Fran Gerard

Fran Gerard

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Fran Gerard was from Staten Island, New York but became a California girl and she was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month, March 1967. Buxom, beautiful, vivacious, she proved that men DO make passes at girls who wear glasses and she was luscious enough to give eyesight to the blind.

Summary

Fran Gerard was from Staten Island, New York but became a California girl and she was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month, March 1967. Buxom, beautiful, vivacious, she proved that men DO make passes at girls who wear glasses and she was luscious enough to give eyesight to the blind.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Fran Gerard

Author Chapter Note

Fran Gerard was from Staten Island, New York but became a California girl and she was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month, March 1967. Buxom, beautiful, vivacious, she proved that men DO make passes at girls who wear glasses and she was luscious enough to give eyesight to the blind.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 28, 2013

Reads: 825

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 28, 2013

A A A

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Eyesight to the Blind


Lately I’ve been dreaming about Fran Gerard.  In the dream we’re making love; she’s on top of me and I can hear her huge breasts heaving as I ram up into her. Her hands are everywhere, scratching my chest, tickling my balls, dipping into my mouth.  I howl as I come and the sound of her delighted laughter rings in my ears. I always wake up at that point and I’m always sweaty and my nose will twitch, the faint scent of her is in the air even after all this time. I met her briefly forty years ago.

 

I can't tell you, as another could, if her eyes danced with pleasure, or even what color they were. But I can tell you how long her legs were, and how soft and supple her curves felt under my hands. I can tell you how cool and silky her long hair was, and about the sweet murmurs of delight she uttered when we touched. And I could go on and on about her delicious scent- a heady mix of vanilla and lavender over the fresh aroma of soap-scrubbed skin. Everything about her left a permanent imprint on my memory, and it's an imprint I am very much looking forward to refreshing.

 

It was at the Hollywood branch of the public library just a few blocks from here. I always went there on Friday evenings, as it was the only one in the city that had a decent amount of selections in Braille. Buying at the bookstores was a little too pricey for my budget, and there's not much point in buying books anyway. After I've read one, I remember it well enough without having to re-read. Besides, the less clutter in my apartment, the better.

 

It had been a warm spring day, and I was in the mood for light reading, so I decided on a collection of short essays and quotes from 20th century satirists. Whoever chose to keep the Braille in that area must have assumed that the blind had no use for windows; it was in the stuffiest, hottest corner of the library, and I never stayed there to read what I picked out. Although I could find it myself, Stanley led the way straight to my favorite spot by the window in the main study hall, which everyone else used. I cracked it just a little, a breeze carrying in the sound of the city. The traffic several floors below hummed, and the distinct song of two robins drifted in. The leaves of the tree they perched in rustled just outside the window. The warmth of the setting sun poured over me as I settled back contentedly and opened the book, Stanley sitting patiently by.

 

I was thoroughly engrossed in the material until catching that beautiful scent, her feet padding quietly along the marble floor as she approached the table. The chair across and down from me scraped a bit she pulled it out and sat down, her arms releasing a heavy load of books. I heard her snap open a briefcase and pull out a pen and a notebook, the pages flapping as she opened it with a beleaguered sigh. Evidently she was not here to read for pleasure.

 

Stanley took no notice of her, his breathing deep and restful as he stretched out in a sunny patch on the floor, as always. But her lovely, delicate scent assaulted me at this close proximity, and I drank it in, my hand coming to a standstill on the book. Her sigh, combined with the quickness of her movements and the apparent nature of her reading gave me to think she might be around my age, perhaps a little younger. I thought for a few moments about introducing myself, but quickly decided not to. For one, she was obviously here to study and probably didn't want the interruption.

 

Secondly, I was just plain shy. At twenty-five, I'd only had one real girlfriend in my life, a girl named Stella I'd gone to school with. Naturally I'd attended a school for the blind. Stella was seeing, but only barely so. Her family moved away when we were sixteen, and it took a while to get over losing her. I really had loved Stella. Since she'd gone, romance, and everything that went with it, took a back seat in my life. So I had simply gotten used to being by myself.

 

And that quiet Friday evening was no different. I went back to reading, trying to put the girl sitting at my table out of mind. Eventually it worked, and I found myself chuckling at the sharp wit of Dorothy Parker.

 

"What's so funny?" the girl whispered.

 

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

 

"No, it's all right. I could use a distraction."

 

I smirked. "Not in the mood for homework?"

 

"Not at all!" a book in front of her being closed. "I'd love to know what you're reading."

 

"It's just a collection of funny quotes."

 

"Which one made you laugh?"

 

"Dorothy Parker. She says here, 'If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at all the people He gave it to.'"

 

She giggled softly, trying to keep her voice low in the cavernous, hushed room.

 

"That's a good one."

 

"Yeah, I thought so, too. Here’s another one, ‘Men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses.’"

 

There was a long pause and I could hear her breathing as she tapped her pencil lightly on the table. I could even hear the moist sound of her mouth as she bit her lower lip.  Somehow I had offended her.

 

“Well, not all of them are so funny,” I mumbled.

 

I could almost hear her body relaxing again. Sweetly she tried to change the subject, "Have you ever seen that movie, Cool Hand Luke?" she asked.

 

I smirked again, wondering if she would realize her faux pas.

 

"Oh, shoot," she groaned a few moments later. "I'm so sorry. Of course you haven't."

 

"That's all right. It happens a lot. I listen to movies sometimes, though."

 

"Are you a student?" she asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

 

"No. I work."

 

"May I ask…?"

 

"Sure," I smiled. "I'm a translator. I speak Spanish, French and German. My principle work is in the court systems, but I also record audio books into those languages."

 

"You're quadrilingual? I'm impressed."

 

"You'd probably be less impressed if you saw my paychecks."

 

"Hey, as long as you enjoy your work, that's all that counts."

 

"I agree."

 

"I can see why they hire you record them. You have a gorgeous voice."

 

"No," I corrected with a grin. "You can't see why. But you can hear why. Thank you for the compliment, though." I scooted my chair a bit down the table, knowing that seeing people like to "face" those whom they are talking to, and reached out my hand. "I'm Mitch." Her hand gripped mine immediately in a warm shake that lingered a few moments longer than a normal greeting.

 

"Fran Gerard." I could hear the smile in her voice.

 

Fran and I bantered for a long while after that. I'd never met someone so easy to talk to. She didn't seem put off by my blindness at all, nor did she have that inevitable tone of misplaced compassion when she spoke to me. I felt like she was an old friend I was just catching up with. She was eighteen and worked as an astrologer’s assistant; that why she was in the library that day. She giggled when she told me. She was warm, bright, funny, and sounded lovely. I was completely enchanted, and so was Stanley, I might add. Sensing the potential of a new companion, he got up and sniffed Fran inquisitively, and she petted him, cooing at him about what a good dog he was.

 

It was a disappointment when I felt my watch and realized the library was about to close.

 

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee or something?" I asked, desperately not wanting to part with her company yet.

 

"Thanks, but I ought to be getting back to the office."

 

"Oh, okay."

 

An uncomfortable silence ensued as she collected her books from the table and put them away in her briefcase.

 

She paused as if she was thinking something over. “Um, Mitch, there’s another reason why I came to the library today.  I did this other thing?  Kind of a modeling job.” She stopped as if waiting for my reaction. I nodded reassuringly.

 

“Anyway today messenger came by and dropped of these proofs.  What’s going to be in the magazine? I didn’t want to open the envelope in front of my boss.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Well…have you ever heard of…Playboy?”

 

“I think so; it’s a men’s magazine, like Esquire.”

 

“That’s right, anyway, they have this feature in every issue,” her voice lowered conspiratorially.  By the sounds in the room I could tell we were the only people still there. Her head was so close to mine I could smell its sweetness. I tried to focus on what she was telling me. “This special part of the magazine, it folds out with a really big picture.” She gripped my arm in her excitement.  “It’s called Playmate of the Month, and I’m Miss March!!” she gushed out in a whispered squeal.

 

“That’s fabulous,” I said, “You must be very proud. But why don’t you want your boss to see the picture.”

 

“Well…I have to tell you Mitch…there a little…oh I can’t say.” She squeezed my arm tighter.  “Listen I’m dying to see them, but I’m scared too.  Let’s look together.”

 

I could tell by her vivacious energy that this time she didn’t realize her faux pas she was so thrilled to finally see the photos. She released my arm and I heard the tearing of the envelope and the pictures sliding out.

 

Another long silence, now I could hear her heart pounding.

 

“Oh…my…god.”

 

“Are they good, Fran?”

 

“I don’t know…It’s beautiful…”

 

“Fran, why don’t describe it to me.”

 

She gulped and took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right.  I’ve got to talk about this.  Get my head straight. Holy cow!”

 

“Go ahead, Fran.”

 

“Well…First of all I better tell you…I have really, really big knockers…er, breasts.  Thirty-nine inches.  Well…in the picture, it’s like they’re defying gravity, I mean they point straight out!”

 

She held her breath for another second.  “Um, did I tell you that the Playmate of the Month is a sexy picture. I mean, the girls don’t have much clothing on.”

 

I nodded sagely, a man of the world. I waited for her to continue.

 

“Well, I’m wearing something.  It’s a pink baby doll, but it’s completely see-through. I have to say my figure looks real good.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“I got one leg raised.  And my bottom, you can see that too.  I always think my ass is too big but here it looks real nice and soft. I’ve got these pink ribbons in my hair; they match the baby doll.  And my smile is nice and bright and friendly. And the glasses…”

 

Her voice trailed off.  “We argued a lot about the glasses,” she resumed after a thoughtful pause. “Me and the photographer.  He said they’d look sexy. I don’t know.”

 

“I’m sure they look fine.”

 

Suddenly Fran felt a little embarrassed I was so engrossed in her description I hadn’t heard the librarian come over.

 

“It is closing time you know,” he said sternly.

 

From the way Fran shuffled the papers I could tell the librarian had gotten a look at the photograph. Fran was now all business, anxious to leave.  

 

I thought about asking for her phone number, but after my invitation getting shot down, I assumed that she wasn't interested. Oh, well, I thought, getting ready to leave, taking up Stanley's leash. At least we had a great conversation.

 

"Do you walk home or take a cab?" she asked.

 

"I walk."

 

"Me too. I have to go north for the first leg. Do you live out that way?"

 

As a matter of fact, I did.

 

"We can walk together, if you like."

 

"I'd like that very much." I grinned.

 

We chattered nonstop as we weaved through the city streets. Back then it was possible to stroll Hollywood; not everybody was addicted to cars. There seemed to be nothing we couldn't talk about easily, disagree about amicably, or find humor in: books, politics, music- anything and everything. I'd never laughed so much with anybody before. And, I happily noted, for someone who had to be back at her office soon, Fran was certainly taking her time, not hurrying our leisurely pace.

 

As we strolled through a park on our way, an unusual thing happened; something that I'd never shared with anyone before- a comfortable silence. The three of us simply walked along, enjoying the night together. The traffic on the periphery of the park grounds was muffled by the pleasing noise of chirping crickets, and there didn't seem to be that many people in this section of the park tonight. A concert going on at the other end of it that had attracted most of them, and we could hear the music of acoustic guitars and soft voices singing folk melodies in the distance.

 

I could feel the warmth of her body close to me as we meandered along, and still smelled that exquisite vanilla-lavender perfume about her. Taking a chance, my hand wandered over to where I thought Fran's would be, and found it. Tentatively, I laced my fingers through hers, hoping she wouldn't draw her hand away. She didn't. Instead, she clasped on and squeezed responsively. I smiled, my heart flooding, and wondered if it was just possible… I halted.

 

"Fran?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"Can I kiss you?"

 

There was no answer. The silence tied my stomach in knots of anxiousness, and I began to think I'd crossed the line.

 

But then I felt her breath graze against my face, her body leaning into mine. Relieved and excited all at once, I wrapped my free hand around her slim waist and leaned down, our mouths greeting each other with damp softness. She embraced me in turn, drawing herself against me, our kiss lingering and deepening. Her tongue lashed out slightly, prompting me to open my mouth. When our tongues met, I shivered involuntarily.

 

I had never been kissed like that, not even by Stella. She and I had kissed, but it was only closed-mouthed, and we'd never ventured further than a little timid fondling. But this was a woman who kissed me now; a woman with a sensual, firm body pressed against mine, and she was expressing more than affection. The sweet taste of her hot mouth electrified my body, making it respond with more than I thought was decent; my blood rushed hot through my veins, heart pumping fast, and I was horrified to feel my cock getting hard. Fran's body was against mine so tightly that she no doubt felt it.

 

"Fran…" I breathed raggedly, tearing my mouth away from hers while I still possessed some measure of control.

 

"Shhh," she soothed, tracing cool fingertips over my face. She kissed me again, this time on my neck, leaving cool wet spots behind, making me shudder even more.

 

She drew away, hand still firmly in mine, and guided me off the concrete path, our whispering footsteps crushing the grass. Stanley whined, protesting the diversion. After about fifty paces or so, Fran stopped, releasing my hand and taking Stanley's leash to walk a small distance away.

 

"I'm tying Stanley to this tree. He'll be all right for a while, won't you, boy?" He settled with a sigh, evidently resigned to staying put.

 

"Where are we?" I heard the rustling of leaves all around us, overhead as well.

 

"Just somewhere no one else can see us." Her footsteps approached, the gentle breeze washing her scent up to me deliciously.

 

I heard her place her briefcase on the grass, and wasn't quite sure of what was going on. Maybe she just wanted to continue our kiss, away from the view of others.

 

"I thought you had to get back."

 

"It's okay," she took my hands in hers again and pulled me down to the grass so we sat close together, facing each other. "I said that because I was starting to feel tired back at the library, but I'm not anymore."

 

I contentedly when Fran brought my hands to her face, urging me to explore so I could "see" her. Running my hands slowly over her warm, smooth skin, I traced the sweep of thin eyebrows over high cheekbones and a delicate jaw line. I felt the outline of the glasses before she snatched them away.

 

“I like the way you touch me,” she whispered.

 

The shape of her nose was full, perfectly proportioned for her face. She kept her hands over mine as they wandered, and closed her eyelids. I cupped the whole of her oval face and ran my thumbs gently over a pair of wide-set eyes framed by thick, soft lashes.

 

Her touch crept away from my hands and slid up my arms, reaching out to feel the rough patches around my own eyes.

 

"They used to be a lot worse," I said as Fran touched the numbed skin. "It healed quite a bit as I grew up."

 

"Your eyes themselves look perfect."

 

"Yes, so I'm told," I smiled under her touch. "But they still can't see."

 

One of my hands found her mouth, and my fingers touched the full, moist flesh of her lips while my other hand caressed her long, graceful neck. The sensual, pliant warmth of her skin caused me to take a deep breath before I continued.

 

She leaned over.

 

"Oh, yes… I see. You’re seeing me with your hands aren’t you?"

 

I chucked, my hands still caressing her face, though now not just to "see" it.

 

"Yes, I am.”

 

I paused. Fran was listening intently, and was so still I thought she might have stopped breathing. But she wasn't crying, which was a relief.. I'm always glad to find someone who just accepts it without wallowing in the tragedy of it all.

 

"I don’t think anyone ever seen me so clearly," Fran said tenderly. "It's so unfair, what happened to you."

 

"It's all right," I smiled wider, running my fingers slowly through her hair. "I get along okay. Life's pretty good these days." Her locks had a soft, natural curl to them, and came down over her shoulders in silky waves. I felt her lean towards me, and she nuzzled her forehead against mine.

 

"Can I ask you something else?" she whispered.

 

I nodded slightly, brushing my lips briefly on hers.

 

"Were you always…you know…blind?"

 

"No.  But I was young; I was too young," I hesitated. "I remember colors, I think. I see them, in my head. But I don't know which is which."

 

Her mouth came to mine, drawing me in for quick, tender kiss before she spoke again.

 

"Can I ask you something else?"

 

"You can ask me anything you want to, Fran."

 

"Do you like kissing me?"

 

"Oh, yes," I breathed, and held her face to bring it to mine. Our mouths met instantly, her tongue delving softly between my parted lips. Her jacket whispered as she slipped her arms under my trench coat, pulling me into an embrace, our lips and tongues locked passionately together. The tip of her nose felt cold against my cheek, but everything else about Fran was pure warmth, her hands massaging my back through the T-shirt I wore.

 

 

I kept my hands on her face as we kissed, feeling the way the muscles of her jaw moved. The wet sucking of our mouths and the rustling of our coats as we strained to be closer drowned out all the other sounds of the night, and that sweet vanilla-lavender scent surrounded me as her arms did. I was getting quickly aroused again, but didn't care if I'd have to walk home with the discomfort of an erection; I wanted to kiss Fran until my lips fell off.

 

We'd been seated Indian-style, and she surprised me by sitting up on her knees and scooting forward until she could settle on my lap, her limbs completely enfolding me. I clutched to her tightly; it was the most intimate embrace of my life. I'd never felt a woman pressed against me like that, with soft breasts crushed by my chest, fingers entwined my hair. The bliss that drifted over me mixed with electric shocks of desire when she sucked on my lower lip with a whimper. Hearing Fran like that sent shivers up my spine, and I moaned quietly, my hands squeezing her against me even more.

 

She took her lips away from mine and kissed the corner of my mouth, and then my cheeks, making a trail of moisture up to my ear.

 

"I want you," she whispered, planting another kiss below my earlobe. "Do you want me?"

 

"Yes, Fran, oh yes," I groaned, trying to comprehend what she said, and overcome a state of mild disbelief. Suddenly a wave of panic swept over me as I realized how little I knew about making love. "There's something you should know."

 

"What is it?" She drew back.

 

"I'm…" I swallowed, trembling. I could speak four languages, yet couldn't utter this one sentence. Finally, I spat it out. "I'm a virgin."

 

There was a long pause.

 

"Really?"

 

"No, I usually tell lies to embarrass myself." I forced a smirk.

 

"Oh, Mitch," she giggled, every lyrical note in her voice a thing of beauty. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm just a little shocked, that's all. I can't imagine someone like you never having made love before."

 

"You don't mind?"

 

"Why would I mind?" Fran leaned over, surprising me again with kisses, but this time planting her lips softly over each of my closed eyes. "I love the idea of being your first," she whispered, taking my hands. "Stand up, Mitch. If this is going to be your first time, let's do it right."

 

We stood up together, and her hands dropped away from mine. Several moments later, I heard zippers being undone and sleeves being pulled off as she undressed a few feet away from me. It wasn't taking her long. I started to breathe heavily in anticipation, and heard her bare feet on the grass, sounding much softer now.

 

"How far have you been with a woman?" she asked quietly, just in front of me. I reached around and lightly touched a cheek of her soft rear end, drawing in a quick breath before I drew it away.

 

"About that far."

 

Another stunned pause.

 

"Okay," she breathed. "I want you to stay still. Don't touch me until I say so."

 

I nodded, wondering with heady anticipation about what was coming.

 

Fran's hands slowly crept up my chest and over my shoulders, pushing my coat off. She crouched down and I felt her take one of my ankles in hand. I lifted my feet so she could remove one shoe and then the other, socks following. She was moving slowly, but deliberately.

 

"There's the trunk of a tree about five feet behind you," she said. "I'm going to put your clothes there at its base."

 

"Okay." I trembled, licking my lips, which had gone dry. I was nearly panting, so aroused that my cock was straining, trying to break free of its confines. It was damp at the tip, leaking. The anticipation was electric, knowing that she was mere inches away, bared, only feeling her hands as they undressed me I lifted my arms up as she removed my shirt, the cool night air washing over my body. Her hands trailed tantalizingly back down my arms, lingering on my shoulders and chest before her fingertips lightly raked down my flat belly. She deftly unsnapped my trousers and brought down the zipper, and I felt the breeze against my chest as she moved down, crouching again to remove them. She also hooked her fingers under the elastic of my boxers and brought down both pieces of clothing at once, completely exposing me. My cock sprang up, and I swore I felt her warm breath against it as I stepped out of the trousers. As she stood, her hands swept slowly up and around my legs all the way from my feet to my thighs and hips, teasingly avoiding my groin.

 

Fran stepped around me, putting my clothes under the tree as she had said. And then I sensed her standing just a few feet in front of me again. I could feel her gaze on me, drinking in the sight of my nakedness. Suddenly I felt self-conscious, and the far-off music and droning traffic seemed too loud.

 

"Are you sure we're alone?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Do I look all right?"

 

"Mitch, you're gorgeous," she said softly, coming up to me. I could feel her breath on my chin… she was so tantalizingly close.

 

I hesitated nervously.

 

"And this?" I whispered, quivering, putting my hand against my stiff cock. I was embarrassed to ask, but desperately wanted to know. No one had ever seen it in the course of my entire adult life.

 

She touched me again, running her fingers down over my chest, past my navel, and gently pushed my hand away. I felt wisps of her hair hanging down against my chest as she looked down at my erect penis.

 

"It's perfect, Mitch." Fran pressed her hand against my cock and then delicately wrapped her fingers around it, massaging the wet glans with her thumb. "Ohhh, absolutely beautiful," she sighed.

 

She moved her hand around the shaft with long, firm strokes, and suddenly the stiff buds of her nipples rubbed against my chest. Her tongue and lips starting dancing on my neck, making delicious, wet sounds as she subjected my entire body to this sensual assault. Her other hand came around and gripped my rear end, cupping a cheek and massaging it in wide circles. My ragged breath evened out into deep, loud pants and soft moans. I couldn't believe the intense currents of pleasure undulating through me, centering in my cock. The way she stroked was driving me wild, and I had to resist the desperate urge to touch her by clenching my hands into fists.

 

"Touch me now," she said, as if reading my thoughts. Her voice was low and husky, melting me.

 

I hardly knew where to put my hands on this beautiful, wonderful girl first. I was so hungry to feel all of her that I wrapped my arms around her and nudged her head back, meeting her lips ravenously, plunging my tongue insistently into her mouth. She welcomed me with a throaty moan, her body now pressed against mine so that my cock that she still stroked was compressed between us. I didn't have to worry about where to put my hands after all- they were moving without conscious thought up her back, my fingers spread wide, slowly running over and lightly gripping every inch of the delicate curves and muscles. I wanted to memorize Fran's entire body, and took my time touching her- shoulders, arms, the curve of her wide hips and slender waist. She was so soft and warm, and smelled so sweet.

 

I moved my mouth away from hers and tasted the salty essence of her skin for the first time as I kissed her neck, trailing down to her shoulder. At last, my fingers found their way between us to her breasts. An endless flood of soft velvet poured into my hands. She gasped as I cupped her full mounds, lightly running my fingers over the swollen nipples. More jolts of aching need shot through me as I felt the suppleness of the flesh in my hands and the responsive jump in my cock. I squeezed her breasts tenderly- they were a moist quivering feast- lightly rolling my thumbs and forefingers around the hard little nipples.

 

"Oh, yes, Mitch. Like that… that feels so good." She started to stroke my turgid erection a little faster, reaching her other hand down to cup my sac. She rubbed it, kneading gently.

 

Suddenly I knew I was getting too close. The seething heat rushing through my veins was building to screaming levels, my hips beginning to move of their own volition. I was going to come, and soon.

 

I tore my mouth away from Fran's shoulder and snapped up straight, my hands freezing, still deliciously full of soft female flesh.

 

"Fr-Fr…Fran… I'm going to come…"

 

"Yes," she whispered. "It's okay… do it, come for me, Mitch."

 

My cock swelled as she continued to stroke; I felt a rushing, throbbing pulse jet through it, and suddenly I was coming. I cried out with a shudder when a series of explosions tore through me. I pumped hot sperm all over her hand in spurt after spurt, devastating pleasure suffusing my body, my hips jerking in short, erratic spasms. I collapsed against Fran's shoulder as I grunted through my orgasm, and her hand was so slick that I was able to thrust through her grip, my cock drooling.

 

I don't know how long it took me to come down from the sexual euphoria of my first climax, but I was lost in it for a long time. I'm not even sure I had a chance to come down, really.

 

I'm not certain how we got there- either my knees buckled or she guided us- but before I had regained my senses, Fran and I were lying on the fresh, cool grass. She was snuggled up, facing me, small sounds of licking and sucking coming from her. It took me a moment to realize that she was moistening her hand. I leaned over to kiss her. The touch of her moist hand on my back sent an electric charge up my spine. We ended up with just our tongues intertwined, and I drew my tongue back in for moment to savor the taste of her. Then her lips covered mine tenderly, and she touched my hand. Our fingers danced with feather-light tickles against one another until she held it firmly and brought it between her legs.

 

I sucked in my breath upon feeling the intense heat emanating from her core. Her hand abandoned mine then, leaving it to rest on a small triangular mass of fine, curly hair. I'd read descriptions of women's bodies and heard my share of locker-room talk, but this was different. I had no idea what to really expect.

 

"Fran, please… tell me what to do, what will make you feel good."

 

"Just do what comes naturally, Mitch," she whispered, opening her legs slowly. "Any way you touch me will feel good, but I'll let you know when you're doing something I really like."

 

Her lips found mine again, devouring me in a hot kiss. I spread my fingers over her mons, pressing through the hair and working down further until I came to two folds of especially soft, pliant flesh with a long slit between them. I cupped her vulva, applying light pressure as she moaned into my mouth- warm juice flowed from inside her as if I'd squeezed an overripe peach, slicking my hand. I gasped, breaking our kiss, fascinated and thrilled by what my hand was discovering. Running my fingers through those nether folds between the slit revealed even more… I was amazed by the complex maze of sweet, hot flesh. It ran deeply from the top of those outer lips, and I buried my fingers in it, seeking its depth. The smooth, wet folds followed down and culminated in an entrance. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip one of my digits slowly inside her.

 

"Oh, yes…" Fran hissed, and hungrily sought my mouth once more. I complied eagerly with new levels of passion, my hand buried in her center. The heat from her mouth and pussy was scorching.

 

I moved my finger in as deeply as I could, relishing the feel of her humid, hot tightness and the myriad of textures. I withdrew it slowly, moaning when I felt her inner muscles clamp down as if trying to suck my finger back in, and stroked it slowly in and out. My thumb still explored her clitoris, and between kisses she would mutter little encouragements when I touched a particularly sensitive spot.

 

I rose up and knelt over her, my other hand coming to massage one breast and then another. My mouth reluctantly leaving hers, I leaned down to replace her lips with a succulent breast. I kissed the yielding, air-cooled skin with wet lips and smiled, feeling her shudder with delight. I licked over her erect nipples with my rough tongue, taking each one into my scalding mouth to suckle them in turn. Fran had kept her hands at her sides, letting my exploration continue unguided, but now she reached up and feverishly clutched handfuls of hair as I sucked and nibbled on her heaving breasts.

 

"Mitch… oh that's so good…" Her hips began to undulate underneath my hand, rivulets of juice now flowing freely, and her breathing becoming more ragged.

 

My heart swelled at the sound of her enjoying it so much. My cock had grown back to full size, distended with need, but I wanted to focus on the breathtaking experience of making her feel physical pleasure. I loved the taste of her clean, fresh skin, and her sweet vanilla perfume still clung to her. But it was now overpowered by the raw scent of lust coming from the dripping flesh between her legs. I'd never imagined that a man’s mouth could pleasure a woman this way.

 

My lips left her breast to travel leisurely down her taut stomach, my tongue trailing over the skin.

 

"Oh, yes… keep going," she urged.

 

I stopped my hands slowly from their caresses and moved them to her inner thighs, spreading her legs a little wider, massaging the crease that separated them from the mound of flesh I wanted to taste. She tensed, her breathing seeming to stop in anticipation. I lowered my face carefully, honing in on the source of the musky smell that filled my nostrils. My lips touched against the smooth lips of her clitoris, and I delved my tongue into her essence, taking a long, deep lick from top to bottom. She moaned out a short "Oh!" at the feel of it, encouraging me further. My tongue lashed out again, this time dipping into her vagina, lapping up the spicy-sweet nectar that had gathered there.

 

"Oh, my God," Fran whispered.

 

Suddenly one of her hands was on my hip, pulling my lower body towards her. Realizing what she wanted, I crawled over, positioning myself with a leg on either side of her. It gave my mouth much better access, and I was able to bury my face into her delectable flesh, kissing and exploring every crevice. Fran massaged my body from her position; legs, back, hips, and rear- nothing went untouched or unappreciated. I continued to savor her, slurping her clitoris into my mouth as my tongue flicked across a hard nub that seemed to drive her wild.

 

I suddenly froze- Fran's mouth was taking in the tip of my cock, her hands pulling me to her. She moaned gently, sucking on the head as I slowly lowered down, trembling, eating her again. The pleasure of being locked with her like this was astoundingly sweet. Her tongue teased my glans as she opened up to take in more, sending shockwaves of searing need through me. I had to fight not to thrust my hips down, and instead stepped up my ministrations on her, sucking her clit with renewed vigor, and I thrust a finger back inside her vagina. Her response was a loud groan as she sucked me in deeper, and this time I couldn't help burying my cock in her mouth even a little further. Her hands grabbed onto my rear, encouraging me to keep going- but almost as if she couldn't help it, her mouth suddenly popped off out from under me and she cried out softly.

 

"I'm coming, Mitch… you're making me come!"

 

She lifted her rear, mashing her sex against my face as long, tortured moans tore out of her. Her whole pussy seemed to quiver as the orgasm ripped through, muscles clenching over and over, squeezing out a fresh river of tangy juices for me to lap up. She made little circles with her hips, her hands clutching my own hips as if needing something to hang onto. I lovingly licked at the exquisite folds as she came, my finger buried inside, unmoving, relishing the feel of her riding out the climax around it. I couldn't believe how wet she was. The whole region was sloppily coated, engorged… ready.

 

At last, her body relaxed, breathing becoming slow and easy, and when I felt the time was right, I removed my mouth with one last kiss. I turned around and knelt between her legs, leaning over her face.

 

"How did I do?" I whispered, smiling, as I was already pretty sure of the answer.

 

"Mmmm, amazing," Fran cooed. "I can hardly believe you've never done that before."

 

"You just told me to do what came naturally. I guess it worked."

 

"It sure did."

 

Her hands wrapped behind my neck and pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss. My lips were a little numb, but it was wonderful, and the sticky texture of our commingled juices was incredibly sexy. The tip of my heavy cock brushed against her stomach and I moaned into her mouth as my hips involuntarily undulated, leaving a trail of pre-come on her soft skin.

 

Fran reached a hand between us and grabbed onto it lightly, pushing me down and spreading her legs wide for me. She rubbed my shaft through her slippery folds, my body trembling with raw lust when I felt the hot crown bumping against that sweet flesh. She at last poised me at the entrance to her steamy center and her hand left my erect penis to wrap around my back.

 

"Oh God, Fran…" I whispered as she raised her hips encouragingly, just barely taking me into her.

 

I plunged down, our slick flesh uniting as my cock penetrated her, reveling in the incredible sensation of being surrounded by the tight grip of her pussy. I thrust again, this time filling her completely, buried inside to the hilt. I stayed motionless, practically panting, memorizing this first moment of intense pleasure and the feel of being ensconced within her. Her muscles were clenching onto me, her chest heaving underneath mine, clit grinding against my pubic bone. Instinctively, I withdrew my cock in a long, slow stroke and plunged back into the liquid fire of her heat quickly, beginning to move luxuriously in and out with the ancient rhythm of passion. I was lost in her completely, my head drooping almost involuntarily to seek out something to taste. My mouth found one of her breasts and I suckled the nipple with a moan.

 

Fran dug her nails into my back, raking them down my skin and whimpering my name, bringing every sensation to screaming life. Something was happening to me as I stroked into her; it was beyond the intense physical pleasure, beyond the tender, desperate emotions flooding my heart. A single color washed through my mind, flashing each time I sank into her, pulsing with every heartbeat. It was the color of passion, the color of love, and something snapped in my brain; my mouth ripped away from her breast.

 

"Fran…" I could barely speak, but I had to tell her, tell the whole world. I cried out softly with pure joy. "I see you …"

 

"Oh God… Mitch... beautiful..." she called out my name over and over, and I felt her pulsate around me as our sweat-slicked bodies writhed in our union. She was coming… coming so hard.

 

I sought her mouth ardently, desperate to feel the passion of her kiss as she climaxed. My cock swelled as our tongues lashed and her hands grasped mine. Determined to ride her completely through her peak, I managed to hold off my own for a few brief moments before it overwhelmed me. When I felt her convulsions start to wane, her body going from violent spasms into smooth, delicious motions, I succumbed to the exhilarating rush and pumped into her with short, jerking strokes that were audibly wet. I grunted as my cock emptied streams of hot sperm into her womb with each thrust, the indescribable feeling of coming into her luscious body beyond gratifying.

 

I strained hard, delivering everything of me into Fran with one last shove before I collapsed on top of her, trembling. I came floating back down slowly from the high of the powerful release, my breath slowly returning to normal, her fingers entwined my hair, stroking me lovingly. My softening penis was still lodged within her; I didn't want to take it out. I wanted to stay there on top of her soft, warm body forever with the knowledge of her beauty.

 

 

I smiled as I kissed her- I couldn't believe it. I knew what sex with a beautiful woman looked like.

 

Eventually, the cool air of spring night started us shivering as the heat of sex left us, and she retrieved my coat so we could cuddle underneath it, holding on to each other.

 

I smooched her wetly. "I don't know what to say… you're the one who made me remember."

 

She was silent for a few moments. I wasn't sure, but there seemed to be something about it that unnerved her. Fortunately, it passed and we lay there for a long while afterwards, basking in the glow of our lovemaking.

 

But the inevitable moment came when we had to get up and leave our cozy spot. I found my clothes right where she said she put them and dressed slowly, not wanting the night to end. Stanley had been incredibly silent through the whole event- as much noise as Fran and I had made, he couldn't have been sleeping. I had to give him credit- he was a very patient companion.

 

We walked back to the path hand-in-hand, Fran resting her head on my shoulder as we meandered lazily along. The concert had ended some time ago, and we heard the occasional shouts and laughter of small groups of friends passing by, chattering and singing some of the songs they'd heard.

 

When we reached the park exit, we had to part, our separate homes in different directions now.

 

"Can I see you again?" I asked, reaching out to stroke her hair.

 

"No, you can't. But you can hear me again. And if you can touch me again, too." I could hear the pleasure in her voice, and felt her smile buried in my neck.

 

After a long, deep kiss good-bye, I felt Fran's hand slip away, fingers touching 'til the last, and then her footsteps disappeared into the sounds of the late night traffic. I stayed put for several minutes, facing the direction she'd headed, a smile plastered on my face, half-wondering if she looked back as she went away.

 

When I got home that night, I slept more soundly than I had in my entire life, dreaming of her voice.

 

And I still do.


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