Scruples

I showed her the room and its adjoining bath. Seeing her eyeing the shower, I told her if she wanted to bathe, it was fine, that I was just going to have a nightcap and she could join me then or later or not at all, up to her. She gratefully accepted the bath and nightcap idea, and I went to change as well, and jumped in for a quick shower to boot, then back to the living room, much more in my usual dress of barefoot with loose gym shorts and an open neck shirt.

10 minutes later, she joined me. Her short hair was damp, her understated makeup gone, wearing a pajama set of loose shorts and a thin tank top - altogether a lovely vision.

I had a glass of bourbon ready for each of us - she'd admitted to a fondness during dinner - and she chose to sit on the couch next to me. I swear, I wasn't thinking of it, but then I realized I'd made it look like an invitation when I took the couch and not a chair, my drink already in a coaster on the couch arm when she came out of the bath.

Sitting in silence at first, she asked, "Music anywhere around here?"

"CD player's there, CDs in the cabinet - anything you'd like?" I said, starting to get up.

"Oh, let me browse," she said, leaving her drink but going over to the cabinet. Her back to me, I watched her great legs as she bent over to see the CDs on a lower shelf. The pajama bottoms rode up wonderfully, revealing that cleft where the buns start. I wondered if she knew the view she was presenting, and when she looked around at me, a CD in her hand, and saw me watching her ass, I knew I was busted and that she'd set it up.

"You're blushing," she smiled. "That's sweet. Maybe some Diana Krall?"

"Great choice," I said, not knowing what else to say.

She quickly had the tunes playing, soft and sultry - are all younger folks just naturals with electronics? It had taken me some time when I got that rig, and I had the directions!

"Dance?" she said, standing in the middle of the room, looking all innocent and sexy as hell.

"I'm no star at it, but sure," I said, and we started swaying, sort of stepping but not much more than sort of, to Diana doing old torch classics.

Whether it was the fresh smell of her hair, the feel of her back through the thin top, or the glance at her breasts that revealed the outline of pert breasts and firm nipples, or the remnants of the view of those legs, I knew I had an erection forming that my thin shorts were doing little to disguise, against all my good intentions and no doubt better instincts. I debated whether she'd feel it and whether I should just stay as is, it pressing gently against her belly, or move back awkwardly, and then being obviously tented in front. I stayed as is, and we swayed some more, her one hand in mine, her other now softly stroking the back of my neck, her head resting gently on my chest. And the erection grew some more, I knew.

When it was pretty much full, and no doubt undeniable, she murmured, "'Seems you're feeling more amenable."

"Gee, how'd you know?" I joked back.

"Well, I'd chalk it up to memories of mom, but I didn't notice it when we were talking about her, so I'm going to take that as a compliment to me."

"You've got that right - that and my apparent lack of scruples," I said back.

"Well, I'm not going to quibble about scruples. I've had a great time, and while you've been working through all this, I've gone from being a dutiful daughter to realizing why my mom might have been so taken, and from there to realizing that going to bed with you would be as much for me as for Mom." And with that, she freed her hand from mine and reached between us, grasping my cock and making it swell some more as she leaned up and I leaned down and we finally kissed.

It wasn't quite a "The Princess Bride" kiss, but it wasn't far off, and it certainly reminded me of how long it had been since I'd really shared a mutually enthusiastic kiss with a beautiful woman. Lips and then lips and tongue, and then my hand on her ass, and one in her hair, pulling her to me, and a wonderful taste hinting of bourbon, and no more swaying, just hanging onto each other, my eyes closed without thought.

OK, I'm weak, or ok, I'm just lucky. Either one, I left scruples behind, victims of gentle genital strangulation, I figured.

"You talked me into it," I said, coming back to reality. Leaning further and sweeping her up in my arms, I did best Dread Pirate Roberts and hoped like hell I wouldn't pull anything in my back in the effort. She was lighter than I'd estimated, and it was thankfully easy to carry her to my bedroom. Managing to pull off the bed cover and laying her down gently on the sheets, I knelt over her, legs on each side of her, on my elbows, our faces inches apart. She looked up at me, wide-eyed and a bit breathless, even though I'd been doing the carrying. I held her gaze and kissed her again, only our lips touching, it seemed.

Again our tongues dueled, and again it seemed more magic than old guy gets to screw young thing. In fact, it seemed nothing of that at all.

"I only got a glimpse of Fran. I want to see you," I said, rising back up and tugging down on her pajama bottoms. Her pussy was lightly coated in fine, trimmed but not shaved, light brown silken hair. It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a long time, and I knelt there for a moment, memorizing it for the future when I knew I'd want to be able to conjure it back. It reminded me of a purse, but one with its opening in shadow, and that shadow revealing just a trace of glistening along the seam. Her legs were flawless, containing it, the pale outline of a bikini framing the whiter skin than the legs and belly above.

I held out my hands to hers and pulled her up to sit, then eased her top off as well. She lay back down, her breasts rising and falling, showing a similar bikini reverse shadow, the nipples rising, alluring, the areolae matching them in a pink shade next to the white skin. I could hardly remember Fran in detail, but noted the same puffy nipples topped with hard nubs. She was maybe a 34B, with no sag and a wonderful fullness that made them keep their shape even on her back. But, lying there I was less interested in her numbers than in her whole being, submissive to me, her eyes watching me, maybe still not quite convinced this was going to completion. I had no such doubts.

I stood, silently, and stripped off my shirt, then dropped my shorts and stood for her inspection. She first still just looked into my eyes, then lowered her glance and coated my body with her looking. I was erect, hoping she wasn't a size queen but knowing I wasn't challenged in that area either. My cock twitched a bit in the air, and she gave it a thoughtful look, maybe wanting to remember this as I did. Then she smiled and said, "Yeah, this is going to be fun!" as she scrambled down onto the floor. Kneeling in front of me and sweeping her hair back over her shoulder - the better to see her with? - she licked me in one stroke from under balls to tip, then sucked in the head. Smiling up at me, she teased the tip in her mouth, circling it I supposed, although the sensations were a bit of a jumble. Then she slowly sucked me further in, and further in, her eyes still locked with mine, taking a bit over half, I guessed, before drawing back out to just the head was hidden in her lips. After several of those, I knew she was eager but not as experienced maybe as some other women I'd known, but hey, who ever doesn't enjoy a first fellatio?

I imagined Fran watching too, finding it easier to buy into her expectation of seeing all this, and finding that I welcomed her imagined or real presence. Thinking of Fran watching her daughter suck me, and watching me enjoy it was erotic in its own sphere, but if this was a fuck for Fran, I was damned well going to make it good for her, not just for me.

I pulled out, eliciting a curious frown from Lissa. But as I grasped her under her arms and eased her back up to the bed, she knew I wasn't through by any means. Resting her head on a pillow, I scooted back down, parted her legs and lay between them, lifting her knees over my shoulders, freeing my hands.!was closer now, maybe 6 inches from her opening, but took my time, stroking the fine hair with my fingers.

Finally, I lowered my head and licked up the length of her slit, letting my tongue barely open it, seeking the taste of her, which was so mild as to be almost absent. She moaned at that, and gave a bit of a quiver when I licked past her clitoris, not pausing, just passing by. Bit by bit, I repeated, delving more deeply, pressing my tongue at the sides more and more, mixing my saliva with her fluids, hearing her sporadic sounds and feeling her breathing quicken. Dipping my tongue as deeply as I could into her vagina while lifting her hips up to manage that, I finally determined to do more than explore, and concentrated on her clit, and he responses seemed to be in eager agreement. I licked and twirled and thrummed, orchestrating her climb upward, and when I thought she was almost there, I sucked the nub into my mouth, pulling on it and still flicking it more and more quickly.

She cooperated fully, rising and spilling over in her orgasm, whimpering as her legs clutched my head and I watched as her hands gripped the sheets at her sides, her hips humping reflexively. She was no screamer, but her sounds were clear and expressive, and I felt happy that I'd been able to please her so. I relaxed the suction and slowed the tonguing as she began to come down, then decided maybe another, and went back at it, I think surprising her, and she fired off again, within maybe a minute of the first. She was whimpering, not from lack of pleasure I guessed, but then I let her come down all the way, still lightly kissing her pussy as she landed.

"Ohhhh. . . " she said, after several moments of nothing but catching her breath. "If Mom had known, she never would have let you get away!"

"Well, I'll admit I might have learned a few things about women since meeting her. And I know enough to know that you're a treasure, a singular, gorgeous treasure."

"Will you do me a favor now?" she asked, stroking my hair, my head still at her groin.

"Try me," I said.

"Fuck me. After that, I need to be fucked, and I want that to be you doing it."

Sometimes, I get so into cunnilingus that I lose my erection, focusing on the woman. That day, crawling back up, I was a relieved that my cock was still engorged - maybe not at 100%, but certainly at 90 or better. Without further preliminaries, I shoved forward, and as if our bodies had been designed for it (which, of course, they are), my helmet slipped between her folds. Only encountering the most exquisite restriction at the opening, I kept on, and was easily half way embedded. Pulling back, I pushed again, and on about the third stroke was in her all the way.

I paused a second to revel in the fit, feeling her walls around me snugly, then started fucking her slowly.

"Oh, harder, right now!" she pleaded. And I complied, realizing that I was fully hard by then, and rearing up to ram into her repeatedly, feeling her heels wrap around my back, her hips rising to meet every stroke. I'm not 18 anymore, and I wondered if I'd be able to keep that up long enough, when she settled the issue by coming again, hard, burying her face in the hollow of my neck and clutching me to her.

Then, falling back, she gasped, "Oh, so many thanks for that - you just made me want it that way, and then you did it!"

I stayed engaged, but let our bodies relax, and kept fucking her slowly, doing my memorization thing again, one hand testing the feel of her breasts, my mouth lowering to kiss her nipple, sucking and nibbling on it. As I regained my energy from the hard humping, I picked up the pace again, not so hard or so fast, just more deliberate and steady. The steady did it, however, as soon I could tell she was starting to rev up again, and before long she was wracked yet again in her own pleasure.

With my wife, I'd become accustomed to women having, if only rarely the rapid-fire multiple orgasms, certainly more than one per session. Since then, I'd rarely if ever met anyone who was that responsive on a first time around with me. I certainly wasn't trying to recall that at the time, but I do recall feeling pretty pleased that things were working out well for her right off the bat.

As Lissa came down from that one, I moved up and cradled her in my arms, rolling over so we were disengaged but enveloped in each other, just cuddling, my dick glistening with her juices as it waved in the air, me on my back with her leaning on my chest.

"OK, that was great, but we still have some unfinished business here, it seems," she said, wrapping her hand around my cock. "How would you like it?"

"I've liked it every way so far, but I'm thinking that you on top would give me a view that would be stupendous at the same time!"

"So be it," she said, and climbed over me, taking my cock and positioning it at her entrance, then sinking down slowly to take it all in with a single stroke. She was still somewhat snug, but the copious lubrication made it slick such that it didn't seem as tight as earlier. Or so was my initial impression.

Once she was mounted, we started fucking again, and I got to massage those wonderfully pert and young breasts. Sitting erect, they were sag-less, pointing slightly askance, the left a mere tad larger than the right, each seeming full and young and so full of promise. Liking my attention to them, she covered my hands with hers, sitting erect, and helped me, squeezing them just the way she liked, I figured, and moaning again. Before long, the urgency rose and then I was grasping her hips, grinding into her, making sure the base of my cock was mauling at her clitoris on each stroke. That and a different angle was hitting something inside her that brought forth gasps from her, and soon she wasn't fucking to get me off - she was fucking to get off, which in turn was making my day yet again. She came soon after, then collapsed on my chest, her lungs heaving.

Lying there, I thought she was just recovering, when I felt a squeeze around my dick. Rhythmically, at maybe a squeeze a second with a so slight stroking, her muscles started milking me as she moved her hips just a little. Squeezing and stroking with her Kegel muscles, she was pulling me along in more ways than one, and soon I felt the familiar heat rising at the interior base of my cock. It may have taken a minute or maybe three, but it didn't take long until she'd brought me past the point of return, and I knew my cock was swelling and pulsing, and she urged, "Oh, yeah, just like that - let it go, come on!"

I blasted into her what felt like a quart of semen, jerking over and over as it shot into her depths. She rode and squeezed and kept on squeezing as I became spent, and as I opened my eyes (no idea when I closed them) I saw her smiling down at me with a triumphant kind of genuine happiness reflected there.

"Am I still alive?" I asked, trying to get my breath.

"Seems like it - the music's still playing out there, but the sheets are a bit damp, so I think it's reality," she joked.

"Can I just stay here for the night?" she asked, quietly.

"Only if I do too," I answered, wrapping her in my arms and pulling the sheet over us.

At some time we disengaged, and at some time we both got to the bathroom, and at some point, the music got turned off; but the next morning the half-gone glasses of bourbon were still in the living room, and her rental car was still out front. We didn't get up early, in fact, we made love again in the morning - sweetly, like two familiar lovers very much in like. Finally, we showered (not together - my shower's not that big) and dressed, and I fixed a full breakfast that we shared.

At about 11 a.m., she said she needed to get out to the airport for a flight in several hours. We were both avoiding both committing and parting. I broached things, "Lissa, you're wonderful, and I'll always love you in a way and love your mom in a way that wouldn't have been possible if you hadn't been such a wonderful daughter and if she hadn't been a wonderful mother. I'd love to see you again, but you're young and with limitless horizons. Here's my email and phone, and if you find, after a couple of months, that you want to drop by again, I'll always welcome you, but frankly I think it would be better for you if this were a once-only, and at most a very rare thing - maybe once a year if you were really for it, not more. And if you're not for it, just let it go - nothing but gratitude and wonderful feelings will go your way from me if I ever do or ever do not see you again."

"I love you, too, Bill," were her last words, spoken with a kiss on my cheek, as I held her car door soon after, at the curb.

I think Fran was smiling, and I'm sort of looking forward to seeing her again.