by Rose Raven
She rolled over onto her back, a lazy, beautiful animal. She looked like a large cat ready to mate. John lay gently stroking her all over, fingering her, watching her close her eyes in enjoyment, no longer caring what her reasons had been so long as they were together, so long as he could hear her husky voice. And then she was briefly relaxed again and continued her story.
"No, there was another reason. Don't you remember my mother? How you wanted her attention?"
"I didn't want your mother's attention," he said indignantly. "I tell you, I don't remember anything of that visit at all. All I remember is that I was sick and feverish from something terrible I'd eaten on the plane."
"Yes, that's what Mum said when she took up the soup I wanted to bring to you. I saw it all through the hole in the ceiling. It was the peephole I used when watching her make love to eligible bachelors who stayed for the night."
"You really were a snooper, weren't you?" John said indignantly, but he didn't really mean it. He thought he'd have liked to have been there with her in the dusty attic, watching her peep. He imagined that she would have been a little shocked at what she saw, but also hot in her belly. He wondered what it would have been like to watch her run her tongue over her lips, her wide-open eyes. He imagined those firm young buttocks tense mechanically at the same pace as the adults below. She would have pressed her belly against the floor to stimulate herself, perhaps coming at the same time as the people on whom she was spying. A rivulet of warm scented liquid would have run along the inside of her thigh. She would have been entirely caught up in the show below and unaware that she was being watched in her turn.
Alicia laughed.
"I could always tell whether she fancied her guests and would visit them in their room at night. Like you."
John was going to protest, but then, as suddenly as if a light had been turned on in a dark room, he began to remember and blushed.
"Oh my God," he whispered.
He had had a fever, and his godmother had spoon-fed him some ghastly potion and plumped his bed while brushing her bosom against his cheek. How could he have forgotten? And suddenly other memories rushed into his mind. He closed his eyes.
"Oh my God."
"Yes. Oh my God. Did you like her breasts?"
"Don't!"
"But I want to. I want to tell you what I saw and heard. I could see it all from right above your bed. You were looking sweet and lost and sweaty, half-covered as you were by the sheets, and I felt pity for you, getting sick like this when you were supposed to be enjoying your holiday. Then Mum came in and said you needed to be undressed so she could wash you. Well, Mum never was afraid of a male body, and yours was wickedly good-looking, even then. Did you like it when she was soaping you?"
"Don't," John groaned half-heartedly.
"I was a Peeping Tom," Alicia whispered. "I was excited. Almost as excited as you. I wanted to be the one to take care of you. Whenever Mum moved, I could see your erection. Then she said, 'Poor boy. Young boys are so excitable. This will relax you.' And, just like that, she lowered her mouth onto your groin while she continued to soap you. You thrust yourself in her mouth as if you were a bull. You have a large penis, you know, but she never protested. I was excited despite a feeling of jealousy, which her other boyfriends had never roused in me. I wanted to shout to her to stop, that you were for me, but I couldn't. I never felt a stronger desire to feel a penis inside me than while I was watching my mother, fully dressed, suck you to a climax. I had to bite on my hand to keep from moaning. Oh, she was skilled, I could see that, even from where I was hiding. You lay thrashing on the bed, and she had you peaking in minutes. She withdrew her mouth just before you came so she wouldn't soil her pretty blouse, and she climaxed you with her hand, shooting your juice all the way up your chest in big, uncontrolled spurts. I was panting as heavily as you were. It's a miracle she didn't hear me. She was positively purring to be deflowering such a beautiful, young male animal. She laughed encouragement when your hands found her thighs and began to fumble under her dress. And by then I hated her for being where I wanted to be and for touching you when I should be the one touching you. But I couldn't stop watching, and hearing Mommy say in that horribly arch voice she had with men, 'You want to touch a girl more gently than that, sweet boy. There, just caress me lightly. Slide your fingers into my slip. Yes, like that. Gently now with your fingers. A girl's clitoris is her best friend - there, that's the way to do it. You're the sweetest virgin boy.' I remember it all so clearly. She took your hand from her slip, licking your fingers one by one, while you were nuzzling and sucking her breasts, still inside their bra, and fumbling to take her tits out of her blouse. She grabbed you and, pulling aside her slip and rode you ever so slowly, eyes closed, mouth still glistening with your sperm. And all the time I was forced to watch what I wanted to experience myself."
John remembered it all now, hazy and feverish but clear enough. How could he have suppressed all those memories? Fear, no doubt, of what his parents would have thought if they had discovered that he had groped his godmother - his godmother, for chrissakes. He remembered the thrill of undoing her buttons and zippers but also the feeling that he was doing something so forbidden his parents would have disowned him if he were ever found out. With hindsight he could acknowledge that his fears had been exaggerated, probably owing to his fever. But at the time he knew he must never tell anyone. He knew he would have to forget afterwards how his fingers traced the contours of his godmother's still so very girlish body. She had been in her late thirties but she had looked like a goddess to him, much more woman and whole and desirable than the girls who had let him grope after class. She had let him explore her hidden parts, encouraging him. She had lowered her sex onto his face, coaxing him to lick and caress her vagina and to bite it gently. She had taught him to suckle her swollen lips and seek out her sensitive spots with his tongue, and she had taught him to build and adjust his rhythm, to hold his orgasm, until he could contain himself no longer and exploded with a cry inside her belly. And he remembered how proud he had been of himself when her sweat-drenched body collapsed onto his, but also how scared that his old-fashioned parents would discover the deed he had done with his godmother. But not before he had taken her a third time. Then he had forced himself to forget, to bury the memory, helped by his sickness, which made it easy for him to convince himself it had all been a dream. He had succeeded until today.
. Today, he remembered it all. In the early morning hours, driven by an unbearable erection, he had entered her bedroom to take her again. She had awoken and, kissing him deep and languorously, had told him to straddle her chest and to masturbate so she could watch. She had fingered herself hungrily while he complied. Again he saw himself in the mirror over her bed and remembered the pleasure of his orgasm. And again he heard her crooning voice as his penis shuddered to the rhythm of the hot liquid pumping savagely through his fingers, spraying sperm all over her breasts with their dusting of freckles and their fine copper nipples.
"Yes," Alicia continued. "You remember now? Even that I could have forgiven. Could I really hold it against you that you had been seduced by a woman with so much more experience? No, it was what you said next day when I tried to make friends."
She laughed.
"I had some fuzzy idea that I could also seduce you if I wanted to. But all you said when I brought you coffee was, 'Get out of my room, skinny, and stop buttering up to me.' You might be running a high temperature, but you were quite the little cock who'd had his first real hen."
She repeated the words softly, "'Get out of my room, skinny, and stop buttering up to me.' It felt like a blow from which there was no recovery, not after what I had witnessed between you and Mum. I had never felt so humiliated in my entire life. After all the love stories I had read, just when I was ready to give myself to my own human god, my first man, my chosen god despised me and preferred my Mum. My Mum, for God's sake, who'd had dozens of men already. I saw myself in the mirror in your room, flat-che
sted and thin-hipped and with thick black makeup like a scarecrow, and thought of Mom's gloriously full body and fled to my own room to cry my heart out. You didn't want me, but I already knew you were the only man I'd ever want."
She kissed his chest.
"I couldn't get rid of the feeling of ugliness triggered by your rejection. Even when I was seventeen, eighteen, I was convinced I was the ugliest girl in school."
John lay marveling that such a beautiful woman could have doubted herself.
"By that time, you were rapidly becoming a star in Wall Street, and when I saw your photo in the financial section of the paper with a gorgeous woman on your arm, I felt even more repellent. It was as if the compliments other men gave me were born from hidden pity for being second-best to Mum. And all the time, somewhere deep inside, I still wanted you and no other man.
“Mum was jet-setting most of the time, leaving me to my own devices. I became quite the little hermit. I finally decided to leave home, to go to another country and to forget what had happened. I spoke fluent French. My dad was French, after all. I decided to go to Paris, where I found a job at the agency for expats."
"You mean you weren't showing me around the apartment on purpose?"
She looked at him in surprise.
"Why, no, my love. Of course, when I prepared the paperwork ahead of your arrival, I realized who you were. But before that, I didn't know you were coming to Paris or even that you were working for the New York office of a firm we were doing business with. I could have sent someone else, but that seemed cowardly. I wondered whether you'd recognize me and what I would do if you didn't. I had no hidden agenda, you see. By this time, I had given you up anyway and had decided to become an old maid."
"Old maids don't usually have girlfriends of the kind you have."
She laughed, took his face in her hands, and said seriously, "Don't be bitter, my love. My whole love life's been a kind of accident, you see. I never set out to be a lesbian."
John lay staring at the ceiling, lost in memory.
"It was the sexiest thing I've ever seen, you making out with that blonde in the doorway. It's enough to make a man jealous. So how did you get that way?"
She shrugged. "I guess I may as well tell you. I befriended a girl, Nan. A beautiful girl. This was right after I came to Paris."
Almost unconsciously, the two lovers had begun to play with each other as Alicia told her story. Their hands and fingers toyed leisurely with each other's genitals until she came to the part where Nan undressed, and Alicia had to stop twice as she went over the brink of orgasm. The smell of their bodies was heady in the room, a mixture of come and sweat and hormones that combined into hot desire.
"I had just gone to France," Alicia began, "but I still hated my own body. I continued to see myself as a skinny, uninteresting kid. I was an eighteen-year-old by now. I dressed and lived like a neo-punk. Nan cured me. I know she did it to bed me, but all the same, she got me over my feelings of shame and insignificance. She was beautiful and relaxed and worldly, although she was barely older than me. She had the same elegant manners as my mother. I wanted to be like her, to learn from her. I wanted to copy that easy elegance. I think I wanted to show my mother that I could be worldly, too. Nan and I first met in a downtown cafe. I was taken in by her smile, her charm. She guessed at once that I was a rabbit inside. She took the initiative from the first few sentences we exchanged. I never guessed it was because she had the hots for me. She knew something about me I didn't, you see. She knew that I had an attractive and sensual body that craved satisfaction. Well, she asked me to come over to her apartment and to get to know each other a little better. One evening, she got me drunk and encouraged me to pour out my frustrations. I guess I was naive. I told her everything, from my feelings of insecurity to my wish to be beautiful. She promised to help. Oh, she was quite the accomplished seductress. She never tried to get immediately into my panties like a guy would. She kissed me like a sister and let me rest my head on her breast while stroking my hair. That first time she never did more than comb my ratty hairdo into something presentable and remove those hideous woolen stockings I was wearing at the time . We remained dressed throughout.
"Oh, she knew now how to get to me. A week later, she invited me over for dinner. Wine flowed, and I was drunk by the time she cleared the table. She asked how I had been feeling about my frustrations since our last talk. It was good to have someone to confess to. By now she had softened me up. And just when I was feeling most sorry for myself, she put an arm around me and whispered that the best way to come to terms with yourself was to undress and look at yourself in the mirror as you really were, not as other people saw you. Without clothes, without make-up. 'Look at yourself as you really are,' she said, 'Not the way society or even your friends see you, as a ratty failure in stained black dresses and hobnail boots.' She gave me a glass of cognac and said she'd show me what she meant. Then she began to take off her clothes. I felt thoroughly embarrassed and I think I was blushing and trying to look away, only to see her smiling at me in the mirror. She knew what was going through my mind. Now I know it made her feel randy. At the time I thought she was just doing it to help me. Well, I guess in a way she was.
"She took her time undressing, unbuttoning her blouse, unzipping her jeans, slowly pulling off a sock so she could bend over with her behind to me. I tried not to look at the outline of her sex against her slip. I thought she was simply unaware of her body. I admired her freedom and ached to be like her, released from my silly frustrations and hang-ups."
Alicia stopped to kiss and bite John's legs, eyes closed. If she realized the effect her erotic descriptions were having, she gave no sign of it. But John's hands were gripping her buttocks hard and eagerly.
"Her slip slid between the lips of her vagina as she bent to take off the other sock. Her flesh bulged right in front of my face, plump and juicy. Oh, she was delicious to look at. I was almost ready to begin stroking her. The last shreds of fear were holding me back but not for much longer."
A secret smile lit up her face as she lifted her chin to look at him.
"You'd have liked her, John. You'd have enjoyed sticking your dick into her sweet little cunt just like you did with Lisa the other day—"
John sat up straight, looking at her and turning red.
"You know?"
Alicia grinned.
"Let's say I guessed. Now I know, thanks to your reaction. Was it good? Lisa likes to try out eligible clients. It's her specialty. I imagine she must have quite a body. Your penis agrees with me."
She took his penis in her mouth and sucked it gently like a candy. Then she looked up and said, "Don't worry. I know it can be hard for guys."
Closing her eyes, she sucked for another minute, lost in pleasure, running her tongue all the way down his prick to the back of his balls before taking up her tale again just when John began to feel the urge to come.
"Later, my love. You can come later when I've told you all about Nan, wicked Nan. She'd already taken off most of her clothes when she asked me to unhook her bra. I obeyed humbly, like a good pupil, trying not to be jealous of her breasts. Then she took off her panties. She smelled them and asked me to take them to the bathroom and throw them in the hamper. When I came back, she was standing entirely nude in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, breasts round and proud, and asked me to look at her and tell her what I saw. By now I was beginning to get excited. I had secretly smelled her panties in the bathroom and felt a new type of heat flushing my body. There was something liberating in what was going on, to be with an entirely nude woman who didn't seem to care what people thought of her. I was still dressed, of course, and quite uneasy at the idea that I might have to take it all off, too. She seemed so beautiful. I knew I must be ugly beside her. Besides , I didn't want her to know I was excited and my nipples would be a dead give-away. Like now."
She smiled.
"But it was too late to draw back, and so I answered her question.
I said I saw: a slender girl of about twenty with long legs and smooth thighs, with the smallest blonde bush. I saw much more, of course, but I didn't dare tell her so."
She lowered herself onto John and began to ride him, whispering:
"I could see the flesh of her pubis behind her pubic hair, and I could even see the tiny head of her clitoris bulging with blood through those plump lips. I told her that I saw a slender waist with a small belly button, well-defined muscles, delicate shoulders, a long neck, and a face with regular features. And every time I saw her peeping clitoris I felt myself blushing. When I was done, she laughed and told me that a doctor could have given that description. ‘Here, let me describe you,’ she said. But what she did was to grab my pullover and lift it off before I could protest. I turned crimson all over my body, which only made her laugh harder. She grabbed my pants and yanked open the button and the zipper and pulled the trouser legs down over my ankles. I pressed my thighs together, absolutely panicked."
For a moment she was silent as she and John climaxed together.
But Alicia had waited a long time for this moment and wanted to tell her whole story, and John, who lay marveling at his own stamina, knew he was ready and eager to climax again with this woman, whom he realized more and more was the love of his life. Alicia's voice was still breathless as she continued:
"Then Nan pushed me onto the sofa, as if I was an object. She pulled off my pants all the way, leaving me in a slip and a bra. With bunnies, can you believe it? I was a goth punk with a bra covered in bunnies. I was absolutely mortified. And, of course, I was a virgin. And far too late to do anything about I realized what she wanted. She wanted sex. She wanted lesbian sex with me. I was panicked but there was no way out."