roger+claire

mf oral romance

Claire was sixty-one years old. She was still a very beautiful woman,
although she was already beginning to detest the word "still." She had been
married to Thomas for thirty-eight years and was not looking forward to
their fortieth wedding anniversary because she knew that because it was one
of those terrible round decade numbers there would be a big party at which
she would have to pretend in front of everyone she knew, including many who
knew better, that she was still, there was that word again, happily married.

Thomas was a wealthy man. He was not born that way, he had made it himself.
He had never hesitated to provide a generous and comfortable life for his
family. What he had not provided, of course, was time and attention.
Self-made men rarely do. And since their two daughters had gotten married
and their son had gone out on his own it had only gotten worse. His best
moments were with the grandchildren, three of them now, but even those
moments were on holidays when neither business or his current girlfriend
would offer much of a distraction.

Claire knew about the girlfriends. They had started long ago, the first was
after about ten or so years of marriage when Thomas was approaching forty,
somewhat distantly approaching forty, too much so for it to be that kind of
excuse. Claire had put up with a long string of them, pretending not to
know, pretending not to see the signs at all the business dinners she
attended with him where so many others knew and were so obviously hiding
something. There was the house, and the children, and for the first ten
years of it the feeling that she still loved him. That word "still," again.

This time he was in Florida on business. That's what he said. Part of the
trip probably was actually business. But part of it was to be there with
Roni. At least Claire thought it was Roni this time. She couldn't keep up
all that well, but it didn't really matter exactly who she was. It was one
of them. One thing could be said for Thomas. He has his girlfriends just one
at a time. He never cheated on them.

This time Claire was not going to sit home. She had passed another one of
those terrible round decade numbers two birthdays ago. It had only taken her
an extra year and a half to actually go out and do something. She wasn't
sure for a long time exactly how to go about doing it. Certainly not at
their club. Certainly not with anyone they knew. Joining some new hobby or
interest club was not the way, there was nothing she could fake that much
interest in just to meet a man. So at the age of sixty-one Claire put on a
very nice and very close fitting strapless black cocktail dress with a
matching short jacket and set out to go to a pick-up bar, the Lansdowne, to
see what would come her way.

She looked very good. Claire was all her life a very attractive woman.
Sadly, in spite of all of her other good qualities, it was probably the only
reason Thomas married her. She was his trophy wife. No one would be very
mistaken about her age. She was not one of those people who happen to look
very much younger than they really are. You would not guess her to be under
fifty-five. She did exercise a lot, and she always watched her diet, not
only the extra pounds, which were just not there, but the health that did
positive things for your skin tone and your look of vitality that made you
look good. But there was no magic that made he look anything but beautiful
at sixty.

Claire didn't know much about the Lansdowne Club. She wasn't completely
ignorant. She knew it had been around a while, it wasn't too young or
trendy, it was straight, and her daughters had gone there before they were
married. So at sixty-one Claire, looking actually rather sexy, set out
intent upon finding a strange man to take to bed.

Roger was twenty-four years old. He was just a little better than average
looking, but was very bright and was actually an all-around nice guy. He was
very attentive of the women he dated, they all actually liked him. He had
had a string of relationships and had never gone out with more than one
woman at a time. All of his relationships had ended the same way, they left
him for someone more exciting and more promising.

Roger was an under-achiever. He had graduated from a very good college. In
those lists of top colleges that get published from time to time his was in
the second twenty-five. Most of the people who went to any of the thousand
or so colleges in this country that never made that kind of list would have
been envious, but in truth, if Roger had worked a little harder he could
have gone to any college in the top bracket on the list. He had graduated in
the middle of his class, with very little effort. If he had worked a little
harder he could have graduated with top honors. He had a nice job as a
computer programmer with an insurance company that gave no stress and from
which he could go home at five every day. Insurance companies rarely do much
that is at the leading edge of anything. Most people his age in most
"McJobs" these days would be envious of his position and his pay, but if he
was willing to work a little harder . . . .

Roger was looking to meet another woman. He had just broken up, again. The
women who he had gone out with had all more or less fit the same mold. First
in college and since at work he had found himself with women of very high
talent and intelligence who were at first attracted by his own well spoken,
intelligent but not overbearingly intellectual style, who had mostly found
him, and who, when they had not found in him what they were looking for,
left him. He was looking for something different this time, he just did not
know what.

So with nothing else better to do on one Saturday evening he set out for the
Lansdowne Club to see if something would happen to him.

Claire did not belong at the Lansdowne Club. First of all, the black
cocktail dress was grossly out of place. The dress there was either straight
from the office business attire or much more casual. More importantly, the
median age there was twenty-six. The bell curve around the median was not
very wide. The only person there near her age was the owner. It didn't
matter that Claire was better looking than many of the women there. It would
have been bad enough if she had merely been ignored, but there were the ones
that were cruel.

Roger was sitting alone waiting for something to happen when he saw Claire
heading for the door, looking unhappy. The last unkind, insinuating,
suggestive remark about why she was there was one more than she could take.
He decided in an instant, before he actually really read the emotion on
Claire's face, to step in her way.

"Hi. You're not really going to leave without giving me a chance to meet
you, are you?"

Claire was upset and couldn't think of what to say. This stranger seemed at
first like a nice guy, he didn't seem like he was going to make fun of her.
She stammered a little "I was . . . um . . . "

"Going to go out for some fresh air. I know, the smoke in here is terrible."

"Yes, I'll be back."

"But I can't let you go. Do you mind if I go out with you?"

Claire hadn't had in mind finding a lover who looked younger than her
children, but he seemed rather nice.

"Not at all. Let's go."

Outside the club Claire and Roger found a spot on the sidewalk about fifteen
feet away from anybody else where they could talk relatively alone. Claire
noticed that people were noticing them and was sure why. She was certain
that if she were a white woman with a black man she would not, these days,
be looked at like she was being looked at now.

"I'm not sure I did the right thing by coming here tonight."

"I'm sure I did. At least if I get to know you better."

"You're trying very hard. You have a thing for older women?"

"You're worth the try. I have a thing for beautiful women."

"What would I have to do for you to get to know me better?"

"Why did you come here?"

"Am I that transparent?"

"Everyone here is. You didn't do the wrong thing by coming here tonight."

"I've never come here or anywhere else before. I'm married."

"Your husband let you come here?"

"In a manner of speaking. He's the reason even if he didn't exactly . . . .
Let's change the subject. Let's talk about where we go from here. Are you
really serious or are you just setting me up for a bad joke like those men
inside?"

"I am very serious. From here we go to my place."

"I'm sixty-one years old."

"You look younger. A little. You're very beautiful. I'm twenty-four."

Claire's youngest, her son, was twenty-eight.

"Only a little?"

"Do you want me to lie? I mean just to get you in bed?"

"No."

"This is the truth. I would guess your age a few years younger. But so what.
You are a very attractive woman. Very attractive. Age does not matter. Not
with you. You are much too beautiful for age to matter. Lauren Bacall. Liz
Taylor. Anne Bancroft. You."

"Where's your car?"

"Three blocks that way."

"We'll walk to yours. Drive to mine. Then you follow me to my place."

They walked in silence for three blocks. Roger walked close to Claire.
Claire was aware of the stares. In Roger's car, a five year old Honda that
was kept impeccably clean, Claire spoke first.

"They were staring at us."

"They were staring at a beautiful woman."

"Baloney. Tell me honestly you don't think it's because of our ages."

"Okay. But I like the idea. Of breaking the rules. What difference should it
make to us? None. You're beautiful. Don't you believe me? Where's your car?"

"Yes. I believe you. Past the light, just past the corner. And speaking of
staring, you're very subtle."

"About?"

"Staring down my dress. But it's all right. I like it."

Roger pulled over past the light. Claire got out of his car.

"Follow me."

Claire got into and started up the Mercedes Benz 560 SE and pulled out. All
the way to the suburban town where she lived Claire drove fast, not so fast
that a Honda couldn't keep up. She wasn't going to get them stopped by the
police, but she was not driving like she had someone with her. She was
driving so that if he changed his mind she could convince herself it was his
getting lost and not his changing his mind. Roger had to work to stay with
her.

"Why am I doing this?" Claire asked herself. "Is it right?" She decided the
answers. "Because I haven't had good sex in too long. Because I want to
live. Because I want some fun. Because I need to be validated as a person
and as a woman. Because I am beautiful. 'Right' means very little to me at
this point. 'Right' would be 'wrong' if I had a real marriage. If Thomas
were honest. It's for me. Before it's too late. It's shallow. It's
superficial. It doesn't matter."

"Why am I doing this?" Roger asked himself. "Because she's beautiful.
Because she's different. Because she is not one of those life planning
partners I keep finding. Will she be any good? How hot can she be at
sixty-one? I'll find out."

Claire pulled into the long driveway. Not so long that the house was not
immediately visible, but longer that Roger had ever been in. It looked like
four acres. The house was very, very nice. Twelve rooms. Four bedrooms Four
baths. Pool. Tennis court. Sauna. Real jacuzzi. More than a mil, easy. Roger
parked on the street near the property line of the next house. There were
other cars on the street, it looked legal.

"That wasn't necessary. Thoughtful, but not necessary," Claire said as Roger
walked up the driveway. "My husband is in Florida, no one's around. Come
in."

Claire pointed Roger to the couch in the den.

"I'm going to change my clothes. What do you want me to wear?"

Roger was a bit surprised by the question.

"Really, what should I wear. It's been too long, I'm not sure, tell me what
I should put on."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Claire was becoming excited at the idea of letting this man run
a little piece of her life.

"Do you mean if I ask you to put on a black brassiere that hooks in the
front, black bikini panties, a black garter with black stockings and heels
you'd have those things and actually do it?"

Claire did have those things. She wore them under her much more conservative
dresses at those business dinners Thomas took her to when he needed a wife
there. Dressing like a slut underneath was Claire's only rebellion up to
that point. Or at least it was what she thought a slut would wear. And that
wearing those things was rebellious.

"Sure." Claire turned to go.

"No, wait."

Claire turned back.

"Do you have a long dress that fits your lovely body very tight and will
cling everywhere that's made of very filmy, dark, soft material and that
buttons all the way down the front?"

"Yes, I'll get that, too."

"No, wait."

Claire turned back, again.

"I bet you think I want the black underwear under that dress, right?"

"Well, yes." Claire was becoming curious. What had she started?

"Actually we can save the black stuff for another time, unless you really
want to put it on. I'd like you to wear the long, soft, tight, filmy dress
with nothing under it. Really nothing. I want to see your curves through it.
I want to see your nipples through it. You have a beautiful body, I want to
see you show it off." Claire was very happy when she turned one more time to
go.

"No, wait."

Claire spun around a bit too fast. Roger hesitated and then smiled.

"The dress you have on now is lovely, too. I want to see you in it before
you leave. Please take off the jacket."

Claire smiled again. No one had treated her this adoringly in a long time.
She took off the jacket and turned around as if she were modeling.

"Beautiful. You are very sexy. I knew the instant I saw you at Lansdowne you
are very sexy."

Claire liked being genuinely complimented, not the perfunctory compliments
that Thomas mouthed when he was supposed to. Beside, Thomas may have said
"beautiful," but he never said "sexy."

Roger stood up and moved toward Claire.

"Very sexy." Roger laughed a little, in a gently way, as if laughing at
himself. "I confess an urge to look down your dress. I'll have to try harder
to get to do that without being so transparent. I confess that is what I was
doing back there. You have that effect on men, you know. You have very nice
cleavage."

Claire had had men look down her dress before, or try, but she never had one
tell her outright that's what he wanted to do.

"Then take your look . . . " Claire paused, Roger did, then she turned her
back " . . . and zip me down."

Roger moved in very close to Claire. He raised his hands and with his
fingertips beginning at the nape of Claire's neck, gently caressed her bare
shoulders and down her arms. Claire shivered with delight. Roger ran his
fingers back up Claire's arms, over her shoulders and down her chest,
drawing a little circle with his fingers in her cleavage, across the tops of
her breasts and up again around her neck before he kissed the back of her
neck and reached for and glided down her zipper. When the back of her dress
was completely open, Roger ran his fingers up Claire's spine sending another
tingle of excitement through her body. She turned and stepped away backward,
smiling warmly at Roger. Realizing that her dress was beginning to fall
away, Claire smiled girlishly, covered her not yet really bare breasts with
her hands and turned and to run to her bedroom.

"No, wait. Just one more time."

Claire turned back toward Roger.

"Who zipped you up?" Claire laughed hard enough that her hands and the front
of her dress did slip and almost did bare her breasts.

"My granddaughter. My granddaughter is big enough to zip me up."

Claire laughed again and this time did run to the bedroom.

When Claire returned to the den she found Roger had removed his shoes and
socks and his sweater. His shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down the
front. He wore no undershirt. The difference in their ages was not
forgotten, but didn't matter. Roger looked very sexy to Claire. When Roger
saw Claire enter the den she was wearing exactly what he had asked for: a
long, soft, tight, filmy dress which when she moved very clearly had nothing
under it. Claire had a very good looking body under that dress. The
attention Roger had given her had Claire already physically aroused. Her
nipples were visibly erect through the dark, filmy material. The mere
physical appearance of Claire and more importantly the passion she showed
had Roger already physically aroused. The difference in their ages was not
forgotten, but didn't matter. Claire looked very sexy to Roger.

Roger rose from the couch and moved toward Claire. Claire paused where she
was and let Roger come to her. He pressed his body up against hers and put
his hands on her back, pulling her tight to him. Her body pressed against
his felt very warm and inviting. Her breasts pressed against his chest
through the filmy material. He ran his hands down her back and over her
bottom. No panties. And a very nice feel. He continued to move his hands
over her body. Claire began to respond with small moves and wiggles and tiny
mewing noises and her own hands moving over Roger's body.

"I did the right thing by going out tonight. I'm doing the right thing now."
Claire knew the Sixth Commandment. It didn't matter. She repeated softly,
almost to herself "I'm doing the right thing now."

"I did the right thing by not letting you leave without me."

They kissed. Mouths closed at first, but then gradually opening, their
tongues probing, taking each other's lips one at a time between their own,
gently biting then pressing together again each trying to take the other's
soul into themselves, their hands moving faster and more furiously over the
other's body until they broke and stared at each other in unrestrained lust.

Roger began to unbutton Claire's dress. The buttons were about an inch
apart. Claire was breathing very hard. When he had undone the twenty or so
buttons from her neck to her waist he reached inside her dress, put his
hands on her hips and pulled her to him again. They kissed again, long and
hard, before Roger pushed her gently back and ran his hands inside Claire's
dress over her body, over her breasts and up over her shoulders, spreading
the dress, baring her body, and moving his hands down her arms, Claire's
dress fell to the floor. Claire stood naked before a man who was not her
husband for the first time in her adult life. The man who stood before her
was still nearly fully dressed. Claire felt wonderfully decadent,
marvelously sensual, splendidly sexual.

"Beautiful. Ravishing. Alluring. Fascinating. Enchanting. Captivating.
Bewitching. Enticing. Entrancing. Seductive." The words fell from Roger's
mouth with an innocence and sincerity that made Claire believe he meant
every one of them which he did for the quite straightforward reason that
those are qualities that age does not diminish when they are genuine to
begin with and Claire very much was beautiful, ravishing, alluring,
fascinating, enchanting, captivating, bewitching, enticing, entrancing and
seductive.

Claire stepped out of the dress that circled her feet, wrapped herself
around Roger and kissed him again.

"Get undressed. I want to see what you look like nude."

Roger stepped back and took off his clothes. He did not try to look
especially sexy or move particularly provocatively when he did it. He did
not try to imitate a male for girls stripper. He couldn't if he had tried.
Claire didn't care. All he did as he took his clothes off was never take his
eyes off of her. He stood nude in front of her looking at her with desire in
his eyes and the desire his body had for her fully on display. Claire
stepped toward Roger, took his hands and spoke softly.

"Take me to bed. Do things that have never been done to me before. I'm ready
for anything. Lay me down and show me fire."

Claire led Roger to the bedroom. Claire led Roger to the master bedroom, not
to one of the childrens' former bedrooms now converted into guest rooms or
to the room that had always been the guest room. Claire led Roger to the
master bedroom, the one she normally shared with her husband. Claire was
certain that through all his affairs Thomas had never done that here. Claire
was feeling very sexually wicked. To her surprise Roger rather carefully
began to turn down the bed covers. Claire did not think most men would think
of that and would certainly not do it quite so neatly as Roger did. Maybe he
was showing some kind of respect for the place where she had chosen to lay
down with him. She liked the idea, the ceremonial violation of the marital
bed. Claire met Roger in the middle of the bed and lay down next to him.
Roger propped himself up on one elbow, placed the hand of the other arm
directly on Claire's womanhood and began a strong, firm, slow circular
motion that very quickly began to spread semi-orgasmic quivers through
Claire's already excited body.

"Ooooooooooo" the sounds that rose from within Claire continued to grow.
Roger continued his erotic massage of Claire's mount enchanted by the
sensuous sounds rising from her throat.

"That's wuuuuundeeeerrrrfulllllllll . . . " Roger moved his body around and
positioned himself between Claire's legs. He pressed him mouth against her
furrow and continued with his closed mouth the erotic massage.

"Ooooooo Moooooore."

Roger opened his mouth, spreading Claire's lips with his, and then pressed
his mouth against her soft, wet flower. Claire launched her first orgasm in
much, much too long a time. The scream of delight that Claire let out filled
the room and so startled Roger with the intensity of her pleasure that he
jerked a little, pressing suddenly harder against Claire's entrance making
her come even harder. Roger was amazed at how easily this woman came and, he
thought, how hot she must be. Roger extended his tongue and began lapping up
and down the length of Claire's sex. Claire responded with an intensity of
sound and movement that nearly had Roger come on the mattress just from the
proximity to the passion of it. Roger could not believe one woman could
possess such a store of sexual energy, let alone one Claire's age. Roger
decided he had a lot to learn.

He remembered she had said "Do things that have never been done to me
before." His only mistake was that he did not know he already had. It was a
mistake that if she had understood it Claire would easily have forgiven.
Roger placed three pillows next to Claire's hips on the bed, rolled Claire
onto the pillows so they were under her hips with her ass in the air. Claire
happily expected and eagerly welcomed the idea that Roger was about to enter
her from behind. When with his fervent mouth he attacked Claire's most
nether regions from behind, licking and kissing and sucking on her vagina
and clitoris with his face pressed between her cheeks Claire took off on
another orgasm, but when his tongue probed into her anus her orgasm roared
up like a rocket. Licking and kissing up and down from Claire's anus to her
clitoris and back Roger was enthralled by Claire's moaning, wailing song of
orgasm. Claire heard the voice of female sexual release filling the room but
did not recognize it as her own. It was incredibly intense, but from where
she was it was too far away. Gradually the screams of orgasm eased into a
struggle to regain the ability to breathe. Gradually the moans of intense
pleasure abated and transformed into the heavy breath and finally
recognizable sound of her own voice, Claire's own voice, and the wonderment
that she was ever capable of what had come to her after so, so long.

Both Roger and Claire were regaining their breath. Claire was too hot to
stop. She wanted everything tonight. She moved Roger on his back in the
middle of the bed. She took his cock in her hand and breathlessly moaned "I
want to suck your cock." Claire knew the words.

She had read them in magazines she had found in her son's room before he had
moved out. She had heard them in videos she had rented. She had seen it
happen in those videos. She had tried it long ago with Thomas, but he would
have none of it. Sex like that was not for his wife. Sex like that was for
dirty women, whores. That's why he had girlfriends. That's when Claire
finally knew he had girlfriends. Claire knew the words. She had thought she
would never, ever actually say them out loud to a man, but she did. "I want
to suck your cock." She had seen the videos. "Tell me how you want it."

"Get on top of me. In a soisante-neuf." Claire liked the idea that Roger
said it in French. She climbed on top of him. She perched her pussy over
Roger's mouth. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and slowly moved it
over his pointing rod. It was in her mouth, but still not touching. Then she
slowly closed her mouth on Roger's erection. And even more slowly began to
move her mouth up and down its length, feeling deliciously sexual,
delightfully wanton, wonderfully decadent and totally intent on having Roger
come in her mouth.

Roger could not have not begun at that moment to lick and kiss and suck on
Claire's cunt. It was no longer her "womanhood" or her "sex" or any such
euphemism. It was her cunt now. Her hot cunt. Roger for the first time let
the thought enter his mind that it does not matter how old a cunt gets, it
still is hot cunt. Roger's cock began to feel good. God this woman was hot.
No matter how old she was, she was incredibly beautiful and incredibly sexy
and incredibly hot. And his cock was beginning to feel very, very good.

Claire could tell that Roger was excited. His hips were moving in circles,
he was beginning to thrust slowly up and down, his tongue was moving over
and around her love button. She knew she was in control of him. She owned
him for those moments. Maybe that's why Thomas wouldn't let her ever do
that. The feeling in her cunt, now Claire was thinking with words like
"cunt", too, was swelling into another orgasm. Claire moved her mouth and
tongue over Roger's cock harder and faster. She could feel it swell and grow
harder and tremble and as the wave of pleasure radiated from between her
legs under Roger's tongue the milky white fluid shot from Roger's cock into
her mouth and Roger grunted and shot again and again and Claire felt
gloriously, fabulously like the hottest slut in the world.

Claire swallowed Roger's cum. She knew she had to do that. She wanted to be
able to look at her husband and know what he did not that she had had a man
come in her mouth, that she had swallowed his come and that it was not him.

The dark, sexual thoughts began to go away. Claire wanted to be lovingly
held.

"Hold me. Please."

"Turn around and face me. Here, get up. Put your middle over me." Roger held
his still stiff erection against Claire's sex. He was back to thinking of it
in terms of wonder and respect. "Slide onto me, then lay down." Claire did,
she eased herself onto Roger, thinking that having his smooth, slippery
manhood slide into her wet femininity was the best thing that could possibly
happen. Then she lay down on Roger's chest. He wrapped his arms around her.
Held tightly in the much younger man's arms, his strength inside her, Claire
felt completely satisfied. They kissed, long and soft and tender. Then
Claire put her head down next to Roger's and nuzzled into his neck to lose
herself in her thoughts.

Roger, Claire knew, would never be a financially successful as Thomas. A man
like Roger would never have been able to give her a house like this or the
clothes and jewels she had or take, or send, her on the trips she had taken.
But he would have been there. And there would have been so much more love,
and sex. Claire decided that thinking now about how her life might have been
different would only ruin the wonderful night she was having now. Would she
see Roger again? Should she see Roger again? She'd decide that tomorrow. She
knew she wanted to, she wanted to see him again, this young man holding her
so tenderly with his wonderful magic wand still in her love muscle when she
knew most men would by now having had their pleasure would have run away.
But she'd decide it tomorrow.

Claire, Roger knew, had a deep need for love and passion he could not
provide. Oh, he could tonight, and maybe again, but not the way she needed
it. Not for long enough. Would he see her again? He wanted to. He liked the
way she looked. She liked the way she sounded, the sounds she made when she
came were better than any video he had ever seen, or heard. He liked the
fact that she held nothing back. The other women he had fucked all seemed
like they didn't want to lose control. He liked the fact that she was so
much older and so different from the other women he has spent his time with.
He wondered how long it could last.

Roger finally shrank from Claire's box.

"It was very good, but you wanted to fuck me, didn't you?"

Claire was no longer amazed at her own language. She had never called the
sex she had with her husband "fucking." Now she just used the word.

"Yes, I did and I still do."

Claire reached between her legs and found Roger's now limp penis.

"I want you to fuck me. How long do I have to wait?"

"Not too long. You know that black underwear we talked about before? Putting
that on would help. But let's wait a bit. I like the feel of your breasts
against me."

"Tits. Call them my tits. Talk dirty to me."

"Okay. I like the feel of your hooters against me."

"I want to dress up like a slut and have you fuck my cunt! Talk dirty."

"I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck my cock hard into your twat. I'm
going to shove my rod into your beaver and shoot my jiz deep into your cunt.
. . . . I don't like talking to you like that. I'm sorry. But you are
incredibly hot and incredibly sexy and I do want very much to do those
things with you."

Claire pushed off of Roger and got up off the bed. She went to her dresser
and opened a drawer. She took out a black four strap garter belt and pulled
it on. Then she got a pair of black stockings and rolled them up over her
legs, putting her feet in turn on the dresser drawer so she could pose for
Roger. Claire strutted around in a small circle in only the garter and
stockings and then posed with her hands behind her head.

"I like the way you like showing off. It's very sexy. Don't stop."

Claire took out a black brassiere that hooked in front. It was a very small
bikini bra. She danced swaying her shoulders and hips when she put it on and
then posed again, this time with her hips thrust forward and her hands
behind her back.

"You're making he hard again, lady."

"Good. Let's go to the bar in the den and get a drink. Stay nude. I like you
that way. You're pretty sexy too. And try to talk just a little dirty to me,
okay?"

"Okay . . . slut."

Claire giggled, which wasn't particularly erotic, but Roger liked it. She
led the way to the den.

"You forgot your panties."

"Old sluts like me don't need panties."

"You're not old."

"I don't feel old. Do I look old?"

They stopped in the door to the den, facing each other.

"Not to me. You look a lot better now than you did when I picked you up, and
not because you're prancing around with no pants on. It's because I know now
how hot you are. That's all that really matters."

"But look close. Look at my skin."

"It doesn't matter. Sure I see you're not twenty any more. But I see a very
beautiful, very sexy woman . . . "

Roger put his hands on Claire's shoulders and caressed her chest down to her
breasts. Claire trembled.

"This is very nice . . . very nice . . . "

Roger opened the front hook of Claire's bra. Claire started breathing
harder.

"Very, very nice . . . "

Roger put his hands on Claire's breasts. Claire moaned.

"I love the sexual noises you make. There's nothing old about that. And I
have a hard-on again that's hot for you. Do you really want that drink?"

"Yes, because I want to tease you."

Claire stepped sideways away from Roger and smiled. Leaving her bra open in
front she moved to the bar.

"I'm willing to be teased."

Claire took a bottle of scotch and two classes off the shelf and ice from
the refrigerator behind the bar.

"I think I said that I sometimes wear underwear like this when

Thomas makes me go to his business parties. I think next time I'll go like
this, without panties I mean. That will be good, talking to all the people
who know about all of Thomas's girlfriends who are being so cool about not
letting on to me that they know all while I'm standing there with no panties
on and my cunt bare. What do you think?"

"Slut."

Claire laughed.

"But remember to hook up the bra. It would show. I'd love to be there, but
I'd have an outrageous hard-on in my pants just knowing your pussy was
naked. And I'd spend most of the evening trying to look down your dress."

Claire poured the whiskey into their glasses.

"You make me feel very good, Roger. And I like the look of that hard-on
you've got there now. I hope my bare pussy now has something to do with it.
Tell me what you want to do with it."

"I want to slip it into that honey pot you've got staring at me between your
legs."

"Is my 'honey pot' staring at you? Really? Or are you staring at it?"

Claire and Roger sipped their drinks.

"I am utterly focused on your body. I want to take you."

"How? It what position?"

"From behind. With your face in the pillow and your tits on the mattress and
your ass in the air and my cock jammed in your hot, wet cunt as fast and as
hard as I can pump it."

Claire drained her drink.

"God let's do it. Now."

Roger left his drink on the bar and chased Claire back to the bedroom.

When Claire woke the next morning she knew from the position of the bands of
sunlight that flowed between the curtains that it was already mid-morning.
And she knew from the texture of the sounds that the gentle snoring in the
bed next to her was not her husband. The twisted strap of her brassiere
around her ribcage was slightly uncomfortable. She could not remember when
the last time was that she had fallen asleep with her bra on. The mild pain
in her head told her she had swallowed the last drink too fast. She got up
slowly and headed toward her bathroom. The master bedroom suite of her house
had two, his and hers, bathrooms.

When Claire at long last emerged from her bathroom she saw the bed was empty
except for a backpack and she heard the shower just stopping in Thomas's
bathroom. She was wrapped only in a towel. She stepped into her walk-in
closed to look for clothes. She stepped back out a few minutes later and
shouted at the closed bathroom door.

"Are you leaving soon? Do you have things to do today?"

"No, I hope not, and I'd cancel them if I did."

"What do you want to do?"

Claire expected a lascivious answer.

"Let's go in town and go to the Fine Arts Museum and then have coffee or
wine at a sidewalk cafe."

It sounded incredibly romantic to Claire at that moment.

"You want to be seen, don't you. I'm not sure I'm ready."

"Of course I want to be seen. It's one of those stupid male things. I want
to show the world what I nailed last night. Are you worried about running
into someone you know?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Then how about a walk in the country?"

"Sure. Don't come out yet, I'm not ready."

"What's not to be ready?"

"I don't even have make up on yet."

Roger was out of the bathroom in a flash, with only a small towel around his
middle. Claire stared at him in exasperation, like at one of her children.
Roger stood in front of her and stared directly into her face, studying it
intently. Without any makeup Claire looked her age, a very beautiful
sixty-one.

"I wanted to see you, really you. You are genuinely beautiful. I really mean
genuinely. Beautiful. Don't wear a lot of make-up today." Roger held
Claire's face gently in his hands and kissed her, then put his fingers
inside the top of Claire's towel and pulled it away.

"Truly beautiful."

Claire took a pair of old faded jeans from a hanger.

"Do you know what these are?"

"Older than I am?" Roger laughed. Claire was taken aback for a moment, but
laughed, too. It was good that they could joke about it.

"Almost. These are my diet jeans. I put them on to tell when I have to diet.
I haven't worn them outside in years. I'll wear them today."

Claire went to her dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of bikini panties
and waved them at Roger.

"No, no underwear."

"They'll show my panty line. Don't guys like that?"

"It'll show you're not wearing any at all. Guys like that better."

The denim was very worn and very soft and fit Claire very snugly. She looked
very good. Roger enjoyed watching Clair's bare breasts jiggle while she
struggled slightly to get on the jeans. Standing in front of Roger in tight
jeans naked from the waist up she posed for him.

"Very nice. Turn around . . . . You have a very nice behind."

Claire took out and put on a tight fitting jersey that showed she was not
wearing a bra either.

"Now lose that towel, I want to watch you naked while I'm dressed."

Roger happily complied, showing no shame about his semi-hard-on.

The parking lot at the start of the hiking trail was nearly full.

"You still want to be seen."

"Of course. I want to show off the great piece of ass I tagged last night."

Claire laughed.

"For someone who doesn't like talking dirty you're doing a pretty good job.
I like it."

"I just can't do it on purpose. Sometimes it just slips out."

On the hiking trail Roger and Claire rounded a bend in the trail and found
two young couples each with the female half with her back to a tree being
passionately kissed by her male companion. Roger and Claire walked

quietly by. The couples stopped kissing and smiled at Roger and Claire as
they walked by. Roger and Claire went around the next bend in the trail.

"They probably think I'm your mother."

"We can cure that."

Roger pressed a very willing Claire against a tree and began nibbling at her
lips, first the lower then the upper. Claire nibbled back. The nibbling grew
into very tender kissing which, as the two couples who Roger and Claire had
passed came around the bend in the trail, grew into very passionate kissing
of their own. Roger and Claire did not stop their kissing as the two couples
walked quietly by.

Roger instead moved his hands over Claire's body and Claire hugged Roger to
her as tightly to her as she could.

When the two couples had passed Claire said to Roger "I just wanted to show
off the hunk I bagged last night."

Claire sat on a bar stool in the Lansdowne. She was overdressed for the
place, again. She made a habit of overdressing whenever she went to the
Lansdowne to meet Roger. She and Roger always met at the Lansdowne. They had
become semi well known there over the several months of their affair. Claire
now much more enjoyed the business affairs that Thomas made her go to. She
now had her own secrets to keep from all the people who had been so bad at
keeping secrets from her all those years. She did a much better job of it.
She had not, however, ever actually gone without panties. Roger, true to
form and his nature, did not see anyone other than Claire as long as he went
out with Claire. She would eventually leave him when their relationship was
cooling and Thomas had the heart attack he had been working so hard at
earning for so many years and decided to retire from both business and
girlfriends and move to a gentler climate and life.

The last time they saw each other Claire met Roger at the Lansdowne, this
time only for a drink. She wore a low cut cocktail dress with a matching
jacket which she unbuttoned when standing by her car it was time to part.

"A last look down my dress."

"Beautiful. Stunning."

Claire was very happy Roger did not use the word "still." Roger would never
have done so anyway, but Claire was grateful nevertheless.

They kissed and parted forever without another word.