Conversation

Tell me how you'd make love to me.

Slowly, I think. You seem like the kind of woman who would want to go slowly.

Why do you think that?

I suppose because we're of an age. Not young, precisely; not rushed, not careless. not old either; not dead.

Oh, good, I'm not dead.

Oh, hardly. You're just not young anymore. No longer unblemished. You have lines around your throat, your eyes. Your beauty is ... earned.

Should I tell you about my children? What they've done to my vagina, my breasts?

I'll find out eventually.

If I undress for you.

If I undress you.

So. Where would you kiss me first?

Your eyebrows, I think. Yes, definitely.

Why my eyebrows?

Because they're oddly beautiful, A bit wild. Unplucked. luxuriant. You're the sort of woman who doesn't trim herself, body or soul. I would expect you'd be untrimmed below as well.

But that's for later, isn't it?

Later.

When I'm undressed.

Exactly. In all your ruined beauty.

'Ruined beauty.' I like that. That's exactly who I am, I think. So you'll kiss my eyebrows first.

Yeah. First the left, then right.

I would like that.

I hope so. And when I've approached you, touched you for the first time, the tiny intimacy of an unreturned kiss., maybe you'd close your eyes.

My eyes are closed.

And I would take off your glasses and place the lightest of kisses on your eyelids.

My eyelids?

Yes. Eyelids are hidden things. We don't always see them, day to day. But then you become someone's lover, and one of the first things she gives you - that you would give me - is the tiny secret of your eyelids. I would kiss you there, I would touch your eyelids with my tongue, feel the liquid of your eyeball, separated from me by a thin membrane of skin. Your secrets.

I have secrets?

Oh, god, yes. You know you do. All the places on your body that only a relatively few men have touched. The inside of your body. Your asshole. Into which I will eventually put my finger, my tongue.

And your prick?

That remains to be seen. To be negotiated. Decided. Just for now, though, you are still an undiscovered country.

And you're going to discover me.

Oh, yeah.

Magellan. Who went around the world. Where next?

Your ears next. They will be hard, curved, cartiliginous. I will touch them with lips, tongue, fingers. Teeth. I will take an earlobe in my teeth, pull slightly.

They swell, you know, earlobes. They ... engorge. Just a little. Like my labia. Like your penis. They would be sensitive to those teeth of yours. You wouldn't hurt me, though.

No, I'd just tug. Feel their warmth with my tongue. Suck on them a tiny bit, then move on.

You're working your way downward.

Downward. The sweet flesh just below the ear at the bottom of your skull. Where I can feel bone under your skin. And then down to that lined skin at the base of your neck.

My ruined beauty.

Earned. I think I said 'earned' too.

You did. You are kissing the earned lines at the bottom of my neck.

Um-hm. And now another secret. I would unbutton the top of your blouse, the top button.

And?

The declivity at the top of your breast bone. It's soft. A still unblemished part of you.

Not ruined?

No. Nothing about you is ruined, I'm finding out. A little spoiled maybe. Not ruined.

Maybe you should wait until I'm undressed and then decide.

I won't have to.

Am I damp yet?

I don't know. You'll have to tell me.

Then I think I am. I would feel it inside myself, but then I would reach and touch myself, just to be sure. And then I'd be sure. Are you hard?

I think so, yeah. I would be hard by now.

Then, as I draw my hand back from myself, I would be sure to brush against you. I would brush against your, should I say, trousers? With the back of my hand, not caressing. Only ... checking?

Would you do anything else?

No, I wouldn't. Right now I'm waiting for you. My hand would fall back to my side, I wouldn't touch you at all. I'm all passivity. Later, I'll be active. But for now, I'm waiting.

Then I would begin with your buttons. Two, maybe three. Enough to show the beginnings of your breasts, your bra, which is cream colored. As are you. I would touch you. My fingers would move along the line oy your bra, lightly. I am touching your breasts for the first time.

And you like that.

I like that. But then my fingers leave your skin. Slide across the thin fabric, my palms, the fat part of the hand beneath my thumbs, glide across your nipples through fabric. They're hardening, I feel them, like small, fleshy nuts beneath the silk or polyester.

Silk. It would be silk. But I think I'll be active for a moment now. I think I'll undo the last buttons on my blouse, I'll pull my blouse out from the waistband of my skirt. And now I'm open to you. My shirt is open, I'm giving you my breasts.

Thank you.

You're welcome. Now what do you do?

I hold you, I hold your breasts in the palms of my hands. I kiss you. At the top of your breastbone, along one clavicle. Before I take your present in my mouth, I am making love with your bones.

Imagine that.

Then your breasts. From your clavicle, I slide downward with my lips, my cheeks, my nose, for god's sake. I am touching you, tasting you, smelling you.

What do I smell like?

Flesh. Salt. Perfume. I'm beginning to catch your deeper scents too. The way you'll smell and taste when I get between your legs.

Don't get ahead of yourself. You haven't taken my bra off yet.

Do you want me to?

Yes.

But first, my mouth is already on your breast. I am kissing you, sucking lightly on you through your bra, I feel your nipple through silk against my palate. Then I move across your body, take your other breast into my mouth.

And I feel you through the silk. It's delicious.

My hands are on you now, my hands are on your skin above your hips. I am inside your opened shirt, my hands encircle you, move across you back, trace up the knobs of your backbone.

You seem enamored of my bones.

Your bones. Your skin. Your body. You.

That's nice.

I've found the clasp. Lift up with one hand down with the other. I have leaned close to you to do this. We kiss, I move my tongue over your teeth.

Do I touch your tongue with mine?

Lightly. Like a bird takes water. This was our first kiss tonight. The first time we breathe each other's breath.

Mmmm. You pull away from me now, don't you?

If that's what you want.

It's practical. If we press against each other, the girls will never be freed. So you sit away from me. My brassiere falls away, I shrug out of my blouse, pull the straps off my shoulders. I'm naked to you now, at least in part. What do I look like to you? What do you see?

Pale skin. Alabaster skin. I see a spray of freckles across your chest. Like a negative image of the Milky Way.

Of course, milk.

Yes, and then, what did you call them, the girls? These breasts of yours, paler even than your upper chest, unused to sun. Fallen, I suppose, a little from their former glory. Your nipples, small, pinkish in the way of pale women. It is to them I pay attention. Lips, tongue, the lovely upward strain by which you meet me. They feel like paper in my mouth.

I like that. I do love being suckled like that. Should I start to undress you now?

No, not yet. I still want to undress you. I want the sensation of seeing you naked while I'm still fully clothed.

Oh, the slave girl thing. You men do love your power don't you? It's alright, though. I'm alright with that. I can let you have that much.

So, stand up. I tell you to stand up.

And I do. I stand up for you. I kick off my shoes.

I kneel down in front of you.

Ah, worship, I like that.

I let my hands travel over your breasts, your stomach.

My least favorite part of me. That never recovered from childbirth, not completely.

Still beautiful though. You are still ridiculously beautiful to me.

Keep talking, you're an idiot but I rather like you.

There is a clasp at the side of your skirt, at the hip. There's a zipper.

You unzip me.

Unclasp, unzip, undress. Your black skirt falls around your legs. It puddles at your feet.

I'm almost naked now.

Almost. Pantyhose, panties. I tug them down, the back of my hands touch the softness inside your thighs.

Like the back of my hand touched you. Through your trousers. Are you still hard?

Jesus, yes. I'm looking at you. I'm kneeling in front of you looking at you. Christ, I'm hard as a rock.

I like that I can do that to you. That you can get hard looking at me and I don't have to touch you.

We work like that, men.

You're easy. Now tell me. Describe me to me.

I'm right. You don't shave, you trim along your legs, but the triangle is a luxury.

It's generational. Young women shave themselves.

But look at you. The fold of you down there. You're aroused. Your lips are swollen. They don't darken, they're pale. You're all ivory. But they've gone thick, they've spread apart, the pink inside of you is opening up. You're a goddamn flower.

Tulips, I suppose.

Exactly. My wise-assed little darling. You are pink and opened, and I put my hands on you, I open you wieer with my thumbs and then I plunge into you. I tongue you at the top of your cleft.

I think I sit now. To make it easier for you.

And I go down, my whole mouth is on you, my tongue finds the inside of you, I put my tongue inside you, inside your body, inside you, then out and up to find your hard little locus at the top of your cleft. My hands reach down around you, the round softess of your ass, the wrinkled place inside.

My asshole. You said you wanted to kiss my asshole, to put your tongue in it.

I touch you there with my thumbs. You're slick with the wet from the front of you. I move one thumb around you , pressing down.

And I take your hand away. And look at you. And roll over, lift up my ass. I'm going to let you. I'm going to give you that part of me too. Go on.

I lean down, my face is buried between your cheeks. I let my tongue drift up and down you, then, in the center, I lick the wrinkled skin, I let my tongue twist and corkscrew into you.

And I relax a bit and let you. I haven't done this before. All these years. It turns out to be rather intense, I think. My cunt should be sopping. Is sopping. Until I twine my fingers in your hair, pull back, lift away that sweet ferret tongue of yours that has been tasting my backside.

Put your finger in me. I want you to put your finger in me now.

Where?

In my ass, in my ass. I want you to put a finger in my ass. I want you to give me that discomfort.

Alright. I move my finger down between your legs, to all your wetness. Trace up and down from the bottom of your body to your clitoris and back again. And when my hand is soaked with you, I bring it back and touch you back there with one finger, just one.

Which finger do you use?

Index finger. It's on you now. Pressing down and pushing up simultaneously. There is muscle at the opening, your sphincter, I believe.

Yeah, it squeezes closed at your touch, it's nervous. I have to breathe, to consciously relax to let you in me. And then you are.

Past fingernail, first knuckle, second.

It hurts some. But I let you. I relax and take some more of you. I am letting you hurt me. A little, not too much.

until at last my finger is inside your ass to the last knuckle and my hand is splayed at the bottom of you, and my fourth finger - ring finger - finds the edge of your vagina and slides inside there; and I squeeze you, squeeze my fingers together, so I can feel them both, almost touching between the membranes of both your passages.

I can feel that, I can feel your fingers inside me, jesus, almost touching, you said, through my insides. God, can people really feel that?

You feel it. You feel it right now.

Keep doing that. I'm going to touch myself.

For real or in the conversation?

Both. Keep moving them, keep squeezing inside me.

I do. I am. I am moving both fingers in circles, one in your ass, one in your cunt, and I am squeezing inside you. I want you to come from that.

I will, I am. Jesus. I am. Oh, Christ, Christ, oh, God, oh fuck. I can feel my ass contracting in there, can you feel my ass contracting around your finger? And my cunt, oh shit, oh god, t around the other?

Real or conversation?

Both. Both. I'm blowing apart. I've probably peed. God, I wish I had your finger in my ass right now.

You do.

You know what I mean.

I know. Yeah. No touching. Did you really come just then?

I touched myself a little but yeah, oh god, yeah. Let me get my breath. Jesus. Are you hard right now?

Yeah. Yeah. Big time.

Then maybe it's time to give you your blow job.

You think you can do that right now?

I don't know. I still can barely right. I didn't think we could do that, just talking. I think I could though, I can try. Are you ready to try?

Yeah, I think.

Okay. Then. I guess ... we'll just have to talk about it. Okay? How about now? Are you ready? Close your eyes ...