Sensualist Ch. 13

It wasn't long before she was leading me upstairs; her lovely rear inches from my face as we took to the stairs. Reaching the top, she turned as if to make sure I was following since I had fallen silent. She caught me looking and asked, "What do you think of the features so far?"

I answered with one word, "Impressive."

As we toured the second floor and its four bedrooms I asked her how I might fit the tenants in without undue separation of the sexes.

"That's easy--everything is coed. You might make the master bathroom off-limits, leaving the two females to share the guest bath witch you can see it just between both guest bedrooms."

I could see that the overall design lent itself to the arrangement we had discussed, and nodded my agreement.

After a quick walk around the grounds and look at the closest neighboring homes, Nikita told me she had one other house that I should also see, if only to make a judgment through comparing the two.

The second house, also empty, was even more gorgeous than the first. Again I helped Lillian out of the car and since it had warmed up quite a bit, I took my jacket off and placed it on the back seat.

I found this house also had many special features, but in all honesty, at this point my focus was really on Nikita. It was such a pleasure to watch her move. It seems as though as she showed each of the home's features, she was also showing her own features off. I just loved the wiggle of her hips and ass as she led me from room to room.

Unfortunately, these were the only two properties we could see this day, but she had one more vacant one to show me the following day and then one that was still occupied and fully furnished to show the day after that. As we rode back to the restaurant where my car was parked, we agreed on an appointment time the next afternoon at two.

I used the dorm room that night since I was scheduled to meet the Swimming Coach the following morning. Dolph and I made straight for his office, fearing that a stop for a quick breakfast might make us late for this, our first contact with the man we fully expected to be our mentor for the next four years.

Coach Dick Flippen was in his late thirties, and was renowned for the swimming records he had broken during his career, which included two Olympics in addition to his glowing collegiate career.

Dolph and I sat quietly as he methodically reviewed our high school achievements. To me, they sounded quite similar. To Coach Flippen, Dolph was further advanced in speed, and technique. He coated those facts to save me embarrassment by stating that we were both starting off on the same page, and that our times in practice would determine if we would make the varsity this year or just the JV.

Neither of us fully understood what he meant, but we assumed that A. we would have to make the team (which was correct) and B. that we had a chance at making the varsity. (Not a chance.)

We left his office with instructions on where the team practiced and the times: Twice a day, at 5:30 AM and again at 7:00 PM. And that was seven days a week unless notified otherwise; and that began that evening, as far as we were concerned.

In the event that a class or exam conflicted with practice, we were to notify the coach beforehand, not after missing practice. He did show some compassion, saying that he understood the need for some free time and would provide for it--on his terms.

The meeting was really short and concise, which I appreciated. It told me that the coach was serious about his work and that I would undoubtedly benefit from his tutoring.

Dolph and I had breakfast at the school cafeteria, and discussed the forthcoming season that began in only five weeks at the University of Kentucky. We also discussed our respective styles and found that we shared several strokes, with his times in the backstroke and butterfly better than mine. My times in Freestyle breaststroke were slightly better than his. Basically, we were relatively equal, and it was obvious that we'd be competing with one another for positions on the varsity following our freshmen year.

For those of you not all that familiar with competitive swimming, let's just say that people of all ages and skill levels compete in swimming, and the type of swim meet or swimming event they are entering determines the types and lengths of the races they swim. Swim meets are held in either short-course pools that are 25 yards or 25 meters long, or long-course pools that are 50 meters long. Open-water swimming events are held in lakes, rivers or oceans, and the distance of the races can vary from 500 meters or less up to 6.2 miles or longer. Competitive swimming features four strokes -- freestyle, breaststroke, backstroke and butterfly. Freestyle races in swimming pools can be anywhere from 25 yards to 1,500 meters, while the other strokes are raced at 200 meters or less. The length of races is also determined by the ages of the swimmers; high school and college meets typically have just one sprint race -- the 50-yard freestyle -- while masters swim meets for those 18 years old and older feature sprint races in all four strokes.

The University of Georgia has had a bumpy road when measuring success in swimming and diving competitions. During the 1050's Georgia reigned supreme, but fell on hard times in the 1960's and 1970's. In 1979, Jack Bauerle, a four-year letter winner for the Bulldogs, took over coaching duties for the women and for the men in 1983. During the 1980s, Bauerle returned Georgia swimming into the national spotlight it had enjoyed in the 1950s.

And it has remained there to this day. Now neither Dolph nor I were on scholarship but were considered walk-ons, although virtually guaranteed spots on the freshman team. If our times warranted it, we would be awarded scholarships in our sophomore years. I didn't need one, but wouldn't turn one down, after all, money was money, and money not spent on tuition was money saved.

With actual class work beginning in a week, I found the early call to practice difficult at first, but soon made it a part of my everyday life.

Dolph and I arrived at the first practice early, anxious to impress the coaching staff with our skills. We didn't, or at least that's what we both thought after a grueling session of sprints using every type of stroke there is.

After showering and getting dressed, we commiserated each other, and then decided that tomorrow was another day, but realized that another session was on for 7 that night and our spirits rose.

At any rate, I had recovered after an early lunch and met Nikita at her office. She was dressed less provocatively than the day before, in a business suit with a shorter skirt than previously, but with less of bodily parts visible. She still exuded sex as far as I was concerned, and this time I was certain it was for my benefit.

The conversation flowed evenly as we drove to the next appointed property. We were becoming familiar with each other and each of us sought different avenues to further that familiarity.

"All I know about you is that you're divorcing your present husband," I started to say, but Nikita cut me off.

"Correct, and that's all I have to say about it."

"But is there another guy in your life at the moment?"

"What kind of question is that, Donald?"

"I think it means I'm curious about you."

"Really?" she took a moment to think about what I'd said, and then told me, "If you're interested in me in a way that's different from the agent customer level say so, Donald."

I was caught off guard and stammered--hating myself for it, but unable to do otherwise just then. "I--I--I guess I am..."

"You guess?"

I took a deep breath and forced myself to tell her how I felt. Denise had advised me to be blunt with women, especially older women. The bashful boy approach might work with young women, especially the teens to early twenties types if you share their age grouping, but not with more mature women.

"You want to hear it from me? All right, I've wanted you from the moment I first saw you. I can't think of a more provocative ... no, make that sexually provocative picture you made walking across the street in that green dress. My God, Nikita, your entire body was on display whether you knew it or not. And then you come to MY table. MY table! I'm eighteen--of course I want you! I'm a walking erection for God's sake!"

Nikita's nostril's flared and her breasts rose and fell faster than usual, but otherwise she gave no overt signs of having been affected my words as she continued driving to the next house on our list.

After we got out of the car, I walked from the front of the house to its side, appraising it. I liked what I saw, but knew that I had no experience in assessing what I really needed in a house.

Nikita gave me a few minutes to absorb things before asking: "So, what do you think?"

"So far, so good," I replied.

She unlocked the front door--I noticed that there was no universal locking device on it-- but I didn't think about it then as I was busy thinking about the exotic perfume she was wearing, and made a mental note to find out what kind it was.

There was one other clue as to what lay ahead. Nikita began touching me. Not that she hadn't done so before but the touches were more frequent and somehow more intimate. In addition to the touching, she was using provocative poses, bending over, tightening the material of the skirt covering her ass making it prominent, and then moments later thrusting those impressive breasts out. Eye candy, pure and simple, and I was enjoying the demonstration.

We were in the spacious kitchen when I remarked on having enjoyed cooking some meals for my mother and sister during the last year. I was actually wondering what she was doing. She certainly wasn't showing me the house in the usual manner.

"Really, you can cook?"" Nikita said, sounding impressed, while managing to make those breasts just a little more prominent.

"Not that well. I can prepare a couple simple dishes like pasta and sausage and peppers. But I messed up when I tried lasagna."

"They're very similar; perhaps I can show the difference," she said, licking her lips with a bright pink tongue. My dick hardened.

"That would be very kind of you, Nikita," positioning myself so that she wouldn't see the obvious bulge in my slacks.

"Do you have a girlfriend back in Savannah?"

Looking back, I think that was the moment things changed between us; no longer was it realtor/client, but predator and prey, only I was never certain as to which of us was which.

I was looking into a kitchen cabinet at the time. I kept my back to her as I responded, for my erection was certainly prominent just then. "Um, I had one, yes. But she's off to college too. Maybe we'll see one another over the holidays ... maybe not."

"Do you miss her?" she inquired as we made our way into the master bedroom on the first floor.

"Well, it's only been three days since we saw one another, but yes, I do." It seemed right to omit the mother/daughter relationship I'd had with Lillian and Edith as that might muddy the waters between Nikita and me.

"Sexually? I mean, did the two of you have sex regularly?" Nikita said as she closed the distance between us.

"What?" Was she really asking me that?

I turned to look at Nikita; her right breast was now pressed against my shoulder. She was coming on to me. There was no mistake about it.

"You know what you're doing?" I said in a husky voice.

"Yes," she purred. It sounded like liquid silk being poured into my ears. "There's an aura of innocence about you ... and yet you seem ... experienced in ways that boys your age shouldn't be."

I put my arm around her. "I'm not a virgin. In fact, I'm far from that point."

"Oh?"

I squeezed her upper arm just before I kissed her on the neck. She remained in place, stroking my hair as I continued nuzzling her neck. Her hair was thick and brushed in swirls. It was delightful to touch.

"Don't leave any marks on me," she moaned.

It was the first time a woman had said that to me. Did it mean there was someone else? Who, was it the husband? But she'd told me they were getting divorced or something to that effect. Was there another man in the picture?

I realized she hadn't told me to stop. In fact, she'd told me not to leave any marks on her--visible marks. My right hand moved to her soft rump and pulled her closer to me.

She took my left hand and brought it to her breast and kissed my hair. Our mouths converged and our lips touched. I felt the heat of her suntanned body and suddenly realized that I'd never had any idea of what a kiss could be. She opened and closed her mouth, slowly at first, then wider, changing the angle, her chin lifting, her lips dry and smooth, her face confident and serene and lusty. When she let her hands slide down on my chest and bit through the material of my shirt to pinch my nipple couldn't swallow. I gulped, once and then a second time when her hand found my erection and her fingers slowly traveled its length.

"What do you want to do?" she whispered between kisses.

"I want to undress you," I said, sure of myself for the first time since we'd walked into the house. "And then I want to make love to you."

I hardly noticed the rest of the room as she pulled off her light jacket. She was wearing a white blouse and dark skirt, and her body swayed as if there was music. When she unbuttoned the blouse – with her back to me – I suddenly realized she was naked beneath it. She turned to face me, her hands covering her breasts, and I stared at her with open awe.

The blouse pooled around her waist. Her breasts were lovely, with a near perfect slope to them, and with strawberry tipped nipples that begged to be suckled.

It took most of my will power, but I managed to refrain from touching them, but I did let my hands slid down her arms and felt the goosebumps rising as I did.

Off in the distance I heard my name being called, and I almost turned to see who else was in the room with us; but in my heart I knew it was Nikita calling me.

I dropped slowly to my knees. Nikita had already undone the zipper to her skirt and all it took was a slight tug from me and it floated down to settle around her ankles. I carefully lifted one foot at a time so that she could step out of the skirt entirely. I leaned back and took in her magnificent form--clad only in heels, stockings, garter belt, and thong.

It seemed an eternity before I rose to my feet and cupped her breasts in my hands.

Nikita shuddered as I caressed her alabaster breasts, thumb strumming the tips of the nipples. Her pelvis lurched toward me, apparently in need of bodily contact with me. I moved to meet her halfway.

One of us made a guttural moan. I was never quite sure who made the sound.

Nikita licked the inside of my ear as I prodded her with my erection that I would later find had ruined a perfectly good pair of slacks with precum stains.

Her nipples were rock hard, standing out aching to be touched, and I took each into my mouth and chewed, sucked and nipped at each one in turn.

She was breathing hard and steadily squeezing my erection.

"Take it out," I croaked. "You know you want too."

The sound of my zipper being lowered filled the room. I felt a cool breeze as my steamy cock greeted the fresh air of the room; and then her mouth closed down on it and with the ensuing warmth I think I screamed, "YES!"

There was a wondrous minute when her tongue did some simply fantastic things to my penis before I realized that I had to take control of the situation or risk being dominated by her powerful personality. How this came to me I'll never know, but it seemed the only thing to do at the time.

It was with a trembling hand I gingerly removed my cock from her mouth and motioned for her to sit on the bed. Her eyes were glowing with lust, and a string of saliva hung from her lower lip not unlike a line of sperm after ejaculation.

I forced myself to go slowly and rolled each stocking down her leg then tossed them on the chair next to the bed. Nikita's hand went to her center and first one then two fingers surged in and out of the wet morass that was her cunt.

"You ... you..." She half gurgled, eyes closed, fingers blurred as they foraged for satisfaction within her vulva.

Next off was her thong. It felt as if I were peeling a large grape as it slipped past her neatly trimmed bush, and when she raised her hips to help in removing them, I caught a quick glimpse of her anus and made a silent vow to take her there at the earliest opportunity.

I saw her eyes open. Saw her look at her reflection in the mirror atop the dresser, and then at me as I quickly removed my clothes and joined her on the bed.

"You're bigger than I thought you'd be," she purred as she reached out to cup my testicles.

Holding myself in one hand, I let my cock brush against her buttock and felt her shiver with expectation. My cock found its own way into the cleft of her ass. My mouth started kissing her between the shoulder blades, and then her lower back. I think I was afraid to kiss her lips again, for the magical spell that first kiss we shared was still reverberating throughout my body.

Had it affected her as well? I wondered as my lips pressed into the back of her right knee and then the left.

"Who--who taught you that?" Nikita whispered dreamily.

"An older woman, or two spent considerable time with me," I answered, trying to be vague but still answering her question.

"They--they did a wonderful job, Donnie," she squeaked hoarsely, and laughed at the sound.

"They did, didn't they?" I murmured as I kissed each buttock in turn.

"Taste me, baby," she said in the same creaky voice. She held her juicy-wet fingers to my mouth.

I accepted them, sucking her cunt juice from them and deciding that she had a sweeter taste than most, if not all of those I had sampled before.

"Nice," I said when she plucked the fingers from my mouth and brought them to her own, with a prolonged, "Mmmmmm," of satisfaction.

I chose that moment to kiss her again, pulled the fingers from her mouth as gently as possible; I brought my mouth down on hers and soaked in the magic of her mouth and tongue. No one before or since has created such feelings with a simple kiss. Hundreds have taken the test unknowingly, and while some were better than others, and all, or almost all, were very good, none has come close.

It may sound sad, but I assure the reader that I have enjoyed thousands and thousands of kisses with my Nikita over the years, and it's almost always the same wonderful experience--for both of us, for she feels the same way about our kisses.

With one last moan from Nikita into my mouth, I broke the kiss and moved quickly down her body to her tailbone just above the crack of her ass, and then reversed course and prodded her clit with my tongue, startling her.

"OH, Don!" she gasped.

"Like it?"

"Heavens yes!"

I took hold of her buttocks and brought her pussy tight against my face and then began eating her.

Tern seconds later, Nikita screamed as a massive orgasm rocked her body.

I kept at her and brought her off at least two more times before she shoved me away pleading that she was unable to take any more at the moment.

The sheets on the bed were soaked with Nikita's juices.

"Whoever owns this place is going to be pissed about the sheets," I said after catching my breath.

Nikita held up her hand, but unable to speak, kept it raised for several more seconds. "Don't worry," she said finally. "It's my place."

I started to laugh. I was both relieved and gratified to know that she'd known what was going to happen between us.

Nikita began laughing too, saying, "So now you know I planned to seduce you."