Connie liked the limber stretch of his legs, his dark shaggy hair, the flash of his black eyes as he sprawled on her couch. When she joined him, a drink in each hand, he was looking at the picture from the coffee table.
"My children," she said, handing him his bourbon. "That's Gerry. He's nineteen, in school upstate, near Albany. And the girl is Stacy. She's a junior at Amherst. I think they're lovely, but I tend to be prejudiced."
Roger put down the photo. "Husband?"
"We were divorced in sixty-two, and he's been dead since sixty-eight."
"And how about you, Constance Talbot? What do you do?"
She laughed. "At present, nothing. I used to work for an ad agency, and I thought I was indispensable. No one is, really, but I'd been having an affair with one of the executives for – oh, three or four years, I suppose – we used to meet two or three afternoons a week at the company's hospitality suite in the Plaza – so I thought I had job security. Well! The firm did some cutting back, thanks to the recession, and my department got pruned. He could have saved my job, but he didn't. I took that as a hint that it was all over. Do I shock you? I'm still a country girl at heart, and I tend to speak my mind."
He put his hand on her knee. "I knew you were a right-on lady the first time I saw you. And that's something I like. So are you."
He leaned toward her, folding his arm around her body, and Connie let herself be pulled. Her tits grazed his chest, his hand slid down her back to cup the cheeks of her slim, shapely ass, and she felt her thigh bump something inside his pants that was beginning to take intriguing shape.
Just before he kissed her lips she stretched out one hand and turned the picture on the coffee table around. "Not in front of the children," she laughed, but his mouth covered hers, stifling the laugh, and Connie didn't mind a bit.
His tongue explored her mouth as she sucked possessively. At the same time he was undoing the buttons of her tunic top, one hand thrusting inside to stroke the cups of her brassiere. She felt her nipples come erect at his touch, and she leaned closer, giving him more freedom to work on her body. Her thigh still lay across his lap and she could feel the heat of his erection touching the back of her leg. He was up, big and stiff.
She lay back, reluctantly ending the kiss as he slipped her tunic completely off. Her bra was yellow nylon, the brown nips obvious through the sheer fabric. Roger stroked her with his fingertips, teasing her nipples to even harder peaks, and then he bent his head, sucking them through the bra cups, chewing their rubbery stiffness. She wrapped her hands around his head and combed his curly hair with her fingers as he licked and mouthed. Behind one breast her heart pounded wildly, and she wondered if his tongue was picking up the frantic vibration.
He raised his face. "Is there any reason we shouldn't go to bed?" he wondered. "No children around, no guests, whatever?" Connie shook her head. She'd seen the kids for a day or two at Christmas, in glimpses. Now Gerry was off skiing in Vermont, and Stacy had taken a Puerto Rican vacation in the sun and surf.
She gave him her hand, and he led her into the bedroom, almost as if he knew by instinct where it was. Connie turned on the bed light and turned to him, her lips fluttering moistly in the subdued glare. "Let me undress you," he said, "and then you can do it for me."
She nodded, and he knelt before her. She was almost bare to the waist as it was, and he began by undoing the waistband of her slacks. They were stylishly baggy, and they dropped as soon as the snaps had been loosened. Connie stepped out of them while Roger stroked her stockinged thighs.
He hesitated as he touched her, and she wondered if something about her body had suddenly turned him off. He started to rub her legs, from hipbones to ankles, dwelling, it seemed, on her stocking tops. She was about to ask him if something was wrong when he spoke.
"Jesus," he said, "I remember when I was younger. It was hard as hell to find pictures of naked girls then – this was a long time before you had split beavers on every newsstand, before the porno revolution – and so many of the models back then used to pose in garter belts and black stockings. Do you know this is the first time I ever saw one live? Let me!" And with that he pulled down her panties. Connie wiggled as he removed them from her body, and he knelt before her another moment, admiration plain on his face.
Impulsively he leaned forward, kissing the fluff of dark hair framed between the tops of her thighs. Connie felt his lips burrowing through the curls of her muff, and when they touched the slit of her cunt she grabbed his head.
"OH!" was all she could say, vent loud, very satisfied, but she couldn't even say that when she felt his tongue jabbing at the tight mouth of her pussy.
He leaned back, smiling. "I couldn't resist it," he told her. "You look kissing sweet, all over," Rising to his feet he unhooked her bra and swung its cups aside to let her breasts bounce free. The nipples were vibrantly stiff, awaiting only the sheen of moisture his mouth could – and did – provide them.
"You're beautiful," he said finally, holding her to him.
"You don't think I'm too old?" Connie chided. He reached down with both hands, grabbing her by the ass, pulling her up. Connie stood on tiptoes as his fingers tickled her bare bottom, sliding into the crack of her ass, and he kissed away the last of her doubts. How long? she asked herself. She'd not made love to anything except her fingers in – two months? That long? Not since her ex-lover had announced that the job and the affair were both done. God, she thought. She was a woman in her prime. How did she endure it? She could feel her nipples throbbing already, and there was a sensation of wetness in the pit of her cunt – Yes! One of his fingers prodded the curling dark fuzz and entered her pussy as he cuddled her closely. Connie squirmed to feel his finger inserting itself, and she could hear the squish of juicy moisture as he pried apart the lips of her cunt.
"You'd better let me undress you," she suggested.
Roger let her sink to her feet, and she raced to strip him as bare as she was. The lump of his semihard cock was so delicious that Connie couldn't resist dropping to her knees and fondling it before she was finished undressing him. Roger shifted from leg to leg as she played with the bulge in his shorts, and finally, when she'd stroked and fondled him to an impressive degree of hardness, Connie jerked down his underwear.
His tool was much, more beautiful in the flesh than she'd dreamed possible. Long and thick, with a might pair of balls dangling beneath, Roger's cock arched upward from its base at least eight or nine inches. She wrapped both hands around it, so that most of its shaft was covered. The big knobby tip stuck out impudently, almost purple in its excitement, and she kissed him there, her lips soft, moist, provocative, his flesh hot, throbbing, and delightfully smooth-textured. He was wet in his slit when her lips brushed him there, and the briefest, most tantalizing sample of Roger's cum anointed Connie's tongue to spur her onward.
She squeezed him with both hands, squeezed until another bubble of wetness seeped forth, and this bubble too she wiped away happily, savoring its sweet, tangy flavor.
In another moment Roger had kicked away his fallen pants and shorts, and he was with hot on the bed. Her eyes feasting upon his erection while her hands studied its texture and resiliency. As Connie entered upon the slow, sensuous procedures of oral love, Roger's loins twitched involuntarily and his ass seemed to rise ever so slightly from the bed, as if he were on the verge of giving her more dick and fast! She put her palm on his groin, just below the navel, and stoked him in reassurance. With a sigh he sank back into place and Connie set about giving him the treatment.