I was getting hard.
She saw me gawking and came over to me. I wanted to take her in my arms and put her on the bed, but I realized that I didn't have control of the situation. Mora was running the show, and whatever she had in mind, I knew that she would be leading me.
Standing very close, she took off my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. Then, moving away, she stepped out of her slip, sat on the edge of the bed, and, unhooking her stockings, rolled them over thin, smooth legs.
I had taken off my shut, but that was all. She motioned me to the bed beside her but when I sat down she slid off and removed my shoes and socks, moving up to undo my belt and zip down my fly with nimble, practiced fingers. Knowing what I had to do, I stood up and took off my pants, rather ungracefully, and while I was doing that, Mora got out of the panty-girdle she was wearing. The hair between her legs was lighter in color than the hair on her head, almost blond. Her ass was small, solid and athletic.
Fuck it, I figured. If she can strip so nonchalantly, then so can I. Trying to act like I did this sort of thing all the time, I dropped my shorts and kicked them away. My prong sprung out in front of me and I tried not to look down at it.
Mora did. "You have one hell of a hard-on," she said, smiling but not taking her eyes away from it.
"Can't help it, you're very beautiful."
She held out her hand to me and, taking it, I followed her back into the living room.
She pointed over the balcony. "Do you find the view beautiful?"
"Yes," I said.
She led me hack into the study and pulled a large art book from the shelf. Turning to a sylvan scene by one of the baroque masters, she asked, "Do you find that beautiful?"
Again, I said, that I did.
She grabbed my hand and dragged me back into the bedroom, the globes of her ass hardly even jiggling as she guided me purposefully down the hall. She tuned a bedside radio to one of the classical-music stations. They were in the middle of the first movement of Mozart's Hafner Symphony. "Do you find that beautiful?" Mora asked.
"Sure," I said. I knew she was driving at some point, but I still couldn't see it.
She grabbed my hand and marched me across the room to a full-length mirror on the front of the closet door. We stood there naked, looking at ourselves, Mora with her beautiful breasts and dark-golden-covered cunt, and me with my hard cock still sticking out like an unadorned flagpole. "Richard," she said softly, "if the view was so beautiful and the painting was so beautiful and the music was so beautiful, then how come they didn't give you a hard-on?"
I had to laugh. "Because it's pretty tough to make love to a symphony."
But Mora didn't think it was funny. She was looking at me very seriously. She pointed to our reflection in the mirror. "It's just two naked people, that's all. A man, and a woman standing naked, and we're both beautiful, but that's no reason for you to get a hard-on.
"Our stupid, backward, primitive society has told us that there's something shameful about a body, something erotic. But it's a lie, it's all a great big he, so that the popes and rabbis and ministers can keep their businesses going by saving us from the sins that they themselves have created.
"We are beautiful, but we're no more erotic than the view of the Bay, or the painting or the music. We're just two naked human beings who ought to be intelligent enough to see through the fabric of lies and man-created sins with which we have to live.
"Men get excited by big breasts. Why? Because some smart movie producer says that big tits are in this year. In the twenties, men got excited by fiat-chested women. Girls even used to bind their breasts down to make themselves look smaller. At the turn of the century, women we'd consider fat today were considered the most beautiful, and they were. And so are fiat-chested women and women with big tits. I mean, what difference does it make? We all have the same equipment. Some are bigger here and there and some smaller, and so what?
"The only thing that's really exciting you about me is that my body isn't all covered with clothes now, and because somebody once told you that uncovered bodies are supposed to be taboo, are supposed to be so erotic, you talk yourself into believing that they actually are, when they're not.
"I don't care if your cock is ten feet long or two inches long, because it doesn't make any difference. It's you I want, all of you, and your big cock doesn't excite me any more than Jane Russell's big tits ought to excite you. What excites me is that I like you as a person, as a man, because you have subtle, hidden qualities that I sensed when I first saw you, and that excited me tremendously.
"I know what men say to each other, 'Boy! Look at the tits on that one. Gee, what a nice ass she has,' and all of that garbage. It's all so stupid. They're just little boys who grew older but never grew up, and I don't want you to be like that.
"If you want to be excited, then be excited by a whole woman, not just a tit or a cunt or an ass."
It was the first time I had ever heard any woman of quality use those words. Yet they flowed from her so naturally that if she had used the phony words we utter in polite conversation, they would have seemed out of place. She led me down the hall and into the bathroom, and turned on the shower to warm up the water as she continued talking to me.
"Can you imagine all the little boy-men who jacked off to Betty Grable's legs during the war? Or being excited by a girl in a bathing suit?, a lousy bathing suit!" She shook her head. "It's too much to believe! Religion and the puritan ethic, that's what it is, they've made us all sick, all deformed in our minds and our values. We don't even see people anymore, we just see pieces of anatomy."
I thought back to my Varga calendar and my pornographic book, to scenes of jacking off in class while mentally undressing the girl across from me, and I felt embarrassed at my insatiable search for tit and cunt. Mora was right. They were never attached to a girl who I regarded as human, they were just a collection of anatomical odds and ends to put my hands on and my cock into.
We got into the sunken tub-shower. Mora drew the plastic curtain and, taking a bar of soap from a glass shelf, began to wash me.
It was the first time I had showered with a woman. We rubbed each other all over with the delicate-smelling soap, touching and exploring gently. She washed rny genitals and reached around to do my ass, sliding her fingers into the crack and sending little shock waves through me. I was back to full hardness again and when I felt her soapy fingers massage my asshole I thought I would lose my load down the drain.
I soaped her breasts, belly, and pubic hair, letting her fingers guide me down to her cunt, and then still further down to her ass, as she bowed her legs so that I could reach everything. She came into my arms and, slippery with suds, we rubbed our bodies together in a slow, side-to-side motion.
It was a tremendously erotic feeling, standing there with sheets of warm water cascading over us. With her heels off, Mora was several inches shorter than I. I wanted to grab her and hold her to me fully, but she pushed me gently, preferring that our bodies just barely touch. The feeling produced was electric, much better than flesh hard on flesh.
She turned around and backed into me, and with her soapy-soft backside against me I caressed her breasts and belly, slippery-wet and yielding. I tried to squat down to shove my cock into her from behind, but she turned around again, put her mouth to my ear, and whispered, "No, I'll tell you when."
Standing there with the water pouring down on us, I was finally hit by the "aha phenomenon." It finally sunk in just what she was doing to me, the bourbon, the cigarettes, the lecture on nudity, and now the shower, showing me how much better it was to touch lightly than heavily.
She was teaching me. She was taking a poor, dumb kid who really knew nothing and she was going to teach him, what? How to love? How to fuck? How to live? I didn't know, but I decided that I would have to look a long time to find as beautiful or as knowledgeable a teacher. I made my mind up not to fight her, but to learn all I could.