"I wanted to do this last night," he said, moving into position between her legs.
He started at her left knee, nuzzling, seeking, and finding a tender, ticklish spot she didn't know existed. Her legs felt as useless as broken rubber bands until his big, powerful hands massaged the muscles, working toward her center.
He kissed her inner thighs, slowly zeroing in on the apex, which Judy still lazily teased. When he reached the elastic of her panties, he nipped at the fabric and inhaled deeply. Heat and desire shot outward like a sunburst, making her heart stutter. He could have taken her then she was so ready, but he deliberately moved on, tickling her inner thigh with his tongue.
"N...nice," she said, her head lolling back. She eased onto her elbows and closed her eyes to focus on the sensations.
If he applied the same technique, teeth and tongue, on her clitoris, she'd climax in seconds. She wanted it, but she also hoped to save the big shebang for when he was inside her. The likelihood of two orgasms in one sexual encounter--especially, a first time--seemed unlikely...much as she'd like to try.
"Oh," she cried coming partway up to see him rub his face across the pastel pink satin of her bikini triangle.
He hooked a finger under one skinny strand of fabric and pulled it aside to expose her bush of ginger curls. His smile echoed the one-word praise. "Pretty."
Apparently, he had multi-tasking down to a science because he somehow managed to nuzzle, nip and taste while cleverly removing her panties without any real effort on her part. Once they were disposed of, he spread the lips of her labia and used his tongue to coax her clitoris out of hiding. Heat spread outward. Wet and eager, she wiggled inviting more.
One finger or two? She didn't check. Whatever the number, the contact lifted her butt off the bed, and she cried out, "Oh, yeahehehe." She used the newly toned muscles of her thighs to arch and push against his hand, grinding in rhythm to her pulsing need.
He slowed and stopped, shoving his hand beneath her to still her movement so he could put his mouth where his fingers had been. His tongue explored. Glib. Adroit. Gifted. With his free hand, he used his middle finger to lightly tease her girl button in tiny, maddening circles. The combination of sensations pulled her in every direction, building the forces of desire toward a focal point of bright light. She slipped her breasts free of their cups and worked her nipples between her fingers, pinching, pulling. That little bit of extra sensation shot her straight into the orgasmic stratosphere.
"Holy crap," she shouted, breathlessly. "Wiley. Yes. Yes."
He hadn't asked a question but his tongue was the answer and she hoped the contractions pulsing in her core validated his heroic efforts.
"If that was payback for last night, you win. A thousand times over."
She flopped back, chest heaving, heart racing, eyes closed...so she didn't see him until he was on top of her. Full body contact, although his feet were still on the floor so he didn't squish her. Was that even possible? She was no wilting violet.
She squeezed her arms around him and nuzzled his neck. "That was wonderful."
He pulled back enough to kiss her. "They call that foreplay, darlin'. The main course has yet to arrive."
"Make it arrive faster," she mumbled against his lips. God, the man could kiss, and the smell and taste of her pussy on his face made the tingle of desire start to rebuild. Not that she expected the next course to be anywhere near as delicious as the first. Maybe this is what people mean when they say eat dessert first.
He rolled them sideways then pushed up sitting. "Sheets? Pillows? A headboard for leverage?" he asked with a wink. "Oh, and a few less clothes."
Judy sat up, too. "Good idea." She started to reach around to unfasten her bra hooks, but he stopped her. "Allow me."
She turned sideways, expecting a quick pop. Instead, he took his time, exploring her back, massaging her muscles, working his hands around her sides to cup and squeeze her breasts. Forehead resting between her shoulder blades, he explored her body with touch, a blind man reading her shape in braille.
His fingers worked her nipples into taut, turned-on points that craved a mouth...his mouth. She wriggled her core against the mattress, her need building again.
"You're so beautiful," he said, his hands touching her everywhere, face, breasts, belly, between her legs. "Inside and out."
No one had ever said that to her. The depth of her feelings threatened to overwhelm her. She covered his hands, inhaling deeply, committing the feeling to memory. She'd never felt more cherished. No love words had passed between them, but she felt loved. And the feeling changed everything.
She helped him remove his shorts. When they were both naked, they silently pulled back the spread and blanket then met in the middle of the bed, advancing on knees to face each other.
Wiley stared at her for several seconds overcome by the enormity of options open to them. The look in Judy's eyes said anything was possible. Anything his heart desired.
He plumped the pillows against the headboard and sat, legs straight. "I don't want to miss a minute of this," he said. "I want to see, touch and suck while my cock's buried deep inside you."
"Sounds good to me."
She threw one leg over his lap but left a small gap between them. "First, I need to make sure you're ready. Really ready."
He fondled her breasts while she fondled--no...wrong word--while she set his manhood on fire. Her fingernails clawed gently but with enough conviction to make him swallow a gasp. Next, she used a hand-over-hand technique that never did that much for him in the past. But something about Judy's hands, milking him with an extra little twist at the end of the yank, nearly made him shoot his wad.
He leaned forward to frame her hips with his hands. "I need to be inside you. There's a rubber on the side table. Do you want to put it on? Or should I?"
Even watching her reach for the little square package turned him on. How anyone could consider her too heavy was beyond him? She fit her body perfectly and her body fit him--or would in a moment--just right.
She tore open the package, tossed the wrapper in the general direction of the end table then briskly sheathed him. "Ready?" she asked, lifting up so her crotch hovered about his fully engorged penis.
"Beyond ready. I hope I don't embarrass myself like last night."
She dipped her head and kissed him sweetly. "We're human beings, Wiley. Sex--like life--is messy. But if you're having fun then there's no judging, no shame. Only pleasure." She reached between them to line up his phallus and her wonderfully wet, slippery opening.
Inch by splendid freaking inch, she accepted him. As tempting as it was to close his eyes and let her movements take him over the brink, he stayed focused on her face. She bit her bottom lip and moaned each time she "bottomed out" on his saddle. She filled her hands with breast meat and offered him one to suckle.
"I love how you suck, Wiley," she said with a groan. "Stuff's buildin' and brewin' down deep inside me. I hope you're ready because I think I'm going to...oh, yes...oh, god. Bite now. Harder. Oh, Wiley. Oh."
She nearly shot off his dick with that last cry, but Wiley gripped her hips. When she rose up, so did he and when she came down, they came together. His release hit hard and fast peaking with one final thrust into her pulsing core. The after-quakes wrung him dry. He'd never been with a woman who pulled every last drop of cum from him.
His brain stopped functioning beyond its basic life support needs. Words of gratitude, surprise, love spilled into his mind but never made it to his lips, which were too busy kissing her face, her hair, her lips, the tears from her eyes.
"Are you crying?"
"Big emotions do this to me," she said. "Pru blames menopause. But don't worry. I'm not sad." She kissed him. "I'm happy. Really, really happy. How 'bout you?"
What could he say? Your openness and willingness to accept every bit of me without reservation is a gift I don't deserve. Your trust humbles me. There's a good chance you're the love of my life.
G
ood god, no. He couldn't bare his soul without committing to a relationship--the kind of relationship that for him meant marriage vows. He couldn't ask Judy to share his life without first confessing his sins, his failures as a husband and father. She deserved the truth, but the truth would send her running.
"That was amazing. You're amazing."
She rocked back on her heels, her butt resting on his thighs. Their bodies remained intimately connected, but Wiley sensed her reaction. His rote, empty words sounded as lame as he'd feared.
"Simultaneous orgasms are like unicorns," she said, her tone both teasing and serious. He could tell she was trying to make sense of his sudden lack of engagement. "You hear about them, but nobody's ever ridden one...until now."
Wiley pushed his dark thoughts aside and smiled. "We rode the unicorn. Wow. I can die happy, now."
Her grin disappeared at the same instant his flaccid penis slipped from her vagina. "That's not a joking matter," she said, scooting back and off the bed. "Buddy's funeral is Sunday. I'm going to clean up." She stood a moment, looking for the bathroom.
Wiley pointed to the closed door opposite from the closet, but a part of him wanted to pull her back into bed. Just because he wasn't good at after-sex talk didn't mean he wasn't a fan of snuggling. Love-words, heartfelt promises, bright dreams that got smashed to smithereens by inept doctors and inattentive drivers seemed like wasted breath. He couldn't put himself out on that limb again--even for Judy, the first woman he actually could picture at his side when it was their turn to move into a place like Heritage House.
Judy spent longer in the bathroom than she wanted. Her heart insisted all was well. Lots of men acted weird after sex. Wiley grew distant and vague. That didn't mean she shouldn't be cuddled up against his long, lean body.
Unfortunately, her new and improved mind refused to buy the platitudes. We didn't merely have sex. We made love. They'd connected at a level poets would have a hard time describing. But in the moments following coitus, Wiley shut down, emotionally. She'd visited San Francisco often as a young bride and she'd learned to detect the arrival of fog long before it blocked her view of the Golden Gate. A fog bank of some sort had settled around Wiley's heart. Disappointment? Worry? Fear that his son or his high-class friends might find out he'd been with her?
No. He's not that shallow. He's real and solid and loving and kind.
But something was bothering him. And second-guessing wasn't going to give her the answers she needed to avoid heading straight to the nunnery.
She wrapped one of his extra-large, white fluffy bath towels around her chest and stepped out of the room. Wiley hadn't moved. He'd pulled up the sheet but remained reclined in the middle of the bed, pillows plumped like a puffy Game of Thrones backdrop. He opened his eyes and smiled.
A fake smile.
Instead of tackling him as she'd planned, Judy sat, one knee angled with her back toward the foot of the bed. "Something's bothering you. If I were to guess, I'd peg either your job or your son. Are you worried that I'll create a conflict for you with one or the other? Or both?"
He sat a little straighter. "I'm not upset. I admit I am worried about you going to work for Fletcher, but not for the reason you think."
"Pardon?"
"I'm not a prude, Judy. I don't have a problem with you working at a sex club, but I know my son well enough to predict his sex club won't last a year. He'll give it a shot, lose a portion of his trust fund then get bored and walk away. I don't want you to become a casualty of his nature."
A knife-like thrust of reality hit right between her shoulder blades and twisted with a vengeance. Oh, my god, how could I have misjudged him so badly?
She jumped to her feet and started dressing.
Misjudged. The irony would have been funny if it weren't so damn sad.
"You're angry. What did I say?"
"What did you say?" she repeated, corralling her boobs into her bra. She truly appreciated her newfound flexibility that allowed her to snap the back hooks without asking for Wiley's help. "Actually, Wiley, you said exactly what my mother would have said if I were in Fletcher's shoes. Not that I can picture that--" She shook her head to stay on track. "Even your tone reminded me of her. It was uncanny. And that means, in a way, I just fucked my mother."
He scrambled to the side of the bed closest to her. She noticed he'd pulled up the sheet to cover his crotch. So much for casual familiarity. "What are you talking about? Did I miss something?"
She pulled on her undies and picked up her dress. "A few years ago, I quit my day job and used my savings to buy into a fruit smoothie franchise. I did the math. I knew I was getting in without a safety net. Everything had to click in order for me to make it without losing my shirt." She stepped into her dress and zipped the zipper herself.
"I had a great location and tons of business. I would have made a bundle if one of my suppliers hadn't gone out of business after I paid for a six-month stock of cups, which he failed to deliver. No cups, no smoothies."
"Did you sue?"
"I got in line to sue. I was told I'd get pennies on the dollar...if I wanted to wait five years for the dust to settle."
He winced. "That's unfortunate. Did you try to borrow--?"
She cut him off. "My ex ruined my credit rating. So, I swallowed my pride and asked my mother for a short-term loan. Do you think she'd get off her passive-aggressive butt to help me? Hell, no. And she made damn sure my sister and brother-in-law didn't lift a finger, either. Do you know why?"
He shook his head.
"So she could be the first to say 'I told you so,' when I filed bankruptcy."
The memory felt fresh and painful even though she'd buried it deep. She'd been so close to succeeding. But her family hadn't believed she was worth supporting. They didn't believe in her--and their lack of support crippled her belief in herself.
"I'm sorry, Judy. If I'd--"
She held up her hand. "You're telling the wrong person. My ship sailed, crashed on the rocks and burned years ago. If you want to support someone who is trying something new, talk to your son.
"I have nothing invested in Fletcher's business, so I have nothing to lose. I don't know your son well, but he seems smart, savvy and goal-oriented. Am I the most discerning judge of character? Obviously not, since I thought you were...never mind."
She grabbed her shoes, anxious to leave before she did something even more embarrassing than sharing her personal failure. "I'll do my part to help Fletcher's business succeed because I'm loyal and I hate to give up on anything. But if it doesn't work out--and all you've done is sit back and watch--then I'm going to look at this lovely, mind-blowing interlude as one of my bigger mistakes."
"Judy, I'm sorry you're upset, but I don't see how these two occurrences are connected."
"Really? You don't? My mother would rather be right about me than see me succeed. And you'd let Fletcher fail just to prove a point. Maybe I do need to see a shrink. Freud would have a heyday with this." She shuddered dramatically then started for the bedroom door. "I'll see myself out."
"You left your car at the restaurant." He started to dress.
She pulled her phone out of her purse. "That's what cabs are for. 'Bye. It was fun."
Fun.
Such a frivolous, insignificant word.
She'd connected with that man on a level one read about in romance novels. And, now, instead of snuggling and cuddling and laughing and getting it on again, she was sitting in the back of a cab feeling a tad tender in her lady bits and emotionally plundered.
Her phone, which she hadn't gotten around to returning to her purse, vibrated against her belly. She snapped it up. Wiley? Calling to apologize? Begging her to come back?
Pru.
Talk about cosmic timing.
"Hi."
"What's wrong?"
"What do you mean? You could tell I was upset from one word?"
"I'm an intuit. Did you know that's the name of an Eskimo tribe?"
Judy rol
led her eyes. "Well, sorry to disappoint, but nothing's wrong. Not really. I'm in a cab leaving Judge Canby's." Wiley's. "We had lunch." Sorta. He ate...me. Her naughty smile felt forced.
"Cool. But something's wrong. I feel it. Unless it's that soup they served with dinner. I think I saw seaweed and testicles...I mean, tentacles floating in it."
Judy couldn't help but chuckle. She adored her friend. Normally, she would have shared every tantalizing moment of her encounter with Wiley, but not this time. Some things were simply too painful.
"Hey. Good timing. Buddy's memorial is Sunday. I know you can't make--"
"I'll be there. That's the reason I called. My flight arrives tonight at midnight."
"Your flight? What happened to Gerald?"
Pru's sigh held the weight of another failed relationship. "Where should I start? The bar bill he ran up with the floozy from Gestalt? Or, the limp dick that couldn't get hard without porn playing in the background on a widescreen TV. Porn starring the bimbette, Dewi." She signed again. "Some things just aren't meant to be, Judy."
Judy bit down on her lip. Wasn't that the truth? "I know what you mean. I just had sex with my mother."
A loud honk preceded the taxi's sharp swerve to the right. Judy toppled over, realizing too late she'd forgotten to buckle her seatbelt. "Hey," she cried. "I was speaking figuratively, not literally."
The cabbie's sheepish gaze met hers in the rear view mirror. "Sorry."
"She's eighty-three. And so not my type."
She returned the phone to her ear. "We barely missed sideswiping a bus. That would have been the perfect end to the perfect day."
"So you and the judge did the dirty?"
"Uh-huh."
"How was it?"
Judy lowered her voice. "Freaking transcendental. Best of my life. That convent is looking better and better. After Wiley, I'm ruined for other men."
Pru groaned. "You wish. Don't make any hasty life-altering decisions. I'll be home soon and we'll figure this out."
Chapter Eight
"We brought you a present, Judy," the first Golden Sneaker off the bus shouted as she hurried into the gym early the following morning.
The Big Bang! Theory - A fourth--and final--short, erotic encounter of the Judy Banger kind Page 8
