shower at gymnasium. But they delighted Jerry, who tugged them wide with his fingers, called them his shiny pink butterfly. His fingertips slid along the dripping meridian of her slit, making her dance, mentally, as if needing desperately to pee. He paused, she looked down – he was staring up at her. "Permission to continue the experiment, partner?"

She nodded – "Oh YES indeed, please DO, whatever else do NOT stop!" His tongue and lips engulfed her clit, and she quite seriously thought she was about to die, probably of a heart attack, right there and then.

Five minutes later, having come violently several times and discovered afterwards that she hadn't actually died, with her knees a-quake and her hands clutching his head and shoulders for support, she made him pause so she could breathe a minute. "Doctor Jerry, you are not even naked yet – but I am. That is not fair. May I help fix this little problem?"

He nodded, muttered "Please do – it's about time, too!" Bolder yet, now she reached for his buckle. He aided her with a little wriggle, stepped out of the jeans.

She started briefly at the long bulge in his bright-white jockey shorts. Slowly, carefully, alternating between watching his eyes and studying the slow exposure of his cock and balls, she tugged the jockeys down, down, farther yet, until his erection sprang entirely free, bobbing before her face. Tentatively, she traced the length with a single fingertip, looked up and said quietly "Oh. Wow. Very different in real life from what you see in photos, isn't it? May I..."

Jerry nodded: "You can touch me anywhere, any way you wish, for as long as you want. I am all yours to explore. And – believe me, Ildiko, I will enjoy being your object of study. I will enjoy it more than you can possibly ever know. Go ahead."

She spent minutes investigating, studying textures, reactions, until finally she looked up and asked, coyly, "Maybe it is now time for us to go to the shower?" When he nodded, she stood and took firm hold of his cock, started to lead him by it, towards the bathroom, saying with a grin "Just like a little child's toy with a handle on it! Or perhaps a grown-up woman's toy? Such a nice toy!" Once again, her own increasing freedom and boldness surprised her.