Ralph smirked as he walked into Sally’s apartment. Today he knew he had an Ace up his sleeve that might break the ice between them.
Ralph and Sally were both in their fifties. Ralph was not off the charts and fine lines of time had embedded themselves around his eyes. Too much sun and smiling perhaps. Sally was a few inches shorter and he surmised standing behind her, his crotch would rest snugly in the upper part of her butt cleft. She was quite attractive, a ready smile and lively – sometimes naughty – eyes.
They had known each other for the best part of ten years. While staying close to each other in an apartment complex, they always greeted in passing until that night with the HOA Annual Meeting. She simply walked into him and greeted with a hug and their friendship was formed.
Over time inuendoes were subtly offered but he only realised it when the moment had passed. No matter how he tried nothing ever progressed out of his advances.
Today however, was a different story; Sally was dressed in loose fitting white shorts and you know what they say – the urban legends?
Ralph wondered if she even knew about such legends. She had previously admitted reading matter of erotic nature, but her taste was more ‘supernatural’ stuff. The other thing he considered was, she had never married and thus not had any children. Thus, she wasn’t a MILF by those standards. So maybe his focus was a bit… off?
As they relaxed, each with a glass of cold soda and seated across from each other in her lounge, conversation flowed easily. They spoke about work, Covid, the seasons changing and other contemporary things.
She sat in her usual position allowing Ralph, as he often did, toying a fingertip on the soft skin of her ankle. She seemed unfettered about it. Perhaps she was so used to his touch already that it was the norm rather than Ralph trying his luck… again.
It was in moments like these that she dared leaving a door slightly ajar; doors he mostly missed. She was barefooted today, relaxed and wearing a delicate purple top that, he observed, also appeared to be somewhat flimsy; he could see the contours of her lace bra contrasted against her fair skin.
She had so many times mentioned her taste in Lingerie, but he seldom had the opportunity to witness any of the sort.
In a brief lull in their conversation (which often was the case but never that uncomfortable silence) he looked her over and as his eyes met hers, that naughty expression lingered in her eyes. He took the chance.
Looking her over again, this time explicitly, he smiled and said, “You know, there’s and urban legend about women wearing white pants?”
“These are shorts, not pants,” she fired back, smirking.
“Same thing. Shorts, pants, doesn’t matter, same legend.”
“So what’s the legend then?”
“The first legend they say, women who wear shorts like yours, never wear panties with it,” he smiled.
Sally blushed visibly but kept her cool. “What makes you think the ‘legend’ is applicable to me?”
“Well, only one way to tell,” Ralph answered as he leaned toward her.
She gasped as his warm hand gently touched the skin above her knee. She looked at him hard as his hand softly caressed her leg.
“We…” she started but gasped as his hand slipped just inside the leg of her shorts. As she seemed reluctant, he kept his hand right there, his fingertips softly sweeping to and fro like the windscreen wipers of a car.
“We what? What was it you wanted to say?” he asked softy.
She did not answer but her eyes slowly closed in submission to his caressing fingertips. He watched her closely as her breathing became noticeably deeper at his touch.
He inched up her leg another inch, observing her closely. “You okay?” he asked softly. Her nod was barely noticeable as he waited, fingers softly stroking.
Like a cat he moved to her side of the couch, his one knee slightly under the leg he was petting, the other just behind her hip. As his hand progressed another slow, soft inch, he leaned in and softly kissed her mouth. Her lips moved tentatively against is as he softly probed with his wet tongue.
As his hand moved a confident further two inches up the leg of her pants, her mouth opened, and she played her warm, wet tongue against his. The kiss remained soft, gentle, and soothing; he did not want to spook her. Not now, when he could sense the warmth of her loins shrouding his fingers.
She gasped deeply and a soft whimper escaped into his mouth as his fingertips reached the soft warm skin of her crotch. Her pelvic area was already damp, perspiration form her own need moistening her skin. Not far to go but already proving the point of the urban legend.
Her pussy was bare beneath the shorts, void of any form of textile protecting her delicate sex. No soft, frilly garment present to soak the wetness already seeping out and adding flavour to the perspiration of her desire.
