Perfect Lips, Flawless Fingertips

A true story about yesterday evening.

A wanted to show us both a new suit she’d bought for a do on Friday. B was bouncing his football around, wanting me to come and play outside with him. I had my throbbing sleep-deprivation headache and could barely stand. I said I’d come & join B outside shortly; he told A how nice the suit was and exit small boy.

The suit was fine. The question resolved into whether she would be too hot with the jacket on. Oh no, she was wearing the blue blouse. This is a blue silk crepe blouse, short-sleeved. It hugs her figure, not too tighty, but very suggestively, I find. I want to go over and run my hands over her body, over her breasts, her stomach, round her waist, kiss kiss down her face and neck and all over her breasts, carry on going down.

So, I hold on to the furniture and say it looks great. She seems pleased, and/but goes off to try on some other skirts, leaving me to attend to my paternal-sporting duties. I feel empty, I have nothing in my head, but I don’t want the moment to end, so I stagger along behind her into the bedroom.

A has removed her suit and is in just the blouse and black knickers. She’s burrowing into her skirts. She looks up and gives me a “what do you want hurry up can’t you see I’m busy” look.

I walk over and start to kiss her. I kiss and kiss her face and mouth. Inside me I feel excitement bit a kind of terror as well, any moment I might step over the line and it’ll all go horrible. From far away my arm rose up from the elbow and its hand rested around her breast, …, stroked and fondled as softly as I could, “Mmm, …”. From an equal and opposite distance my other hand ran down her back and rested on the hem of her knickers above her cheeks. I felt the silky fabric. I love that place I don’t know what its called at the base of the spine. She melted slightly into my embraces.

“I think you’re nice,” I blurted.

“I know,” she replied

She gave me a smile/laugh, a girlish look that I haven’t seen on her for years. A faint tide of surprise and relief washed over me. Not just the look she gave me but even what she said.

All this time the football was bouncing loudly on the other side of the bedroom window. We kissed for a short while longer, but there seemed nowhere to take it. The moment fizzled and petered out. A got back to her skirts and I went out to the football. It felt ugly and depressing but when we came back in there was no bad atmosphere.

There was no continuation at bedtime — but I slept very well last night.

This morning before leaving A said casually, “Maybe I’ll come straight back home after XYZ, as you’re interested in that kind of thing.” More news later, I have a good feeling.