This post is a sequel to The Curiosity of a Dog
If Terri was surprised to see me on her front doorstep she didn't let on. “Chris isn't here,” she said. “He's working afternoons.”
“That's ok," I said. I held up the six-pack of Bacardi Breezers (her drink, not mine) that I picked up on my way over. "I thought I'd see how you were settling in.”
“Well, with a couple of those going down me I could settle in quite nicely.” Terri stepped aside and waved me into her new home with a flourish.
“What I really need though, is a shower. You caught me just getting back from my Pilates class. I wanted to get home early, so I didn't shower at the club. Here”, Terri motioned me to follow her and stopped in the hallway outside the bathroom. “I'll leave the door ajar and you can talk to me while I rinse all this sweat off me.”
She didn't look sweaty at all to me, but I wasn't about to object. I popped the top on two of the Bacardi's and handed one to Terri. We clinked bottles and Terri tilted her bottle back and took a long drink while keeping her eyes on mine. She smiled. “Now don't you get any naughty ideas about peeking or anything.” She slipped inside the bathroom leaving the door open about a half a foot as she had promised. I heard the water go on in the shower and glanced through the gap in the door to see Terri in the vanity mirror as she worked her blue top off, pulling it over her head. She wore a black bra underneath. There wasn't much to it, and she didn't really need it. Both her breasts combined wouldn't fill my hand, but I wanted to play with them just the same.
I thought I saw a trace of a smirk on her wide face as she turned around offering her back to the mirror. Terri bent forward sliding her sweat pants down and I caught myself rising up on my toes to catch a glimpse of her ass in the mirror. No such luck. The mirror was too high and Terri too little. She opened the shower door and stepped inside the glass booth. The sound of the water changed as it hit her slender frame.
“It's good that you stopped by”, Terri called out over the sound of water. “I know we've never really gotten along as well as we should. You don't like me very much, do you, Frankie?”
“I wouldn't say that.”
“Of course not. You're always so damned polite. Just look at you, standing outside the room like that. You could at least come inside so we don't have to shout at each other.”
“I thought you wanted me to stand outside. No peeking or anything.”
Terri laughed. “Since when do you care what I think.”
I shrugged to no one in particular, then pushed the door open and stepped inside the steamy bathroom. I could make out Terri's tiny form, distorted by the rippled glass of the shower stall. She was facing up at the shower head as water sprayed down on her. I knocked back more of my drink and wondered how well an offer to scrub her back might be received.
“Damn! I can't believe I got in here without a facecloth. Would you mind? There should be some in the cabinet on your left.”
I found a white terry cloth square and was about to pass it over the top of the shower stall when the glass door popped open swinging towards me. Terri's hand was reaching blindly. I could see from the way she held her head up through the rippled glass that she was trying to keep soap out of her eyes.
“It's here”, I said, holding the cloth just inches out of reach.
“Where?” She groped blindly for the cloth which I kept shifting out of reach. “Damn you Frankie, why don't you just give it to me?”
It was my turn to laugh. “Why Terri, I never expected to hear you say that to me. I thought maybe it was you who didn't like me very much.”
“Well, I'm not liking you very much right now.”
“I wonder what I can do to fix that? Let's start with this.” I pulled the shower door open further, stepped towards her and placed the facecloth in Terri's hand. She clasped it to her face and began to dab at her eyes. I filled mine with a good look at her slim body. She was much skinnier than the women I usually prefer. Her skin was pale and in some spots there was the expected sagging and wrinkling of age. Not everything was as tight and firm as maybe a woman half her age but overall she was quite fit for someone nearing sixty.
“What do you think? You see anything you like?”
“I might be warming up to you.”
“When will you know for sure?” Terri had turned and was facing me now. She had cleared her eyes of soap and she stood before me with water beading on her body and trickling over her as the shower continued its spray.
“How long did you say Tom was working?”
"Six-one", I say, finishing our hug.
"You're taller than Tom." She points to her partner, my friend, who's standing next to the door saying goodbye to my girlfriend, Cindy. "I think he's shrinking. Except there." She gestures at his gut which is getting quite round. Six or seven beers a night will do that.
"You should lose some of that. Be more like Frankie, he's so slim." Terri pats my flatter stomach. Her hand lingers a little affectionately, but only for a second or two, not enough to be overly obvious, but I wonder if there isn't a little deeper curiosity in her touch. Or perhaps I'm just hoping that's the case?
Earlier, on our way over to Tom and Terri's new home, in my thoughts I entertained the possibility of seducing Terri, now that she and Tom had moved cities and were so much closer to us. It's odd that I would think that, because I have never been overly attracted to Terri. She's much older (than me, than Tom), is far too slight, has a raspy voice, stares with feline eyes from a wide face with skin stretched tightly over jutting cheekbones, wears too much makeup and is a bit on the boozy side. Have I ever seen her sober? Yet, given the chance, would I say no?
Unlikely. No. No, my answer would likely be yes. Yes, because I'd be just curious enough. I'd be just curious enough to discover what it was about her that attracted my friend Tom. I'd be just curious enough to see how all her Crossfit training, Pilates, kick-boxing, etc. had paid off for her slender boyish figure. I'd be just curious enough to see if she would wrap her tiny fist around my hard cock and pump it up and down making me swell up even harder, lusting to be inside her. I'd be just curious enough to see if she would kiss me and push her tongue inside my mouth. What kind of kisser would she be with her thin-lipped, wide smile? Would Terri's tongue be thick and dry and clumsy like Darlene's, Tom's girlfriend from before, whom he'd tried to pass off onto me back when they were swingers? I'd be just curious enough to see if Terri would fasten her mouth over my thick cock head, whether she would suck only the head or drive down onto me taking the whole shaft. Would she be all lips and tongue or rake me with her teeth too? Would she suck, wholeheartedly suck, really suck with suction, suck me with her whole mouth, or would she bore me with faint licks as though she were licking an ice cream cone as Tammy had done? Tammy, who had gone out with my other friend Dick briefly, for about six weeks, including that one afternoon when she let me fuck her in the ass on that shabby old couch in Dick's parents' basement after licking my cock and telling me she was having her period.
Yes, I'd be just curious enough to see. I'd be just curious enough to see if Terri would straddle me and ride me and give my cock an uncommon thrill, squeezing it and wringing it and pulsing it in what must be a most superbly tight-tight, toned and muscled pussy. I'd be just curious enough to see if her pussy stays all post-menopausal dry like Cindy's does, causing her to halt me, urging me to stop at just getting the head or my half-shaft inside, begging me not to push so much, to go slow-slow, to go gentle, to be easy, to wait, or if she still gets good and sloppy-wet for a younger guy's cock? I'd be just curious enough to see if she really is a live fuck. Does she wail? Does she grunt? Does she moan, groan, sob, gasp, cry and shout? Could she rival the vocal performance of Pam, Dick's wife, whose ecstasy would stiffen a eunuch's cock. Her signature sound was a low, throaty sighing cry that catches and releases in one long, stuttering, gasping moan. She certainly kept me rocking her all night with it one lonely, clinging hotel room night that lasted on and off for two weeks. Whereas Sheila, Tim's ex, would lie still and quiet, all focused and intent, concentrating on my fingers slippery and adept. I frigged her to an orgasm so silent that I never knew she had it, but she thanked me for it. Apologized for being so selfish for it. Kissed me and held me with an unexpected tenderness for it. And that was all I got for it. A month later we were broke up and she was slipping off to climb in bed with my friend Pat, but that's how it goes.
So Terri, yes, I'd be just curious enough to see. I'd be just curious enough to see if there were something more meant by that playful and familiar pat on my belly.
|Are we too "straight" in the bedroom? |
Should we be giving ourselves permission
to be more goofy?
Occasionally I post photos that strike me in an odd sort of way and I caption them with word or thought balloons. I call these posts "Sunday Morning Funnies" and perhaps they amuse others, or not. Of course, we don't all share the same sense of humour, just as we don't all have the same tastes in sexual appetites. I guess my question is, can we allow ourselves to indulge our sense of play and share a laugh or two where sex is concerned?
Have you ever had the sort of let-your-hair-down relationship where you felt free enough to: stick out your tongue, waggle your naughty bits, make racing car noises while caressing your lover, wear a funny hat or clown nose while fucking, talk dirty in a ridiculous-sounding voice or accent?
How would sex be for you if you tried to crack each other up sometime?