Danielle

Danielle resumed the massage, this time using her thumbs on the back of my neck. She went higher, then her touch lightened and she ran the backs of her fingernails lightly over the nape. I gasped at the sensation, and she stopped. "Are you okay, Steve? Did that hurt?"

My heart was beating faster. "No," I replied, "it's just that...well, you touched a very sensitive spot.."

"On your neck?" She did it again, provoking the same reaction.

"Yeah." My pulse increased again, and my breath was short. "That's it." Her nails were still there, stroking. Endorphins popped in my brain and I felt energized...relaxed and sensual at the same time. I felt my control wavering. "Stop...please stop." She didn't. "Danielle...please."

She ceased stroking. "What is that?" she asked, curious.

I couldn't answer at first, but after I caught my breath I replied, "It's a...well, an 'E-spot.' Like an energy point. It never works when I touch it myself, but when someone else does...well, you saw the reaction."

"Yeah," she said. Her voice expressed her awe at what she'd provoked in me. "It's almost like I turned you on. I've never seen that before."

"Well...you kind of did. That's why I asked you to stop; it was just too intense." My breathing had returned to normal.

Danielle looked at me for a very long moment, almost as if she were searching for something. "Steve?" she asked at length, "Would you mind very much if I kissed you?" I read her look as unsure.

I answered softly, "Would you like that?" There was an electricity in the air between us.

"Yes," she answered. I smiled, implying my permission. She leaned forward, brushing her lips on mine, then moved closer and made contact. The initial probing intensified as she gained confidence, and I raised my hand up to the back of her neck to welcome her closer. Danielle's lips parted and the kiss became wet. My own lips opened and I flicked my tongue against hers. Omigod, I thought, as I tasted pure fire. I was losing control again, my brain spinning. This isn't right..she's so young...and so...the thought trailed off as I surrendered to her tongue, surrendered fully to her embrace. Danielle moaned softly as our mouths danced. This was getting intense, and I pulled back a bit. Our eyes met again and I looked at her quizzically. "What?" she said. We were both breathing deeply.

"Wow," I replied, awestruck at this turn of events. "What the...what was that?" I smiled at her.

Danielle smiled in return and laughed, her voice husky. "Steve...you must know I've always liked you. Even from the first day we met. And I knew you liked me too...I'd catch you looking at me when you thought my attention was elsewhere." She paused. "But I knew. That's why I kissed you that day you brought me home...I couldn't help it, and I was so embarrassed afterward..."

"And I was with Beth..." I added.

"And you were with Beth...I didn't want to interfere with that...but I'd go home at night and think about how cool it might be if I ever got a chance to be alone with you."

"But I'm...Danielle, you must realize there's quite an age gap between us...nearly thirty years. I'm chronologically old enough to be your grandfather."

"Steve...I don't care about that; it doesn't matter to me, not in the least." I was perplexed.

"Why?" I asked, "what makes it a non-issue for you?" She paused for a moment, and I could see she was sorting out her thoughts. "It has to do with the way I was raised," she said finally. She shifted her position so she was fully facing me. "I was raised in Manhattan," she began. "My parents were doing okay, just starting their own business...an art gallery...by the time I was ten, however, we were really well-off. I went to the Manhattan Free School from fourth through ninth grades, we had a penthouse on Park Avenue...you know the life."

"Not from personal experience, but I get the picture," I returned.

"The Free School was the most in-demand facility for families of means in New York City. So I grew up in this insulated environment...not that we were oblivious to the plights of others; we fed the homeless, helped with co-op gardens, campaigned for progressive candidates...stuff like that. But it was a privileged life.

"When I was twelve, I came home from school, upset. When my mother asked me what was wrong, I told her that some boys at school were bothering me...they would stare at me in the halls as I walked by, then 'high-five' each other. One of them had tried to kiss me...I just didn't want the attention, and I pushed him away. So I asked my mother what this was all about; you know, why they were behaving this way. She didn't immediately answer, but then she suggested we go out on Saturday...a little shopping, lunch at The Plaza...and we could talk about it." She paused as she reached for the wine bottle, pouring us each a fresh glass.

"So, after lunch, we were drinking iced tea and she let me in on a family secret, one that had been passed from mother to daughter in her family forever. She said, 'Danielle, I'm going to give you the best advice I can, and it's what your grandmother told me at your age: boys don't really grow up until they're about thirty-five or so. They don't really become men until that time, because their lives don't teach them anything about how to properly act towards a young lady. You've seen it already; it's like some secret club they have, with common or communal behavior, complete with rituals like the 'high-five' you saw in the hallway last week. This behavior they exhibit is brought on partially by puberty, partially by social pressure to conform to the rule of the pack. They're like young wolves at that age, and some never really grow out of it. You've seen it...guys on the street, dressed similarly, making rude comments about every female that crosses their paths. Now, you are young...and beautiful...so they are driven to show off for you; to be as obnoxious as possible in a crude attempt to gain your attention. But if you acknowledge the behavior...if you speak with them, or even just smile at them, it will be taken as a sign of your consent for the behavior to continue. And if you ignore them for too long, they will start saying rude things about you behind your back, or maybe even when you are in earshot. They will call you crude names in return for your rejection, and will never realize or admit that it was their behavior that earned your inattention.

'When they (and you) become older, these same boys who denigrated you will very politely start to ask you out on dates. You may consider it, you may even acquiesce now and then,,,but remember that these are the same boys that have never cared about your feelings...and they'll care even less now. Judge a young man on how he treats you on a regular basis, not just when he wants something from you. And what he wants...what all boys want...is sex.'

"I was stunned by this...of course, we had had 'The Talk' about human sexuality, and I had read books on the subject, so I wasn't totally naïve, but I asked her, 'What if I find a guy who I really like?'

'Honey...you will meet them...but they're not worth your time. I'm not saying don't date...but when it comes time to choose, choose an older man. Older men have experience...they will cherish your youth and your attentions far more than someone your own age. They will already have had a few (sometimes more than a few) relationships from which they have gained valuable experience. They'll be polite; open doors for you, help you with your chair at the dinner table; look at your father for a good example. He's seventeen years my senior. My father was twenty-five years older than your grandmother.

'Now, I know what you're thinking; what could you possibly have in common with a man who is a full generation ahead of you? Well, honey, you must prepare for that...study the cultures of the previous two generations. Listen to the music. Study the politics. Learn the values and credos of those eras. You won't need to immerse yourself in it, but you're very lucky in that the past twenty to thirty years have been culturally rich decades.' "

Danielle sipped her wine. "I was flabbergasted," she continued, "but I took her advice and boned up on that history. Not that I ignored the social changes and developing attitudes around me," she smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, both my parents died two years later. I was just fourteen."

"Oh, Danielle..that must have been devastating."

She nodded. "It was. I cried forever. But the worst of it was that custody was awarded to my aunt and uncle here in ______ Park. So it was goodbye Manhattan, farewell to the cocoon of wealth. My parents left my aunt and uncle enough to see after my upbringing and a little over two hundred thousand as a 'thank you,' most of which they blew through in two years. They resented me for my trust fund; when I turned eighteen, I received an initial release of a half million for college. They tried hard to get me to give them some of that, claiming that the money left them by my parents didn't cover what it had actually cost to raise me over the past four years."

"What did you do?" I asked, curious.

Danielle shrugged. "I hired a lawyer and moved out. They weren't amused. They still call me every week, acting all sweet, but it's like the boys in school...just an act." She drank more wine, and I refilled her glass. "Last year, I turned twenty-one and received the balance of the trust; eight and a half million dollars." She turned her attention fully on me. "Steve...look at me." I looked. She may have been just twenty-two years old, but was anything but a child. This was a cultured young woman, fully alive in her element.

"Steve," she began again, "you've had a hard life. You've been through a lot. You've worked every day, you've been cruelly treated by the women you've allowed into your heart...you're a romantic, I can tell...and I'm ready for some romance in my life. You deserve to have someone who will take care of you for the rest of your life. I have plenty of money...you won't need to work; of course you will probably choose to; it's part of your ethic...but you can eventually retire and relax. We could make a great life together. And when I kissed you...Steve...I can love anyone I wish. I could have any man in the world. But when I kissed you...I knew I had made the right choice." Her eyes dropped in that expression that had first captivated me three years earlier. "Steve," she said softly, her voice trembling, "I'm in love with you."

My mouth dropped open and my face betrayed my shock. This beautiful young woman was offering me a new lease on love. After Beth had left me, I never thought I would find real love again. But here was Danielle, a girl I had always been attracted to, a young lady that any man of any age would kill to be with...and this lovely creature was willing to love me and care for me forever. I was astounded (and immediately tempted to say yes) but common sense stepped in.

"Danielle," I asked, "are you proposing marriage to me?" Her reply was without hesitation of any sort.

"Yes." She paused and put down her glass. "Marry me, Steven Fox."

"Danielle..." I trailed off. "Can you give me a few moments to get my head around this?" She

nodded. I could see she was nervous about my answer, and was worried I might reject her suit. There were certainly good reasons to say no; the age difference (doesn't matter to her), how our families might react (but does that really matter?) I addressed a half dozen serious concerns internally while staring at the half full wine glass in my hand. I rose from the sofa and walked toward the bar.

"Do you mind if I pour myself another drink?"

"No," she replied, "go ahead." I selected the Laphroaig 18 and poured a double. I turned toward the divan where Danielle sat, patiently awaiting a reply.

"You?" I offered.

"No, thank you." I sipped the fine scotch, savoring the flavors. Minutes ticked by. I returned to her. As I sat, Danielle looked at me. God, I mused, she is so very lovely. I could love this woman. I could love this woman forever. I made up my mind.

"Danielle...two things."

"Okay," she said, still nervous.

"First...I'm not saying no to you, but I think it's a fair statement that we barely know each other; as people, I mean. And to walk into this blindly would be foolish on both our parts. Would you agree?"

"I know what you mean...we should take some time and get to know one another."

"A lot of time," I corrected. "I'm willing to commit to that initially. We can talk, read, take long walks if you'd like...discover each other as individuals." I paused and organized my thoughts. "I am extremely attracted to you, Danielle...I always have been, just as you suspected. You are lovely; I think you are the most uniquely beautiful woman I have ever met. And your mother was right...I do value your youth. But you are intelligent and charming as well, and I think we'd make a great match. So I will give you a provisional 'yes' in response to your proposal...but there's one more thing we need to address, and we need to address it immediately." My tone was grave, and I was nervous.

"What?" she asked, equally nervous.

I smiled at her. "Young lady, if you ever...and I mean ever...kiss me like that again," I paused for effect, "I'm...just going to have to start taking off your clothes."

Danielle gasped and her face lit up. In an instant, her lips were on mine, her tongue in my mouth, searching for mine. But this time there was no apprehension...just pure, clean passion. She melted into my arms and I had no choice...I started to undress her.

Danielle lifted her arms as I removed the cream blouse from her body, revealing a matching camisole. I looked down and saw for the first time the hint of her breasts, nipples hardened by excitement peaking the fine material. Her arms fell to her waist, and she began to undo the two buttons on the front of her pants. Once undone, the slacks whispered down her legs to the floor, where they were kicked aside.

Our lips met again and our hands flowed over each others' bodies. My palms traveled below her waist, and she gasped in pleasure as I gripped her smooth ass through and then under the camisole. I pulled her closer to me; our mouths were wide open, our tongues entwined, and her left hand moved down the front of my pants, the palm flat as she massaged the growing bulge there. It was not long before the hardness became uncomfortable, and I stepped back to take off my own slacks. Her hands stopped me. "Let me," she whispered, her voice shaking. She expertly undid my belt and nearly ripped the button off. She then undid the zipper and dropped to her knees to slip off my shoes.

Danielle then lowered my pants to the floor, and was surprised that I wasn't wearing anything underneath. "I haven't worn any in years," I explained, "too constrictive." She smiled at that and rose to help me take off my shirt. I was now naked except for my socks, and she ran her hands over my chest, feeling the smooth musculature and probing lower, over my abdomen, her fingertips whispering through my pubic hair. I was rock-hard by this time and thought that if she even touched me I was going to explode all over her pretty clothes...and I wanted this never to end.

Danielle's breathing had deepened to the point where she was nearly gasping, and she was shifting her weight from foot to foot in her excitement. I pushed her away slightly and slipped the straps of the camisole off hershoulders, causing it to fall away and puddle around her waist. For the first time, I saw her breasts, firm and creamy, capped by delicate, chocolate-pink nipples that were as hard as I was. I ran the back of my fingers over them, and Danielle threw her head back and gasped aloud, her eyes closed, her long neck exposed. I leaned forward and kissed her throat, then gathered her in my arms and ran my palms down her back to the waistband of her lace underwear. Her legs unhinged at my embrace, and I leaned down, putting one arm behind her knees and the other behind her back. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I felt her fingers return to that spot on my nape, lightly stroking.

"Please, Steven, "she whispered, "take me to bed."

"Yes, ma'am," I whispered back, and she softly laughed. I carried her feather-light body into the bedroom, leaving the door open so that the candlelight streamed in from the other room. She stopped me near the doorway, reaching out to press a dimmer switch on the wall, which turned on the small chandelier above us. Once she had set the intensity to her liking, I proceeded to the queen sized bed and gently sat her at the edge.

Immediately grasping my shaft, Danielle steered me so that I was positioned in front of her. Her lovely face was on the same level as my waist ad she urged me to move forward and closer to her. Very gently, she stroked the hard organ and milked drops of clear fluid from the tip. Opening her mouth, Danielle then extended her tongue and spread that moisture over the head, her fingers still cool on the shaft as she urged more drops from my body. I gasped as I watched her do this, mostly from passion, but partly from surprise at my reaction. I had never in my life been an advocate of women performing oral sex on me; although most clearly enjoyed the act in the same way that I did when using my tongue on them, but I had always viewed it as a demeaning act and found that it turned me off. But with Danielle it was very different; she was simply and wholly doing it to give me pleasure, and I found myself truly enjoying her making love to me in this fashion.

As I looked down at her working on my cock, I saw her left hand moving at her groin, slowly circling her clitoris. She was moaning as she masturbated, and I could see that the coverlet beneath her was becoming soaked. Her mouth engulfed the head, and I felt her smooth tongue moving back and forth on the underside, gathering speed and gradually increasing suction. My pulse quickened and I moaned aloud, gasping as I felt the pressure build. Her free hand made contact with and lightly cupped my scrotum. I could hold back no longer and thrust my hips forward, crying out as I exploded in her mouth. Danielle came at the same moment, and I felt her hot juices splatter against my thighs as she herself ejaculated.

Danielle kept up the pressure as my orgasm subsided, teasing the now ultra-sensitive head and underside with occasional flicks of her tongue. The effect was a pleasure that was almost too intense to bear, and she was also able to keep me erect; in a way she was saying, 'Ready for round two?' She placed her slippery hands on my buttocks and pulled me closer, her lips going further down my shaft until she had fully half my cock in her mouth. She hadn't swallowed yet, and I could feel my shaft surrounded by my load, warm and slippery. She pulled back as I moaned and gasped, looking very satisfied with the result; it was then she allowed my semen to slide down her throat, with just a drop of white left at the corner of her lips.

I couldn't believe how hard I remained, and although it was partly due to her lovely mouth and tongue; it was also simply because it was her. The repressed tension between us was abating, and the love we were making was the spark on which an unending fire would be built.

Danielle looked up at me, her eyes shining in the semi-dark, and slid backward away from the wetness on the bed. I climbed up with her to the center as her smooth thighs parted and I could see her fully. Not a hair sullied her baby-smooth skin, still glistening with her ejaculation. The inside of her upper thighs were shiny and inviting, and I wasted no time using my tongue to lick them clean. She moaned softly as I traced her crevice, thrusting her hips up as I made contact with her clitoris. I pulled back and gently blew on the bud, teasing it to fill erection, thrilling as it throbbed with her pulse. She gasped and giggled, writhed and moaned as I loved her with my mouth as she had done me.