by Rajah Dodger (c) 1994, 2009
It was a sticky afternoon, and Karl was tired of waiting for the bus, tired of looking for work, just plain tired. He tapped his fingers impatiently against his briefcase as he slouched against the building in the July heat. He grumbled to himself from time to time about the short-sightedness of personnel managers who seemed to want fresh young (read: cheap) applicants instead of someone who knew the business and could be productive in only a few hours.
The bus pulled up to the stop with a collection of squeaks and the raw odor of exhaust. Karl wrinkled his nose as he swung himself up the metal steps, tossed a few coins in the box and plopped down in the first available seat. As he did so, his hip collided with a somewhat attractive-looking matron who was sitting by the window. Karl apologized, and she accepted his apology with a brief but winning smile. That smile helped Karl overcome both his natural reticence and the attitude he had been building, and they chatted as the bus rattled and bumped its way out of the downtown traffic.
Her name was Lara, and she lived in one of the older neighborhoods, one that had been fashionable a decade ago. She was coming back from grocery shopping and had also been looking for work, her husband having left for greener pastures "with a younger filly," she explained. They turned out to have several things in common other than their generation -- enjoying miniature golf, going to the theatre, a love of Tony Bennett, and a hearty dislike for so-called "New Age" music. "It's just Muzak without the bad reputation," Lara declared. Several times while they talked, the bus would hit another pothole or swerve to avoid traffic, throwing them against each other. Each time Karl apologized, and each time Lara smiled and accepted the apology.
They chatted on as the bus rolled onto the smoother streets outside the business district, her hip comfortably against his where she had left it from the last road bump. As the bus drew near her neighborhood, she invited Karl in for coffee "and maybe something to eat -- you look famished!" When he asked about the bus schedule in her neighborhood, she explained that she had her own car and could give him a ride home; it was just that she didn't like having to park in the city.
The bus pulled up to the stop, and Karl followed Lara out. Somehow in the process he wound up carrying her grocery bags for her. They walked down the sidewalk until they came to a small Georgian house with crape myrtle and wisteria scenting the air. "Nice landscaping," Karl commented. "It was one of the things that I did while we were married" was her response. She unlocked the door and they went inside. Karl stopped and closed his eyes to savor the cool air, such a contrast to the heat outside. He followed her into the kitchen and handed her packages as she put them away efficiently, her cool hands occasionally brushing against his.
Lara invited him to look around the house while she fixed something in the kitchen. He wandered around the living room and parlor as she puttered around. The house had a slightly musty odor, not unpleasant, and it reminded him vaguely of the way his grandparents' house had smelled years ago. While he was looking over her bookshelves, Lara wandered into the parlor carrying a tray with a couple of plates and glasses, which she put down efficiently on an end table. They were cucumber sandwiches, with a hint of dill in the cream cheese, and very good. He washed his down with a cold iced tea.
Lara slipped out of her heels as they ate, and noted the way his eyes dipped to her feet and back. She got a warm feeling, one she hadn't had in quite some time, and rubbed her feet together as they talked about city life, taxes, and traffic. She could tell he was interested in her, but he seemed to keep holding himself back from doing or saying anything. Finally, she decided she was going to have to make the first move. She crossed her legs, swinging her right foot near him on the sofa. "The only problem with doing so much walking," she said, changing the subject, "is that my feet do ache at the end of the day." She waited to see what his response would be.
Karl looked at her foot, and his eyes drew a line up her calf to the point where her leg disappeared under her skirt. He swallowed another bite of his sandwich quickly, and reached out tentatively, hoping this woman would not take offense. He was pleased to see her close her eyes and sigh when he took her foot in his hand and start massaging it, rubbing deeply into the arch with his thumb. After several minutes he took both hands and drew her foot up on top of his leg. Lara leaned back a little to accommodate him, bringing her other foot onto the sofa and lifting her leg the slightest bit. A flush came over Karl's face as he caught a glimpse of her upper thighs. She was wearing knee-highs, and while the foot in his hand was sheathed in nylon the area beneath her skirt was bare skin. He used his knuckles on her sole, and separated each toe in turn as he rubbed her foot. She sighed again, and stretched her leg out so that her foot was comfortably nestled in his lap. Too comfortably, perhaps, as Karl felt the stirrings of a desire he hadn't felt in some time. He extended his reach to rub her calf as well, reveling in the feel of her musculature under his hands.
Lara sipped her tea as she enjoyed the feel of Karl's hands on her. She wanted more, and hoped he would continue with her legs. She suppressed a moue of disappointment when he put her foot back on the sofa, but it was only to take her other foot and begin the same delightful massage. She rubbed her free foot against the side of his leg as he worked. When he moved his attention to her calf, she rolled her free foot in his lap, feeling her effect on him directly. "Lara," he said, and looked in her eyes. "I know," she replied simply, and opened her arms. Karl leaned toward her and she met him halfway, smooth cotton shirt crushed against muslin blouse, skirt rucked up carelessly past her knees. Their lips met and clung, needily, greedily, for the moment like two sixteen-year-olds. Her hips pressed comfortably against his, and after a bit, she began to stroke his back with her fingers.
Her nipples were on fire. She was on fire. She wanted to feel him against her, around her, within her. She moved against him, trying to get nearer. He reached down and rubbed her breast in a circular motion through her clothes, but it wasn't enough. She pressed against him gently, and as their lips parted she leaned back to start undoing buttons, quickly but without haste. He smiled as he saw her freckled chest appear, then her plain brassiere, her belly. She sat up and turned around to let Karl pull the blouse off and unhook her bra. Karl slid his hands around her chest and under the bra cups, fondling her small globes, jiggling them in his hands, then letting her breasts slither against his palms as he moved his hands away from her body taking the bra with them. Her nipples were crinkled in the cool air. "You're beautiful," he said to her bare back.
Lara turned back to face this stranger, now less stranger and more something else, and found him removing his own shirt. She moved forward and was suddenly pressed against him, her naked breasts hard against the coarse hair of his chest. He rubbed against her, making low, choked sounds deep in his throat. The feel of his curly hairs against her breasts was exciting, and she shivered as he kissed her bare shoulders.
His head lowered and his mouth opened wide and then closed on her right breast as if he were starving for it. He sucked, bit, licked, all the while making low throaty sounds. Lara gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair. She couldn't think. His mouth still clung to her breast even as he lay back and pulled her down atop him. He hugged her tight with one arm while the other palmed her ass through her skirt, his palms running feverishly up and down her flesh, feeling the textures of her. He tugged at her skirt and she lifted her hips to ease its removal. That gone, she lay on top of him, feeling his maleness pressing against her mound, separated by the thickness of his trousers and the thin barrier of her panties.
Karl suckled on one breast, then the other, learning the geography of this strange wonderful new body with his fingers, stiffly aware of the warmth of her mons lying on top of his crotch. Surely, he thought, there must be some more genteel, less clumsy way for two people to remove the barriers between them. She pulled at his shoulders and he responded to the nonverbal cue, sitting up with a look of disappointment as Lara pulled away from him. She smiled, though, and pointed at his trousers, especially the swollen crotch, then leaned back to watch as it became obviously his turn to show off.
Karl, mildly embarrassed at being caught with his interest showing, focused on getting his pants off without incident and thus missed the sight of Lara sliding her panties over the hump of her buttocks and down her legs. He looked surprised when he lifted his head and saw her bare as Venus. Lara lay back in the sofa, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She held her left breast in one hand; the other hand covered her mound, her fingers barely visible in the moist hair. Karl leaned down to kiss her upper legs, and Lara settled back against the sofa, spreading her knees and delving both of her hands into the thick fur of her vulva. She watched Karl's reactions, licking her lips unconsciously as he proved with his body language that her age had nothing to do with her desirability. Karl sat up and stared, openly panting now, as she slowly and carefully slid a finger down to part her pubic hair. For a moment she held it back, exposing the soft, sweet treasures inside. Then she dipped one finger down to her entrance and slid back up to massage her clitoris.
When Karl made no move, frozen with his mouth open like a deer caught by headlights, Lara got up and leaned forward to press her naked body against his and kiss him again. He was finding it somewhat hard to breathe, torn between wanting to touch her everywhere and wanting to do something about his own excitement. He took her hands and pushed them back down to the sofa by her hips. He leaned forward and down, breathing in her sweet fragrance. He parted the thick mat of curled hair with his fingers and touched the tip of his tongue to the area just above her vagina. Warm fleshy tongue met damp sweet flesh, causing both lovers to shiver. Softly, slowly, his tongue slid up between her fleshy labes and outlined the tiny mound of her clitoris. Around and around he circled, too much perhaps as she gasped and moaned. He drew back and delved lower, exploring the entrance and the dipping his tongue into her interior, darting in and out with quick motions, then sliding a finger in to join the lingual invasion.
Lara gasped, her fingers tangled in his hair. She couldn't think. She clutched her ass and pushed her hips upward against him, inviting him further. His fore and middle fingers touched her, probed, sank deep. She cried out, the muscles of her stomach clenching, convulsing as she felt the intruders begin a fast, jerky rhythm. She wanted him in. Her heart was pounding so hard she couldn't get her breath. Her hands clutched his shoulders, her nails bit into his flesh. He sent his mouth back up to her clitoris. This time he gently sucked the little button, feeling her start to clench her muscles around his fingers. She moaned louder now and the movement of her hips becomes more violent as she pushed against his mouth. She began to call his name, softly at first, then louder until it was almost a scream. He stabbed his fingers into her as her entire body tensed, her face flushed. She dug her hands into the skin behind his ears and pressed him firmly against her as she shook, then she released him and he withdrew, resting his cheek against the inside of her thigh, marveling at the passion buried in this woman.
"Move." She could barely force the words from her dry throat. "I want you, not just your fingers." She undulated her hips against him. Karl moved slowly upward, meeting her lips with his as he rested his turgid staff in the damp hollow between her legs. He tweaked a nipple gently as she wriggled beneath him, stroking his sac and shaft with a cool hand, fingernails teasing his behind. She moved against him, lifting her legs and opening wide as she guided him inside. He placed his hands on either side of her and pressed steadily. First the head popped in, causing both of them to gasp and pause, then she urged him on with her hands on his bottom as he sank deeper inside her until she had him completely in. Karl had to close his eyes from the sensation. It was incredible. He moved back and then in, building a rhythm as Lara took her hands away from his buttocks to play with his rudimentary nipples.
She pulled him down to her and they hugged and kissed as she rocked her hips. His tongue pressed between her lips and she squeezed her vagina around him. The motion of her hips around his shaft almost sent him over the edge, and he said so just as he felt the explosion forcing its way through him. Karl shut his eyes and muttered something incomprehensible as the long-forgotten feeling sent sparks throughout his body. Lara watched raptly as he swallowed once, twice, three times echoing his thrusts as he helplessly poured his seed into her body. As he slowed down, Lara felt herself coming again, this time in slow waves that rolled over and around her. They stayed locked together for a while, his flesh hot against hers, just enjoying the feel of each other in the afterglow.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/mature/sticky-afternoon.aspx">Sticky Afternoon</a>