by Morrel, Amy
Margaret grabbed both coffee cups and left, entering the kitchen. She was back out in moments, carrying his bottle of painkillers.
“Isn't it time for your next dose? I don't want you to hurt yourself for me again. Especially not if it means that you'd have to stop... doing what we'll be doing.”
Greg grinned with relief. Evidently Margaret really was willing, and it sounded as though she were even eager. He took the bottle of pills from her and opened it, spilling two into his hand which he quickly swallowed.
“I'm surprised you thought of that. I have to admit, my thoughts were very much elsewhere.”
“Well, it seems that I'm a pessimist nowadays and I kept thinking of what could go wrong. This was the only thing I thought of that I could do something about, so I did.”
“Shall we?” Greg extended his hand to her once more.
Margaret accepted his hand and they walked to the stairs. They had to let go to climb the stairs but once in the upstairs hallway Greg reclaimed her hand. He opened his bedroom door for her and escorted her inside.
“I need to grab a drink of water or these pills might give me trouble. Lie down on the bed and I'll be right out.”
Greg stepped into the master bathroom and ran a glass of water. As he drank it, he glanced in the mirror:
Am I ready for this? It's been a long time. Maybe I finally found one that will be worth keeping. I hope so; she's so comfortable to be with. I could see us together for a very long time.
Greg walked back into his bedroom, only to find out that Margaret had switched off the light. He flipped the switch back on and saw her. She was lying in the center of his queen-sized bed, her robe was still on but she had untied the belt. One side had slid off of her a little and there was a strip of skin showing between the the two opposing edges of satin.
She blinked a bit:
“I thought you'd want the light out, don't you?”
“Margaret, I love to look at you. I'd like to see all of you. Admittedly I had that chance before but I wasn't thinking about looking at you that time, there were more important things to take care of. This time I want to see all of you and be able to truly see you and remember.”
“If that's what you want.” She said softly.
Margaret sounded timid once again, it was a drastic change from earlier in the evening.
“What's wrong? Was it something I said?”
“No, but Freddy used to insist on the lights out anytime we had sex after I'd had Jack. He kept telling me he didn't want to see my fat belly and all the stretch marks and lines.”
“Margaret, look at me.” she did, “I'm aware that a woman's body changes when she has a child. My ex-wife had two children. Please note, two, not one. So obviously a woman who has had a child is not a turn-off to me, nor do I find the changes that occur in a woman's body from giving birth to be a problem. Looking at you, I can tell you your stomach isn't fat now, even if it was before. Heck, the artist Rubens would have called you scrawny.
I can't see any stretch marks yet but if I do, I'll make love to them also. They are badges of honor won by bringing a life into the world. I see your eyes when you talk about Jack, so I know you shouldn't regret them since they're a mark of his passage into the world.
I want to watch your eyes as I show you some of the things that you've missed out on. I hope to see them fill with ecstasy and joy. I want to devour your body with my eyes and paint a picture of you in my brain that will last forever. However, if it will make you happy, I'll turn the lights out again instead.”
“No, keep them on. I keep forgetting just how different you are from what I learned to expect men to be like. Pleasantly surprised as it were, please do what you were just talking about.”
Greg slowly walked to the side of the bed and sat. He removed his shirt and shoes, then slid his pants off. Under those he had on a pair of cotton boxers. He left those on for the moment but slid his socks off. He moved his legs onto the bed. Leaning over he ran his hand through Margaret's hair briefly. Her brown tresses were shoulder length with a natural wave running down their length. Her skin was pale where the sun didn't reach it but her face and lower arms were a light brown shade that suggested that she would tan in the slightest bit of sun.
As he stroked her cheek he noted that her face was a touch weathered but the lines of sorrow he had seen before were beginning to fade. Her skin, which looked as though it should be rough and dry, was actually smooth beneath his fingertips as he ran them across her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, and finally her lips. He leaned in and his own lips replaced his fingertips in caressing her lips. His hands naturally slid behind her neck as the kiss deepened.
Greg allowed himself the luxury of losing himself in the kiss. For more than a minute he just pressed his lips to hers, reveling in the feel of his skin touching hers. Then his tongue became somewhat inquisitive, it slid out to gently flick against her lips. First the top lip, and then the bottom. Finally he moved it to the middle of her lips and gently pushed so it slid into her mouth. She spread her lips apart slightly to allow his tongue entry into her mouth. Slowly and gently he explored what he could reach of her mouth, ending with her own tongue. Their tongues entwined for a few moments before his slid back out of her mouth. After another few seconds of enjoying plain skin to skin contact Greg broke the kiss and leaned back up.
Margaret's face held a look of contentment. Her eyes were closed and her face was relaxed, a small smile playing about the edges of her lips.
“That was wonderful, it took me right back to before Freddy, when I was dating normal boys.”
“I'm glad, I was worried that I might've forgotten how to do some of this but it came back easily, just like riding a bicycle.”
Greg had retrieved his hands from behind her neck and now put them to use running a featherlight fingertip down the front of her neck and out the length of her shoulder, pushing her robe aside on the way, then down her arm to her hand. He raised her hand to his mouth, kissing each fingertip in turn. He set her hand back down and moved back to her torso. From the base of her neck he ran a fingertip down her pale, soft skin to the upper slope of a breast. Now he could see some of the stretch marks she had spoken of. He leaned in and placed his lips against the top of a silvery scar. Moistening his lips he traced its path with lips and tongue. Raising his head he repeated the process until all of the scars on this breast had been kissed and licked. He gently slid the robe from her other shoulder and once more ran his finger down her skin. This time he ran down to the slope of her other breast. He repeated the process on the markings of this breast as well. All the while Margaret had taken a sharp breath and was holding it for what seemed like forever before exhaling and repeating the sequence. When he had finished kissing her scars and lifted his head again she spoke:
“They really don't bother you, do they? You weren't just lying to make me feel better?”
“Margaret, I wouldn't lie to you. I have no reason to do so and even if I did, remember what I said about believing honesty is the best policy? I lost my first wife when I told her I had no desire to ever obtain any form of political power or fame. I came to the conclusion that I was better off without her but still, honesty cost me my first marriage. If I was honest enough for that to happen, do you think I'd have started casually lying now?”
“No, but... I'm sorry for doubting you Greg, but I only know how Freddy was, and he'd lie at the drop of a hat. My father lied to my mother also, not as much as Freddy did to me but still. I caught him quite a few times and my mother just didn't want to hear about it when I tried to tell her. These are the only two men I've known very well, and I keep trying to view you in their mold. You weren't made from the same mold; I'm sorry I have to keep learning that over and over.”
“That's fine, there's no need to apologize. Where were we? Oh yes...”
Greg's voice trailed off as his mouth came into contact with the upper slope of her breast. He began to kiss each tiny section of flesh, moving his way fro
m side to side and breast to breast in a generally downward pattern. When his lips reached her areola his hands came into play again. Once again featherlight touches from his fingertips stroked her. This time the touches were on her nipples. He stroked the tips gently and then he stroked up and down their lengths as they grew from the attention. Meanwhile his lips continued kissing her, now her areolae were the subject of their attention and every two or three kisses he'd slide his tongue out to gently lick her skin.
His mouth tingled with the taste of her and his nose filled with her scent. His fingers were fascinated by the rubbery, yet firm, texture of her nipples and so they continued their attentions. But now they were gently pinching her nipples, his fingertips stroking them with more pressure, and occasionally tugging in a gentle stretch. He found himself unable to get enough of her. Her taste and scent filled him. His fingers reveled in touching her and his ears strained to hear the tiny exhalations and gasps that his attention to her nipples drew from her. His eyes ran the length of her torso. His senses were overwhelmed. This woman was everything he wanted at the moment, the rest of the world be damned.
Eventually Greg moved his hands so they cupped her breasts. The sag to them told him that she wasn't a teenager anymore and that she had given birth to, and breastfed, a child. While other men might have found that unattractive, he gave it a bit more thought. She had had a child, she hadn't mentioned wanting to have another one. That meant that she truly wanted to be right where she was and doing what she was doing, with him. She had no other motive to be there but her desire to be with him. It was a heady intoxicant to him, who had been so long without a woman.
His fingers stroked the underside of her breasts, cupping them and hefting them. His hands slowly tried to familiarize themselves with every square inch of them. Eventually, though, he was distracted from her breasts. Her scent had taken on a musky, primeval quality. He finally realized that the new odor was coming from her pussy. It wafted to his nostrils, overwhelming the similar but more mild scent of the rest of her. It called to him and he answered. He worked his way down her belly, it wasn't fat but neither was it the scrawny nothingness of a supermodel's stomach. There was a pleasant rise to it, not enough to sag when she stood upright but enough that he was sure that she was neither starving nor anorexic.
His tongue paused for a moment at her navel, poking into its depths. Margaret let out a true giggle instead of a laugh, it only lasted for a moment but the bright sound brought a smile to his face as his tongue backed out of her navel to continue to the target that called to him.
When he reached the top of her pubic area he noted that she didn't have a tangled, unruly bush like many women he had encountered before his first marriage. She wasn't shaved but she had trimmed it to a short half inch length that would neither be pokey and prickly nor would it get in his way very much. The scent of her, heavy with the musk that told of physical desire, completely filled his nostrils now and his tongue hastened on its way.
When his tongue hit the top of her slit she spoke tremulously:
“What are you doing?”
“I'm planning on eating you out. Let's see, that's a colloquialism for cunnilingus in case you were wondering.”
“Are you sure? I mean, that's where I pee from.”
“Have you ever done this before?”
“No.”
“Then would you trust me enough to let me try please? I enjoy it quite a bit and I'm guessing that you will also. Trust me on this. Don't think about it, just feel it and then make your judgment after.”
“If you say so, we can try it.”
Greg leaned in and began to run his tongue up and down her slit. Taking extra care to stroke her clit hood and the edge of her labia as he did so. Before he had completed a full sweep down and back up her gasp filled his ears.
“Okay you were right. I'll just shut up and enjoy myself now.” she said rapidly.
Greg focused in on his task at hand. First he worked her slit with the tip of his tongue. The edges of her labia barely protruded from her slit. He worked hos tongue between them to get the taste of her pussy into his mouth. She was moist but not wet, not yet anyhow. Once he had the taste of her filling his mouth, he switched to her labia again, stroking the edges up and down with his tongue. After a few minutes of that, he could see the muscles in her inner thigh relaxing. Once she had relaxed he moved his attention upward. He licked her clit hood, using enough pressure that she was sure to feel it. He gently nipped the edge, drawing it upward with his teeth to gently expose her clitoris to the cooler air of the room. Her breath had sped up by this point and there were frequent gasps for his ears to savor.
Greg moved his hands into play again now. He rubbed his thumbs along the edges of her labia while stretching his index fingers up to either side of her clit hood. He used his fingers to push her clit hood upwards, exposing the small nodule of her clitoris beneath. His tongue dove in, going for direct contact with her clitoris. As he pushed it around with his tongue, her gasps grew louder. He used the tip of his tongue to push against the small nodule, pushing it to one side or the other with more pressure than he had been using. An actual moan escaped her lips at that. He drew his head back and slid one of his thumbs up from her labia to her clitoris. As he pressed against the small mound of flesh firmly, he begin to twirl the tip of his thumb in tiny circles. Margaret's back arched and a loud cry escaped her lips.
Greg paused, removing his hands from her body. He stayed pressed close to her side to maintain skin contact but stopped actively trying to stimulate her. Margaret was shuddering and continued to do so for a minute or so.
“What was that?” she asked in wonderment.
“I believe that it was your first orgasm. Have you never felt like that before?”
“No, not at all. I'm so glad I trusted you. My god, is that what I've been missing all these years? I can't believe I turned thirty years old a couple of months ago and I've never felt like that before.”
“That's okay, I'm more than happy to help you feel like that again and again, whenever you like.”
“Let me just lie still here for a few more minutes so I can enjoy the sensation. Then you can keep doing whatever you want to me. Especially if it might mean that I get that again.”
“I can't guarantee it, but I'll try.”
“How did you know? I mean, know what to do to me to cause that?”
“Well, I've been sexually active a long while. I started at fourteen, so I have twenty-two years of experience. You pick up a few tricks over time. That's one of the two most common ways for women to orgasm. The other is with penetration and since you told me you never had, well I gathered that you hadn't orgasmed from penetration from what you told me. I thought it was worth a shot. Plus I wasn't lying, I really enjoy that, mostly from the pleasure I get to bring to my partner.”
Margaret sprawled on the bed, a dreamy look on her face. Greg simply watched her for the moment, paying attention as her face slowly lost the dreamy look. Once it started getting back to normal, he moved his hands in closer again.
His fingers stroked her inner thighs now. She squirmed lightly under his touch but settled down when he used a bit more pressure. He moved down her body farther, stroking her calves. When he reached her feet, he massaged the soles for a few minutes and then began to work his way back up her body. He paused at the level of her hips, noting that he considered them well proportioned to the rest of her. Despite the fact that she looked small beside him she really wasn't, she was probably average height for a woman. He preferred a woman with large hips and a little bit of meat on her. Margaret's hips qualified although she was slightly thin for his normal preferences. He'd had enough of the androgynous types before he married Emily and discovered that he preferred his woman barely on the thinner side of what most people would call plump. Margaret wasn't quite in that category, but he was certainly willing to make an exception in her case.
After running his hand up and down the definite slope from her hi
ps to her waist and back, his hands moved inwards once more. When they reached her pubic hair they went upwards this time. He'd found that quite a few woman had a very sensitive spot running between the surface of the skin and the muscle that formed the delineation between the pubic area and abdomen. It was almost as though the nerves from the clitoris ran close to the surface of the skin there. He didn't know if that were the case but he did know that the reaction to stimulating the area was close to the reaction from stimulating a clitoris. As he rubbed firmly against that area on Margaret he discovered that she was one of those women with the sensitive area. The reaction was almost identical to when he had rubbed her clitoris earlier on.
He continued to use one hand on her there and shifted himself around to get his head between her legs again. This time he knelt between her legs, spreading them so he could bow his head and get his tongue back to her pussy. As his fingers continued to circle around just below her abdomen his tongue began to stroke her labia again. She was very wet now and he could taste her juices with every stroke of his tongue. His free hand crept to her clit hood and pushed it back again. He stroked his tongue up and down her labia, continuing on upward to her clitoris on each upward stroke. Once her breathing began to quicken again he moved his mouth up. Placing his lips against her clitoris, he kissed it. His tongue flicked out between his closed lips to lightly tap against her clitoris. After a minute or so of that he parted his lips the slightest bit. Pressing them tightly to her skin, he sucked in gently. Drawing her clitoris into his mouth slowly had Margaret writhing on the bed again. He needed to move his top hand from its ongoing task in order to to keep her from squirming out of contact with him. Finally he applied more suction and drew her clitoris farther into his mouth, his lips squeezing tightly against it to keep it from sliding back out.
Margaret was muttering something now but he couldn't make it out. It sounded like she was repeating gibberish over and over and soon the muttering changed to moans and groans as her back arched once again.