VOLUPTUOUS KAREN 3.


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VOLUPTUOUS KAREN  3.
Imagine this if you will. The living room is in nearly total darkness, the
house is silent in the wee hours. My landlady had rushed to the tv set
fresh from her bath around eleven and helped me to finish a half-bottle of
Italian red; we fell asleep on the living room sofa. She is sleeping-I
think- nearly upright, the bottom two-thirds of her robe completely open!
My face is buried against her shoulder, somehow my bare arm is resting on
her lap, hand curled around her soft flank, the middle of my forearm in
contact with-could it be actually-her pubic bush! I dare not even breath
aloud for fear of startling her out of her sleep. I know that if she
awakes, she will break off this forbidden contact. The thought of touching
the gateway to her intimate parts excites me to the very core and I start
to shake with tension. Although it is too dark to see, I try to imagine
her in my minds eye totally naked from the waist down, as she is in fact.
My erection threatens to burst the fabric of my pyjamas.

I cannot tear myself away although nothing can come of this, tonight at
any rate. Her regular breathing tells me she is truly asleep, her falling
asleep with the robe open an accident. After what seems like two hours I
gradually draw away from contact, close her robe and cover her with a
blanket from her bedroom. My balls ache from the prolonged arousal, it's
almost impossible to sleep without stroking my member but somehow I muster
the self-discipline to hold off, in anticipation of a breakthrough in the
next few days.

That was on the Saturday night of a three-day weekend. What happened the
very next night was ten times as exciting.

"Brad, dear, I think it's time we had a little talk; could you get
us a couple of beers from the fridge?"
"Sure, Karen." We settled down on the living room sofa. After downing
half the can, she took my hand and placed it firmly on her mid-thigh,
holding it there for emphasis. Were things going to get steamy at last?
"Look, Brad, it's time for a little honesty and openness around here.
I'll just bet you've been wondering about my love life-or lack of it."
Here I nodded assent.
"I had two brief flings about four-five months after Mr Wray passed
on, with guys who sell stuff to our lab, but frankly they treated me like
dirt. And for me that's worse than being lonely-or horny. I'm just not
about to go looking around for a man now or probably any time soon...but I
have needs...I was thinking you and I...oh, hell! Get me another beer,
will you?"
"Anything for my favorite landlady!" was my attempt to be
lighthearted, but I was getting all of a sudden very tense as I sensed the
direction we were headed for.
"Brad, I remember every flattering thing you ever said about me, and
all those looks you've been giving me...and I don't think you'd ever treat
me like dirt."
"Of course not, Karen." I placed my hand back on her thigh, but
higher up. She responded by covering my hand with her own.
"A nice-looking broad-shouldered young fella like you, not going out
with girls, I couldn't help wondering...hoping, you know...that had
something to do with your feelings about me." At this I almost was tempted
to answer by taking her in my arms and kissing her, but I was still a
little shy. Instead I meekly nodded, avoiding eye contact.
"The time is ripe for us to see how we respond to each other, as
equal adults, Brad. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Brad."
"Oh God, yes, YES!"
"It has to done just right, making sure that neither one of us is
disappointed, and that it's what we both truly are ready for."
"Uh, what are you driving at, Karen?"
"I mean, Brad, that I'm sure you masturbate, if you're like all other
young men, and that it's got to stop right now, so you can give ME your
all. And I'll stop, too, as of this moment."
I tried not to look shocked, but this was back in the 1960s, when we
didn't talk much about masturbation and boys were totally ignorant on the
subject of female masturbation.


The air was unseasonably warm for November in the high New Mexico desert.
A thin crescent moon hung in the night sky. As instructed by Karen, I
heated up her small pool and hung a bunch of towels on a lattice-work
fence to secure our privacy from the eyes of neighbors. I got into the
pool and faced away from the house. Karen liked to give surprises, and she
liked to be in charge. After a few agonizingly slow minutes, I heard her
slip into the water behind me. With pent-up passion she hugged me from the
back, rubbing and then pinching my nipples. No high-school girlfriend had
ever done anything like that! She nuzzled my neck and shoulder, and then
squeezed my nipples 'til they hurt. As previously instructed I stood still
and straight.
"Now, Brad, turn around and look at me." She was wearing a one-piece
swimsuit which concealed only the lower 60% of her full bosom. I gasped
at her awesome cleavage; somehow the effect was all the greater as I had
to strain my eyesight to the utmost in the scanty moonlight.
"Now let's move to the deeper part of the pool, I want to show you
something." I willingly obeyed.
"How long can you hold your breath under water, Brad?"
"Don't know, Karen."

"You'd like me to drop the top of my swimsuit, wouldn't you, you
sweet boy?" I nodded vigorously. "Well, you can see my breasts as long as
you can hold your breath under water...starting...now!"
I took two or three deep breaths and dropped under the surface. There, not
two feet away was a sight to behold. No doubt Karen was a natural
DD-cupper, and although her boobs probably sagged quite a bit under their
weight in air, under water they seemed to float and sway, weightless yet
undeniably massive in their shadowed roundness. She placed her hands on
her hips, arched her back and twisted back and forth to accentuate the
wonderful jiggling motions. I tried to memorize the sight of those great
round masses of tit-flesh until my eyes stung fiercely from the pool
chemicals. I passionately wanted to hold her breasts and suck on them, and
would have died happily for one minute of such unimagined pleasure. What
did happen is that, my lungs bursting, I surfaced, and mumbled, between
gasps of air: "Incredible, Karen...you are just so sexy and beautiful...I
just...have never seen anything like that...anywhere(what I meant was, in
stroke magazines).
"Oh you dear, lovely boy, give us a kiss," she said, as she bent
forward, tilted her head toward me and kissed me deeply, so our teeth
ground together for an instant.
"Now I'm sure, dear Brad, of my feelings, but tonight is not the
right night...don't ask...turn around right now, Brad."
As ever I obeyed her instantly, shaking with passion and disappointment at
the same time. I heard her climb out of the pool and disappear behind me
into the house.

I lay down on the poolside lounger in confusion until the air turned
colder and caused a shivering fit. Back in the house, Karen's bedroom door
was closed. The house was silent. I felt almost sure she was as drawn to
me as I to her, and that we would soon consummate our passion, but maybe
she enjoyed teasing me...maybe it would never happen. With the greatest
difficulty, I remembered my promise to refrain from masturbation. I read
myself to sleep with a materials science textbook.


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