On Thursday morning, having left home for university, as usual, I rang Helen’s doorbell shortly after nine. She came quickly to the door, opening it wide. Helen smiled at me shyly, with her lower lip drawn in. No hello offered. She just stepped aside and, with a wave of her hand, invited me to enter. Then she quickly closed the door; leaning against it made the latch click shut. She stood there, head lifted, eyes lowered, her back and open hands pressed against the door. When she eventually looked at me, Helen took a deep breath. With a tremor in her voice, she said: -

“Oh, Ben! I’m glad the wait is over. I’ve been scared about meeting you again for the whole week after what I did and said last Thursday. I was out of control, lost it in telling you what I wanted you to know. I am so glad you have come.”

I stood there, lost for words. Helen pushed herself off the door, took my hand, and led me into the living room. We moved towards the sofa, but then she stopped. Releasing my hand, Helen turned towards the adjoining kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, “Ben, I think I need coffee. A strong one. How about you?”

My eyes took all of her in, in a new way, as she walked away. I had known Helen now for about five months. She was an attractive woman: tall, nicely proportioned, well-groomed, in her early forties. She was English, had a well-modulated voice free of any class indicators I could recognise. She was a good mixer and had bonded well with other women in the group. While Helen was, as she had shown last Thursday, not reserved, she was not loud or bubbly or one that sought the centre stage in class.

She wore today a golden-brown pant-suit. Its cut and the softness of the cloth spoke of her means and taste, as well as of her sensual awareness. She knew it would dress and display her figure to perfection. When young, Helen would have been, I was sure, a willowy beauty. Now she had turned into a beautifully proportioned woman with more generously rounded hips and bottom and fuller breasts.

I followed her into the kitchen. She busied herself with the coffee-making and pretended not to notice that I stepped behind her. As I embraced her and our bodies pressed together, there was neither surprise nor hesitancy in hers. I kissed her on the neck, and my hands moved up from her midriff to cup her breasts. They discovered, under the softness of the cloth, no bra as Helen leaned back with a sigh. It made me grip her harder than I had intended. With my lips almost on her ear, I told her how tempting she was in her suit. She liked and agreed with my assessment, testing my sincerity by rubbing her ass teasingly against my growing hardness.

But then she collected herself, gripped my wrists and removed my hands from her boobs. She reached for the coffee things and told me, “I still need my coffee before everything gets out of hand. It will concentrate my imagination on after.”

Helen chuckled, “How is your imagination, Ben? I’ve already felt it might match mine.”

She guffawed and butted my erection with her bum. I bit her ear in revenge and told her that I loved women with imagination, especially when others called it a dirty mind.

Helen gathered all the coffee things together and took them to the living room. We were now at ease with each other and with what we knew would follow. There was neither the need to nor did we have the urge to rush. I was sure that Helen would erect no last-minute, hindering barriers. Although I knew nothing about her past and her sexual experience and expectations yet, I was peculiarly confident that we would be perfect partners in sin.

Sitting thigh pressing on thigh, we drank our coffee and talked. On sitting down, we had given each other a lengthy, companionable kiss to make up for our strained first meeting at the door. Now we were sure we were lovers. I told Helen how much I admired her suit.

She smiled, then admitted she had it bought for our meeting today. At first, she said, she was not certain. “When I tried it on in the shop over my undergarments, it seemed not quite what I wanted. But this morning, slipping into it naked, I knew it was perfect.”

Helen giggled. She had also blushed but continued. “I looked in the mirror and imagined you looking at me. It made me tingle all over and took away my breath.”

I drew her close and told her that it does that for me and that I am almost sorry that eventually, she would have to take it off. She drew me close and gave me a quick kiss. Then she took my hand to guide it under her enticing garment’s top. As I cupped a firm, shapely boob, Helen’s lips found mine. We sunk into a long, lingering kiss, not wild and hungry but sensuously tasting. We knew it was the appetiser for the feast to come. And Helen’s nipple had begun to stiffen against the palm of my hand.

Then Helen momentarily turned away to say, “As my suit is so sexy and turning you on, I’ll let you enjoy it a bit longer. Why don’t you undress first? I’d love to help if you let me.”

Helen made it easy. She got up to move the uncleared coffee table to the centre of the room. Returning to the couch, Helen knelt down. I tried to kiss her, but she pulled back. “Are you shy too, Ben? Or don’t you like women undressing you?”

I slipped out of my coat. Helen undid my tie and, with steady and determined fingers, unbuttoned my shirt, pulled it off, and threw it on my jacket. I wondered whether her nerve would fail her. She hesitated before she clasped me to press a kiss on my naked belly. And then, with great deliberation and swiftly, she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants. I lifted, and she stripped me of my trousers. Then, leaning back, with a mischievous grin, she reached for my boxer shorts and pulled them down.

I was naked! She leant back and looked me over. Then she bent forward and embraced my thighs. Resting her head close to my cock, Helen whispered, “I love you naked. I somehow knew you would have a beautiful cock.”

After suspense-charged seconds, Helen stood up. Raising her arms, she stretched, pressing the contours of her pubes, boobs and nipples against the cloth. Knowing what she did, she grinned down at me and asked: “Can we make love on the floor? I want to remember it whenever I sit here watching television with Juergen. I’ve been naughty; looking down, I’ve thought of it for a week now: of us, naked, making love on the carpet. Do you think I’m crazy?”

Helen did not wait for an answer. She pulled the suit’s jacket over her head and threw it on top of my clothes. Facing me, she undid the clasp on her pants and let it slide to the floor. For a long moment, Helen stood still, inviting me to look at the firm globes of her breasts, the stiff nipples above the softness of her belly, and the tempting of her auburn bush.

Helen’s beauty had a sensual glow that rendered me breathless. Then she stepped out of the pants around her ankles, bent down and threw them to the other discards. She knelt, reached out her arms beckoning me to join her on the carpet.

As I slid to the floor, I reached for Helen to draw her into a loving embrace, but Helen was in a feverish hurry in throwing herself at me. She must have remembered the pledge she offered last Thursday, that she would fuck as hungrily and wildly as she had kissed. It may have played on her imagination for a week.

I possibly disappointed Helen by being gentle. I wanted our first love-making to be a drawn-out discovery of each other and not as rushed and tempest-tossed as Helen’s first kisses. After all, we had a whole day.

Helen did indeed twist and squirm against me, and when our lips met, her mouth was as rapacious as I remembered. I turned away from her greedy, already all-demanding mouth and began to kiss her neck, her throat, her eyes, briefly brushing over her lips and, finally, her ear. I whispered into it my wishes, telling her how beautiful she was, how much I wanted her, how long the week’s wait has been, and how much and how long and how lovingly I wanted to and was going to fuck her.

I shifted my body between her invitingly spread legs. My cock came to temporary rest on Helen’s pressing up pubes. I took Helen’s hand and guided it on my cock, and demanded, “Take my cock, Helen! Make it kiss your pussy, until it is hot and wet and begging to be fucked.”

My words made Helen laugh out loud as she stretched out in pleasure. I knew now that Helen, like I, loved sexy, dirty talk while making love. She seemed eager to follow my most lust-charged wishes.

Her hand had gripped my rock-hard cock. Before long, she played its tip knowingly up and down over the slit and inner lips of her pussy, truly kissing it open. And then she made the head linger and circle over her clit. We were kissing, and she moaned and laughed and burred, sexily hoarse, half-spoken words into my mouth while her pelvis lifted and her hand tried to urge my cock to enter her cunt. I held back, not allowing my cock to slide in for more than a tongue-like kiss before withdrawing again.

It forced Helen’s hand to continue guiding the cock’s teasing caress back on her clit. It drove her already close to the brink. She cried out, almost sang in relief when I, eventually, slowly, sank my cock into her hot, quivering cunt.

Helen’s cunt was, while slippery, still young-girl tight. In to the hilt, I stopped. Her vital muscles were making love to and milking my cock. I kissed her before I cradled her face. Hoarse with excitement, I murmured, “God, Helen, I love your hot, tight pussy. It wants—you want—my cock, don’t you? Tell me how much you want us to really fuck, to make love!”

Helen’s shiny, beginning to be kiss-swollen lips parted. Her eyes, wide open, shone as she sang out. “Yes! Yes! God, yes! I want you, Ben! Make love to me! Show me how much you want me! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me hard, Ben! God, I need it! ”

It took five minutes or so of deep penetrating thrusts until Helen surrendered to a shivering, whimpering climax. I grabbed her buttocks and kept her pulsating sex speared on my cock until the last of her tremors subsided.

I had managed to hold myself back. Without disengaging, I moved us both in the side-on position. Resting on my elbow, I could look at Helen’s voluptuously stretched-back body, her excitement-flushed face, with eyes closed in a post-coital swoon. I stroked over her face and then, with the lightest of touch, drew my fingers down her body, across her breasts, her belly, brushing over her pubes. She shivered under my caresses, and my cock was gripped and gripped again in the hot depth of her cunt.

Breaking the silence, I told her how beautiful she was and how much I loved to look at her, naked, spread-out like this. I had to breach with Helen another possible barrier. I said: “Helen, I love it that you came so quickly. But this was only a beginning. I am greedy. I want so much more of you, make you come again and again. Are you already satisfied? Don’t you want us to fuck until we both drown in the wildest of storms?”

This time Helen could find no words. She left it to her body to answer! Eyes closed, Helen threw back her head, her lips half-opened as if ready to sing as her body arched to push her straining tits into my grip. Her ass lifted off the carpet, and her groin began to grind my deeply embedded cock. Like last Thursday in the car, the Panther abandoned all shame in her lust.

And I felt like screaming out my joy in her. Putting one of Helen’s legs in the crook of my arm, I raised it high. She cried out a, “Yes! Yes! Fuck me again, Ben!” Spread wide open now, for me to be looked at and touched and lasciviously fucked, Helen was keeping the promises she had made.

Raising her head, she looked down as I drew my gleaming wet cock almost out of her pussy, to sink it then in to the hilt, repeating it, sinuously slowly, time and time again. I wanted it to be the ultimate, sensuous fuck for her. Helen licked and drew in and bit her lips in excitement. So, I asked, “Do you like watching my cock, sliding in and out of your hot-eager cunt?”

She moaned her answer and threw back her head. Soon she welcomed each deep thrust with a cry, so I asked, “What’s this crying? Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?”

Helen gasped and almost shouted a garbled reply. “No, Ben! No! Don’t stop! Fuck me, God, I want you!” As telling as her hot words, were how Helen’s pelvis met each of my cock’s thrusts with a quivering counter.

My free hand mainly had made love to Helen’s shapely breasts. I teased and pinched and twirled her bud-like, pink nipples into a perky state. Now I moved the hand up to her face, and my fingers found her lips. They opened, and she sucked them in. I whispered a warning: “You are a naughty woman. I think you know where sucked fingers go. Take them! Show me how your sweet clit loves to be played with. As you know, men need to be taught. I want to learn everything about your sweet, naughty clit.”

After Hellen had vigorously sucked my fingers, she took them down to bury them in the secrets of her bush. She made sure the favoured finger found its target. With each thrust of my cock and every twirl of the chosen finger over her clit, Helen’s whimpering got shriller. Her climax crashed in and ripped and shook Helen’s body into repeated spasms as she screamed out her orgiastic relief. Her wild, unrestrained coming made me come and pour into her with a burst.

In close embrace, we rested for quite a while before we had fully recovered. Helen stirred first, snuggling her face into my neck. Her whisper had still the throaty excitation of what we had shared. “Ben, I just knew you were the one to open my cage. I’ve never been loved like that, fucked like that, come like that, before!”

Pleased and flattered and somewhat embarrassed, I came up with a flippant reply. “Helen, darling, it was all you. With me, it was only a beginner’s luck. It can only get better.”

Her “Wow!” and happy laughter proved that she liked the prospect.