Womanly Woman

I began writing to women on this site, and occasionally I'd meet one. I generally enjoyed the experience. It was exciting to meet new people. It was exciting to take my clothes off in front of them, and it was exciting to take their clothes off and see them. I loved satisfying them, both socially and sexually. I liked taking them out to dinner. I liked the game of what happened afterwards. But I'll grant you that often I felt sort of empty after I came, and often I was very glad to leave. I met with a woman every month or two and spent many hours finding these women and arranging the meetings. What we generally had in common was middle age. It was weird-distinctly weird. What sort of date is it when you sit in a nice restaurant discussing your bowel habits with each other? I never did that in college, I promise you.

So in three years I'd met a couple dozen women, maybe. I'd had sex with each, on average, maybe 2.4 times. (Not because I couldn't finish up, but because some I saw once and some three or four times.) I liked it, but it seemed that there should be more to it.

Then along came Cassandra. Umm. Cassandra. What was I to make of Cassandra? She wasn't very much like my wife, except that she seemed very kind and loving. That was important. They both had great bodies, but very different bodies. I definitely had a lot more in common with my wife. Cassandra's upbringing was very different from my own, and a lot of our tastes were rather different. Both were beautiful. Well, that was good, though Cassandra didn't look at all like my wife. Really, Cassandra was one of the most beautiful women of her age I'd ever seen. And I felt so comfortable with her. Talking with her was a little like talking with someone from an interesting but different culture, but I liked it. I felt warm when I thought about Cassandra-warm in a way I hadn't thought about the other women I'd met. I wondered if it would last or continue. What I knew was that at present I was enjoying it. And I was eager to see her. At the thought of seeing her, my cock rose up again.

I turned off the shower, toweled off, then stepped out. (I hate to leave bathroom floors wet.) I shaved, did twenty pushups, poured my coffee, drank a cup, did some more pushups, and drank another cup of coffee. I had meetings starting in an hour, and I had to make a couple presentations, but I'd done it before, and I wasn't nervous.

I found the number of Joe's relatives' house, called, and asked to talk with Cassandra. It was great to hear her voice, warm and deep and happy to hear from me. She was planning to go to Santa Monica Beach for the day and had been hoping I'd come with her. I couldn't, but I told her I'd meet her there at 4:00 and take her to dinner. I even arranged for her to maybe spend the night with me at my hotel. She seemed pleased. I dressed in a suit and headed off for my meeting.

My first presentation went well, and I tried to stay awake during the meetings that followed. When I had a break, I sneaked out to Colorado Avenue and wandered around until I found a liquor store. Cassandra had told me at Legoland that her favorite drink was rum and Coke, preferably Captain Morgan rum. So I bought a pint of the captain and a six-pack of Coke. Spotting a candle store, I stopped and bought a dozen gardenia-scented candles, each about two inches wide and three high. I convinced the owner to include a pack of matches in the deal. Cassandra had said her favorite flowers were a combination of daisies and roses. I found a florist who made up a bouquet for me.

She had also told me that her very favorite dessert was strawberries dipped in chocolate. I found an upscale pastry shop and asked the clerk about the chances of strawberries dipped in chocolate. He checked the cooler. They had strawberries, but not dipped. They had melted chocolate in the double boiler. If I could come back in ten minutes they would have a couple dozen ready for me. I came back, paid about a dollar apiece, and carried up to my room a gold box of highly perishable delights. Everything went into the refrigerator, then I returned to my meetings, where I gave my second talk.

By 2:00 I was done, and I ordered my car from the parking attendant, rushed to my room to change into something more casual, then rocketed to Santa Monica Beach, eager to beat the rush hour.

By a bit after 3:00 I had found a parking spot. I walked down the sidewalk toward the pier, then, as I was early, I decided to try to find Cassandra on the beach. By luck I turned north, walking slowly, searching bodies and faces, looking for a voluptuous blonde of a certain age, a very desirable age. I searched the water and searched the beach towels, and eventually I found her.

Cassandra was lying on a towel near the second lifeguard hut, apparently asleep. She was wearing a shiny, electric blue one piece, lying on her back. I thought of waking her, knowing she would enjoy that, but then I decided to simply watch. I sat, barefoot, in my jeans, in the shadow of the lifeguard hut. These huts are on stilts, about six or eight feet high. I leaned against one of the stilts.

I loved the way her breasts, flattened a bit by their natural weight, spread the suit out to the sides. I could see the deep cleavage between them. I admired the soft swell of her belly. The suit was tight and quite thin, and I could see a dip where her naval must be. It all looked very soft and huggable. I dreamed of pillowing my head there. Her thighs were lovely, thick and spreading out to each side as she lay on her back. This was a real woman, a woman worth holding, worth holding onto.

I just sat there watching, almost guarding, dreaming, trying to figure out my feelings toward this lovely woman. All my thoughts were good thoughts, loving thoughts. I knew what we were going to do that night, but I entered into it not as one using her or abusing her, but as one come to heal her and stimulate her into growth.

Finally Cassandra stretched, lifted her head, and stared down at the surf crashing fifty yards away. She looked at her watch, then sat up. When she did, her suit-covered bottom thrust out. I longed to mold it in my hands, but I sat silently. Her hair was a fright. It was adorable.

Would she see me? If she did, our evening began there. If she didn't, it would begin later. I watched her stand and pack her book and suntan lotion in her bag. She bent over to pick up her towel, and I admired the slim ankles and the broad swell of her thighs and bottom. She shook out the towel, folded it, and stowed it away. She pulled on a lovely yellow sleeveless sundress that swirled around her legs. She reached behind her to button it. I wanted to help her, claiming a kiss on her soft neck, but instead I watched.

As she walked up the beach toward the pier, I waited in the shadows. She was curvy, with exaggerated, flowing curves, but very graceful. It isn't easy to walk gracefully barefoot in soft sand, but she managed it, going slowly, lazily, in tune with the air and sun and sea and the sand between her toes.

When she started up the steps to the pier, I began walking toward her. I watched her stroll past the arcade games, past the souvenir shops, past the carousel built in 1912, with its hand-carved wooden horses. She stopped to look up at the nine-story solar-powered Ferris wheel. People were screaming with excitement up there as they wheeled out over the ocean below. She walked on, past people with fishing poles and tackle boxes, to the end of the pier. She leaned on the wooden railing and looked down into the water far below. She had a little camera in her hand.

She looked so lovely standing there. I stood a dozen feet back, admiring. She pulled her hair back from her ears and neck and twisted it. Seizing the moment, I stepped quickly forward, slid my arms around her belly, and whispered, "Hey there, beautiful," sliding my arms loosely around her belly. I could feel her soft breasts pressing on my forearms. I kissed her tender neck, one of my favorite spots on a woman. "Do I smell coconuts?" I teased. She smelled like suntan lotion, and I could feel the lotion on my lips. "I love the smell of coconuts. Ahem!"

I just held her for a while, enjoying the feel of her as we looked out over the bay. I liked the cheery yellow of her dress against the bright blue of her swimsuit and the light pink of her neck. It reminded me somehow of the Caribbean.

"Shall we go?" I asked.

"Let's," Cassandra said.

I picked up her bags with one hand and slid my other hand into hers. Hand in hand we strolled back along the pier, past the aquarium, and to the two-hour parking lot. I guided my car back to I-10 and headed east toward Pasadena. The traffic was heavy-rush hour had begun-but the company was excellent. I quizzed Cassandra about her day and she about mine, and we laughed together. I pulled up her sundress and caressed her thigh. "Looks like you got a bit of a sunburn," I said.

"Oh! I used sunblock, but maybe I didn't use enough," she said. "I hope it doesn't start hurting."

We made it to Pasadena, reached the hotel, left the car with the valet, and took the elevator up to my room on the twelfth floor. I set down her bags, guided her over to the window, and pulled back the curtain. There were only a few buildings higher than we were, and they were blocks away. We had a lovely view north to the brown, brush-covered hills. Below were the businesses and bungalows of Pasadena, pleasant and very expensive. Palm trees poked toward the blue sky here and there, and massive spreading live oaks shaded yards and sidewalks. Colorado Avenue, with its traffic, was on the other side of the hotel. Our side was much more peaceful.

The room was cool, modern, with sleek teak furniture and ocean blue carpet. The king-sized bed had a slanted, padded, leather covered headboard, comfortable for reading in bed. There was a couch and armchair, a coffee table and end tables for drinks, a desk, good lights, signed prints on the walls. I turned on the radio to a nice jazz station that played songs from before we were born.

"Let me show you the bathroom," I said. It was nearly as big as the bedroom, most of its walls and the floor covered in chocolate-brown marble tiles. The sink was a creamy marble. Not only was there a large walk-in shower, but there was a bathtub made for two and long enough for me to stretch out in it.

"Is it alright if I take a bath," Cassandra said?

"Sure," I said. "Shall I light some candles?"

"That would be romantic," Cassandra said.

"Would you like a drink?"

"That would be great. Do you have rum and Coke?"

"I do. Is Captain Morgan okay?"

Cassandra looked surprised. I guess she'd forgotten what she told me about her tastes. She turned on the water in the tub and adjusted the temperature.

"About dinner-" I said, "would you rather eat out or eat in?"

"Let's eat in," Cassandra smiled.

"Shall we make our selections before you take a bath, so we're ready to order when we're hungry?"

"Sure," Cassandra said. We sat on the couch and pored over the menu. She settled on a Chicken Caesar Salad, so I decided to have the same.

"Oh, you know what," Cassandra said. "I'll bet I ought to take a shower before I get into the tub and rinse off the sand and salt."

I took her hand and licked the inside of her wrist. It was very salty. "A good idea," I said. "You go ahead while I get your drink."

The bathroom door closed. I heard the tub tap turn off. Then I heard her pee and flush. Then the shower turned on. I finished mixing us tall drinks in glasses from the in-room bar, knocked lightly on the door, and walked in. "Cassandra, I'm putting your drink on the tub," I called.

"Okay. Thanks."

"Could you use some help scrubbing your back?"

"Mmm," she said. "That would be nice. But you have to be dressed the way I am, or you'll have me at a disadvantage."

"I'd like to have you at a disadvantage," I said, "but I'll do as you ask. Don't get in a hurry. I love sharing showers, and I don't want to miss this."

I walked to the other room, then returned with my own drink and the dozen candles in their little box. I lighted the candles and placed them strategically around the half-full tub and around the sink. The dark marble walls swallowed the light, but the mirror behind the sink reflected it. Then I turned out the lights. Splendid, flickering shadows and islands of light replaced the brighter lights from overhead.

I saw her sundress and swimsuit hanging on the door. I left the room and pulled off my own clothes, then returned. I opened the shower door and stepped in. Cassandra turned her back to me modestly and faced the shower spray. This was the first time we would see each other naked. I admired the pillowy curves of her bottom, the thickness of her thighs, narrowing to her slim ankles and delicate feet, the solidity of her broad back, the cut of her waist, yielding a lovely hourglass shape of Victorian proportions. "Cassandra," I said, "you don't need to hide from me. In my eyes, you are a voluptuous goddess. I want you to turn to me, reveal yourself to me, and kiss me before my head explodes."

Cassandra's giggle rang like glass prisms banging together. "Which head is about to explode?" she quipped.

Her breasts were full, heavy. They sagged onto her ribcage, the nipples pointing down to her feet. I slid an arm around her slippery waist and back, then down over the curve of her bottom. I pulled her to me. I could feel my cock nestle in the rich garden of hair between her thighs. I took one fat nipple between my thumb and my forefinger and rolled it back and forth. Cassandra moaned. I caressed the breast, kneading it, rubbing my wet palm over it.

Suddenly Cassandra seemed to feel quite self-conscious. I suspected she had also suddenly become quite wet. "Turn around so I can wash your back," she said.

I did as she asked, spreading my legs, planting my hands against the wall, and leaning forward, giving her access. Cassandra grabbed the washcloth and rubbed it luxuriously all over, in and out, scrubbing me clean. I could feel her breasts brushing my back. She knelt and rubbed down my thighs, and I felt her plant a large wet kiss on one cheek. She reached between my legs and rubbed my balls, then reached higher with the washcloth and rubbed my very eager cock.

"Okay," I said. "I think it's my turn now." She turned back into the shower. In the candlelight I could just barely see the parts that were tan or pink and the parts that were white. I kissed her neck. I just love to kiss necks. My hands caressed Cassandra's breasts. I rubbed soap on the washcloth and rubbed it over Cassandra's back, over the cheeks of her bottom, and then into the crack between the cheeks and down to her cunt. I slid my hard cock between those soapy cheeks. Oh, she was so sexy.

"Spread your legs," I said. She obeyed. I slowly rinsed her cheeks and the rosebud-like opening between them, then carefully, fully rinsed out her cunt, gathering handfuls of water to slosh up and thoroughly clean it. I lowered myself to the floor between her legs and sat cross-legged. I held her cheeks apart, licked my tongue sloppily against that rosebud, then made my tongue pointy and pressed against it. Cassandra groaned and ground her hips against my face.

"Bend over more," I said as the water cascaded down her back. She did. I pressed my face against the swell of her cunt and slid my tongue in as far as I could. She tasted clean and slippery. I sensed one of her hands reaching down to rub her clit, then she was clenching her thighs against my head, making it hard for me to breathe, what with the water running down.

"Shall I wash your hair?" I asked, grinning, when Cassandra had caught her breath.

"Yes, please," she said. Cassandra opened a little shampoo bottle, squeezed some on her hand, and anointed her hair. I ran my hands through her hair, massaging her scalp, enjoying the slipperiness of the sudsy hair between my fingers. I held her head beneath the shower and rinsed her off, then again caressed her round breasts.

"My turn," Cassandra said. I thought she meant her turn to wash my hair, but I wasn't the one who had been swimming in the ocean. Instead, she knelt and took my cock in her hand. She took several long licks from my balls to the head, then took the head in her mouth as she stroked the shaft. She returned to her licking, then gently sucked my balls into her mouth, first one, then the other. Then back to my cock. Finally she stood and kissed me. I could feel the hot softness of her mouth. A woman's mouth gets that way when she's just had a cock in it: extra hot and melting and soft.

"Shall we move this party to the tub?" I asked. I turned off the shower, and we padded across the bathmat and stepped into the big tub. Cassandra turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and poured the rest of the bottle of shampoo into the forceful stream. A bit of foam arose.

I loved the way her skin looked in the candlelight, and I told her so. I was already sitting, and I pulled her down beside me. Cassandra ran her hand up my cock, then threw a leg over mine and straddled me. She sank down on my hardness, and I felt myself forcing up into the hot, tight slipperiness. She rose and fell on it several times, then paused as her face contorted for a moment in orgasm. Then she pulled off me and moved away a few inches, then leaned forward and kissed me. "Umm," she said, "that was nice, but that's all you get for right now."

I slid my hand into her engorged cunt, loving the slipperiness, and again I rinsed it. I bent my erection down and rubbed it back and forth between the lips and across her clit. Cassandra began riding against my cock, rubbing her clit on it, and again she came. We kissed again, then she came again. It was astonishing. This woman was a volcano of orgasms. It was wonderful. And I was amazed by how tight her vagina was. Seldom had I known a tighter one. Any tighter and it would hurt. How was I supposed to last in there?

Finally we took a break, and Cassandra sat beside me. I handed her the rum and Coke she'd requested and grabbed mine. They were cold and sweet. "You are delightfully insatiable," I said. "Are you okay for now?" She was. After another ten minutes of relaxing, we got out. It was time for a break, time for dinner. I put on one of the thick terrycloth robes the hotel provided and handed another one to her. I ordered room service. Cassandra came out of the steamy bathroom and blew her hair dry. The curtains were open, but who could see in? It was still day, but evening was coming. I brought in the candles from the bathroom and scattered them around. Then I fished the bouquet of daisies and roses from the refrigerator. She was suitably pleased. Indeed, again she seemed to have forgotten that she had told me about her favorite things. I guess she was having too much fun at Legoland to remember what she'd said. But I'd remembered.

Dinner was edible. For my tastes, room service is more about the convenience of food in your room at a high price than about fine dining. It was fine, but not fine dining. After we'd eaten our salads, though, I pulled the golden box of chocolate-covered strawberries from the refrigerator. Ah! Now this was closer to fine dining. I lifted one to Cassandra's lips, and she delicately nipped off half of it, closed her eyes, and chewed slowly and ecstatically. I ate the rest. She asked me if I was trying to seduce her. What a question! Of course! And it was working!

I untied her thick white robe and exposed her lovely round breasts. She smiled at me. I lifted one breast, picked up a strawberry by the stem, and rubbed the chocolate tip around and around her nipple until the chocolate melted and left a dark brown corona around the pink tip. I did the same with her other nipple. I guided the chocolate-smeared strawberry to her lips and said "Eat." She ate. Then I cupped one breast in each hand and lowered my mouth to first one, then the other, thoroughly licking and sucking the chocolate-covered nipples. I repeated this process with another strawberry.