Young Woman with Older Man Ch. 19

It felt good knowing that I could take my time with her and enjoy and remain longer in the moment of the afterglow with the help of a hug, a kiss, and a cuddle in-between the sexual intercourse. I didn't feel pressured need to perform, as I did with younger women.

When I was with Lynn, Jamie, and Gwen, I was always trying to prove that I could still give them a good fuck, as good if not better than their younger lovers. I had nothing to prove with Marianne. A refined woman, in the way of an expensive, French wine of superior vintage that begged the drinker to sip and savor, instead of a bottle of cheap Champagne that had been shaken and popped its cork prematurely in a quick gush and guzzled, she was a quality bed partner.

Still, she was more lady like than were the younger women and I dared not take liberties that I would have not thought twice about taking with Lynn, Jamie or Gwen. Such as, never would I walk up behind her and grope her ass or grab her tits. She'd take it as a violation, as opposed to the younger women taking it as a playful reaction. Sexual games that I'd ordinarily play with my younger lovers, I imagined were of no interest and served no purpose to her. On the other hand, I felt that my conversation with her was guarded. I repressed more thoughts than I verbalized for fear of insulting her. I had no such fear of that with Lynn, Jamie or Gwen. Short of calling them whores, which I'd never do, there was not much else that I couldn't say to them.

I realized that even though it was fun having sex with Marianne, just as it was with her daughter Gwen, I wouldn't want a steady diet of either of them. After a while, I'd be bored, sexually frustrated, and be looking for hotter and younger action, in the case of Marianne, and older action in the case of Gwen and Jamie. As expected, I began getting a little melancholy thinking about the end of the weekend when she was expected to leave and I was alone again. I've grown to hate being alone. I truly need a woman in my life. I held her closer until she left me to go to the bathroom.

After a while, I heard the shower running and decided to do something totally unexpected. Being that she was leaving and, no doubt, I'd never see her again, especially naked, I wanted to shock her. I was curious to see her reaction. When I opened the bathroom door, instinctively, Marianne covered herself with her hands and arms. I laughed at her modesty and she did, too.

Even though I saw her naked in bed with me, it is different to see her standing there in the shower naked. She looked good. She looked really good. Her stomach was toned and flat but for a very small, almost indistinguishable pot belly and her curves were more womanly. I noticed that she had some gray pubic hair.

"Well, I'm not sure why I did that, cover myself like that," she said with an uncomfortable laugh. "You've already seen every bit of me up close and personal."

I took the soap from her and started soaping her up. As I had done with Gwen. I paid special attention to her dirty parts, her tits, ass, and pussy.

"You're dirty, so very dirty," I said and she laughed. "You require a good scrubbing to get clean."

Hey, I was having a good time with my hand and the soap and she was getting nice and clean at the same time. The way that I looked at it, it was a win/win situation, rub a dub, dub, Freddie is rubbing Marianne in the tub. Besides, she seemed to enjoy the attention that her naked body received from my skilled hands and fingers. Then, it was her turn.

"My cock is so very dirty, yes, very dirty indeed."

I handed her the soap and she lathered me up real good paying special attention to my cock, ass, and balls. It felt good to have her soap up my cock. It was erotic when she gently cupped my balls washing them and as soon as she lathered up my ass crack, I thought of Gwen on her knees in the shower tossing my salad. I could just imagine the look on her face if I asked Marianne, a Dina Merrill clone, to toss my salad? Boy if she did, that would start up a whole new conversation. I could hear her say, you are the first man' salad I ever tossed. Still, I liked the feeling of her slippery hand stroking my cock in the shower while we kissed and as I felt her tits and fondled her nipples.

When we finished showering we returned to the bedroom to get dressed. I watched her put on her panties and then her bra. I could tell that she was not accustomed to dressing in front of her husband, because she turned her back to me as she dressed. It was funny the difference in generations. Just as Gwen's generation explored sex without feeling guilty, Marianne's generation was hung up on nudity, and that made me curious about the comment that Lynn made that her entire family could have been nudist. Now, I figured she must have been talking about herself and her sister and surely not her mother. Perhaps, her mother gave them the impression of being more open with her nudity, so as to not give them sexual hang-ups, as her generation surely had.

Still, this sudden shyness about her nudity was curious. After being sexually intimate with one another, she should feel more comfortable with me by now, I'd think. She did allow me to soap her up real good without trying to stop me. I touched her everywhere over and again. That was fun and that was hot and she appeared to have enjoyed the physical attention. Maybe having sexual relations broke down the barrier of how a nudist otherwise feels about her body and maybe she felt uncomfortable, a rather weird phenomenon.

Maybe having been intimate with one another was what we both needed to get through the loss of Lynn. Maybe, that would explain why she is suddenly a bit unnerved for me to see her naked, now that she's sober and not drunk. I'd think that it would have been the opposite and that she'd have no inhibitions left. Who knows, it doesn't matter really, it's just idle thoughts about the sexual behavior of people that I will never understand, but will always contemplate.

Besides, this would probably be the last time that I ever saw her. My contact with her was through her daughter Lynn and now with Lynn dead, there was no reason for her to see me again. The only reason why she made this pilgrimage from Rochester to Massachusetts was because she was curious about me, that it gave her some closure with her daughter's death, and because she felt guilty that her husband had banned me from attending the funeral.

Never in a million years, I'm willing to wager, did she think she would find herself in bed with me or did she? How did that all this come about, actually? Alcohol played a major role, but still, this weekend was bizarre. These past couple of weeks have been bizarre with first Gwen and now Marianne, and then, before that with the sexual affair with Jamie.

She continued dressing next putting on a button blouse. Then, she slipped on her garter belt. It was kind of an unwieldy contraption seeing it without the nylons attached; it did not appear very sexy. She pulled up her knee length skirt over her garter belt. I waited until she sat on the bed to put on her nylons before pulling her back to me and kissing her.

I was still naked and had no intention getting dressed so soon. I wanted to make love to her, again. I didn't want her to get dressed. I still wanted to play. Not wanting to be alone with my bad self, I didn't want her to go. I figured that it may be a while before I took on another lover and I wanted to make the most of it with her, my Dina Merrill clone.

If there's one thing I enjoy, it's feeling a woman through her clothes and my hands were all over her tits while we kissed. Her nipples instantly responded and she began kissing me breathlessly. I was getting to her and she responded by touching, feeling, and stroking my cock. I reached beneath her skirt and between her legs feeling her panty clad pussy. It excited me to touch the silk fabric of her panty that covered her moist mound. Slowly, I moved my finger along her panty and along her pussy lips before reaching my hand inside her panty. My fingers found her clit and as I teased her with my fingers, I reached deeper inside and finger fucked her until she started wiggling her ass. She was so quiet. All the while my mind imagined that I was feeling up Dina Merrill the way she looked 40 years ago.

"Let me hear what you feel? It is a turn on to hear you react to my touches."

Almost silently, she started moaning. More sexual hang-ups from her generation, still, for someone from that age bracket, she wasn't as hung-up. This was my favorite, kissing and feeling her through her clothes. Already, I had a nice erection and I moved her hand back on my cock. She surprised me when she leaned down and took me in her mouth. I guess my previous assumption was correct about her wanting to make the most of this visit, too. My cock probably would be the last cock she sucked, unless, of course, years from now, she found herself in one of those co-ed nursing homes with a horny, old, man named Mr. Peepers.

"Come on, Baby. What are you saving it for? Give it up."

I could see her being the star of the nursing home and sucking off some of her retired new friends with them writing her room number on the men's room stall. For a good time, go to room eleven and ask for Marianne. I could see her becoming quite the swinger in her old age, finally celebrating the sexual revolution, albeit a bit too late. I could see the other women being jealous of her Dina Merrill beauty and her sexual prowess.

"Did you see Marianne last night with Mr. Peepers? It was scandalous. Who does she think she is, Dina Merrill?"

She removed my cock from her mouth and I pulled her up to me. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to see her tits again. I wanted to suck her nipples. I began unbuttoning her blouse and felt the weight of her tit through her bra. My fingers found the impression that her nipples made and I took each one of them in my fingers through the fabric of the satin material gently pulling them out to full erection.

"I need to suck your nipples," I whispered in her ear. With that, she removed her blouse and I unhooked and removed her bra. I liked sucking her tits. She had such wonderful tits.

I so wanted to talk dirty to her. I so wanted her to talk dirty to me. I decided to verbalize my thoughts.

"I love your tits. I love sucking your nipples." I could tell by her silence that my talking dirty did nothing for her.

Then, I removed her panties, but not her garters. When I mounted her, she reached her hand down and inserted me. She was wet, but not sopping like Jamie, Gwen or Lynn. Still, she was wet enough that I entered her with ease, probably because having given birth to two children she was bigger than the Jamie, Gwen, and Lynn. Still, those little girls were quite experienced although, I never thought of Lynn as being experienced, just gently used and slightly sexually experienced, that is, until I came along.

Then, it hit me that I was fucking Lynn and Gwen's mother. Suddenly, I felt like the degenerate that I am, and that I was taking advantage of her. Yet, she was so very attractive even if she was sixty-years-old. Yeah, she had a few stretch marks and more wrinkles than both her daughters combined, but she could still make love, and she was still very desirable. Sexually and sensually, she was still hot. She still knew how to screw and she moved her hips to the rhythm of my humping. Definitely, she was still sexy for an old broad.

Besides, I needed her now and I needed this. It was more than just sex. It was companionship and someone to talk to and to pass the time with, but even with that, it was more than that. Marianne was not just anyone, she was Lynn's Mom.

After making love to Gwen, Lynn's sister, Jamie, Lynn's best friend, and now, Marianne, Lynn's Mom, I felt closer to Lynn than ever before. Truly, albeit too late, I felt as if I knew Lynn better than I did before she died. Obviously, I needed to have sex with Lynn's best friend, her sister, and her mother to get through the death of her. And now after being intimate with Marianne, I dreaded her leaving me alone with my grief over her daughter.

To be continued...