A Modern Harem – Part 2 – by kathrynmburke
Joyce’s second date with Gerald was as delightful as she’d expected. They’d gone to a quiet Japanese restaurant, and she was impressed with Gerald’s skillful manipulation of chopsticks and his easy familiarity with the cuisine. She herself couldn’t help fixing her eyes on Gerald’s lips–those lips that had pressed against hers on that heavenly first date, and which she hoped (blushing inwardly at the thought) would touch other parts of her body before the night was through. She was determined to get this man into bed even at the risk of being perceived as “easy.”
When the meal wound down (ending with a succulent dessert of green tea ice cream) and they were preparing to leave the restaurant, Gerald–who had once again picked up Joyce at her house in his car–seemed startled when she said, “I wouldn’t mind getting a glimpse at your place.”
After an awkward moment he said, “It’s no great shakes.”
Joyce wondered: Is the place a mess? Did he not even envision the possibility that he might take me there tonight? She said aloud: “Oh, I don’t care. It’s your place: I’m sure it will tell me a lot about you.”
Somewhat reluctantly, Gerald bundled Joyce into his car and drove off to his apartment.
It was a smallish building of only three stories, and the very slow elevator seemed to take forever to get to the top floor, where his apartment was. They silently walked down the corridor and stopped at a door, which Gerald opened. He ushered Joyce into the place.
It was not a large apartment, but it was impeccably–if austerely–furnished. Joyce’s heart sank just a wee bit: she’d been envisioning a starkly masculine abode with little in the way of decorations or knickknacks–something, in other words, that would need “a woman’s touch” to make it habitable. She should have realized that Gerald, along with all his other good qualities, was skilled at interior decoration.
He offered her a liqueur, which she gladly accepted. He had scarcely said a word since they’d left the restaurant, and she wondered what the problem was. Did he really think she was being too “forward” in pressuring him to come here? Was he simply not comfortable in being alone with a woman who was not his wife?
I’ll make him comfortable if it’s the last thing I do.
They exchanged a few quiet confidences while sipping their drinks. Then Joyce noticed a stereo and a small but choice selection of LPs on a nearby bookshelf. She leaped up from the couch she’d been sitting on and said, “Oh, you’re a music lover!”
The LP collection was an eclectic mix of classical, jazz, and classic rock. She selected a recording of some piano music by Chopin–one of her favorites, going back to childhood when she’d taken piano lessons–and, after getting approval from Gerald, put it on the turntable.
The music was soft and dreamy, evoking the romance of nineteenth-century Europe. She began swaying to the music, all but inviting Gerald to dance with her. After a few moments he got up and walked stiffly in her direction; then he wrapped his arms around her waist. She flung her arms around his neck and cradled her head just under his chin.
This went on for fifteen or twenty minutes. The record was almost over, and Gerald had still made no further move, even though Joyce had (brazenly, to her mind) pressed her body so close to his that she could swear she’d felt a bulge emerging in his groin. She almost exploded with frustration. Oh, this infuriating man! Do I have to strip in front of him so that he gets the message?
She realized that she’d have to take the lead. So she slipped a hand behind her back, took hold of one of Gerald’s hands, and moved it down to her bottom. She held it there for a moment, as if to make absolutely clear what she wanted.
And yet, even now Gerald did nothing but keep that hand on one of her butt cheeks. He didn’t even give it a squeeze! Now Joyce was kissing the side of his neck, even flicking it with her tongue. And she reached down to the front of Gerald’s pants and confirmed what she’d felt there: a definite bulge, no question about it.
At last Gerald took action. With almost agonizing slowness, he undid the zipper of Joyce’s dress (not entirely unlike what her daughter had done before that first date) and pulled it off of her shoulders, so that it fell to the floor. Then he unclasped her bra and let her wiggle out of it. For her part, Joyce peeled off Gerald’s suit jacket, and it joined the dress on the floor. But before she could undress him any further, he unexpectedly scooped her up and carried her to the one bedroom in the apartment.
He placed her tenderly on the bed, then removed her panties. She was now naked, sitting down on the bed and staring up at him. He seemed unable to tear his eyes away from her. Yes, of course he focused on her breasts and her delta, but it seemed he appreciated every part of what she was revealing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
In under a minute he had removed the rest of his clothes. When, with only the slightest hesitation, he whipped off the seriously distorted briefs he’d been wearing, Joyce gasped.
His erect cock was something close to eight inches, perhaps a bit more.
She flushed as she instinctively compared his member to that of her husband. One of the few points of criticism she had about her beloved spouse (one, of course, that she could never articulate to him) was that his cock was a bit on the short side. She’d chided herself many times for being so superficial and uncharitable; but she sensed that she’d have nothing to complain about with the organ Gerald was displaying–the first cock she’d seen in two years.
He climbed onto the bed, urging her to lie flat on her back. And then he proceeded to make love to every inch of her, in a way that hadn’t happened in years–maybe never. He began with her face, pressing hot kisses all over her cheeks and nose and chin and forehead, then moved down and paid serious homage to those large breasts of hers, licking and sucking on the hard and erect nipples. Then, while his tongue left a trail of wetness down her stomach, he took in the heady scent of her sex, where her juices were already flowing. He seemed to admire her luxuriant bush, actually rubbing his face back and forth against it in a way that made her giggle.
Then, parting her legs, he situated his face in front of her pussy and began licking.
Joyce threw her head back as she gloried in the sensation, although at times she looked down to make sure this was actually happening and wasn’t some crazy fantasy–the sort she’d indulged in when she’d played with herself after that incredible first date. Gerald had taken her bottom in both hands while he fastened his lips to her labia, licking them inside and out and making them even wetter than before. Joyce became aware that this wasn’t just foreplay: he was determined to give her the supreme pleasure even before he’d gotten his own. And when he began nuzzling her clitoris, she sensed that the culmination wasn’t far off.
When that orgasm did emerge, radiating up from her pussy all the way up to her brain, she let out a squeal that was close to a scream. But this time she had no inclination to restrain herself, gazing down fixedly at Gerald as he continued to lick and stroke her, while her legs twitched spasmodically as wave after wave of her climax washed over her.
Gerald moved up her body and lay quietly on top of her, watching her as the remnants of her paroxysm shuddered through her frame. His expression was strangely blank, with just a hint of a self-satisfied smile. But in fact that smile was directed toward her, as if he’d said: I hope I’ve made you happy.
Then he spoke some words aloud. “May I go into you?”
What a ridiculous question! Joyce was tempted to cry out, Of course you can, you silly man! But all she said was, “Yes.”
And so he entered her.
Joyce’s eyes bulged as she felt that long, thick cock forging slowly but inexorably into her. Both she and Gerald seemed surprised that he had trouble making his way into her–it was almost as if she’d lapsed into a virgin state all over again. But her wetness made the process easier, and pretty soon Gerald was in up to the hilt. Joyce couldn’t remember when she’d felt more filled: even with her few bouts with college boys before she’d met Gerald, she’d rarely accommodated a cock of this size into herself.
She sensed that the only thing to do was to lapse into a kind of languid passivity while Gerald did his business. Her orgasm had, in any case, exhausted her more than she expected, so she lay motionless as Gerald plowed into her. She did manage to throw her arms around his neck and wrap her legs around his thighs, but that was the extent of her involvement. Gerald, meanwhile, again kissed her all over her face while grabbing her breasts and bottom with questing hands. After a time his thrusts became almost mechanical, and Joyce had the curious sensation that that cock was forging a tunnel all the way up her body.
Gerald’s year-long absence from intimacy had made him desperate to pour his seed into a woman, and he felt mortified that he wouldn’t be able to last as long as he’d hoped. After about ten minutes a low groan emerged from deep in his throat, and he felt the need to whisper into Joyce’s ear, “I’m gonna come!”
And he did, pouring what seemed like an ocean of his most precious fluid into Joyce’s vagina. She gratefully accepted every drop as he grunted and moaned on top of her. She didn’t always feel a man’s come in her pussy, but this one she felt–she could hardly have failed to do so, as it was so copious that it began leaking out of her even as Gerald’s thick member remained firmly ensconced in her.
Then he all but collapsed onto her, a dead weight that she found curiously pleasing. In some strange way she now felt completely in charge of the situation–for wasn’t it her lovely body that had engendered this overwhelming response in this gorgeously appealing man?
But at last she found it a bit difficult to breathe, and she said, “Gerald, could you please get off me now?”