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It turned on a tango
“Nobody has any business getting into bed naked with someone else if they haven’t decided to have sex with them.” Dr. Ruth Westheimer.
I met Eli and Louis at a milonga which took place at a pleasant venue on the outskirts of central Cape Town. But before I get to Eli and Louis, perhaps I should briefly explain what a milonga is all about.
Milonga is the name given to an evening of tango dancing. These days it will normally take place in a function room with a floor upon which dancing can be accommodated. There will be a bar, and tables and chairs surrounding or at the end of the dance floor, just as in an old-time dance hall. If all you have seen of tango is the flamboyant, choreographed version danced by professionals in movies and on TV, that is not the kind of tango that is danced at a milonga. There is not enough space on a busy dance floor for that, nor are the dancers at that level of capability.
A milonga is formatted in a series of tandas, or sets, each comprising three or four pieces of music and lasting around 20 minutes in total. There will then be a break of around 15 minutes before it all starts again. Some people attend as a couple and might just dance with each other but not necessarily so, others will be part of a group and confine themselves to dancing with others in the group. For the likes of myself, a single woman, I will wait to be approached by a man.
I noticed Eli and Louis sitting at a nearby table and Eli had accepted a dance with another man. Louis glanced to me and nodded as an invitation, I returned the nod as an acceptance and we met on the dance floor. He was well groomed with shortish grey hair, nicely dressed and appeared to be in my own age bracket, around 60. All in all, he was a good looking man.
We danced well enough together and he was a superior partner to the three others I had danced with that night. He was clearly experienced and gave me lots of space and support to show myself off. By the time we got to the end of the tanda I was happy enough to have danced with him. I could have been more exuberant but a milonga was not the place for that.
He invited me to join him and his wife and I gladly accepted. His wife was moving back to their table at the same time as Louis and I, and I noticed that she moved with an easy gait and her well-cut, knee length skirt moved nicely to the slight sway of her hips. She’d probably been slimmer in her younger days but she was by no means in bad shape. I made a quick diversion to collect my handbag and half empty wine glass from my original table and then took my place with them.
He introduced me to Eli who had strong features and thick dark hair that fell just above her shoulders from a curving wave. She looked cool and composed and greeted me with a warm smile. I took a liking to her there and then.
“You dance beautifully,” she said.
“Thanks to your husband,” I responded. “He’s the best partner I’ve had all evening.”
“Well, thank you,” Louis broke in. “What’s that you are drinking?”
“It’s a dry red from the bar,” I replied. “Probably a blend of young pinotage with some cinsaut thrown in. It’s not the greatest.”
“You might like this better,” he said, indicating the bottle sitting on their table. “Let me get you a fresh glass.” He returned and, poured me some of their wine as I was admiring Eli’s necklace.
“Eli was telling me that her necklace was a present from you,” I said to Louis. “I think you have very good taste.”
“Thank you again,” he said with a smile. “So let’s see how you like my taste in wine. Tell me what you think.”
I went through the usual tasting protocol of examining, smelling and tasting, and then formulated my opinion.
“Well,” I said, “I can see from the bottle that it’s a Chilean Merlot but it’s no ordinary wine. I liked the black cherry, red berry and vanilla notes on the nose, and some cassis as well. They all come through on the palate. There’s also a hint of spiciness which isn’t what I’d associate with Merlot so maybe there is a touch of something else in there. The flavours are very intense. I’d say it is around 7 years old and ready for drinking but will last much longer. It’s very well integrated, full bodied, smooth with soft tannins, aged in French oak and something like 14% alcohol.”
“Well, you did ask her,” Eli said to Louis, with a laugh.
“So where did you learn about wine?” Louis asked.
“I did some courses at the Cape Wine Academy a long time ago and as part of that I worked a couple of night shifts in a winery during the harvest. And I usually drink wine every night, so it’s what I’ve picked up over the years,” I replied.
“Perhaps I should tell you that I’m a wine merchant,” he said, “so the main question for me is whether or not you would buy it.”
“Well,” I responded, “it’s a lovely wine to taste and appreciate but I like to eat light Mediterranean style food so I go for lighter red wines.”
“That’s very interesting,” he said and left it at that.
“I think we should invite Gill to the tasting next week,” Eli said.
“Yes,” Louis agreed. “I have some Cabernet Franc samples from various producers and maybe you might find some of them interesting. Do you know Luigi’s in Sea Point?”
I confirmed I did since it was very close to where I stayed. Eli fished into a pocket of the jacket that was hanging on the back of her chair and found a business card. She wrote something on the back and handed it to me.
“It will be at 6 o’clock on Thursday evening,” she said. “Just show them the card at the door. There’s a private dining area at the back of the restaurant and that’s where we will be. I do hope you can make it but you’d better give me your number just in case there is a problem on our side.”
I took a business card from my handbag and handed it to her. Just at that point, the music began to play again and I felt it was time to take my leave. I exchanged brief hugs with them both and decided it was time for me to head home.
On the following Tuesday evening, Eli called me on my cell phone.
“It was lovely to meet you at the milonga on Saturday,” she said after the initial greetings. “Are you still OK for the wine tasting on Thursday?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “I think it might be interesting.”
“I like some of the wines myself, so perhaps you will as well,” she said. “The thing is that there will be mainly media people and a few buyers there. When the tasting is out of the way, it gets very boozy and Louis likes to hold court. It gets very tedious for me and I usually duck out at that stage. It’s up to you of course but I thought we could perhaps get together and have dinner somewhere else.”
“From what you are saying, it sounds dreadful; not my kind of thing at all,” I responded. “So yes, thank you for the warning and by all means let’s get away and go somewhere else.”
“I had a feeling you would react that way,” she laughed. “Should I arrange something?”
“Go ahead,” I answered. “I’m looking forward to actually meeting you.”
Thursday evening came around and I attended the wine tasting as planned. There were perhaps 15 people in the room which had been partitioned into two sections, one with a large dining table and another which was an open space and that’s where the tasting took place.
Louis introduced the wines and Eli filled glasses and there was some discussion about each wine. I was expecting wines that were lighter, which was how I had recalled the Cabernet France in days gone by, but those which Louis had selected were nothing like that. They were complex, powerful and intense and seemed to reflect a new generation of wine-makers. For me it was an interesting experience but they were not wines that I would consider buying.
As the tasting came to a close, Eli motioned to me that it was time to leave and I joined her in the main area of the restaurant.
“They will be there drinking ’til midnight,” she said, “and if there is a police road block they will be spending the night in the cells. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I answered. “I mastered the art of tasting without swallowing a long time ago and I’m an expert spitter.”
There had been two other women in the tasting and, like me, they both used the spittoon in a corner at the back of the room. For the men, it seemed they just kept drinking.
Eli had reserved a table for us at a restaurant that was just a minute’s walk away. It was a place that was themed on the kind of bistro food that was popular in the 1970’s and 80’s but in an updated style. She ordered seared salmon in a red wine sauce and I had to go for the Chicken Kiev which had just about disappeared from most menus and was far richer than I would normally eat. A wooded Chardonnay was a wine that would work with both our choices.
“This is the first opportunity I’ve had to actually talk with you and I’m so glad you could make it,” she said. “I recognised you straight away when I met you last Saturday evening.”
“Really,” I responded.
“Yes,” she said. “You used to present those money programs on TV a few years ago and I’ve seen you in some of those panel discussions on financial matters. I also saw your presentation at one of those business women’s networking breakfasts last year.”
“Well,” I said, “I don’t do those things for self-glorification. I started my own consulting business about ten years ago and putting myself in the public eye gave it a real kick-start and it continues to attract business.”
“I can understand that,” she said. “I’ve also read about you in a few magazines. You are a very inspirational woman and that’s why I’m so delighted that I could meet you like this.”
“Thank you,” I said. “These days I’m much less hands-on in the business, in fact I consider myself to be semi-retired. I’m giving myself much more downtime and taking the opportunity to meet people in a personal way rather than as business contacts. That’s why I was happy to accept your invitation for this evening.”
In those early exchanges we were both getting an initial sense of each other. She did have strong facial features but it was nothing harsh; it came from her dark brown eyes, high cheekbones and full lips, all framed by lustrous dark brown hair. There were a few creases around her eyes but her skin had an olive tone and looked very smooth. All in all I thought she was younger than my first assessment in the dim light of the milonga, somewhere closer to 50 than 60.
Did I see her as a potential sex partner? Yes, I did, because there was that certain something which attracted me and that always triggered salacious thoughts. I wondered about how she would deal with being naked in my bedroom, how she would respond to my touch and how much she would want to please me in return. I had the sense that she was somewhat in awe of me so the first thing was to find personal rapport with her, wherever that might or might not lead us. Oftentimes in my experience, things didn’t work out and the potential was never realised.
The wine arrived, she did the initial tasting and deemed it to be good, and we raised our filled glasses.
“Well, here’s to you and me,” I said with a smile.
“Yes, to us,” she said.
Our food came, beautifully presented with attractive garnishes but not overcrowded plates. It all looked elegant and attractive. I cut into my chicken which released a flow of garlicky, buttery filling that spread around the plate. I broke off a piece of chicken, soaked it in the sauce and skewered it with my fork.
“Do you like garlic?” I asked Eli.
“Yes,” she nodded, “and that smells wonderful.”
“Try some,” I said, offering my fork to her mouth.
“Mmm,” she managed to get out from a full mouth, “it’s delicious.”
She reciprocated with a piece of her salmon which received a similar response from me. Through the meal we talked mainly about food and found common ground in that we both enjoyed cooking. She became more relaxed and no doubt the wine was making its contribution.
“So tell me about you,” I said when we had finished eating.
“I work in the business with Louis and look after the finances and the store room,” she answered. “Louis is very good with wine and he understands the market and what people want. We deal almost entirely with up-market wines so it’s very much a niche market but here in Cape Town there are lots of people with money to spend. We are doing well enough but Louis undercuts himself, offering some ridiculous discounts. He knows what he pays for the wine, though I’m not sure he gets the best deals, but he has no idea of the cost of doing business like this evening’s wine tasting and all the overseas trips he makes on his buying expeditions. In fact he is off again to Europe this weekend.”
“So you know that you could be making more profit but Louis seems to have other priorities. It must be very frustrating for you,” I offered.
“Yes, that sums it up,” she said. “I need to deal with it and I’m drawing up a kind of governance document which spells out our different responsibilities. Then I want to make it a formal business partnership, not just a family thing.”
“It’s a great idea,” I said. “I think many family businesses should do just that.”
“What did you make of him?” she asked.
“I really don’t know enough to say anything with any certainty,” I replied, “but my first impressions are that he is perhaps a little vain and wants to be popular. I also think he could be very controlling.”
“Amazing,” she said. “You’ve hit the nail on the head with just a couple of sentences. Maybe he is trading profits for popularity; I hadn’t thought of that. You are right about him becoming controlling and that’s another reason why I want to formalise things. He never used to be that way but it seems to me that it coincides pendik escort with other things. Perhaps I shouldn’t go into this too far but I think it has something to do with his libido and virility declining. Actually, it is more like disappearing than declining.”
“I suppose that’s what age does,” I said.
“Yes, I know,” she responded, “but I’m not aging in that way, at least not yet.”
“Anyway,” she went on after a short pause, “I’m grateful that I really have a nice life overall but we need to be making more money to keep it that way. I do have my own resources from what I inherited from my parents but that’s tucked away for me.”
We went on to talk about tango and the paucity of partners, especially partners with experience. We had both encountered those guys who seemed to see dancing tango as an opportunity to impose themselves on a submissive woman to the extent that we had to walk away. All in all it seemed that tango was becoming a thing of a bygone age, at least in South Africa.
As the evening came to an end, I thought we had got on well together and enjoyed each other’s company. It was hard to know if my attraction to her was reciprocated but time would tell.
“How about we get together again one evening when Louis is away? Would you like you to come to my place and I’ll prepare supper,” I offered.
“I’d love to,” she said and we arranged for the following Sunday evening.
I pondered over Eli when I got home, wondering what to make of her. She’d more or less told me that she didn’t have a sex life and was missing it. She also seemed to have learned something about me and I wondered just how much. I was aware that certain people had deduced I had a predilection for women, mainly because they had never seen a significant man in my life, so maybe she might have heard those stories. Whatever, over-thinking things was a fruitless endeavour so I put it out of my mind.
Shortly before 6 o’clock on Sunday evening my intercom buzzed and I knew it would be the security guard. I’d put Eli’s name and vehicle registration on his list and he was advising me that she was on her way up to my apartment. I went to open the front door just as the lift stopped and Eli walked out into the corridor looking as immaculately groomed as the previous two times I’d met her.
“You’ve got very tight security here,” she said. “That guy even checked my car boot.”
“So now you know we are safe,” I responded, and we greeted each other with a hug.
“Wow,” she said as we entered the apartment, “look at that view.”
She was looking out over the main road below, the adjacent beach and the ocean beyond. All my visitors had the same reaction.
“This place must have cost you a fortune,” she said.
“I bought it 30 years ago when this was a new block,” I explained. “Back then I could just about afford it but today it would be way outside my price bracket.”
“I’m stunned,” she said, “and it all looks so modern.”
“It had its second refurbishment a couple years ago,” I said. “I’ll get us some wine if that’s OK with you and just wander around if you like.”
“Fine by me,” she said and went to explore.
I watched her walk towards the bedrooms and again was attracted to the sway of her hips as well as her nicely shaped calves and stylish high-heeled sandals. In the kitchen I poured two glasses of my favourite Chenin Blanc, sat down at the breakfast island that separated the kitchen from the living area and waited for her to return.
“It’s all so beautiful,” she said, eventually taking a seat opposite to me. “And that large painting hanging over your bed is very sexy.”
It was a painting that an artist in Rio had done for me when I was working there. It portrayed two women lying together with their hands between each other’s legs.
“It’s meant to portray me and my Brazilian girlfriend at the time,” I told her after explaining the context.
“It must have been expensive to commission something like that,” she said.
“He did it for free,” I responded. “We were kind of friends for a while but there was nothing other than that between us since he was gay. He was into painting nudes so I posed for him a few times and that painting was a quid pro quo.”
“Wow,” she said. “I kind of knew that there had to be something behind that polished public persona. I wish I had a back story like yours, and I’m thinking that you’ve probably only brushed the surface.”
“I suppose there have been moments,” I responded with a chuckle.
At that point she knew that if I wasn’t a lesbian, I was at least bi-sexual but she hadn’t noticeably reacted in any particular way.
We again chatted in a getting to know you way for a while and, among many other things, I discovered that her name was actually Eliane and that both her parents were second generation Greek which explained her skin tone and perhaps her hand gestures that accompanied her conversation.
“Before we eat,” I said, noting that time was passing quickly, “there’s one thing I’d like to do. I’d like to dance a tango with you. There’s just enough space here and I know how to lead if we keep it simple. What do you think?”
“That would be different,” she responded, “but why not.”
I put on a CD and, as the music began to play, we joined together, my right hand against her back and her left hand around the back of my neck. One thing that makes tango different is the proximity of your partner, and my proximity to Eli was intoxicating. The feel of her body and the way it moved against me, the scent of her perfume, the sense of her hand on my neck and our breasts brushing together were a heady combination, and by the time the music finished there was surely a very damp spot on my panties.
“That was quite something,” she said. “I’ve never danced with a woman before and you led me beautifully.”
“You move very well,” I said. “We’ll have to do it again sometime, but now perhaps we should eat.”
I left the music to play but turned down the volume a touch and we moved to the kitchen. I’d done most of the work in advance so it was just a matter of warming some crusty bread, bringing a sauce to the boil, adding the fresh mussels that I’d bought that morning at the fish market to the sauce and waiting for them to open. I dished up into bowls and we sat at the dining table to eat.
“This is a delicious dish and so unusual but simple too,” Eli said, “and it’s perfect for entertaining.”
“I believe it’s a Swedish dish,” I said.
“I think I can work it out but did you use beer in it?” she asked.
“Very perceptive,” I replied. “I’ve tried various beers but I think this one gives just the right flavour. It’s that Italian beer, Peroni.”
We chatted a while longer and I felt there was a genuine affection developing between us, and this time around, mutual attraction, but my feeling was that it might be too soon to push it further and I didn’t want to scare her away.
“Good heavens,” Eli said after checking her watch. “It’s already 10 o’clock and I’d better be going.”
“Where have you got to go?” I asked.
“Paarl,” she answered. “I live just outside Paarl on the Wellington road.”
“Wait,” I said, taking hold of her arm. “That must be about an hour’s drive and it’s a dangerous freeway at night, especially over the weekend when people have been drinking. Don’t forget we’ve got through a lot of wine this evening and if anything happens, you will never pass a breathalyser. You can stay here and I really think you must.”
“You’re right,” she said, “but I don’t want to be a burden on you.”
“Good,” I said, with a laugh “so in that case you can help me get rid of these mussel shells. If we leave them overnight they will stink the place out by the morning.”
We got busy tidying up and I left Eli to do the dishes while I went to prepare the second bedroom for her. With the bed freshly made I gathered together a pile of toiletries from my abundant collection and set them out in the private bathroom that adjoined the bedroom, together with a T-shirt if she needed something to sleep in. When we’d both finished we had one last glass of wine and then decided it was time to sleep.
I was about to turn off the bedside light, which cast a warm glow over the bed, and settle down when there was a tap on the door.
“You can come in,” I called, and a naked Eli stepped into the room.
“Can I join you?” she asked.
“You look so lovely, of course you can,” I responded, throwing back the duvet.
I’d thought it was probably just a matter of time but I’d never expected it to be so soon, nor for her to make such a bold move. Perhaps all the wine was something to do with it but she didn’t seem tipsy. I pulled off my T-shirt as she slipped into my bed and we lay side by side.
“I’ve thought about something like this for years but I never thought the opportunity would arise, and especially with someone like you,” she said, gently stroking my face. “I thought you might like me enough to have me here.”
“I like you more than a lot,” I said. “You’re a beautiful and lovely woman and I’m very happy to have you here.”
“I thought about you and wondered after I met you at the milonga,” she said. “When you agreed to have dinner with me and then invited me here this evening, my mind was really racing.”
“You made a very brave move,” I said.
“It was the painting that’s just up there above us, and what you said it represented that first encouraged me,” she responded. “And then dancing with you, that was something else to feel you against me.”
“It was the same for me,” I responded. “You felt extremely sensual.”
We kissed, mouth to mouth and tongue to tongue and felt each other’s bodies. Her hand felt soft and caring against my back and her luscious lips were delightfully soft. I could only imagine what they might do if and when they found my most intimate places. We stayed like that for quite a while, gradually getting into each other with increasing intimacy and growing arousal.
“Would you prefer to stay like this, or would you like to cum?” I asked.
“Cum,” she replied. “I’m desperate for it.”
“Then I want this to be all about you, just you,” I said. “I don’t know quite where we are going yet but let’s see. Don’t anticipate anything, just focus on how things feel from moment to moment.”
She nodded in response and I eased her onto her back, wanting it to be about her, yes, but just as much for me to satisfy my desire to explore her. I used my fingertips and then my hands to sense her silky skin and the flow of her curves, passing by the side of a breast, her waist and over her hips. My hand found one of her breasts, soft, smooth and full with a noticeably swollen nipple that I gently stroked and teased.
“This nipple is too tempting to resist,” I said. “I’m going have to lick it and feel it in my mouth.”
“Oh yes,” she responded, “please do.”
With some of the women I’d known, their nipples would hardly respond; the majority would enjoy some attention for a while; but just occasionally there would be a woman whose response seemed to border on orgasmic. Eli belonged to the latter category.
I alternated between her breasts, licking, lightly massaging and softly sucking the nipples, loving the sense of her skin against my mouth and tongue. Her arousal grew, almost as if I was licking her clit and her body was gyrating beneath me. She cupped both breasts in her hands, offering up those nipples to receive more attention which I was happy to provide. Eventually her arousal seemed to reach a plateau and I moved a hand down between her thighs.
“That feels so good,” she murmured.
She parted her legs and I felt the silky, smooth flesh of her inner thighs and her swollen outer lips which seemed to have a light covering of short pubic hair around them. Her pelvis tilted upwards, offering her pussy and I began to lightly run my fingertips through the crevices and around her opening. She was slick and slippery and she moaned and murmured to my touches.
“Give me just a moment,” I said and reached for the clitoral stimulating gel that was in the bedside draw.
It only needed a small amount on a fingertip to do its job and I smeared it around her clit and inner lips. I knew that the effect would be to give her a sense of spreading warmth and that all the nerve endings would be tingling. I moved to lie by her side with my face close to hers so that I could kiss her and whisper to her as my fingers gently rubbed against the stem of her clit and around its tip.
“You feel delicious down there, very aroused now, but don’t force it, stay in the moment and let it develop,” I told her.
“I don’t know what it is that you used on me,” she said, “but the sensations are incredible.”
Very gradually I built up the pace and I could sense the tension growing in her body. She began to groan and then her hips began to buck against my hand but I managed to keep my fingers in place. She was holding a breast with one hand and the other was above her head gripping the pillow. Her eyes closed and her head rocked from side to side and then her orgasm finally took her. She screeched and arched up from the bed, shaking and trembling. I held on to her with my hand cupping her pussy so that she could hump against it until she settled into quivers and finally relaxed.
“You were beautiful,” I said, kissing her face.
“My mouth is too dry to speak,” was all she managed to say so I scooted to the kitchen and returned with water of which she gulped down half the glass.
“I can’t find words to tell you how amazing that was,” she said. “It wasn’t like anything else, even when I do it myself. It was a revelation. But what about you?”
“I need it too,” I said, “but let’s not complicate things right now. I can do it myself. Would you like to watch?”
“That would kurtköy escort be awesome,” she responded. “I’d absolutely love to watch you.”
I asked her to lie back and I crawled across the bed to get a smear of clit gel, then I straddled her waist. I spread my pussy with the fingers of one hand and with the other I applied the gel around the tip of my protruding clitoris. One arm behind me for support enabled me to arch backwards and I went through my usual masturbation routine, with my middle finger teasing the tip and the outer two rubbing more firmly against the stem. The gel had done its job and warm, tingling sensations made me super sensitive. I thought of the feel of Eli’s pussy and how her body responded to her orgasm and how I was performing so intimately for her, literally in front of her face. There was no space in my head for anything but sex and my body soon responded accordingly.
As my orgasm calmed, I fell forward on to Eli and she held on to me.
“Never in my wildest fantasies have I ever visualised anything as hot as that,” she said. “I can only say that not driving home this evening was the best decision I have ever made in my whole life.”
I woke at around 6 o’clock the next morning and Eli was still deeply asleep. Slipping out of bed, I tip-toed around the room, dressed myself in just a long T-shirt and left another by Eli’s side of the bed. Quietly closing the door behind me, my two priorities were to pee and to make coffee.
I sat at the breakfast island with the coffee, strong and black, and waited for my head to clear and my body to come alive. There were no sounds from the bedroom so it wasn’t necessary to think about too much. I gazed around the apartment feeling grateful for what I had and, on this particular Monday morning, it included a naked woman in my bed.
As I got to the end of my stretching routine, I heard a toilet flush and shortly after, Eli came through in the T-shirt I had left for her. She was bleary eyed and sleepy, her hair tussled, and perhaps uncertain of the unfamiliar surroundings but she came straight to me and put her arms around my neck.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said. “I can never thank you enough for last night.”
“I understand,” I said, “and my thanks to you for deciding to join me. Do you want coffee?”
“Yes, please,” she said.
“Tell me how you like it,” I said, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen. “There’s instant but fresh is better and I can prepare it in a flash.”
“Fresh and strong,” she said.
“Milk?” I queried.
“No Greek of my generation would ever dream of putting milk in coffee,” was her answer.
She added sugar to the coffee and sat across from me on a stool at the breakfast island. She was a long way from her normal, immaculately groomed self but it didn’t at all detract from her attractiveness.
“It was so intense and intimate,” she said. “I’ve never experienced anything like it before, and I’ll never forget it, but now there are so many thoughts whirling around in my mind. I’ll internalise it all in a day or so, I’m sure.”
“You will,” I said. “That’s the way our brains work, but if anything is disturbing you, give me a call.”
“Thank you again, I will,” she said. “But what’s the time now?”
“Just on 7 o’clock,” I replied.
“I’ll have to get moving soon or my staff will be waiting for me to open up,” she said, “but are we going to meet again?”
“I certainly hope so,” I answered. “Would you like to spend next weekend here with me?”
“I’d love to,” she said, “and then I’ll be properly prepared.”
“Let’s keep in touch and we can finalise things as the week goes on,” I suggested.
“That’s fine with me but I really must get moving now,” she said.
She declined my offer to take a shower saying that she would sort herself out when she got home and went off to get dressed. She reappeared a little dishevelled but with her hair brushed and good enough to go.
“Before I leave, can I ask you a personal question?” she asked.
“Go ahead,” I replied.
“Well, when I saw you last night I noticed how your pussy looked so perfectly groomed. I was wondering how you managed to get it all so smooth,” she said.
“I have waxings, underarm, bikini line and legs,” I said.
“I’ve read about that,” she said, “but it must hurt like hell.”
“No,” I laughed. “It stings a little, like pulling a plaster off, but it’s just instantaneous. It’s nothing really, but you need a beautician who is experienced, an older woman who is quick, not a 19 year-old trainee.”
“How often do you have it done?” she asked.
“Every four weeks,” I replied, “and after a while the growth gets weaker.”
“If I decide to do it, can you recommend someone?” she asked.
“If you want to come to Cape Town, you can try my lady, Denise. She’s Brazilian and really knows what she’s doing. In fact she’s the best I’ve ever had. You don’t have to take your pants off, and a lot of beauticians won’t let you anyway, but it’s quite OK with Denise and it means she can do a far better job. She’ll even clean-up your back garden. She’s very clinical and efficient, and she’s probably seen more pussies than all the lesbians in Cape Town put together so there’s no need to be bashful. She will take very good care of you, that’s for sure.”
I gave her Denise’s address and number and with that we said our final good-byes and she went on her way.
The following week had been unusually busy for me but I’d kept in touch with Eli via text messages and she’d said that she could get to my place by early-afternoon on Friday and stay until early Monday morning, giving us three nights and almost three days together.
She arrived as planned, carrying a small suitcase, and we greeted with a consuming embrace. She felt alive in my arms, full of affection and caring. I responded by stroking her face, brushing my fingers over her lovely cheekbones and stroking her hair, rather more perfectly groomed than when she had departed on the previous Monday morning.
“This place of yours is just perfect,” she said as we broke away. “It’s like being on holiday with the beach and the sea and the sun out there from every window.”
“It can be dramatic as well,” I said. “When there is a storm and a spring tide, the sea can really rage and it comes over the beach and floods the road as well. But let me get you some wine.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’d love a glass right now.”
“What about something to eat?” I asked.
“A bite of something would be good, whatever you’ve got,” she replied.
I put out a platter of cheeses and some biscuits, poured some wine and we sat at the breakfast island that separated the kitchen from the living area.
“How was your week?” I asked.
“I did the things that I always do,” she answered, “but it was different. I felt different about myself, like I’d rediscovered myself. I know you could say that Sunday night was only sex, but it was much more than that for me. The experience I had with you was so much more intense and intimate than anything I’ve ever known. I didn’t dwell on why I had only just discovered those things at this stage of my life; it was more on being exhilarated that I finally had. It’s like I have found a missing piece of my life and somehow I feel so much more empowered, and it’s thanks to you.”
“Well,” I said, “don’t forget it was you who instigated it.”
“I know,” she responded, “and I don’t know how I had the nerve. I think it was all to do with an overwhelming desire to be with you and that tango was the turning point.”
“That’s lovely to know,” I said.
“You’ve set me free,” she said. “What I don’t understand is why it’s me.”
“I can tell you why,” I responded. “First of all, for me physical attraction is non-negotiable. That’s what fuels my desire for you because everything about you, the way you look and the way you felt on Sunday, fits perfectly with what I think is erotic about a woman.”
“Since it’s you who is saying that, I have to believe it,” she said. “I’m a little scared to take it in though.”
“There’s much more,” I said. “The physical part is one thing but it’s by no means enough in itself. You have a lovely personality so it’s a pleasure just to be with you. And I also think you have character, so if things get tough you have the balls to stand-up for yourself. In another context, you were brave enough to instigate sex between us. That means you are someone that I feel respect for and someone who deserves to be cared for. But caring is a two-street and I think you care a lot for me too. The last part is chemistry, that certain indefinable something that is the difference that makes all the difference and I think that is what we have between us. I felt it almost as soon as I met you.”
She reached out to take hold of my hand and I noticed a tear in her eye. She took a few deep breaths and waited to compose herself.
“Nobody has ever spoken to me like that before,” she said, “and it’s wonderful to hear that it’s you who sees me in those ways. I think I’ve got used to living in a box. When I said that you’ve set me free, it’s because I’m seeing my way out of that box. The amazing sex we had is the most tangible example but there are many things inside me that are going on as well.”
“You are safe here,” I said. “Remember that.”
“I know,” she responded, “and that’s what is so good, that I feel safe to be me.”
I stood up, walked around behind her, put my arms around her shoulders and kissed her neck.
“We’ve only just begun,” I said. “Perhaps it’s time to pick up where we left off.”
“Yes please,” she sighed.
We quickly cleared the lunch things away and I led her to the bedroom. The cupboards along one side of the room had sliding doors and two of them were full-length mirrors. I stood behind her and turned her to look at herself.
“I want you to see yourself,” I said. “I want you to see what I see and that is that you are a beautiful and desirable woman. Look at your lovely face and gorgeous hair, and how well you wear this outfit.”
She was wearing a yellow T-shirt that I pulled over her head and a dark blue, knee-length, denim skirt that I unzipped and let fall. She was left in a dark blue bra and matching panties. Like me, she wasn’t wearing stockings which are too hot during the summer months in Cape Town and, anyway, her legs didn’t need any cover to make them more attractive.
“What a gorgeous bra and pants you’ve got,” I said. “They are perfect for you.”
“Look at yourself,” I went on, running my hands down the sides of her body and over her hips. “Look at your lovely smooth curves and how they flow. And look at the shape of your thighs and the gap between them just below your pussy.”
She looked a little embarrassed but I continued, cupping her breasts over her bra and kissing the back of her neck.
“Are you going to take my bra off?” she asked.
“I think that I will see them sometime,” I said, “and they felt wonderful on Sunday night.”
“I think they’ve got very droopy,” she said.
“Let’s see,” I said, unclipping her bra and talking it of her shoulders.
It was true that there was a slight droop but they were medium sized at most and not large enough to hang low. I cupped them in my hands and felt their weight and softness.
“You look like a gorgeous woman,” I said, “and when you stand back and look at your whole body, that miniscule droop is hardly perceivable.”
She turned to face me which gave me a view in the mirror of her bum and I put my hands against the well-rounded globes. I could have taken charge at that point and pulled her onto the bed to immerse myself in her body but I sensed that it was best to leave things to her and whatever she might have in mind.
“I feel very vulnerable being inspected like this,” she said, “but it’s somehow exciting as well.”
“I want you to really see yourself,” I said, “and see yourself as the lovely, sexy woman you are, not the woman you see in the mirror every morning and just dismiss. And I’ve not even started on your delicious bottom yet.”
I softly squeezed the flesh of her bum and pulled her closer so that we could kiss.
“You’ve given me so much care but now it’s my time to give you some attention,” she said.
Her hands went to the back of my dress to unzip it and she eased the dress down to leave me in bra and panties. The bra came off and she knelt to remove my panties too, kissing my tummy and stroking my hips and thighs.
“You look and feel amazing,” she said, “at least 10 years younger than you are.”
“How do you know my age?” I asked.
“I told you,” she responded, “I’ve read a lot about you. Your body is so toned and firm and I want to explore and discover all of it.”
“Let’s go to bed,” I said, “but first let me get a towel; I don’t produce like I used to but I can still get pretty wet.”
I noticed that she’d removed her panties while I was in the bathroom and that her pussy hair looked less abundant but that was for later. We moved back the duvet, spread the towel across the sheet and lay side by side.
“I’ve never done this before so, if I’m not getting it right, I hope you will show me,” she said.
“It’s not a test so I’m not going to judge you or give you a score,” I said. “What I would love more than anything is that you enjoy me. You can do whatever you want; go where you like, and I trust you won’t try to strangle me. Tell me where you want me and I’ll be there for you. ”
She looked into my eyes, stroked my face and kissed me softly.
“Will you turn over so you are lying on your tummy,” she said.
I did as she asked and she stayed by my side, her hand wandering over my back and lower.
“It could all be a dream,” she said. “The woman I used to see on TV and admired so much and now I’m with her naked in her bed and she is by my side, naked as well. And not kaynarca escort only that, I’m stroking and feeling her bum.”
“I wish my dreams were as good as that,” I said, “and your hand feels lovely.”
She changed her position to straddle the back of my thigh and I felt both of her hands stroking my back and her pussy gently moving against me.
“You look amazing,” she said. “Not a bulge anywhere, just a lithe, smooth body.”
“I’m all yours,” I responded.
“Turn over for me then, so I can see the rest of you,” she said.
I did as she asked and she straddled my hips. Her hands moved to my breasts and she gently cupped and caressed them.
“Your nipples look lovely and swollen,” she said. “Are they sensitive?”
“At his point, very sensitive,” I replied. “I hope you will be gentle with them.”
“I will,” she said, leaning forward to kiss my lips and sliding her tongue into my mouth.
She moved down to gently lick my breasts for a while with the merest brushing passes over the nipples and then moved lower to kiss and lick my tummy. Inevitably her hands moved lower and I spread my legs. She moved to kneel by my side and her finger tips ran along my inner thighs and the outer lips of my pussy, and I murmured my appreciation.
“All so silkily smooth, and you look so delicate and slick as well,” she said.
Her fingers found their way into my crevices and she began to lightly rub and stimulate those inner folds. If she was a beginner, there were no signs of it. From time to time I noticed her free hand move to her breast and stimulate a nipple with circling fingertips as if it was an u*********s reflex.
“The tip of your clit is very prominent,” she said. “I’m going to lick it soon but should I use some of that gel you used on me?”
“Better not,” I answered. “It tastes terrible. Your fingers feel good enough and I think I’m well enough lubricated.”
She fingered around my clit for a while and then slowly slid a finger into my vagina.
“I couldn’t resist this,” she said, moving her finger smoothly in and out. “You looked so inviting like you were asking to be penetrated. But I’ve delayed long enough and now I’m going to do what I’ve been most looking forward to.”
She crawled between my thighs and I felt her hands on my hip joints and her delicious lips against my thighs. I closed my eyes and let my body absorb the sensations of growing arousal. Slowly she worked her way to my pussy and her tongue probed its way around, eventually finding the tip of my clit. She took her time and she was hitting all the right places in just the right way. The tension that had built up in my body began to release itself in tremors and then involuntary spasms until the final release took me over. Breathing heavily, the oxytocin fuelled post-orgasmic pleasure zone enveloped me and Eli was beside me.
“I can’t believe I did it for you,” she said. “It was incredible. I’m so turned on by it all. Can I do what you did last Sunday and get myself off.”
“Go ahead, I’d love you to,” I said. “The gel is in the draw beside the bed, if you want it. It only takes a little.”
Just as I had done, she straddled my hips and applied the gel to her clit. Her fingers got busy circling around and around with the occasional pause to give her clit a few little smacks. It was a highly intimate and erotic sight to see her body responding to her own pleasuring in close up. She screeched when she climaxed and I could almost have done the same in empathy.
Still trembling and quivering she found her way back beside me and I fished the duvet from the bottom of the bed and pulled it over to cocoon us both. We kissed, cuddled and dozed for a while in the blissful aftermath of what we had shared.
As was almost always the case, I was the one who stirred first when the post-sex urge to pee became almost uncontainable. As I left the bathroom, Eli sat up in the bed and watched me slip on my panties and a T-shirt.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“For sure,” she said, “and I desperately need to go where you have just been. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”
I had the coffee underway when Eli came to join me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
“You just did some beautiful things to me,” I said, “and it was very special to be able to watch you.”
“I’m still swooning,” she said.
We moved to the familiar breakfast island and I watched her walk in front of me to take her place. She was wearing just her T-shirt and panties that left the bottom half of her bum exposed and her hips moved with that sexy little sway that I had noticed before I had even been introduced to her.
“Am I really the first woman you have been with?” I asked.
“Yes, you are,” she answered. “It was what you said, that I am safe here with you and I feel I can let myself go.”
“Am I right to think that you went to see Denise?” I asked.
“I did,” she responded with a giggle. “She was lovely and it was exactly as you said, just a quick sting. She was very fast and it was nothing really. I love the way it feels now; yet something else that I’ve learned from you. Oh yes, I also found that clit gel on the internet and I’ve ordered some.”
“You really are breaking out of that box,” I said.
“Yes, and you can’t believe how good it feels,” she responded. “But what about you? Have you only ever been interested in women?”
“Mainly, but there have been a few men as well, nothing serious, just casual encounters,” I replied. “I like the penetration and feeling filled, and sometimes I like the feeling of being used. At the moment I’m seeing a guy from Johannesburg from time to time. He’s an art dealer and he comes down here every couple of months or so. He’s got a wife but I’m no threat to her in that I’m not going to try and steal him away. I’m really just a bit on the side for him.”
“I like it too,” she said, “but perhaps I should say that I used to like it since it’s been so long that it happened. It’s nothing like as good as what I’ve experienced with you, it’s just a different kind of sex that’s nice to have sometimes.”
“I’ll share him with you if you like,” I said.
“Really,” she responded. “Have you ever done anything like that before?”
“A few times, not with him but with others. It’s really hot if you organise it well,” I answered.
“I’ll certainly think about it,” she responded. “I spent the last couple of nights on the internet researching lesbians and all the things that go on in the bedroom, things like strap-ons and spanking. Have you ever done anything like that?”
“Yes,” I replied. “When the context is right, many things can happen.”
“Do you think we can do some of those things?” she asked.
“Why not,” I answered.
As that weekend progressed we went out to eat every evening, took walks along the beachfront, went shopping together, took in a movie and, of course, there was sex. We masturbated together, humped against each and there was lots of licking. On the Sunday afternoon as we lay together in bed, kissing, stroking and gently fingering, I thought the time was right to introduce her to something new.
“You mentioned strap-ons,” I said. “do you want to see one?”
“Have you got one?” she asked.
“Yes,” I told her. “It’s not an actual strap-on but it’s much easier to use and wear and it works well. Do you want to see?”
“Yes please,” she replied.
What I had was a pair of black, tight-fitting boxer shorts. They were made out of a thick cotton and lycra material with a deep elasticated waist band. At the front was a round hole with a thick rubber ring stitched around it. There was an accompanying dildo which had a large foam-backed pad attached to its base which would fit against my pelvic bone. It was a dark flesh colour and sculpted to mimic the real thing with a nice curve, a defined rim around the tip and even veins. The dildo was inserted through the rubber ring which kept it tightly in place.
I took the whole contraption from the back of my panty drawer and eased it over my hips and suddenly it was as if I had grown a cock.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “You look amazing. It looks almost like the real thing and it’s very nice and big.”
“And it feels almost like the real thing,” she went on, taking a hold of it. “It’s spongy on the outside but firm in the middle. And my pussy has just gushed. Are you going to use it on me?”
“If you want me too then I will,” I answered.
“I’d love you to,” she replied.
I lubricated the dildo and then took a well-stuffed pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed.
“Is that for me?” she asked.
“Yes, for you,” I replied. “Lie back with it under your hips.”
She did as I asked, spread her legs and I knelt between them, very conscious of my protruding false cock.
“Denise has done a lovely job on you down here,” I said, “but don’t we need to warm you up a bit before we go further?” I asked.
“I think I’m ready enough,” she answered. “I can’t wait to have that thing inside me.”
With her body arched back over the pillow and her legs wide open, I could see her pussy was oozing juices and asking for attention. With her raised hips, she was perfectly positioned for me to rub the tip of the dildo along her slit and clitoris.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “You’re actually going to fuck me.”
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” she replied. “Just go into me.”
I positioned the dildo against her opening and pushed slowly forward, watching the length of it disappear inside her. There was no resistance but her vagina looked stretched and tight around the dildo’s thick shaft. As I moved back, it seemed not to want to let it go.
“Oh God,” she said, “that feels amazing.”
It isn’t at all easy for a woman to fuck like a man because the thrusting movement comes from the hip joints which is not natural for a woman. I could do it well enough, though, because I understood the movement and I was agile and fit enough, but I wasn’t sure how long I could sustain it in such a position.
I stayed kneeling between her legs thrusting deeply into her for a while and she was clearly enjoying it but I needed to change positions. Without pulling out, I got her to close her legs so that mine were outside of hers and I could lie fully over her with my weight on my elbows. In that position our breasts were together and I could rock in and out at a steady pace. The movement of my lower abdomen against her clit would give it stimulation and for me there was less strain on my lower back so I was comfortable enough to keep going.
“How does that feel?” I asked.
“It’s very different but it feels great, really big and very tight,” she panted, looking up into my face with wide eyes.
She began to move her hips to match my thrusts, her eyes closed and she was becoming more vocal. It was all the encouragement I needed to summon up the last of my energy and pick up the pace.
“Oh God, I’m actually going to cum,” she groaned, just as I was reaching the end of my stamina.
I pressed my hips hard against her and thrust the dildo with as much vigour as I could muster. She responded with a guttural moan and her body jerked and convulsed against me. I lowered myself to cover her and held her until she calmed and opened her eyes.
“That’s the first time in my life that I’ve been fucked to an orgasm,” she said. “I didn’t think it was possible but it was you who kept going for ages and I can see that you are exhausted.”
“It was quite a workout but it was well worth it just for you to know what can be,” I responded.
I extracted the dildo from her vagina, unlike a real cock it didn’t soften and slip out by itself, and I stretched out by her side.
“What can I get you?” she asked, stirring herself.
“Just a glass of water,” I answered. “I’ll recover very soon, don’t worry.”
I removed the pants and dildo which were damp with my sweat and Eli’s fluids and propped myself up at the top of the bed. My main thought was that I needed to do more core strengthening work as part of my workout routine if the dildo was to become more of a feature with Eli.
She returned with the water and sat on the edge of the bed beside me.
“There were quite a few guys before Louis but I’ve never had sex that was anything like that,” she said. “The pillow underneath, legs together; it was so different and it just worked.”
“I picked it up from a Spanish guy,” I said. “I had a very brief and very sexy afternoon encounter with him in his hotel room a long time ago and he did me that way. It was the first time that I had an orgasm from penetration as well. I’ve now got my art dealer guy into it and he loves it because it makes me super-tight with my legs together. I’ll bet his wife is getting the benefits too.”
“I think it was the angle as well,” she said, “because you were pushing upwards and not downwards and you were moving over my clit all the time. And I loved the way that thing stretched me. But it was also because it was you who was doing it to me. I’ve only been here with you for a few hours and I’m thinking that I’m turning into a sexoholic. I don’t think there’s anything I can say that I’ve not already said, only another thank you for all you’re doing for me.”
With that, she took hold of my shoulders and kissed my face again and again with her lovely lips.
Two years later, at the time of writing, Eli and I still spend most weekends together and in a few weeks’ time (June 2019) we will be taking a vacation in Greece. Since she picked up the language as a c***d from her parents, it should be an especially interesting time.
She’s divorced from Louis and has her own place but she is still a partner with him in their wine business and they seem have an amicable enough relationship. It took her a lot of skilful manoeuvring to get to that stage but it has worked out well enough so far.
Somewhere in the future, we think we might well end up living together permanently but let’s see. If sex and orgasms are as good for you as they say, then I think we will both be living to a ripe old age.
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