“Oh Fuck! Jesus! Oh! Mmmmmmmm!”
She came again, her body tensing, waves of pleasure sweeping through her. As the pleasure subsided she breathlessly looked down, she suddenly became self conscious, having let go in the moment she worried she had got too wet, even worse had she cum strong enough for it to get over his face? But he hadn’t reacted at all, in fact he was still going.
He had eased the pressure a little and had slowed down, but his tongue was still working her clit, As the last of her orgasm started to ebb away she started to reach down to push his head back, she was done. Only before her hand got there he shifted his weight and brought his hand from where it had been resting on her thigh to under his chin. Two fingers gently pushed inside of her, her wetness allowing them to easily press into her, This time instead of her g-spot he was pushing further inside, giving her a fuller feeling and gently penetrating her deeply. His fingertips were stroking somewhere deeper inside, his tongue still all the while gently flicking and teasing her.
The orgasm that had moments ago been fading away came charging back at full gallop, only this time it didn’t stop when it reached it’s previous peak, this time it charged on, an almost unbearable explosion of pleasure started radiating out from between her legs, pulsing and traveling throughout her entire body. It seemed to last for forever, wave after wave spreading through her. She was aware that she had cum flowing from between her lips, but in that moment something that normally mortified her barely registered. She suddenly realized her whole body was tensed and consciously forced it to relax, her muscles easing bringing their own little tingles of relief.
The memories of what happened after that were a little less clear, she had been completely wiped out with the experience. She’d possibly just fallen straight asleep, though she seems to remember thanking him and muttering something about needing to be up early. He’d left and she’d woken up the next morning not entirely convinced it hadn’t been a dream.
She’d confessed the experience to Lucy one night, a little embarrassed at having sought the services of a gigolo and had been a little shocked when Lucy pointed out she hadn’t, because she hadn’t paid him. She had never quite been able to reconcile that and had always meant to ask Jane about it, but Jane had left the company the week before to take a contract in Australia, and despite many assurances they would stay in touch she hadn’t been able to reach her since.
Sitting on her bed, staring in horror at her phone Sharon tried to bring logic to bare on her current situation. It had been years since that encounter, she hadn’t even realized that she still had the number saved. He wouldn’t be on the same number, obviously not, but then why not…she was. He wouldn’t answer though, it had been 15 years, he wouldn’t still be doing it. He’d only been maybe a couple years younger than her. He’d easily be fifty by now. You don’t get fifty year old gigolo’s do you? Surely not. Her phone screen lit up, another message from Lucy ridiculing her drunken stupidity no doubt.
“Eight o’clock? Same address?”
It was him! She launches her phone to the far end of the bed, as if the act itself will fling the message out of existence. She pulls the covers up to her nose and stares at the phone. It’s like she’s expecting his voice to magically start coming out from it, or for her phone to leap up and run at her forcing her to accept the reality of what had just happened. After staring at the phone for a solid five minutes without moving she centers herself.
“Fuck this”
Leaving the phone exactly where it landed she gets up and goes for a shower. A few years ago she had treated herself to a new shower, one of the rainfall ones with a big fixed circular shower head that lets the water cascade down a downpour. It also came with a smaller hand held shower head for helping to wash hair and other more difficult to reach areas. As she stood under the steaming shower her mind kept jumping back to that night all those years ago.
She had a had a few partners since, and some not unenjoyable sex, but she had never cum like she did that night. She’d never had someone put so much emphasis on her pleasure. All the guys since generally fit into two categories, two pump chumps who were only in it for themselves or enthusiastic but ultimately unskilled lovers who battered away at her nethers like they could brute force the pleasure into her.
One or two of them had succeeded in getting her there, but it seemed more luck than judgment, As she reminisced about how Beardy had so skillfully manipulated her pleasure centers she found herself reaching for the smaller detachable shower head. She turned the water onto a pleasantly warm temperature and aims the head between her legs.
She knew she was teasing herself, she’d experimented with this before and it had never been enough to get her over the edge but the combination of being lost in the memories and the water tapping against the outside of her pussy lips was a pleasant sensation. She spends a few minutes letting the water do its thing before sighing, replacing the nozzle and finishing showering off. Toweling off, she feels much more alive, the hangover has cleared and she’s much more clear headed.
Back in her bedroom she picks out some clothes, a simple dress which she likes because it’s black and she thinks it hides her curves, and a pair of light gray leggings. She brushed out her shoulder length black hair, well, gray in truth, but it’s only been a week since her last visit to the hairdresser so it is still reassuringly jet black for now. She checks how she looks in the mirror, she much prefers the view when everything is covered up and wry smile crosses her lips.
“You’re not getting any younger you know love”
She picks up her phone, there’s a message from Brian. He’s sorry, she’s right, he’s been being selfish, he wasn’t sure what he wanted, still isn’t. Perhaps he could come over tonight and “try things out” see how sexually compatible they are. She deletes the message, blocks his number. Well that’s that then. She scrolls to the message from Beardy. That “Fuck it” attitude is backed, only older, wiser and more sober than it was fifteen years ago.
“Make it 7 if you’re bringing dinner, same address”
“Ok, do you still like carbonara?”
How the hell did he remember that. She confirmed she did, he said he would see her at seven
She spent the rest of the day tidying the house, she’d been working long hours recently and with no one else home to care, the place was looking in a sorry state. She cleared the empty wine bottles into the recycling, emptied the bin overflowing with take away boxes, and swept and hovered the floors. She changed the bedsheets, put three loads of washing through the machines and by the time she was done she stood back and realized how much nicer it felt to have the house in order. She fixed herself a light lunch, her stomach was still protesting over last night’s alcohol consumption and put on a movie. She woke up on the couch at five thirty in the evening.