Tender Touches

 The rain fell rapidly down the window of Tom's Hyundai Coupe. Mentally he cursed the glowing numbers on the radio that told the hour and minute. He was late and the clock did nothing but drill that fact into his sleepy head. His hand came up to wipe across his tired features. A long, drawn out yawn escaped his lips just before he vigorously shook his head.

"Come on, ol' boy, time to wake up," he said to himself. Tom sat up straighter, opened his eyes wide and stared out the rain-slicked window. Soon his lids were growing heavy again and his head bobbed up and down. The sound of a blaring horn and a pair of bright yellow lights coming toward him made Tom jerk the steering wheel, he'd barely been gripping, to the side of the road.

The slickness of the rain, the speed of the vehicle, and the over-correcting of Tom's maneuver spelled disaster. Immediately he was awake, his eyes were wide in their sockets and his face frozen in fear as the back end of his car swung around and his grip on the wheel loosened, sending him sliding across the seat.

While the car continued to spin out of control, Tom's life flashed before his eyes. He thought it ironic that it didn't take too long and how everything seemed to be in slow motion. His back hurt as it connected solidly to the passenger side of the car. The arm rest jabbed at his ribs and he cried out in pain as his elbow hit the door handle. His teeth rattled in his head as the back of his skull met the window. Just as quickly as it had happened, the car stopped moving, the engine died, and Tom started breathing again.

He sat there for a minute, or laid there, depending on how one chose to examine the situation. His tired eyes stared at his legs stretched out before him. He glanced at the seat belt, the metal hook of the unused latch seemed to laugh at him. Tom turned his body around and pulled himself back over to the driver's seat. His hand came up to rub at the knot forming under his short brown hair. When his fingers came away sticky and warm, he grimaced; he didn't need light to tell him he was bleeding. A hard knock on his driver's window made him jump in his seat. Tom turned and stared into another light, this one small but just as bright. He reached out and felt for the handle of the door, pulled it and pushed the metal open. Timidly, almost not quite trusting his feet, Tom stepped out of the car and let the door close behind him. Immediately he was assaulted by rain drops, but soon those were shielded from him by the person holding the light to his face.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked. The stranger swept the light up and down Tom's sore figure, before settling it on his face. Tom winced from the invasion to his pupils, lifted his arm and pushed the offensive glare away. The movement, though small, sent his head spinning and he stumbled back against the car. "No, I'd say you're not."

Tom groaned, but said nothing as the stranger's hand reached out and gripped his shoulder. "The phone service is down, or I'd call a truck for you and an ambulance."

"No. . .that's not necessary," Tom replied, telling himself this accident was his fault and he deserved every bruise he felt. "Are you alright? Did I hit you. . . or anyone else for that matter?" he asked as he glanced past the person with the light and looked up and down the deserted road.

"No one else was on the road and my car is fine."

Tom sighed. "Good. I'm sorry about all this though," he said and pushed away from the vehicle only to stumble again. This time the stranger caught him with a pair of firm hands, dropping the light and the umbrella they'd been holding. "Maybe I'm a little bruised up," Tom admitted to himself and then heard the soft chuckle of the person who held him up. He blushed, though it went unseen because of the darkness. He wasn't aware he'd spoken out loud, nor had he been aware until that moment that the person he'd almost killed, was a female.

"Well, you certainly can't drive. Come with me. The storms not going to let up anytime soon and I don't live too far off the main road."

Tom frowned. He didn't know this woman yet he wasn't in any position to refuse her hospitality. With a heavy sigh he accepted her offer with a verbal promise to pay her back for all her troubles. "I'm sure we'll settle it up later, right now, let's just get out of the rain. Do you have anything of importance you need from your car?"

Tom turned back to look at his vehicle. It was drive-able, he knew it was, but he also knew the woman was right, he was in no shape to drive. He made a mental sweep of what was in the car and then shook his head, sending a fresh wave of nausea through his system. The woman must have sensed his discomfort because her firm grip on his arm increased. "Good then, let's go," she said and gently led him toward her Vauxhall Astra.

Constance Simmons opened the passenger side of her car, helped the young man in and then shut the door securely behind him. She knew she was being stupid. She didn't know this man. He could be an axe-welding, drug lord, on his way to off some man, woman or child who hadn't paid their latest hit. Constance rolled her eyes and laughed at herself as she darted back to the man's vehicle. She felt the rain continue to beat down on her, plastering itself to her clothing which was already soaked through. She grabbed the flashlight and her umbrella, closed the one, turned off the other and half jogged/half walked back to her car. She climbed in and sighed heavily. "Here," she said, turning in her seat and reaching into the back. "It's dirty, but it's dry."

A blanket, rough and somewhat smelly, was passed over to Tom. She watched his pale features blanch as the odor of rubbed down horses filled his nostrils. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she settled it around his wet body. "When we get back to the house I'll find you something clean. Honest." Constance's car had been running and now she swiftly put it into gear, checked her windows and glanced back at her passenger. "Can you buckle up? Or do you need help?" she asked.

Tom hesitated for a moment, recalling how he had sailed across the seat of his car because he hadn't been buckled. "I've got it," he said. He reached around, grabbed the strap and pulled it across his blanketed form. When the snap was heard, Constance secured herself and then took off.

The drive began in silence. Both occupants very much aware of the other and the fact that they were strangers. "My name's Tom."

Constance smiled. "Constance," she said and turned off the main road. "Are you alright? I can't really tell if you're bruised up real bad or not, but you sure were unsteady on your feet back there."

"I banged my head and got jabbed in the ribs, but all in all I'm okay."

"Well, banging your head doesn't sound good. You could have a concussion, so I'll take a look when we get back to the farm. It means you'll have to stay awake for a while."

Tom agreed. "I'll stay awake." At least he hoped he would, after all being tired was what got him in the situation he was in now. Tom leaned his head back and let his lids close slightly. His gaze shifted over the dashboard of Constance's car. There were no frilly things dangling from the mirror, no bobble heads shaking too and fro. The floorboards seemed clean, free of fast food wrappers and various empty Starbucks cups. Completely unlike his car. His hazel green eyes glanced at the woman driving the car. Her hands gripped the wheel with confidence. Her fingers were long and well-manicured, but the nails short as if she had no time for painting and polishing, but was willing to keep herself healthy looking.

His gaze traveled up her arms and he didn't fail to notice the strength in them. When his assessment reached her face he was surprised by how pretty she was. She'd mentioned a farm and the blanket she gave him reeked of animals, he just assumed she would look like a hardened and seasoned farmer's wife. She didn't though. She looked confident, mature, and very much aware of herself as an individual. Tom sighed and turned away to study the raindrops sliding down his window. He wouldn't mind being confident, more mature and more aware of his own appeal. He snickered softly... "nothing appealing about me," he muttered.

"Huh?" Constance's voice filtered into Tom's mind.

He jerked around, grabbed his head and muttered, "Nothing, just talking to myself."

Constance smiled, but said nothing else. She watched Tom from the corner of her eye as he pulled the blanket up closer around him and snuggled into it. She took the opportunity to study him, using the glow of the dashboard lights to aid her. He wasn't a tall fellow, she remembered how he barely cleared her five-foot-four height. She estimated him to be an inch taller than her and he weighed less than she did too. She sighed, bound and determine not to focus on her weight, after all hadn't she lost five pounds this week and she knew her jeans were less snug. A smile lifted from her lips as she thought of how fun it had been that morning when she slipped the notch on her belt tighter.

"So Tom, where were you headed?"

Tom blinked away the sleepiness and answered Constance's question. "I have a meeting up in Hampshire tomorrow morning and I was trying to make the hotel on time. I'm a stickler for time and I was running late, so I was fighting sleep. I really am sorry about almost running you over."

Constance reached over and gently squeezed her traveling companion's leg. "No worries. I'm fine; you're somewhat fine and tomorrow you'll make your meeting. I'll drive you up there, unless it looks like your too injured to go. Then you're stuck at my place till you're all better."

Tom stared down at the firm grip on his leg and licked his lips. He coughed gently and glanced at Constance. "Sorry," she whispered, pulling her hand away. Tom smiled but said nothing else. They drove in silence, Tom lost in his own thoughts, still feeling the warmth of Constance's hand on his leg and wishing he'd not coughed and brought attention to her personal space invasion.

Constance chewed nervously on her lower lip, wondering why she'd reached out and touched the man beside her. It'd been a long time since she'd been with a man. The farm she ran, she ran alone, her father having passed a few months ago, had willed it to her and her mother had refused to return to the place where her life had been horrid (according to her). Constance left her friends behind, including an ex-lover, and she'd made a new life for herself in the thick woods of her Daddy's land. "Yes," she told herself, "you've just been without for too long."

Constance made the final turn down a long gravel drive. "I've got several guest rooms. I inherited this place from my Dad. He passed a few months ago."

"I'm sorry," Tom answered back, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. He didn't know this woman, but he generally felt empathy for her. She'd been kind to him, taking him in, not screaming her lungs out for his inept driving ability and he could tell in her voice and the quietness in the air that she had cared for the man who had deeded her this land.

"Thank you," she replied. Her hand came up and Tom watched her push a button on the visor. Light flooded the front of the car. Tom winced from the invasion and watched as the door to a garage rose up and Constance drove her car into the structure. Soon the door was closing behind them and the sound of beating rain was drowned out by the protection they were surrounded in.

Simultaneously they both sighed then glanced at each other. "Let's get you inside and let me take a look at your injuries." Constance opened her door and walked around to Tom's side, where he had already climbed out. She watched him cautiously, to make sure he was steady on his feet. He smiled shyly and waved her away. "Just be careful, these steps are steep." Tom assured her he would and Constance frowned but turned and made her way toward the connecting door that led up to the main part of the house.

She unlocked the steel structure, pulled it open and stepped in. Tom followed, his arm brushed casually and innocently across her chest. "Sorry," he muttered and quickened his step to make his way past her. Constance chuckled softly as she watched him nervously scurry into her kitchen. She closed the door, locked it, pulled off her wet jacket, and kicked her muddy and soaked tennis shoes off. "Tom, come back over here and take off those wet clothes. I don't want you tracking mud and water through the house."

Tom's eyes grew wide and he shuffled back to her. He pulled the blanket off; Constance took it and sniffed. "Oh, wow... I'm sorry I gave this too you."

Tom laughed. "It wasn't that bad," he told her as he took off his shoes and then peeled off his socks. He stood there, in a wet shirt and soaked slacks. Constance stepped back and lifted a brow.

"Tom... the laundry room is right there. You're not tracking through this house in those clothes, so strip."

"But... right here?" he asked, still not quite believing this woman was expecting him to disrobe in her entryway.

"Yes," Constance rolled her eyes and turned around. "There is that better?" she asked. "I'm forty years old, for God's sake. I've seen men in all shapes and sizes." She heard Tom shuffling back and forth and knew he was finally disrobing. "Keep your boxers on if it makes ya feel better," she added, knowing in a way in made her feel better too. She had seen naked men before, after all her profession before taking over her father's little horse farm had been in nursing. There was something about Tom though, she wasn't sure what it was, but she desperately wanted to turn around and get a good look at the man behind her.

"Umm... you can turn around now," Tom whispered, coughing quietly to clear his throat. He knew he was being foolish. The woman in front of him was not going to harm him, or attack his lanky form. He wouldn't mind if she did, but realistically he knew it wasn't going to happen. Now that they were in a place where light was ample he could tell the woman before him was not your everyday run of the mill dame. Constance seemed to carry herself with determination and confidence, something Tom had noted earlier in the car.

Constance studied the young man before her, tilting her head one way then another as she walked around him. "Just checking for bruises," she told him as she ran her gaze down his form. She let her eyes rest on his chest, before sweeping her gaze down his hips, across his groin and then his legs. Her inquisitive stare moved back up and she took in his wet hair, plastered to his head and then she caught his questioning eyes staring back at her. She felt herself blush as their gazes held for several seconds. "Do you hurt anywhere?" she asked, stepping back and putting some distance between them.

"I banged my head pretty good, but all in all that's it."

"Oh, yeah, I asked you that already. Let me show you up to a guest room, find you some warm and dry clothes, then I'll take a look at your head."

Tom followed her through the kitchen, a dining room, and a well furnished den, before they took the stairs up to the second floor. His eyes wandered from the various pictures that littered the walls, to the antique furnishings. Tom forced himself to concentrate on the scent of the wood that made up Constance's home instead of the scent and sight of the woman that walked in front of him. Her perfume was light, something he hadn't noticed in the car, and the way she moved made his body respond instinctively. He groaned as he took in the gentle sway of her hips. His stomach muscles tightened and he felt his sex thicken slightly. "Great," he thought to himself, "she sees that, she'll kick you out and you'll be walkin' back to the car naked."

Constance suddenly stopped and Tom brought himself to a halt. "I think you'll like this room. I just aired it out a couple days ago. Dad never used it after he and mom split up. That was over twenty-two years ago." She opened the door and walked in. Tom followed. "They stayed together until I was eighteen. Then mom took off; I went with her since she was moving to the same city I was going to go to nursing school in." Constance blushed, suddenly realizing she was divulging more of her personal life to the stranger than she had meant to. "Well, anyway, you wait here and I'll go find you something to wear. My dad was a slim man too, so I'm sure I've got something of his you can have. There is a connecting bathroom, if you want to get the chill out of your bones with a hot shower."

Tom thanked her and then realized he was cold. Being around Constance, watching her, listening to her, had made him focus on something besides his own discomfort. A shiver suddenly rolled through him and he shut the door behind her before turning to take in the room. It was a simple place in a simple home. The furnishings were old and he would bet a year's wages that the quilt on the bed was handmade. He walked over to what he assumed was the door to the bathroom, opened it and was rewarded with exactly what he wanted, a welcoming room with running water.

By the time Constance returned to Tom's room, she was chastising herself for taking her time in finding just the right clothes for her houseguest. "He's probably still standing in his wet boxers and shivering to death," she muttered to herself. She knocked softly on the door, but no answer came to her from the other side. Constance frowned, fearful the young man had lain down and fallen asleep, something that wasn't wise if he suffered from a concussion. She opened the door and stepped in, clutching the clothes against her. The sound of rushing water filtering in from the bathroom, brought a sigh of relief from her parted lips. Constance placed the clothes on the bed and stepped over to the bathroom. "Tom," she called out.

"Yes?" his voice came to her muffled by the water that was spraying from the shower nozzle.

"I put some clothes on the bed for you. I'm going to be downstairs warming up coffee and something for supper. I don't want you falling asleep until I look at your head, so please come downstairs after you get dressed."

"Sounds good," Tom answered back.

Constance left and hurried down to the kitchen where she quickly started a fresh pot of coffee and rummaged in her fridge for whatever easy leftovers she had available. When Tom presented himself to her, he was greeted with the rich aroma of coffee and the mouth watering essence of beef stew. His stomach growled loud enough to alert his hostess of his arrival. Constance turned from the sink and smiled. "Have a seat," she said, nodding her head toward the small table in the center of the room. Tom took a seat and waited patiently as Constance presented him with a steaming bowl of soup and a large mug of black liquid. He took a deep breath, enjoying the mingling aromas that greeted him.

"This looks and smells wonderful," he said as he lifted his spoon and took a bite of the thick stew. "Tastes good too," he replied then shoveled in more.

Constance grinned as Tom devoured the first bowl and didn't balk at being served a second. She was also surprised at the pleasure she was receiving by serving him and seeing him enjoy her cooking. It had been sometime since she'd cooked for a man; she'd forgotten how pleasurable it was to be praised for her culinary skills.

When she rose to refill his cup for a third time as well as his bowl, Tom waved her off. "No... no more. I'll explode the buttons off your Dad's shirt if I eat another bite."

Her laughter filled the room and Tom was taken back by the softness of it. He watched her disappear from the room. Once again his eyes were drawn to the silkiness of her walk. He didn't think she knew how seductive she was. The way she moved seemed natural, not rehearsed to tempt. "Down boy," he muttered. His hand traveled south and he adjusted himself through the fabric of his borrowed clothes. Just then Constance returned and his gaze locked on hers. Her eyes took in where his hand was and Tom blanched as he watched her lips rise in a knowing smirk. He swallowed the lump in his throat and put his hand back on the table, where it toyed with the empty spoon of his stew.

"I threw your laundry into the wash and it'll be ready for you come morning. Right now, let me take a look at your head," Constance said. She put a first aide kit on the table and moved behind Tom. Her fingers gingerly touched his scalp and he winced. She apologized for the pain, which he shrugged off. After dabbing some peroxide on the small cut she'd discovered, Constance squeezed his shoulders and told him he'd survive. "Let me see your eyes," she said and slipped down to rest on her knees beside him.

Tom turned and stared down at her. His hazel-green orbs locked with her brown ones. He found himself lost in them as she concentrated on him. After what Tom knew was seconds his eyes moved from hers down to the pink hued lips that were slightly parted. He wondered what they felt like, their taste, their texture. His gaze continued to travel down from her lips to her chin. It was round, just like her cheeks, which were lightly freckled. A few wrinkles could be seen around her eyes and her lips, but they did nothing to distract from her down-home beauty. He took a deep breath and again was assailed by the scent she wore. He wondered if she dabbed the perfume behind her ears, on her wrists or perhaps the back of her knees like some women did. Tom continued to study her, briefly coming back to look into her eyes. He dipped his gaze down to her chest, where he was able to see the white lace of her bra through the collar of her shirt that hung low and slightly open. A groan escaped him and he blushed when he heard Constance's cough.

"You look fine," she whispered, rising up from her position on the floor. "I think you can go rest and I'll come in and check on you off and on through the night."

Tom protested but his words fell on stubborn ears. He pushed himself from the table and made his way back to his room. Once there, he peeled off his clothes and climbed under the quilt, momentarily thinking he should at least ask for some pajama bottoms. That thought died quickly as exhaustion consumed him.

Constance sipped at a cup of coffee as the old clock on the fireplace mantle ticked. She thought of the man upstairs. Who was he? Did he have a family that would be worrying about him? A girlfriend? A wife? Lover? A dog? He was young, but not so young that he had to be single. She hadn't seen a ring, but then again she hadn't inquired as to his status either. She should have. She should have offered to call someone for him. Why hadn't she? Was she so lonely she was willing to house some stranger and throw safety and caution to the wind? No. . .she was good at reading people. She thought of her ex and shuddered... well, usually she was good at reading people. The clock struck the hour and Constance rose from her chair, laying her unread book to the side. She took the steps to Tom's room and then stepped in.

She stopped at the side of the bed, sat down on its edge and reached out to stroke the fine hair that had fallen over his brow. "Tom," she whispered, slowly stroking the strands with a gentle caress. A soft moan fell from the man's lips and she smiled. "Tom, wake up for a minute," she whispered again, shifting on the edge of the bed to keep herself from slipping off.

Tom rolled to his side, sweeping a long, strong arm out. It landed on Constance's leg and his fingers curled around her thigh. She gasped, swallowing the surprised squeal that threatened to erupt from her. "Tom," she said again this time a bit louder. "I just want you to wake up for a minute or two."

Tom heard the voice of an angel. He didn't want to wake up. He was wrapped in her wings. Her arms stroking his head, her body bending to his will. His lips were covering her nipples. Her nails were dragging down his back and his cock was straining to slide into her heavenly warmth.

"Tom," the angel said again.

"Mmm?" he muttered against her angelic chest.

"Wake up," she whispered.

It was then that Tom became aware that his hand was being gently caressed, but it seemed more real than it had been in his dream. He opened his eyes and looked at the fingers that were tracing the veins of his skin. "Connie?" he said, his voice full of sleepiness.

Constance grinned. "Hey there," she answered back. "Let me look at you," she said. Tom pulled his hand away and rolled to his back. His head pounded and Constance sensed it, for soon she was up and back at his side with a glass of water and two pills. Tom downed the pain killers without thought and fell back on the pillow. He heard her chuckle and wanted to thank her, but soon sleep reclaimed him.

Constance sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes just watching her patient sleep. She didn't want to leave his side. He'd fallen asleep too quickly for her comfort, so she moved from the bed and walked over to a small rocking chair. She dragged it from the corner of the room and pulled a blanket from the closet. In time, Constance made herself a bed in its wicker frame. Off and on through the night she slept, waking up from a self-taught light sleep to check on her houseguest. By the time the rooster was crowing Constance had developed gray bags under her eyes, but she was sure Tom suffered no permanent damage from his head wound.

Tom awoke to the smell of coffee and a well made breakfast. His head still hurt, but nothing like it had the night before. Sunlight streamed through the curtains of his room and he watched dust particles flutter in and out of the beams. He pushed the quilt away, glanced to where he had seen Constance sleeping through the night and felt a pang of regret that she wasn't still there. Tom showered and quickly donned his borrowed clothes, then noted his own were gently stacked on a table by the door. He made a mental note to thank Constance for her trouble and changed from his borrowed clothes back into his own.

Downstairs he went, only to stop short as he watched a lovely round derrière wiggle to the sounds erupting from an old radio. He leaned against the banister of the steps and watched his hostess dance and gyrate in a manner that showed her inept ability to dance. In reality it didn't matter to Tom that Constance had two left feet. Her round hips, long but full thighs and her ample bosom were all that Tom was interested in. As she spun around his gaze went up to lock on her face. He grinned as he watched her halt and suddenly blush. Her lips rose in a grin and she reached behind her, flicking the radio off. "Good morning," she said, before making her way toward the kitchen. "Come on, I've got food for you and then we can head to that meeting."

"Oh damn," Tom muttered. "I'd forgotten all about that," he said as he followed her into the room. Once again he took the seat he'd used the night before and once again he was being served coffee and food by this good Samaritan. "Constance, I don't know how to thank you enough for last night, and of course for this morning and all you've done. How much do I owe you?"

Constance stopped eating and looked across the table. "Owe me?" she asked. "Tom, you don't owe me anything. I'm just glad I can help. Besides you've paid me back ten fold. It's been nice cooking for someone again. I missed that more than I realized."

Tom smiled shyly. "Well, glad I could be of help."

"Me too."

The couple continued eating, Tom complimenting the meal off and on as he shoveled in food. In time he felt himself relax and he stopped focusing on ways to repay Constance for her kindness. "Why has it been so long since you've cooked for someone?" Tom suddenly asked. He glanced at Constance and saw the strain of her features. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask personal questions like that."

Constance smiled back. "Oh don't apologize. I'm single, as you can see. I had a boyfriend before I moved out here. I broke things off with him after I caught him with someone else."

"Damn."

Constance shrugged her shoulders. "It shouldn't have surprised me, after all he'd cheated on me before, but I really thought this time he was over her and committed to me. Anywho, when Daddy died and his will gave me this place, I decided a fresh start was just what I needed. I have a part time job at the local nursing home and spend the rest of my time here. I don't date, so there isn't anyone to cook for. Mom refuses to take one step onto the farm, so she doesn't visit, so again no one to cook for. Cooking for you has been fun. I'll miss it when you leave."

"I'll miss it too. I'm single. I live off takeout and frozen microwave meals. My parents live too far from me to visit and have a home-cooked meal... besides mom burns most everything anyway, so I'd still opt to eat takeout."

Constance laughed and Tom found himself entranced. "So no husband or boyfriend. Have you ever been married?" he asked, then added quickly, "just tell me to shut up if I get too personal."

"Never been married. Me and the ex were engaged twice. I mentioned last night I was forty; I should have been married by now and have a couple of kids graduating or close to it, but it's just me. What about you?"

"I'm thirty-three, never married, rarely date. Hell, I'm still a vir..." the word died on Tom's lips as his cheeks grew red. He glanced at Constance then down at his scrambled eggs which suddenly looked foreign to him.

"Nothing wrong with that," she said casually, as if every day thirty-three-year-old virgins sat at her kitchen table.

"Well, you only say that because it's not you," Tom muttered and pushed a mouthful of egg between his teeth.

Constance stood up and squeezed his shoulder as she picked up the coffee pot and refilled his mug. "It'll happen, when its supposed to and with the right person."

Tom sighed. He had heard that before. He was tired of waiting for the right person. "Yeah, I know," he said and finished the last of his bacon. He pushed away from the table and rolled his shoulders. "The least I can do is the dishes. Why don't you get ready and by the time I'm done cleaning up here, we can take off."

Constance agreed, tightened the belt of her robe and left Tom to his musings in her kitchen. She made her way to her bedroom, then slipped into her personal bathroom, where she showered then later dried her hair and brushed the brunette locks out till they hung in waves over her shoulders. Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror attached to the back of the door. Her hands ran over her body and she lifted her breasts. They didn't sag like some ladies did, but they didn't have the youthful appearance of her twenties either. She caressed the darkened circles of her areolas and watched as the ridges beaded up for attention and the peaks protruded out, wanting her to pull and tease them. She sighed and squeezed both beads, before letting her eyes drop to her rounded stomach. The five pounds she'd lost had been there; she was thankful for it. She wasn't ready to lose weight in her chest. Her hands rested on her stomach and she turned to admire and/or critique her profile. She would never be a model. She knew this, but the farming she'd done recently had helped her drop some weight and redefine some muscles. Her nails grazed over her ass cheeks and she tightened them. "Not bad," she told the woman in the mirror and then she heard the sound of banging cabinet doors.

She opened the bathroom door and hurried to her closet, where she pulled out a sweater and a simple black skirt. Soon she was back downstairs and leaning against the door frame of her kitchen, watching Tom work. It was obvious he was familiar with the washing and handling of dishes, which meant he didn't eat off of paper plates and plastic ware, other wise he wouldn't be handling her china with care. Or he did more domestic duties when he was visiting his parents. She smiled as she recalled his admission of his sexual experience or lack of it. What had possessed him to share that with her? She wondered. Eventually Constance cleared her throat, letting Tom know she was there. He turned toward her and she saw his eyes rake over her. Constance smirked and found herself staring back at him seductively.

Tom didn't miss the new look that crossed his hostess's face. He felt his body responding and swallowed nervously. "You look nice," he whispered. His fingers nervously toyed with the towel he held as he watched Constance make her way toward him. Her hands reached up and smoothed down the lapels of his sports coat. He felt the heat of her palms ride over him as she pushed them over his shirt and up to the tie he wore. She tightened it and he tried to remain calm as her nails grazed the outline of his collar.

"Thank you," she whispered back before stepping away. "Do you wear cologne?" she suddenly asked.

"Sometimes," Tom admitted, still not quite sure he was capable of having an intelligent conversation with the woman in front of him, or anyone for that matter. His body was on fire, his sex straining, and his hands itching to reach out and explore the feminine curves of the woman he was quickly developing a hunger for.

"There is some upstairs in my bedroom. I bought if for my ex, but he never wore it... since I never gave it to him. If you'd like, you're welcome to it. My rooms just two doors down from yours and the cologne is on the dresser in a black gift box," she said before stepping around Tom to disappear into the wash closet where she kept their coats.

Tom darted up the stairs and found Constance's room. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it for support. His eyes closed as he breathed in the scent of the woman who had shown him nothing but kindness. He chastised himself for the thoughts that were running around in his head. He took another breath, opened his eyes and pushed himself from the door. His gaze fell on her bed and he remembered the dream he'd had last night. He could see Constance, wrapped in his arms; he in hers. Their legs were entwined, their lips and fingers constantly seeking out new places to explore. Before Tom realized what he was doing, he found himself standing next to her bed, his fingers running slowly across the dent in her pillow. He shook himself out of his reverie and headed to the dresser where he spotted the gift box she spoke of. Again he became entranced with the whatnots that graced the polished surface of the dresser top. Jewelry, both small and dainty rested along more bold pieces. Different polishes and lotions, as well as various perfume bottles littered the space and Tom wondered which scent she wore last night. He picked up one bottle and sniffed it, then another, eventually he found the fragrance and breathed it in. "Beautiful," he whispered, before hearing her steps coming up the stairs.

Quickly Tom replaced the bottle and lifted the gift box; by the time Constance stepped in he was splashing the cologne over his earlier shaven features. "Smell good?" he asked as he set the bottle down. Much to his surprise, Constance stepped up and pressed herself against him, breathed deep and moaned softly.

"Oh very nice indeed. It's yours," she said, lingering against him and taking another whiff of the expensive scent.

Tom felt his cock jerk in response to her proximity and he placed his hands on her arms to steady himself. He was actually lightheaded and he knew it wasn't from the cologne or his head injury. "I couldn't," he said as he stepped away from Constance, still keeping their distance close enough to hold her.

"You can and shall," she insisted, smiling up at him and then easing from his grasp. "Besides there is no one here to wear it and it'll gather dust if you don't take it." She picked up the box and took his right hand, placed it in the palm then turned away. "I'll meet you in the garage," she called out as she bounded down the steps.

Tom shook his head and headed down after her. He closed the garage door and placed the box in the seat behind his chair. "Thanks Constance," he said as he buckled himself into his seat. "If we could swing by my car, I'm sure I can drive myself."

"Connie," she said.

"Huh?"

"You called me Connie last night. You can call me that again if you want. As far as you driving yourself," she laughed and hit the garage door button. "I don't think so," she added, as the sound of the door rising on its pull system filled the room. "You had a hard knock on your head. I'll drive you. I've got a few errands I can run while your in your meeting, then I'll bring you back here, by then your car will be towed up to the farm and after another night under my roof, I'll release you."

"Connie, I can't keep imposing on you... especially if you're not going to let me reimburse you."

Constance sighed as she drove down the drive and out onto the road. "Tom, I told you, your company is payment enough. Now do you need to stop at your car for anything or do I drive on to Hampshire?"

"I need some papers, then you can chauffeur me around, though you did forget to wear the proper uniform all my chauffeurs wear." He winked at her and smiled when she rolled her dark brown eyes at him.

"Glad to see you come with a sense of humor and not just a dashing smile."

"Dashing smile?" Tom asked. "I didn't think you noticed," he winked again.

"Oh I noticed... that and other things." This time it was her turn to wink as she lifted her brows and swept her eyes from his face to his groin. She grinned wide as he shifted in his seat, a soft chuckle fell from her lips and she couldn't help but giggle aloud. "You're cute, Tom."

Tom sighed. "Cute is not what a thirty-three year old man wants to hear."

"Oh? Would you rather I say... You're one hot stud muffin."

Tom's laughter erupted from his chest eventually mingling in with Constance's. In time they reached his car and Tom picked up the briefcase full of papers he needed for his morning meeting. The couple made small talk, touching on local politics, as well as briefly discussing childhood memories, past dates, both failed and enjoyed ones, as well as sharing the antics of friends that Tom had and co-workers that Constance did or didn't care for.

By the time Constance pulled into the parking lot of the building Tom directed her too, she was very much surprised at the growing attraction she was having toward the young man. He wasn't that much younger than her, only seven years, but she did have a wealth of knowledge in life in general. It surprised her to find herself wanting to spend more time with Tom and as he exited the vehicle she leaned over and grabbed his hand. "Do you get a lunch break?" she asked.

Tom glanced down at her hand, squeezed it and tucked his head back into the car. "At noon, we're breaking for lunch. I get an hour, though they are providing a buffet here. You don't have to..."

"I want to," she said and squeezed his hand back, before pulling it away. Tom shut the door and walked away, pausing to look back and watch her drive out of the parking lot. He shook his head, somewhat amazed that he'd met such a warm, sophisticated creature that seemed interested in him.

The first part of Tom's day was spent in a rush. He met with several key people in the company, showcased the newest hardware that would aid in establishing better amplified hearing equipment for those that dealt with hearing loss. Over the morning hours he answered questions, listened to proposals, played with numbers and glanced repeatedly at the clock on the wall, willing it to reach twelve. When it did, he could have sworn he whooped with glee, but he decided he hadn't since no one was staring at him.

He stepped out into the sunlight that blanketed the grounds and saw Constance's vehicle. She was sitting inside, the motor running, which meant she had the A/C on. He looked forward to sliding in beside her and not only breathing in her intoxicating scent but relaxing in the coolness of the car itself. The air conditioning in the building, where his meetings were taking place, had broken earlier in the week and the repairmen were still working on the problem.

Tom was halfway to Constance when she looked up at him. He froze and stared at her. His heart seemed lodged in his chest and his pulse suddenly began to race in his veins. He was in trouble; he knew it. Now what was he going to do about it? The woman behind the wheel of the car, who was pulling out of her parking spot and driving over to him had captured his heart and he wasn't sure how to handle himself. She pulled up and waited for him to get in, which Tom did almost in a mindless state. "Everything alright?"she asked.

Tom shook his head, somewhat dumbfounded by the realization that had slammed into him. He buckled up and soon was forced to focus on reliving his day for Constance as she asked him questions about the meeting. They reached a local Italian restaurant and Tom hurried out of the car to assist Constance from her side. She hooked her arm through his and together they made their way into the cool interior of the establishment. Tom helped her to her seat, scooting it in as she sat. His hands brushed against her shoulders and he thought he'd heard her moan. "Nah, wishful thinking," he told himself as he took his seat across from her.

An attendant came by, offered them both a glass of wine, which both accepted. He told them the specials for the day as well as their choices for soups. In time they were left alone, each sipping at their drinks and looking across the table at the other.

Constance felt the tension in the air; it was much different than when she helped him that morning with his tie, or when she'd taken a moment to breathe in the scent of the cologne he'd splashed on. This time it seemed that Tom had come to realize that she was a living and breathing woman who was very much attracted to him. She was too. That morning as she had run her errands, stopping at various markets to purchase things she needed for the house and ordering things she needed for the farm itself, she'd thought of Tom. She imagined him in her home, in her bed, even in the straw that was freshly tossed in one of the horse stalls in the barn. Looking at him now, she simply wanted to lean over and taste the wine on his lips. She almost did when she caught the movement of the attendant returning to take their orders.

The meal that followed was eaten slowly, the two devouring each other with their eyes more so than they did the food with their teeth and tongues. Constance had taken the initiative, reached out and touched Tom's hand. He turned his palm over, a questioning look in his eyes, he squeezed her fingers and watched her smile. Immediately he felt something new and his lips rose in a smirk as the knowing touch of a woman's foot slipped up and down the inside of his pant leg. Constance grinned wide over the lip of her wine glass. Her foot continued to slide along the firm leg of Tom. The soft stocking covered toes ran across the coarse hairs of his calf muscle several times before she eased it out. "When are the meetings over?" she asked, breaking the sexual tension that was consuming their surroundings.

Tom studied the woman across from him and licked his lips. "Constance... I could end them now, if..." He didn't finish talking as he felt her foot slide up further, this time on the outside of his pant leg. He watched her shift in her seat and then felt her toes brush against his crotch. He fidgeted and felt his face grow warm. "You do remember what I said this morning, don't you?" he asked. His left hand slipped under the table to take a hold of her foot. He rubbed her toes, but kept them from the object of their desire.

"I remember," she whispered, slipping her foot free of his unsure grip. She slipped her shoe back on and winked. "Finish your meal and your meetings. There's no rush. If you don't want to; I'm not going to..."

"Oh... I want to," Tom suddenly piped up, then bit down on the roll he'd been holding in his other hand, the right now empty of her foot. "I just don't know... I mean, I've dated. I've kissed, fondled and petted, but never..."

Constance sensed Tom's uneasiness and reached over to touch his cheek. "Don't worry about it. If it's meant to happen it will. Let's finish our meal and get you back to work. Don't think anymore of it." She grinned, knowing it would be all either of them thought about the rest of the day. Tom insisted on paying for dinner and Constance allowed it. She even handed him the keys to the car and let him drive back, though she joked with him about running into passerbys and parked cars. By the time they reached the office building where Tom would spend the rest of his day, the sexual tension was lessened, but the evening was still very much on both of their minds.

The afternoon seemed to drag on. Tom spent most of the time asking people to repeat something he'd missed or staring at the minute hand on the clock. When four o'clock swung around he was tense and somewhat short with his peers. Several times he found himself apologizing for not paying attention and heartily took the jokes that went his way. At the end of the day, Tom stepped back outside and searched for the face that had plagued him all day. He smiled and lifted his hand in a wave, then waited as she drove up to pick him up at the curb. Once in the car, he was surprised to see her slide over and invade his personal bubble. He blinked away the shock as her face hovered above his and she bent her head down to capture his lips with hers.

Tom sat there, stunned and unsure what to do. His lips parted as Constance's tongue snaked out to travel slowly across their seam. His tongue pushed against hers and one of his hands moved to brush the curls that rested on her shoulder. Just as quickly as the kiss had begun, it stopped. Constance pulled away, a soft smile rested on her lips. She reclaimed her seat behind the wheel, buckled up and watched out of the corner of her eye as Tom did the same. Back on the road, one of her hands remained on the wheel, the other reached out and found Tom's. They drove the whole way back to her farm in silence. Tom's fingers rubbed the top of Constance's hand and she felt a tingling rolling through her. A spark of heat seemed to flutter from his caress and erupt deep inside both of them.

Neither spoke once they reached the garage. Constance unbuckled and reached over to caress Tom's cheek. He turned his head and kissed her palm. She licked her lips and sighed, then pulled away and moved to get out of the car. They walked together into the house. The door closed quietly behind them and Constance turned to stare into Tom's nervous eyes.

She stepped forward, thankful she'd worn the one inch pumps so she was eye level with her houseguest. "I'll go slow," she whispered and then pressed her body against his. Again her tongue was traveling across Tom's lips. Her hands rested softly on his chest, her fingers running slowly up and down the inside of his sports coat.

Tom's lips parted and his tongue fondled awkwardly with hers, but soon she was encouraging him with whimpers and sighs. He learned how deep to kiss her, where to sweep his tongue to make her shiver against him. Constance continued to lavish him with attention. She pulled back from the kiss, only to capture his lower lip with her teeth. She chewed gently while her hands pushed his jacket off his shoulders. Tom reached out, grabbed her hips and dragged her against him. He ground his crotch against her and muttered something inaudible. One of his hands left her hip to move up and paw at her right breast. He squeezed the globe and heard her whimper. The sound wasn't one of pleasure and Tom felt his body tense.

"Gentle," she told him, stepping away and covering his hand with hers. She held his hand against her breast, the pressure teasing and light. "They're attached Tom, so caress them."

He blushed, but nodded his head in understanding. Constance released his hand and began to loosen his tie. She licked her lips as Tom's hand gently massaged her breast through the material of her blouse. His thumb casually and unknowingly grazed her nipple. Constance hissed and closed her eyes. Tom stopped. "I'm sorry, did that hurt?" he asked.

"Mmm... no. You can do it again, harder this time," she told him and pushed her breast into his palm. She felt his fingers move across her nipple. The pearl drop center beaded up under Tom's tender assault and she whispered, "Harder Tom, please."

Tom stared down at the covered globe and pinched the peak that pointed out at him. He watched Constance's face and twisted the jewel to the left then the right. "Ohh Tommy," she whimpered and he grinned, then cupped her other breast. He teased the twin nipple and bent down to kiss Constance's parted and panting lips. She pushed her tongue against his mouth and then stepped free of his sinful fingers. "Come upstairs," she said. She held his hand and brought it up to her lips. She kissed his fingers then led him through her home, up the steps and then down the hall to her bedroom.

Her fingers hovered on the knob for a few seconds before she turned it and opened. Constance stepped in. Tom followed. The door closed behind them. Tom stared at her, unsure as to what to do next. Constance slipped off her shoes and reached for the hem of her blouse. She started to pull it off and then stopped. "You do it," she said suddenly, dropping her hands to her side and staring back at Tom.

He blinked his surprise and stepped forward, flexing his fingers as if he were about to handle a fine piece of glass he was fearful of breaking. His fingers brushed against Constance's waist as he began to work the fabric up higher. Soon he was pulling it over her head and was gazing at the white bra she wore. He cupped the right globe and teased it again, this time the hard peak was easier to see and the ridges of her areola were more defined under the fabric.

"Mmm..." Constance moaned. She reached between her breasts and released the front snap. Tom's hand kept the fabric from parting. She opened her eyes and took both his hands, placed them at the top of her breasts and waited for him to take over. Tom read her desires and pushed the thin fabric away. It fell quietly to the floor. Both her tits swayed gently, free from the constraining material. He groaned and Constance grinned. His hands moved to cup both orbs. His thumbs rubbed across the darkening circles.

"Beautiful," he whispered. Tom had seen breasts before, even fondled a few during his late teens and early twenties, but these were different. The woman before him was full of life and she knew what she wanted. Her breasts were large, covered in a few freckles at the top. They swayed but didn't sag. He'd seen photos of older women and younger; Constance body, what he'd been allowed to see so far was mature in away that was quite pleasing and arousing.

"Tom."

The sound of his name on her lips made Tom glance up. His eyes held hers and he blinked back the emotions that were rolling inside him. "Kiss one," Constance told him. "Lick around the edge, then kiss the tip. Then... I want you to suck it into your mouth."

Another sound filled the room, one that Tom would later realize was a deep grunt of lust. He lifted her right breast and lowered his head. Constance's hand moved to the back of his head and she toyed with the brown strands. She didn't push him down, but coaxed him with soft whimpers and moans. Soon he was doing as she'd instructed. His tongue slowly traced the different hues of her tit. He felt the ridges and explored every small dip and curve. He lapped at her nipple, listened to her gasp and sigh. "Suck," she whispered and he opened his mouth to pull the hard diamond into a firm suckle. "Ooh Tommy," Constance gasped, her fingers curled into his hair and she pushed him deeper into her breast.

Tom smiled inwardly, suckled harder and felt Constance's other hand grip his arm as if to steady herself. He left her nipple, heard her mutter "damn" and then latched onto her other one, which he treated to the same sweet torture he had the other. Constance muttered and whimpered, begged him to continue and so he did. Back and forth he went, lavishing first one bead then the other. Still it wasn't enough. "Both," she gasped. Tom looked up and watched her squeeze her breasts together. He growled low, surprised by his own hungry and feral need. He replaced her hands, pushed the two nipples together and then returned to exploring, tasting and devouring them with his tongue and sucking motions. "Teeth, Tommy. Bite them. . .please. You won't hurt me. . .Please Tommm."

His brow furrowed as he nipped at her skin. "Harder," she told him. Tom opened his mouth and chewed on first her right nipple and then he moved to her left. Once more he moved between the two beads, until Constance was pulling him away. "Damn Tom, you may not have done this before, but ... damn," she hissed.

He grinned and laughed softly, the sound barely hid his own nervousness. Constance glanced at his crotch, saw the thick bulge and reached out. Boldly she ran her palm over the engorged, but hidden member. Her brows rose as she flicked the button of his slacks and the thin plastic disk slipped free of its home. Tom stared down at her hands, noted again their strength as she eased the zipper down and reached inside to free the straining muscle. He groaned when her fingers teased the head, softly squeezing and massaging the top, before dragging the skin down and back up again. She stroked him and he stood there in the room as if he were merely an object to be toyed and fondled with.

Constance teased Tom for a minute perhaps two, he wasn't sure, nor did he really care. He was in Heaven, back in the dream he had the night before, yet he knew this wasn't a dream. He watched his cock slide easily within her grip and then he felt his whole body spasm as she slid to the floor and rested on her knees. "Connie," he said, his fingers moving to touch her hair. She looked up at him and winked mischievously.

"Step out of your shoes," she told him, resting her hands on her thighs. Tom haphazardly discarded his shoes, socks and then his trousers. Constance stopped him as he was about to pull his boxers off, even with his cock fully erect and pointing proudly from the front opening. "I'll do it," she said and reached out to slide his boxers down. His shaft caught, but soon it was free, but only free from the clothing that had house it. It was not free from Constance's warm grip.

His lids fluttered closed, then open as Constance stroked his dick with differing maneuvers. Sometimes she was light and airy, other times hard and strong. She would stroke his member with long, lazy draws of her hand moving up and then she'd suddenly change and rapidly pump his sex. Tom thought he was going to explode in her hand when she stopped and said his name. "Yes?" he managed to answer back.

"How close are you?"

Tom swallowed and tried to comprehend the question. "Umm. . .I think I'm okay," he said and then felt a warm blanket of moist air coating his testicles. His eyes shot open and he looked down in fascination as Constance sucked and teased his sack with her lips and tongue. "Ohh fuck," he gasped and found his fingers had curled into her thick brown hair. "Connie," he muttered and gently pushed her face deeper into his crotch.

Connie slipped one ball out of her mouth, but kept the other nestled against her cheek. She swiped her tongue back and forth across it, pushed it against the roof of her mouth and then "swallowed" it so it smacked the back of her throat. She felt Tom's fingers grow tighter in her hair, so she released the sphere she'd been playing with and took its twin, rewarding it with another experienced series of licks and strokes. Tom grunted, his hips moved instinctively. Connie dropped his ball, licked under the sack and then trailed the tip of her tongue along the front of his shaft. She looked up, grinned wide when she saw her lover's eyes were closed and the look on his face spoke of genuine awe. Her hand wrapped around his dick and she whispered his name.

Tom barely opened his eyes, but looked down and watched her lips roll over the head of his cock then up again. "Ooh fuck," he muttered and heard her giggle. The sound though barely registered as the vibrations from it skated across his skin. He shivered and felt himself grow harder, which amazed his already aroused state of mind. His cock hurt, but the pain was pleasing and he found himself wanting to prolong it. "Connie... if you keep doing that," he warned.

She looked up at him. Her mouth full of his cock. Her brown eyes full of hunger. She bobbed her head down, continuing to hold his gaze. Saliva eased from the corner of her lips, coating his dick, and she sucked it up. Tom felt streams of pre cum flowing easily from the tip of his shaft and he knew without a doubt that Constance was drinking it up. Everything in her face, including the lusty look in her eyes told him she was enjoying it. This realization made Tom want to plunder her, but he knew Constance was in control and he couldn't just forcefully fuck her face. He didn't want to either, not really, he was enjoying this lesson far more than any dream he could have conjured up.

Constance plunged the full length of Tom into her mouth, angling her jaw so the head of his penis slipped easily down her throat. She closed her eyes and concentrated on taking all of him. The natural reflexes to gag made her pause. She took a deep breath through her nose, then continued on until her lips were to the base and her nose was nestled in the curls of his sex. Her hands, now empty, began to work other parts of her lover's flesh. One hand lifted, caressed, and massaged his testicles. She rolled the hard marbles between her fingers, while the other hand's fingernails grazed up and down the inner muscle of his left leg.

All the sensations rolling through Tom were more than any he'd ever experienced in the past. His body responded by instinct. His hips pumped forward. His hands curled into fists. His mind was gone. There was no thought. No reason. No understanding of what was happening. He was simply there for the ride and Constance controlled every turn with her fingers, tongue, teeth, and succulent motions. When his seed exploded, Tom for a brief moment feared her disgust, but that thought was squelched when she continued to hold him in her mouth, moan and swallow the second and then the third volley of his release.

A sound of breath being released brought Tom back to reality. It was the sound of his own breath. He hadn't even been aware he'd been holding it until his lungs forced him to expel and drag in a fresh supply of air. His lips shook. He gazed down at Constance, a smile beamed back at him. He shook his head, amazed by what had just transpired. His fingers brushed the hair from her forehead and he watched her stand up. She licked her lips and waited for him to speak, something he wasn't sure he could do. She must have sensed it, for she reached out and cupped his face and then rested her head on his chest, still covered by the shirt he wore. Tom knew what she'd done; he knew she'd swallowed his seed and yet he still wanted to kiss her. He tilted her head and stared into her eyes, then lowered his mouth to hers. At first he balked at the thought of what he was doing, but the desire, the want of the connection he sought with her was stronger than any distaste he may encounter.

Constance leaned into Tom. Her tongue dueled with his, licking and pulling, sabering back and forth as he explored every crevice, eventually emptying her palette of the reward she'd drank up earlier. She pulled away, her fingers had curled into his shirt and she pulled at the buttons. Soon his chest was exposed the hard nipples were like small pebbles. She flicked one, then the other, and then bent her head to draw a moist line across them. Her teeth plucked greedily at first the right, then later the left. She traced the shape of each, just as Tom had done her own. She felt the beat of his heart under her cheek as she rested her head against him.

"Tom...I'm still overdressed," she whispered, her eyes looking imploringly up at him. Tom smirked and stepped away, taking her hand and leading her toward the bed. They stopped and he turned her so she faced him and her legs rested against the edge of the bed. He kissed her again, a quick taste before he moved to rest on his knees.

"Tell me if I do anything wrong."

Constance chuckled. "Oh believe me baby, I will." She winked and licked her lips seductively. Tom reached up and slid his fingers around the waist band of her panties, eased his digits under the fabric and gently urged the material down as she sashayed her hips. The skirt puddled at her feet and Tom pressed a kiss to her navel. Constance giggled as his tongue rolled seductively around the outie and then he tugged on the soft skin with his teeth. She shifted on her feet and swatted at his shoulders. "Wrong... wrong..." she laughed as his touch tickled her flesh. Tom grinned up at her and winked, then eased her panties down.

He couldn't help but notice the scent of her arousal waft over him. Tom breathed deep. He analyzed her fragrance, trying to define the scent. Musky? Sweet? Fruity? Tom thought back to the taste of himself on her lips and wondered what she would taste like. He took her panties and brought them to his face. He licked at the wet stain, evidence of her aroused state. "Sweet and tangy," he told himself, before dropping the panties and moving his hands to the tops of her thigh-high stockings. He remembered the smoothness of the fabric as she had rubbed it across his growing bulge back at the restaurant. Now he was easing the thin nylon down and letting his fingertips learn the silkiness of her flesh.

She watched him move with slow determination. Constance waited patiently, her own desire growing by leaps and bounds as she waited to feel Tom's tender and virginal touch on her skin. His hands moved to grip her ass cheeks and she felt his nails dig into her tender flesh. "Not too hard... yet," she whispered and smiled down at him. Tom looked up, blushed slightly and eased up on his hard grasp.

"Just like breasts, my ass is attached," she winked. He chuckled, but understood the meaning to her words and began to slide his palms up and down her round cheeks. Every so often he would squeeze her, massaging her flesh like dough, as if her body begged for a gentle kneading. "Mmm... that's nice,"she told him.

Tom's hands moved from her ass cheeks to her hips. He massaged tiny circles into her skin as he made his way toward the top of her sex. His fingernails grazed across the soft brown curls. Constance jumped and Tom stopped. "No, please don't stop. Touch me again, lower."

Tom's fingers moved back to her sex. He slipped one digit down the full length separating the folds and then paused when he heard his lover whimper. "Again," she said and he did as instructed. Tom continued to touch her pussy, caressing it with first just one finger, then a second. He swept his other hand across to cup her right butt cheek, massaging it tenderly as his face hovered over her sex. "Tommy," she groaned, her hips pushed forward.

"Yes?" he asked, still concentrating on the slippery juices that coated his digits. "What do you want Connie?" he asked, pushing against the hard nub at the top of his new favorite toy.

Constance shouted a curse word and felt her body tremble. "Ooh, damn again baby," she hissed. Tom pushed against the nub again and then tugged gently on it with two fingers. "Oooh fuckkk..."

Tom's brow rose as he heard the foul word fall from her lips. His cock jerked in response and he pulled on the tender flesh again. "Your clit, right?" he asked. He hadn't been this close to a woman, sure he'd read books, jacked-off to porns and magazines, but he'd never touched, held, caressed a woman's pussy.

"Yessss," she muttered and pushed her hand down to join his. "Take it in your mouth. Pull on it with your teeth and suck on it like you did with my nipple. Please Tommy. Please..."

He felt his sex stir to life again as she instructed him in what she wanted. He heard her pleas and he fought to control his excitement so he could pleasure her the way she wanted and deserved. He scooted closer and pressed his face into the crevice of her thighs. Immediately he was surrounded by her aura. His cock sprang to attention, reaching out as if it could cover the distance that separated them. Tom ignored his growing desire as best he could and found Constance's clit. He licked at it, slowly at first so he could memorize the texture and savor the taste. He heard her whimper and knew without looking she was biting on her lower lip. He smiled against her pussy lips and then dragged his tongue firmly across the nub. Up and down. Back and forth. He swallowed juices that had escaped to coat and blanket her brown curls. Tom didn't let up on his assault, only increasing his pace or decreasing it depending on Constance's moans.

"Bite...," she begged. "Pl-ease Tommy. Fuck, baby. I..."

Her words were garbled with gasps and whimpers. He liked hearing her beg and promised that the next time he found himself in the position he was in, he would control the moment. She would have to beg him for a long time before he eventually gave in. For now though, he wanted to please her. He wanted her to find the release he'd heard woman hungered for. He found her clit again and chewed hungrily at it. Her hands flew into his hair and she pushed herself deeper onto him. Tom was surprised, shocked really, but he didn't stop pulling, biting and sucking on the little strip of flesh that had grown harder with every swipe he caressed over it. "Tommy " she screamed, bucking against him and grinding her hips harder into his face.

She pulled him away and gazed down at him. "Inside," she growled out, her voice was thick and needy. "Two fingers inside. Now, Tommy. Your tongue on my clit and fuck me with your fingers. Please "

She released his head and gripped the post of her bed with one hand. The other went to her right nipple, which she teased and tortured, sending shots of heat throughout her body. Tom found the opening of her sex and pushed two digits inside. The heat of her pussy surrounded him and he held his fingers still as he felt the warmth blanketing him. "Tommy " she insisted. He grinned and began to pump his fingers in and out. His mouth returned to renewing its friendship with her clit. Tom did as Constance wanted. He learned exactly how to touch her, how deep to drive his two fingers, how to scratch the inner fleshy walls ever so lightly that her body was shivering and shaking under his caress. Nectar flowed heavily down his fingers, coating his palm and wrist. He knew though she still hadn't come and he desperately wanted to give that to her.

"How Connie?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Your finger and your tongue inside. Then breathe out. I'll come Tommy. I'm so close," she confided to him.

Tom pushed his fingers up into her, found the spongy spot that she'd told him was the perfect place to tease her. He played with it, pushing in, twirling his fingertips and then flicking it. Her pussy was tight, or so he thought it was, even though he had no one to compare it too. Her muscles were very strong and he found himself longing to experience those same muscles wrapped around his cock. His tongue slid down to her opening and soon he was invading her sex with his fingers and his tongue.

Tom fucked her until she was screaming and riding his face and palm. He'd taken a chance and pushed in a third finger and that had made her squeal and cry out "yes " He wasn't prepared, though looking back he knew he should have been. The woman he was loving had been drenching him in honey, but suddenly he was showered in it. He was taken back, surprised at first, but determined to drink from the fountain that he'd made explode. He held his face to her sex, drank up the hot spray that had poured forth and swallowed as much as he could before licking up whatever streams had managed to escape his seeking muscle.

Constance's hands were gripped in Tom's hair. Her knuckles white. She shuddered several times. Her pussy sensitive to the slightest touch of either skin or air. Her lower lip trembled and she bit down on it, took a deep breath and tried to speak. Her words were stuck so all she did was cup Tom's chin and lift it. He stood up and smiled at her. She ran her fingers over his wet features and then pulled him to her for a very long, hot and hungry kiss.

Their hands were everywhere. Tom cupped her breasts, lifted them, squeezed them, this time harder than before and Constance wanted it. She begged him to pull her nipples, to bite them again, to tear at them. He acknowledged everything she wanted and acted on it with passion. Soon she was climbing onto the bed, holding her arms out to him. Tom followed and laid over her. His hand reached between them and he grabbed his cock. He pushed at her pussy, but Constance stopped his actions by taking his hand. "Not yet, baby," she told him.

Hooking his leg with hers, she urged him to lay down on the bed. She straddled him. Her fingers ran up and down his chest, pausing to flick and tease his nipples. "I'm going to ride you," she told him. She saw the excitement in his eyes and grinned wickedly. "I'm going to fuck you Tom and then in the morning you'll fuck me. You'll take all the stuff you've learned tonight and use it on me," she said matter-of-factly.

Tom could say nothing, just shook his head in compliance. "Good," she said and leaned back to take his cock in her hand. "Watch," she commanded and he did. She took the head of his shaft and rubbed it across her clit, pushing it back and forth, fucking herself with just the top of his tool. Faster she went, then she slowed. Tom watched paying attention to how her body shuddered the more she played with the little nub he had spent so much time sampling. He would remember in the morning to suckle on the jewel for several long and hopefully agonizing minutes. Soon his hips were bucking up and he was the one begging.

"Connie," he groaned. His hands moved to her hips in hopes to either steady her or aid her in driving down onto him. He wasn't sure which.

Constance smiled and pushed his cock back to the opening of her pussy. She slipped the head of his penis into her and kept herself poised as she watched his face contort in a mask of mixed emotions. "Damn," he grunted as he watched his cock slowly disappear into her hot slick folds. Inch by inch she consumed him. Her body opening and accepting the thickness of his virgin cock. She gripped his shaft, milking him with little grasps. When she had the full-length of him buried inside her, she ground her hips and their hairs became tangled. "Ohh God," he hissed, his eyes closing as his other senses took over.

Tom felt Constance lift herself up and hold herself. He waited with bated breath for her to descend down onto him and when she did he knew it was worth every moment of prolonged torture. She continued to tease him, making him beg her to quicken her pace. She did so, holding him tight within her walls as she rode him faster. Soon both of them were no longer able to speak, only breathe as their bodies pumped up and down, driving him in deeper, making her wetter. Constance's back arched as she felt her orgasm erupting once more. Tom felt his own seed shooting from his balls to slap with the heat of her own exploding force.

Constance fell on his chest. Her breathing ragged as was Tom. Her fingers flexed as she shoved them against his side and snuggled into him. "Hold me," she whispered. Tom had no qualms with that request. His fingers moved up to stroke her hair, eventually traveling lazily down her sweaty back. She moaned softly against him, her eyes growing heavy. She looked up and kissed his lips. "Wake me up properly," she whispered, before closing her eyes and letting sleep claim her. Tom smiled and promised to do his best.

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