Part 8: Erotic Closure

“Darling, a true lady takes off her dignity with her clothes and does her whorish best. At other times you can be as modest and dignified as your persona requires.”

Lazurus Long

July 6th

The next morning we got up early and packed and headed back to Sarah’s home. It was good that the drive was not too far because there was an air of mutual expectation. Sarah had shared the one fantasy she had considered the naughtiest and we had spent part of that afternoon and evening planning it out. We only had today to make it become real as I had to leave the following day. We got home and deposited our things in her room and then set about preparing for the fantasy.

For my part I had to go out and do a little shopping. Luckily what I needed was easily obtainable at a dollar and hardware store. She had to do some shopping as well and we organized meeting back at her house the 2:00 PM. We met up and I was to then leave her house first and then meet her at an appointed time and place. I drove over to the location agreed upon and then found a place to park my car and then waited.

Waiting for her was a mixture of raw excitement, expectation and eagerness. It was so difficult to sit there motionless. My physical arousal was to the point of discomfort and I considered addressing my baser needs immediately but at the same time I recognized that the waiting and the angst that came from wanting the next car to come down the road be hers only served to make the playing out of our fantasy more powerful. Shifting from side-to-side and searching about my car for some distraction like a magazine I was compelled to open the glove-box and begin reading my car’s Owners Manual. I was definitely in a state!

As I read my mind calmed and I began to have short intense reveries of Sarah. Not just this past week but the other times and somehow one thing came to mind above all the wonderful images – Her smile and her flashing beautiful eyes. I had to begin and wonder if my primary motivation was to “get some” but my mind always came back to her. What we had, what we may become was based on something more than raw passion. I placed the manual down and closed my eyes and a wistful smile developed, like the spreading of spilled milk on a table cloth, over my face. I wondered if she felt the same way too.

Almost an hour past and then her car came into view. It stopped and Sarah got out and took some pictures and then got in the car and proceeded into Trenton. I followed at a discrete distance because Sarah’s fantasy was about her being a spy. I was member of the security service and had suspected her of being an agent. My “job” was to tail her and at an opportune time, a time that was to be random and not predetermined, I was to arrest her and then take her to a “safe house” for interrogation. Sarah had given me a rough idea of her route and timing and now I was following her. She had taken some pictures of the air force base and now with that “incriminating evidence” I had reason to arrest her.

Her car proceeded into town and then returned, after pulling through a parking lot, back towards the base. She had probably done this to shake anyone tailing her but I had anticipated this and pulled off the main street when I saw her turn indicator blinking. I waited for her to pass and followed her again about 100 yards back. Her car turned into a local watering hole near the base and I parked down the road and got out and walked to the bar to observe her.

Entering the darkened bar I saw Sarah sitting on a bar stool beside a pilot in his flight suite. It was the first look I had of her in detail since I had left the house and she was dressed very provocatively. She had on a dark grey pencil skirt with a slit in the middle front. She wore a wine red Charmeuse blouse to accent the skirt and glancing down I saw she was wearing black seamed stockings with a Cuban heel. To finish this ensemble she had on a pair of red fading to black at the rear Ombre 4 ½ inch stiletto shoes. She looked quite the sight and very sexy. I took a seat in the shadows were I could observe her and she talked up the pilot. Sarah was being very demonstrative. She would touch his shoulder and move closer to him. I gauged his age at about mid-thirties and it was obvious he was interested in her. She was being a terrible flirt and watching her made me a bit jealous but aroused at the same time.

After about 20 minutes she shifted her seat and it was obvious that she was shielding him from anyone else’s view so as to put his hand on her knee. I could only imagine his hand sliding up, up her skirt and finding the stocking thicken at the run guard and then the welt. Maybe he was now touching her soft white skin of her thigh? I wanted this part to end soon. I wanted my hand there, not his. This titillation was not at all expected. Sarah had never mentioned anything like this and this was certainly bolder than I ever imagined her to be.

I had ordered a beer and was concentrating at peeling the label from the bottle when I noticed with a start she was leaving with the pilot. I put some money on the table and entered the vestibule of the bar and through the windows noted her getting into another car. It drove east on Highway 2 and I left to get to my car and follow. I pulled onto the road and gunned the engine and quickly acquired the new car. I could see his head behind the driver’s seat but I could not see hers. From the erratic speed the car was experiencing I could well imagine what was happening. The car was drawn deeper and deeper into the country and then turned off at a cemetery and drove to the rear of the cemetery plots. I parked in a spot by a chapel and proceeded on foot. Using the monuments and headstones as cover I was able to approach undetected. My curiosity and fascination with this new side of Sarah served to rationalize my voyeuristic need to see what was happening. I decided to approach on the passenger side reasoning that if she was giving him a blow job his mind and attention would be elsewhere.

As I approached the car I noticed she had put the window down. Probably to let me hear and see her better since the reflection of the door glass could hinder my view. I crawled the last 20 meters and was right under the window. I could hear him moan and Sarah mouth sucking on him. I moved up slowly in the blind spot beside the B-pillar and my eyes took in a wonderful sight.

Sarah’s head was in the pilot’s lap. She or he had unzipped the flight suite all the way and her head masked her ministrations on his cock but I could tell from her head movements she was fully engaged in sucking him. She was also coiled up on the passenger seat and her skirt was pulled up exposing her ass. She had on a garter belt but no panties and the pilot was caressing her ass. Slowly he drew his hand back and wet his finger and slid it inside her ass and began to finger fuck her ass as she blew him. It was more than obvious she was enjoying this attention. She must have began sucking his cock immediately upon entering the car because I could see the pilot was about to cum. Sarah took him very deep and he moaned loudly and grabbed her hair and thrust upwards once. He moaned and his body jerked as each load released from him and Sarah pulled her mouth off him and lay in his lap pressing his cock against her face. Rivulets of cum slid down his shaft over her fingers and she reached back to his wrist of the hand on her ass and pulled it to her face and sucked on the finger that had been fucking her ass.

As her face was about to turn upwards I darted down below the window sill and waited. I could hear the pilot complimenting her on her oral skills and it was more than obvious he wanted more. Who would blame him! I was in a quandary. I could confront her now and stop this or I could attempt to see what else would happen. This was her fantasy, not mine. I decided to wait it out. Whether I was discovered sooner or later was irrelevant. It all played into the basic outline of our fantasy.

I could see the car shifting as the occupants moved. The pilot was complimenting Sarah on her pleasuring of him. She replied coyly, “Anything for a boy in uniform. Anything…” I heard them kiss and from the sounds coming from the car the pilot was getting aroused again. I imagine Sarah’s soft hand around his member coaxing it to hardness. There was more movement and then I glanced up and saw Sarah’s hair. From my position it was evident she was kneeling on the front passenger seat facing rearward. I moved along the side of the car to the front and kneeled. Sarah had dropped the seat down and was on all fours. The pilot had dropped his flight suite down and was now moving behind her. His hands grasped her hips and he thrust forwards hard and began to fuck her. The car began to jounce and move. I shifted to get a better vantage point. God, I wish I could watch her face. The pilot was really hammering her and she was almost screaming at each thrust. Being primed from just having his cock sucked the pilot wasted no time in cumming. One final deep, deep thrust and he let out a muted growl and he came.

It was time to act. His and her guard would be down. I rose and shouted, “Sarah Rogers, get out of the car now!” The shock of my voice produced an almost comical result. The pilot, still in the process of after-sex recovery rolled into the driver’s seat and covered himself with his hands. Sarah turned with a start but I caught a glimmer of a wry smile from her. She was more composed as she was probably expecting my appearance sometime and she adroitly slid from her position and opened the door and got out. She smoothed her dress and I took her arm firmly. “Come with me.” I walked briskly away and Sarah followed stiltedly because of the height of her heels. When we were out of eyeshot of the pilot’s car I snapped on some dollar store handcuffs onto her wrists.

“You are coming with me. We know what you are and what you have been up to.” I let the rest of the walk be in silence except for sound of our footfalls on the gravel road to my car. Arriving there I opened the back and pushed Sarah into the back. I taped her mouth with duct tape and wrapped tape around her ankles and covered her with a blanket. Then I used a long scrap of towel to blindfold her and with a threat to her not to move I got in my car and drove off.

The drive back to the “safe house” was in silence. Sarah did not move and I backed my car into her driveway and opened the hatch. I helped her up and cut the tape off her ankles and led her around the back and down the stairs to her basement. I took her to the utility room where a chair was set in the center of the room and sat her down in it. I then taped one her legs to the corresponding chair leg and undid her cuffs and tied her wrists to the base of the chair. I left the tape over her mouth and the blindfold on. She was struggling a bit and I took a cold pail of water and doused her with it. Her blouse lay against her body showing the outline of her bra and her black stockings were soaked and gave off a light sheen.

I walked around Sarah and began to review the “facts” of my surveillance and that I was going to interrogate her to discover her handler. I removed her gag slowly and offered her a chance to talk and she remained stoically silent. Unbuttoning her blouse I exposed her bra and undid the center fastener letting the bra drop open and her breasts spill out. Tweaking her nipple with my finger I flicked them and they began to get hard. She was squirming deliciously in her chair and I stopped and her head cocked in the silence trying to anticipate the next sensation. I squeezed both nipples hard with my fingers and she let out a scream. I squeezed even harder demanding she speak but she defied me with her silence. I doused her again with water and then put a clothes peg on each nipple. I doused her again and the force of the water snapped the clothes pins off her nipples. She moaned again.

“Talk bitch or it will only get worse!”

Sarah nodded no and I slapped her face. “Now talk!” Again she defied my demands by her silence. I let her sit there and decided to change my tact. Since shocking cold water and some nipple play were not “working” I decided to give her the sexual equivalent of water-boarding. There was a spare coffee table in the basement and I went and got it and carried it in to the utility room. I fastened some cord to the legs and un-taped Sarah from the chair and led her to the table and lay her face up on it. Then I pulled up her skirt and tied her to the table so her legs were spread. What I uncovered pleased me. She had shaven herself bare and it was wonderful seeing her bare pussy. I wanted to lick and then fuck her pussy but the interrogation must continue.

Her head was bent over the hard edge of the table and I forced her mouth open. I slid my finger in her mouth to get some idea of were her gag reflex started and then undid my pants. She resisted me trying to put my cock in her mouth but I was able to force her mouth open and began pushing my hard cock inside her mouth. I drew it out and said, “Tell me what I want to know Sarah and the torture will stop.” Her head swayed back and forth in a ‘no’. “Then you need more convincing.” I pressed it in hard and she began to gag. I held it there and from her sounds I knew when to release. She gasped for breath and then I gagged her again. She refused to divulge her “secrets” at each attempt.

I stopped and checked in with her. I was a bit concerned for her as this was quite a transition from the woman I knew but a week before but she smile behind her blindfold and assured me she was OK. I was relieved and pleased and we decided to continue.

Her soft open mouth was simply too tempting. I supported her head with my hand and began to face fuck her slowly savoring her soft receptive mouth. From all the anticipation and build up to this fantasy I was bursting for release and released my load onto her face.

She was shivering and I got on my knees and hugged her feeling that I had gone to far.

“Are you alright,” I wondered.

Sarah moaned and then bucked against the restraints making the wood growl softly from the strain.

“I…I…OK. Just having an… an… orgasm,” she said between shudders.

“Oh baby, I can stop.”

“No. OK. I am OK. Just need a minute,” she offered.

I held her firmly and caressed her and softly let her know I loved her and she began to recover. She moved her head towards me and looked at me with a quite softness of a person accepting a fate. Maybe not a fate with negative consequences but a fate that involved experiences that involved pain in the derivation of more intense sexual pleasure and release.

“Do you love me,” she asked.

I nodded and kissed more tenderly than I had ever before. Our lips lingered pressed as if on onion paper not wanting to mar it. There was an electricity and connection that I had never felt from any woman before and it enveloped me.

“Please Bruce, I am ready.”

Sliding my hands over her taunt body I gently massaged her entire body. Connecting me to her and activating all her nerve endings I could reach. I slowly increased the pressure until the intensity grew to just before our last sensual episode.

I began to rub her pussy and as a moan of pleasure escaped her mouth (for she was attempting to be in character by now not giving any outward signs of enjoyment) I used that as a cue to spank her pussy. She bucked at the sudden shock and then I began to caress and play with her soft lips. Again a moan and a hard slap, harder than the previous one. How I loved the contrast of her black stockings and pale skin. The visual reminder of her stockings reminded me of how I came to admire their meaning when I thought of my aunt, my decadent lover. I took a moment to lick her clit lightly and then spanked her again and she bucked sharply at the last spank. A moan of pain came from her.

“Are you breaking down spy?” I observed. Again she shook her head no. It was time for more serious measures.

I untied her and helped her up and she sagged in my arms and we cuddled as she recovered. She kissed me lightly and voiced her willingness to continue. I held her wrists fast behind her back and led her to the basement washroom. I turned the water on cold and set it to shower and told her to get in the tub after kicking her shoes off. As the cold water deluged her I took off her blouse and skirt leaving her naked except for her stockings and garter belt. There was a long run in one leg now. I helped her out of the tub and motioned for her to put her shoes back on. Handcuffing her wrist together I led her back to the utility room. Pushing her to the floor so she was kneeling in front of the coffee table I removed one of her shoes.

“Now we know all about your activities in this area. We have documentation and pictures of you contacting various military contractors and personnel. We know you have seduced several air force pilots to gain information on important transport flights. This interrogation will stop if you give me the name of your handler.”

“Never,” Sarah replied, “will I give you what you want.”

“So be it.”

By now I was hurting I was so erect. The anticipation of playing out the fantasy coupled with the sharing of Sarah’s desires which she had shared with me the night before. It had surprised me to hear her relate a long, deep seated fantasy about being a femme fatale spy. With the trust we had shared from our week together and all our experiences had melded into a climax. What we were sharing was a culmination of deep seated desires suppressed and unexpressed. I had become Sarah’s sexual muse and enabler.

Taking the high heeled shoe from the stiletto heel I began to whip her ass with it. She bucked upright and a firm hand on her neck gave notice to her she was not to move. I spanked her ass hard again and she let out a sharp yelp. I applied one more with more force with the others and as the sole of the shoe struck her the heel broke off in my hand. I removed the other shoe and whipped her ass with it until red imprints of the sole began to rise angrily from her white flesh. She was writhing and moaning with each blow and I stopped.

“Now, tell me!” I demanded my face close to her’s.

“Never you bastard, NEVER!”

With that response I rose and unfastened the cuffs and tied her wrist to the table so her front lay over the top. I stood in front of her and grabbed her hair. “Look at me!” My cock was completely and uncompromisingly rigid and perpendicular to my body, I moved in behind her. I spat on my cock and then on her ass and pushed hard inside her. She screamed at the rough, uncompromising pressure and I grabbed her hair.

“Yes, this is how we treat spies!”

Sarah’s hips bucked and I held them fast with my hands. I pressed forwards and her body tried to move forward in a vain attempt to prevent her virgin ass from accepting my cock. Her movement only made me more determined. Finally I was in, my skin touching the sensual roundness of her ass. I held myself there, savoring the firm hold her ass had on my cock. My cock was in spasm in anticipation of fucking her ass and she could feel it. She moaned deeply with a satisfaction borne of pleasure and a taboo dismissed forever. Beginning by moving slowly she began to experience anal sex. Now that I was inside her I began to love her ass slowly and deliberately taking every sensation from every nerve ending being transmitted to my brain and reveling in my possession of her ass. Sarah turned to watch me and her eyes were sharing a knowing…a knowing that one of her most intimate and secret wishes had been granted.

Sliding in and out of her ass, seeing her there looking at me brought me to a deep, satisfying climax. I pulled her to me and imbedded my cock as deep in her as possible and felt my cock spasm and my mind grayed out. Collapsing on her I wished I could untie her to feel her arms around me but had to be satisfied with her bare back and my chest touching together. My spasms died away and I slowly withdrew, enjoying the sight of my cock exiting her ass. The tip glistened with my cum and I walked awkwardly on my knees to in front of her and kissed Sarah deeply and with an impending feeling of sadness because our time was near an end.

Sarah disengaged from kissing me. “I’m hungry,” she said. Not at first understanding her meaning I was about to comment on untying her and making a snack but she smile saucily and opened her mouth. I rose to meet her mouth as her head moved down over my cock. I smiled and closed my eyes. Would the wonders of Sarah never cease…


I have left Sarah several hours ago and I suddenly realized I had lost my way. My mind was a rattling cacophony of images, sights and sounds. I had this feeling I had lived an entire year in less than a week. I am sitting now at a park overlooking Lake Simcoe and the sun is setting. As I write this tears stain my eyes and slide down my cheeks.

I miss her already. I long for her already. The impossibility of being truly hers and her being truly mine is hammering at my conscience and pressing against my chest and soul.

Getting out of the car I shed my shoes and walk into the cool water, hands in pockets, looking down and the amazing variable waves and wonder if I see one that looks exactly like one I have seen before that that will be a sign of the impossible being possible.

It is dark now. I cannot see the waves now. I know that no two waves will be the same.

The park is empty. The families reveling in the summer heat are gone and only I am left. I open the car door and sit down hard in the seat and a smile flashes over my face.

Her present! I forgot about the present. I reached back and rummage through my stuff and find it. A crisply wrapped rectangular box. The wrapping is a soft pink and I slip the tape open preserving the paper and open the lid. Some tissue paper masks her gift and there is a card on top. I open the card:

“Dear Love,

I almost did not write you. It is not because I have nothing to say but because I too have so much to say. You, dear man, let me feel for the first time in an eternity and for that I will always be in your debt.

I have no idea what the future holds for me, you, or us. But I do so treasure you. It has been years since I have read Shelley and I think this poem sums up a little of what I feel about us.

The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another’s being mingle–
Why not I with thine?

See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;–
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?



Opening the tissue paper there-in lay a pair of stockings. I lifted the box slowly up to meet my lowering face and drew in her scent. I touched them once softly, closed the note and put the lid on the box and my head slumped down and the sounds of soft anguish now fill my car.

Part 7: Erotic Closure

“Yield to Temptation … it may not pass your way again.”

Lazurus Long

July 5th

I awoke the next morning with a start. Reaching over to the other side of the bed I felt for Sarah but she was not there and then, in my groggy mental state, I realized why I had awoken. Sarah’s head was in my lap and she was softly using her soft mouth to draw my flaccid cock up gently, teasing it, pulling it softly longer. Immediately I began to respond and with each draw of suction from her mouth she was rewarded with an ever increasing erection. When I was fully erect she turned her face to me and smiled demurely.

“Time for breakfast in bed,” she asked softly.

I nodded and using one hand gently pressed her hair down to my crotch as a signal to continue. She continued her soft ministrations of pleasure for me and my thighs stiffened at the sheer pleasure she was bestowing on me. I watched her and then propped my head up on a bunched up pillow so I could see her sucking me better and she pulled a wisp of her hair from her face to let me see her soft lips slide up and down my shaft.

I could not resist touching her and asked her to move her legs closer to me so I could caress her legs and ass as she sucked me. I marveled at the tone of her legs and grabbed an ankle and pulled her legs open and slid one finger between her pussy lips and began to caress her slowly in time with her head movements as she serviced me. Her clit was wonderfully hard and I teased it gently and then wet my finger and pressed a little harder, eliciting a moan from her. Sarah opened her legs more and I noticed the way her muscles tensed making her thighs and clalves look so shapely. I felt her hand cover mine and she drew it back under her so it was resting in the crack of her ass. I gently began to caress her anus with my forefinger and then drew it back to my mouth and wet my finger and slid it back. She moaned and took me deeply in her mouth and because of her renewed sucking I knew she wanted more. I pulled her over on top of me into the 69 position and began to lap her pussy. Her scent was a mixture of arousal and the remnants of our lovemaking from the night before and I licked her, flicking my tongue gently between the folds of her labia and then took a long lick past her perineum and rolled my tongue and began to lick and press it against her asshole.

Her back arched and her head came up and through gasps of breath she said, “Oh God. Bruce!”

I pulled her to me and began to lick her ass ravenously. She stayed upright and began to masturbate my cock as I loved her ass.

My mind reflected back to our conversation last night and Sarah sharing some of the things she wanted to experience. In her upbringing she had experienced that WASPish taboo about anal sex and had shared her mixed feelings about this. Her talk was tentative and stilted until she related a scene in a movie on a VHS tape she found under her son’s bed. Out of curiosity she had viewed part of the tape and one of the first scenes showed an actress being made love to anally. She had snapped the TV off and returned the tape to its original location but that night had masturbated imagining the scene replacing the actress with herself in her mind’s eye. She had felt deeply guilty and dirty afterwards but had harboured a latent fascination for that sex act. And now she was permitting me – urging me – to touch and pleasure her!

I had to suppress my urge to roll from under her and take her but instead I stopped and asked her to kiss me. She slid into my waiting arms and we kissed softly and slowly and then I stood up and told her to take a comfortable position standing up and bent over slightly. She got off the bed and positioned a chair and held the chair back and bent over. I kneeled and licked her some more and then fetched some lube from my luggage and spread some over my finger.

“Now,” I said as I placed my finger against her anal bud, “push your hips back at your own pace and pressure.” She moved back slowly against my finger and the tip entered her and I used my other hand to gently rub her sodden pussy. She grimaced a bit and pulled her hips forward and then slid them back. Sarah accepted my finger up to the first knuckle and her hips began to move slowly back and forth. She looked back at me and smiled a reassuring smile and she stopped and I began to tongue her some more but now I began to rim her and enter her with my tongue. Her hand came back to my head and she pressed it in towards her body. She was moaning now and I pulled one of her hands to me and put some lube on her index finger and placed it on her ass. Tentatively she moved it inside her and she began to masturbate herself gently. I slid under her and licked her and her hips moved down to my wanton mouth. We made love like that for a while and then her hand moved down and pushed me away from her and saying softly, “Some more please,” I moved in behind her and pressed my finger inside her. “More,” she asked and I responded by sliding my finger inside her.

I stopped and asked how she was doing and she nodded that she was OK. I put my other hand’s fingers inside her pussy and pressed firmly on her g-spot and began to masturbate her. I could feel the spongy ribbed spot clearly and she moved her hips to meet my hand movements. More rapidly she move and then she let out a deep moan and collapsed to the floor. I kept my hand inside her pussy and my finger in her ass as she took deep heaving breathes as the orgasm subsided.

“That…was…amazing Bruce.”

“Baby steps sexy. Baby steps.”

I slipped my finger out of her ass and sidled up to her on the carpet and she kissed me deeply. She stopped and looked at me, “I am going to want more, aren’t I?” she said mischievously.

“Oh God, I hope so.”

We stopped our lovemaking and shared a shower together, luxuriating in the glow of the night before and the morning after. We had the room for the entire weekend and were in no hurry to step out for food or drink and as we toweled off together letting the deep pile of the towels invigorate our skin Sarah inquired what I would like to do during the day.


“And,” she asked.

“Fuck some more.”

We laughed at this and decided to go out for a drive. It was a stunning day and not one we wanted to waste. Sarah dressed in private and then came out of the bathroom and twirled around to show me her Hawaiian print halter sundress. She matching red wedge heel sandals and I noted the coffee coloured stockings she was wearing.

“How do I look,” she asked.


“Good, now let’s go.”

We got in the car and she directed me from the winery down to the Loyalist Parkway. Turning east she directed me to Long Point Road and we drove to the end and parked. There was a trail along the shore line and we walked together hand in hand and simply enjoyed the soft west wind and the sun. Sarah seemed reflective in her thoughts and I did not want to encroach on them as we walked. Sometimes silence is its own reward. I wanted to respect her reflections. So much had happened in the past couple of days I feared that she may have been having some second thoughts.

Eventually the path petered out to grass and we stopped and admired the view. Sarah slid into the crux of my shoulder and I held her firmly to me. Sarah turned back towards the return path and taking my hand we began our walk back.

Being famished because of missing breakfast we had a light lunch at Angeline’s in Bloomfield. The meal hit the spot and we drove back to the winery and purchased a Chardonnay and retired to our cottage. I opened the wine and we toasted each other and both of us took a long draw from our wine glasses.

I set my glass down and then gently pulled her hand down so she would as well. I pulled Sarah to me and her eyes opened wide and with understanding. I pushed her skirt up and in 3 strides had her against the wall. We were kissing passionately and I fumbled for my fly and opened my pants and they dropped to the floor. Sarah pulled my turgid cock out the side of my boxer shorts and I hiked her body up and she wrapped her legs around me. I carried her over to the bed and dropped her on it and pulled her legs open. She was wearing sheer white panties and as I pulled harshly on the fine material they gave way with a soft tearing sound.

I kneeled on the bed and pulled her to me by her legs and she guided me into her. My hand went to her neck and I pinioned it against the firm mattress and pressed hard and began to fuck her. She gasped and ran her hands over her breasts and I tore the halter strap and pulled the top down exposing her bra. Sliding my hands under the bottom center of the bra I pulled up vigorously snapping the clasp that held it together. My head dropped to her soft breasts bouncing from the pounding I was giving her and I took one nipple in my mouth and bit on it hard. She cried out and I slid over to the other breast and bit it harder. Drawing my body up I grasped both breasts and squeezed the hard looking intently in her face. Her face was fixed in a mute defiance but her eyes were oddly soft and accepting.

I dropped down and kissed her hungrily and slid my cock all the way out and slammed my hips hard into hers. She gave a deep moan and I slammed her again and again, creating a tattoo of bed springs giving way to this fucking. With each thrust I was moving her bodily up the bed and then her head hit the headboard. Her hands went out to press her away from it and I grabbed her wrist and bore down on her hard.

She whispered hoarsely between thrusts, “I…am…your…slut!”

Her prompting made me want her more. I pulled out and rolled her on her front and she moved onto her hands and knees. I entered her from behind and pulled her hair taut and began to fuck her doggy style. Her legs splayed and began to collapse and I wrapped my arm around her hips and pushed in deep. Sarah turned her head to me, her mouth is a sexy slutty pout and her make up was smeared. I pulled her up to me so I could feel her back against my chest and her hands reached back and pulled my face to hers and we kissed.

“Hurt me with your cock bastard!”

She was learning…learning what to say to provoke passion from me.

I pulled out and the little slut moaned her disappointment. We had had enough to tenderness. Now was time for wanton sex. I stood by the bed and she lay down with her head over the edge and opened her mouth to me. I slid my cock in her mouth and grasped her head firmly. She began to gag and her legs flayed around. I released the pressure and then administered more and her legs flayed again. I pulled out from her mouth with a distinctive ‘pop’ and slid the tip across her face and lips and then entered her mouth again. She had my balls in one hand gently cupping them, massaging them, feeling their fullness. I pumped her mouth several times and pulled out and stepped away from the bed.

She rolled off the bed and stood before me. Her dress was a shambles and she stood with her head down, silent. I moved to her and ripped the rest of it off exposing her body. Now she was in her garter belt, stockings and shoes, her body bared to me. I pulled her to me, sliding my hands under her garter straps and heaved outwards snapping some of the garter clips and ripping one of the straps off her belt. She stepped back and kneeled before me and I began to masturbate for her. She opened her lipstick smeared lips waiting to accept my cum and with all the tension in my body from fucking my new found slut it took only a few strokes. I came. A shot spurted out and fell on her face, across one eye and then a fuller shot splattered against her hairline and forehead. Sarah reached up and milked my cock taking each small offering on her tongue. I rubbed my cum over her face, messing up her eye shadow and liner. She looked quite a sight compared to that innocent women I knew just days before.

Sarah began to lick hungrily at my cock but the nerve endings activated from fucking her and cumming sent sharp jolts of pleasure through me that were too much to bear. I held her face off my cock and she pouted and I knelt down and kissed her. I pulled her up and we both walked unsteadily to a mirror and we looked at ourselves.

“Look what you have made me,” Sarah said softly.

“I think you had a part of you that was always like that. You just needed me to find it.”

“Yes,” Sarah said and she pulled me to the bed…

We cuddled in the warm afternoon light and lay on the cool fresh sheets. Sarah had left the remnants of her garter belt on and her hose had slid down her thighs. We talked at length and I was worried that my aggression during our last lovemaking was not to her liking and she was masking her true feelings. But as we talked and disclosed more about each other Sarah enlightened me with some of her desires. Her head lay on my chest and she massaged me as we talked.

“You know Bruce,” she offered, “I may have grown up protected from more worldly view of the world and had a single simple and conventional lover in my husband but that has never fully given my sexuality full expression. I have to admit being shocked to find out about some of the porn my son used to watch but I slowly came to realize that what I was sexually was not being given full expression and when your uncle died there was simply no outlet. Being from a small town and lacking privacy because of my involvement in the community I felt I never truly had the freedom to “let myself loose” as it were. This week with you has given me so much and I want to explore more but am beginning to feel selfish because of all the learning I am experiencing.”

She paused and looked up at me. “I would like to offer you something. I feel I am holding you back.”

I pulled her closer to me and kissed her forehead. My mind whirled at the events over the preceding days. What was at first a week of work and companionship had turned to one of sexual exploration and love. My aunt was now my lover and even though she was in her 50s desired more exploration and experimentation with me. Our time was drawing short. I had to leave in 2 days. And there was so much to share and do with each other. Not only was helping her in her sexual awakening a wonderful experience but I adored her companionship. I closed my eyes and breathed in her scent. It was a mixture of sandalwood and vanilla and I think she had this hint of scent because of the potpourri she used in her dresser drawers. I knew that from now on I would associate those scents with her.

As I considered her offer my hands slid up and down her back. She nuzzled in closer and whispered as she kissed my ear lobe softly, “Anything…”

“Sarah, I want to experience a fantasy you have had.”

“Ohhh…,” she sighed, “really? I have a couple that I would love to do.”

“Then pick the naughtiest one and tell me about it.” Sarah licked my ear lobe once more and began to tell me about it.


Part 6: Erotic Closure

What a wonderful world it is that has girls in it!

Lazurus Long

July 4th

glamourdaze stockings5This morning I awoke before Sarah and decided to make breakfast for us. It was calming to have some time in the quiet house and do something for her that was so personal. I wholly intended to make her breakfast in bed and had found a bed breakfast tray in the basement and had just set it when she showed up at the kitchen entrance in her nightgown. Funny…she took the time to wash up and fix her hair and I was actually a little disappointed because it would not have mattered to me if she had not. But old habits die hard, I guess, and it was typical in the past to see Sarah fully dressed in the morning. Excepting that one time in the breezeway I had never seen her out of clothes except when she was in her conservatively styled one piece swimming suits. I shooed her away and she laughed with delight and I came upstairs and she was sitting on the bed waiting to be served. I set the tray down over her thighs and took a seat at her make up table and began reading the paper to her. She listened and at the end of each news story we would talk about its import and implications and make predictions of what might happen next. It was a fun mental exercise. She finished up and I went to take the tray away and as I bent down to remove it she kissed me, holding one hand on my cheek. “Today you are going windsurfing! No work for the wicked man that is turning me into a nymphomaniac,” Sarah said. “In fact, you are to shower, get dressed and leave immediately and I’ll fix you a lunch and some directions to a place I know you will like.” I kissed her back and nodded and verily took off.

It was not that I wanted to leave her but sports are such a strong part of my identity I was raring to go and it was so kind of her to insist. I showered up and dressed. Sarah had washed and folded all my clothes neatly and I almost felt bad breaking the creases of the carefully neatly folded clothes. She took such effort and was a perfectionist in all that she did. Coming downstairs I slid in beside her standing at the counter working and gave her ass a sharp smack, “So woman, what have you for me today!”

“A surprise that you will like. Now stop THAT,” Sarah exclaimed as I gave her another playful spank, “and take this map and go!” I kissed her longingly and started out.

The map Sarah gave me was accurate and I found the location she had directed me too. I ended up at Point Petre in Prince Edward County and there was decent access to the water and a shale beach but all in all it was nice as I could keep the lighthouse as a reference as I sailed farther and farther out into Lake Ontario. Being a competent windsurfer I was not worried about being isolated and spent about 2 hours on the water before I got hungry and decided to head back in. Tacking back and forth working upwind I made it to shore about an hour later and I was ready to eat.

Securing my board and sail I headed up to the car and was pleasantly surprised to see Sarah sitting on the hood of her Cutlass with a pair of binoculars. I waved and ran up to greet her, still wet from the lake. She threw me a towel, “You’re not messing up my make up,” she stated brightly and I dried myself off and slid out of my wetsuit before I gave her a kiss. As I pulled on my t-shirt I took a moment to look at Sarah. How did she do it I wondered? She was wearing a navy with white polka dot ruffle front button short sleeved blouse with matching mid length navy blue high-waist paper-bag styled shorts with a leg cuff that held the shape of the shorts nicely. She had on the most delicious looking red leather peep-toe platform pumps and looked wonderful. “See, I was busy shopping while you were having fun,” she offered by way of explanation as to how she came to be wearing these clothes. I smiled and complimented her on her new clothes and slid off my swimming suit and toweled dry before putting on my shorts and sitting beside her. She had the lunch out ready for me and she handed me a sandwich. I took a bite and noticed and then commented on the fact her lipstick matched the colour of her shoes. “Of course it does, I am a classy lady,” Sarah quipped. “But a colour like that…well, is sinful!” I retorted. She laughed at my mock concern for her honour and I noticed that her laughter was coming more naturally and easily with each day. I smiled and she asked me why I was smiling.

“It’s because you are opening up to me – to the world – love,” I explained.

“Good. Now shut up and eat,” Sarah said firmly. As I ate she sat behind me and massaged my shoulders gently and we both became enshrouded with each other’s presence and the natural beauty a lake view vista offers. I finished the last sandwich and slaked my thirst with some ice water from a thermos and as I slid off the hood she smacked my ass and said, “Now get sailing.” I laughed and made my towel ready as if I was to whip her and she held up her hand in mock fear, “Save that for later kiddo. Now off you go before you loose the rest of the afternoon.”

I nodded my agreement and smiled my acceptance of her offer and started down to my gear.

After a shorter session of sailing, partly because the wind was dying down, I came back and de-rigged my board and carried my mast and sail to my car. I could not see Sarah and looked in her car. She was lying in the back seat sleeping so I quietly withdrew and completed bringing and setting my equipment on and in my car. After I was done I pulled a novel from the glove compartment and rummaged through the cooler Sarah lent me for a beer and made myself comfortable on the ground and began to read. She looked so peaceful I felt it best to let her sleep.

An hour and two beers later I heard a scuffing noise and then Sarah’s head rising from her sleep. “How long have I been out,” she asked. Looking at my watch I offered, “At least an hour honey because I have been back for about that long.” “Sorry Bruce.” “No problem love I just let you sleep because you looked so peaceful,” I said with an assuring tone. “Take your time and we can head back when you’re ready.”

Sarah stepped over the back of the car seat and slid off the trunk and walked over to me and sat down and gave me a big hug. She used her fingers to pull my face to hers and kissed me deeply. “I am well rested my man. Tell you what…If you fuck me now I will head home and set up a surprise for you for your return.” My eyes widened and now I knew her design in sending me here. It was isolated and ideal for some outdoor love making. ‘That’s my girl.’ I thought. I smiled and returned the kiss. “So how does my vixen want it,” I asked.

“I will show you,” Sarah said formally. She got up and walked to the front of the car and unfastened her shorts and let them drop to the ground and lifted them with the toe of one foot and placed them on the hood. My jaw dropped. Gone was the shy woman of just yesterday! Then she slid her navy blue lace hip huggers off and did the same thing to place them on the hood. Last and most gratifying and exciting she placed her forearms on the hood and stuck her ass out and opened her legs. “Fuck your vixen now. Please!” she said. I got up and slid my bathing suit off and my hard-on was already full. I moved in behind her and licked my fingers and slid them over her pussy lips to wet her and pressed the tips between her lips and into her. Sarah was dry but in about 10 strokes she was responding and she felt wonderfully smooth. I held her by the hips and moved in slowly and lovingly. “NO! Harder Bruce…harder!” I needed no more prompting. I grasped her full by the hips and pulled almost all the way out and then thrust hard in. I continued that level of force and increased the rapidity of my hip movements so that there was a wonderful aural melding of our hips slapping together with the sound of the waves against the shore. Her head lolled to the right and left and she let out a series of yelps when I pushed particularly hard. Sarah had pulled her panties to her face and was biting on them as I fucked her from behind. I felt her g-spot and pushed down her hips and she opened her legs more to lower them for me and I was able to press the head of my cock against her g-spot with each forward thrust. I had not felt it before during our past love making but there was no mistaking that fleshy firmness now.

“Slam me…”, her voice trailed off. “Say it baby,” I grunted. “Slam me fucker. Fuck… do me!” What man would need more prompting? Certainly not I. God she looked so damn good, my sexy vixen.

As my thrusts quickened Sarah started to say in rhythm to the thrusts, “Yes…yes…yes…yes…” and one final “…yessssss!” as she came. I felt a new wetness I had never experienced and felt my balls covered with a warm fluid. Sarah was collapsing and I held her up and pumped her twice more and then came deeply inside her soft, accepting pussy. I could not stand up and I held onto her as I collapsed slowly back and sideways to the cool grass, carrying her with me. Falling on my back she fell on me and I held her tight as her hips bucked and her legs splayed open and then closed. “What the hell did you DO to me,” she said between breaths. I was scared. Deeply scared. Perhaps I had hurt her. I reached down between us and checked the wetness on my balls and slid my hand surreptitiously to check what was exactly now on my hand. It was not blood and I smelled it and it smelled like her.

“It’s alright…I am alright Bruce…Just…never…felt…like…that…before,” she said between breaths. I took her assurance at face value and held her close, squeezing her like my teddy bear when I was a kid and scared of the sound of crashing thunder. She slid around to face me and kissed me, her hair tussled and unkempt from our love making. “Some learning curve,” she offered between sharp, gasping breaths. “Yes. Some God damn learning curve,” I responded, “Not only for you but me.”

We slowly recovered and I helped her up and into her panties and shorts and we hugged and Sarah got in her car and brushed her hair. She put on a scarf and smiled up at me, “Now, give me an hour and a half and then come home babe.” She started up her car and backed around and waved and headed home. I returned the wave and the smile she gave me and went to the cooler and got another beer. Taking a long draught from it I wonder what had just happened. And my expectation and excitement grew for what might be in store for me at home.

I arrived back as dusk was passing into night. I was pleasantly tired but fully awake and aware of my surroundings. Knocking on the screen door twice sharply, to mark my arrival, I entered and called Sarah’s name. She beckoned me into the living room and I acknowledged her by giving her a kiss. Sarah was in a bath robe and sipping tea, “Now get thee to your room and get dressed. I have laid out some clothes for you and we can have dinner,” greeted Sarah. I ran my hand down her neck and across her shoulders and nodded. I went upstairs with the intent to survey what to wear but Sarah had set out my blazer that I had worn for the concert. I smiled and went to shower, shave and make myself presentable. Her door was now closed so when I was finished I went downstairs and made her a Gin Gimlet and sat in the living room waiting.

Eventually she came down the stairs and entered the living room, twirling around on entry, to show me what she was wearing. Sarah had selected a simple and elegant sweetheart taffeta dress. It was dark grey and simply looked stunning. The dress fit her well and accentuated her hips nicely. It was just above the knees in length and the top part of the dress was fitted almost like a corset the way it looked. It had a v-neck that just showed a hint of her cleavage. Finishing the ensemble was a pearl choker, some mid-black stockings with seams and a pair of black suede pumps with a decorative silver nappa band. I got up and all I could do was stand and say, “Wow.” Sarah smiled widely and came over and I had the presence of mind to retrieve her drink and offer it to her. I had a wine and we stood and gave each other a toast and drank.

“I took the liberty to make dinner reservations,” Sarah informed me. I nodded and drank again and set my glass down and took hers from her hand and set it down so I could kiss her. My hand slid along the back of the dress and the taffeta gave that rustling sound that I loved. “I’ll get my purse and go,” Sarah said “before we start anything that will make us late.” Collecting her black leather clutch we left for our dinner.

We set off and Sarah directed me to the Carmela Estates Winery and when we arrived I headed for the main restaurant but Sarah directed me to a road to the right. I looked quizzically at her and she explained that the winery had a guest house and she had rented it for the night. The dinner was going to be served at the guest house and we could enjoy a more intimate evening. I got out and opened the door for her and she smiled and told me to open the trunk. I did as requested and saw an overnight bag and collected it. Obviously she had packed clothes for us for the next day. I admired her planning and foresight and I wanted to be sure to mention to her how much I appreciated this special evening. The door was unlocked and Sarah picked up the phone and let the staff know we were here.

Within minutes a waitress arrived with some appetizers and a bottle of their Cabernet Franc and we sat on the couch and waited while she poured the wine for us and lay out the appetizers on the coffee table. We exchanged some pleasantries with the waitress and she left us after Sarah indicated for her to come back in an hour. This was obviously going to be a long and leisurely dinner evening!

I smiled pleased with such a generous thoughtful gesture Sarah had created. She smiled back at me and handed me my glass and we toasted again and kissed. Drinking the wine slowly we began to converse. We talked about family for a while getting caught up on the news since we had not done this the entire time at her place and part way through the conversation Sarah shifted 45 degrees to me and lifted her legs up and draped them over mine. She had a devious twinkle in her eye and slowly she lifted the hem of the dress to reveal her stocking tops and bare thighs. I could just make out that she had on a black lace open bottom girdle and just as I caught this information she opened her legs slightly and revealed she was not wearing any panties.

“OK…what are you trying to do to me,” I said tightly. “Nothing,” Sarah said coquettishly, “now have a shrimp.” She let the hem slide back so only her stocking tops were now visible and I used my free hand, after I ate my shrimp, to massage her calf. Then she slipped off her shoes and slid her feet into my lap and began to rub my crotch slowly. “Ahhh, the response I would expect from my lover,” she said in response to my erection. It was hard to make conversation now but I put on a valiant effort. The time passed with noticeable slowness as the hour transpired and just as the clock on the wall indicated an hour had passed Sarah slid her feet off me and stood and put on her shoes. Kissing me she greeted the waitress at the door and helped with some of the plates as the dinner table was set. The waitress uncovered the dishes and what lay before, as we took our seats, was a wonderful smelling meal of sole almandine with a fresh garden salad mixed with vinaigrette. Sarah thanked the waitress and indicated we would not need her any more for the evening and we began our meal.

Our conversation shifted from the family to more personal topics. Sarah began by asking me about my past sexual experiences and I related the not to frequent sexual adventures of Bruce. There was not much to tell really. Other than some petting in high school and then some romances that invariably did not lead to sexual intercourse there were the 3 lovers I had disclosed to Sarah. She was very interested to know the circumstances of each coupling and I shared them with complete details and honesty. From what I was telling her she would see that my experience was not worldly by any stretch of the imagination. She had such an easy accepting manner while receiving this information and she talked openly about herself as well. I adored her for not judging me from her more traditional relationship experience but I guess having a son and a daughter older than me prepared her for the shifting attitudes about sex that existed now.

I asked her about her fantasies and she divulged several to me. About this time she got up and went to the pantry and opened another bottle of wine and refreshed our glasses. After each disclosure Sarah would ask me what I thought about it and if it was something I had done or wanted to do. I was pleasantly surprised by the breadth of her interests for we shared many common ideas about sexual experiences. We finished off our meal and tidied up the plates and sat back on the couch. We held each other for a long time in silence. We had shut off all the lights save for one candle burning in the center of the coffee table. The darkness enveloped us and made me feel like we were in some type of wonderful cocoon full of passion and caring. As we hugged are hands played gently over each other’s body and I finally gathered her hands in mine and kissed them.

“Bruce go upstairs to the master bedroom and undress and wait for me,” Sarah said in a low voice. Nodding I did so.

I slipped under the covers and Sarah entered the room. In the low light of the side table lamp she slowly and silently undressed for me. She took her time creating a classy and powerful erotic strip tease and when she was finally naked slipped into bed beside me. All she had on was her pearl choker. I was sitting up and she was lying down so I moved to lie down as well and she turned to me, “Tonight make love to me.” I understood. Tonight was to be attentive, gentle and considerate soft love making. There would be plenty of time for mutual exploration of our fantasy life later. I had been given a window of Sarah’s raw sexuality at the Point and could wait for the latter. But tonight we share the former.

Words simply cannot describe what we experienced.


Part 5: Erotic Closure

“Sex should be friendly. Otherwise stick to mechanical toys; it’s more sanitary.”

Lazurus Long


July 3rd

It’s raining. Blast…no windsurfing today and there are no other inside jobs after 11:00 AM as we made a hardware stop the night before and got some light bulbs and a light fixture for Sarah’s kitchen. I installed it for her and now it is raining so hard there is no point in hoping for any outside activity. The thunder storm that followed the drizzle that started shortly before noon put a stop to any hope of going windsurfing.

It has cooled right off so I decided to make a fire for Sarah in her living room fireplace and went out to the garage and collected some fire wood and kindling and got the fire going in no time flat. She was very pleased and made some tea and got a novel she was reading and lay on a couch and read. I went downstairs and found a box full of books and selected a biography of Che Guevara and sat on the floor, leaning against the couch and we read together. Sometimes as she turned a page as Sarah progressed through the novel she would take a moment to run her hands through my hair or let her finger nails trace patterns on the back of my neck. It was wonderful to read in silence with someone you loved. Twice I poured her more tea and gave her a nuzzle and we would continue reading.

Then with a snap she closed the book and sat upright on the couch, “Let’s do something,” she said. I sat on the floor and draped my arms over her knees and looked up at her, “Like what,” I asked. “Talk,” Sarah offered. I smiled at her and asked, “What about?” “About me, little old me,” Sarah suggested.

“Well if this is going to be about you I best prepare for this,” I said and got up without hesitation. Sarah laughed and I left the room and called back to her not to watch what I was doing. After 10 minutes I called down to her from upstairs and asked her to come up. As I saw her approaching the stairs with some hesitancy I stepped forward and smiled warmly, “Nothing to be afraid of dear,” I said. She smiled back and climbed up and I stood in the master bedroom door way and directed her to enter. She did so and found her room somewhat transformed. She saw several candles placed about the room and the curtains drawn and beside the bed was a chilled bottle of wine and some glasses. I had placed a bowl of grapes and some strawberries on the other night stand and turned on her radio to a jazz station. I had lain out her pink with black lace Charmeuse night gown and she entered and looked at me. I nodded and she began to undress and slipped into the gown and under the covers and I poured her a glass of wine and stripped and slid in bed beside her.

Giving her a kiss I said, “Shoot.” Sarah laughed, “It must be easier being younger to talk about what I want to talk about.” I slid my arm around her and she nuzzled into the crook of my arm. Feeling comforted she began.

“The thing is that I grew up in a very conservative household which I am sure you’re not surprised to hear about. Sex was never discussed and it was, as I am sure you can attest to now, not something experimented with. All my upbringing and anything I heard from my mother always stressed sex as a duty and not to be enjoyed but even with all this reinforcement I always felt guilty because I did like it. I am a well read woman and I would read and hear discussions about sex and I realized over time that I was only experiencing a small portion of what other women did. Some certainly had an ingrained disgust towards oral sex but I never did. Yet this was something I felt I never could broach with your Uncle and he seemed completely satisfied from what he took from me. I was always too shy to offer anything new for fear of rejection.”

She continued, “Over the years I found it frustrating but never, ever was bold enough to do anything about it. I would live a sexual fantasy life that vicariously filled in the void that existed between what I had and what I wanted. Don’t get me wrong, I always loved your Uncle and was completely faithful to him in body and mind. And this act of fidelity was further frustrating as it severely curtailed my fantasy life. I was of the opinion that if I thought of other men I was being unfaithful to him.” She snuggled closer. “So when he died I was left with a rather larger void. I filled my time with volunteer work and managing the estate he left me but I felt isolated and lonely because at my age and in this town people do not readily speak of such things.”

“So, I guess, all this preamble amounts to this: Does me being a sexual neophyte turn you off?” she stated flatly.

I gave Sarah a reassuring squeeze and took a sip of wine before answering, “Not at all. It’s not like I have tons of experience either and I am still learning as well but I have to admit to a very active fantasy life and have imagine many exciting activities. I like to think I have an open mind about sex and really only want to judge after I have experienced something.”

Sarah looked down and asked, “Have you ever fanaticized about me?” “Up until 2 days ago no, never,” I disclosed. She looked up at me with some surprise, “Never?” I nodded at her and she snuggled in closer and passed her soft hand over my chest. “Hmmm,” she mused, “really. That really surprises me.” “Why would it?” I wondered. “Because, my love, I always thought your attention was based on a sexual interest in me.”

What was I to tell her? That my entire connection, up until this week, stemmed initially from a fascination with her lingerie? I decided not to broach this now as it seemed that she wanted to lead the conversation in the directions important to her. “Actually no,” I said.

“Interesting,” Sarah paused as if she knew there was more to my terse reply but she continued, “All the same I know that you were always so attentive and caring and it was not until this weekend I noticed how much I had come to enjoy your company. As the day came closer to your coming to my home I realized just how much I had come to expect you to be part of my life through the moments we shared through a year. The funny thing is I had no intentions of us quite going this far in our relationship. I was your aunt and older and I figured you’d be interested in women more your age. It was during dinner when you were talking so animatedly about the last election that I realized you were a man in more than just age and I had to come to terms and define how I felt about you.”

“And…” Sarah paused and kissed me.

“And what,” I asked.

“And you stirred feelings in me I had not felt for some time. Not just my love for you as person but as a man. What I wanted to now express to you would not suffice in hugs and kisses on the cheek. I wanted to be your lover. Oh God, this probably makes no sense to you!” She turned away and rolled on her side, her back to me. I moved behind her and hugged her from behind and our hips met and she reached back and put her hand on my ass. “See what you do to me when you touch me?” she murmured. I could sense her hips moving and I reached down and began gathering her night gown up and sliding it up over her hips. I slid my hand between her legs and she opened her thighs for me and I began to caress her. She dropped her chin to her chest and I kissed her neck softly and my hands slid up the front of her body and I began to caress her breasts through the silkiness of her nightgown. Her nipples were erect and, pulling the material to the side, I gently rolled her nipples with my fingers. I was getting so horny and the feel of the material of her nightgown brushing against my erection was wonderful.

I slid back and pulled her onto her back and straddled her. Sarah looked at me with surprise and I slid back and licked the skin between her breasts wetting it and then moved forward and pressed them together so that I had pressure on each side of my cock. “Whaa…what are you doing?” Sarah said in a smokey voice. “I want to fuck your tits,” I said tightly. Realizing that she had not had this done to her before I stopped and went to slide off of her. “Please don’t Bruce. I want you to.” Given my state of arousal I had no problem moving back into position and as I repositioned myself Sarah turned her hands inward from her sides and supported each breast so I could put my hands on the headboard. I began to move my hips and as my thrusts began to move faster Sarah began to comment.

“Oh baby that looks so sexy! Faster baby, faster!” She stopped holding one breast to take the tip of her finger and wipe my pre cum off the tip of my cock. “Oh my God, you’re going to cum! Cum on me! Cum on me lover!”

 Her verbal coaxing coupled with the wonderful pressure she was putting around my cock was too much. I thrust forward one last, delicious time and came. A long stream ejected from my cock and fell on her chest and then a second, smaller jet that fell on her right shoulder. I sat back on her and she wrapped one hand around my cock and rubbed it back and forth and then slid the tip and shaft over her breasts. I was panting and spent and she pulled me down by the neck and I slid back fully on her body and we kissed ravenously.

 “Did I do that right babe?” Sarah asked softly. “Oh man, beautifully. It looked so sexy watching you watching my cock as it moved between your breasts,” I said softly between kisses. “Good. I have a lot more to learn from you. I feel so comfortable that I want to share some of the things I have found arousing. I hope you do to,” Sarah offered. “Oh man, where do we start?” I wondered out loud. Sarah laughed and we began kissing again.

 We made love twice more that night and fell asleep totally spent. Sarah has a sexual shyness born from years of repressing her sexual thoughts and ideas. I did not do nor would I ever, comment about her comparative lack of experience. I wanted her to feel comfortable to ask me to introduce new ideas to her and before we fell asleep we had a long talk about what she had never done. She had led a very conventional sex life. Oral sex was not part of her experience until me and I learned that after her second child the sex was as infrequent as once a month. I listened in silence only murmuring encouragement with my words and eyes and she poured out her soul to me and ended up crying. I held her and caressed her hair until she fell asleep in my arms.

I love her more now than yesterday.

Part 4: Erotic Closure

“If tempted by something that feels “altruistic,” examine your motives and root out that self-deception. Then, if you still want to do it, wallow in it!”

Lazurus Long


Journal Entry: October 15th, 1981

I have not written since July. I wish I could express in my mind what has transpired adequately and I feel a longing to be a Walt Whitman, a Leonard Cohen or an Michael Ondaatje to be able to put to prose or pen the monumental occurrences on the Canada Day long weekend last.

It is best to start at the beginning…

The month of May bode well for the summer as the Victoria Day Weekend passed because my plans for the summer began come to shape. My boss at the airport decided that we would close down for 2 weeks that bracketed the July long weekend and that very day I got a call from my parents asking me to call Aunt Sarah. I was curious to the import of her call and returned her call that evening.

It seems she had bought a new home and would be moved in early in June but that there was some work that she required and wondered if, for room and board and a daily stipend, if I would come down and do some house repairs and some yard work. Her son was living out west and was unavailable and this was an opportunity for her to get to know me better since recently my work had prevented my participation in some family events. The latter part made sense when I realized she had taken a week’s vacation last summer with my sister to Montreal to take in some culture and the sights. She had expressed to Ann that it was time she really got to know her niece and now it was time to get to know me.

The timing of her call was perfect. Being an aircraft mechanic in general aviation did not pay all that well and frankly I did not want to pay summer rates for accommodation. Aunt Sarah’s town was on the water and near Prince Edward County with its Sandbanks Park and other attractions. I had also taken up windsurfing so there would be opportunity to do some sailing and now that I was fully a young adult past my majority I welcomed the chance to become better acquainted with my aunt.

As the time drew near Aunt Sarah sent one of her informative letters where she outlined that I would need a suit for a concert she was treating me to. I replied and wrote her my pleasure in being of use to her in making her new home hers and outlining that I would reserve sometime, if acceptable to her, of extending my stay to do some sailing in the Bay of Quinte and environs. This had to be only one of a handful of letters I had actually written in my life up to that time and I had the personally embarrassing need to access a writer’s guide so I could format the letter addressing, salutation and closing properly. I sent the letter off and promptly received a reply agreeing to what I had requested.

My preparations were male in their brevity. The night before I slammed my clothes and toiletries in an old army rucksack, grabbed my freshly pressed suit and spent the majority of my time attending to my windsurfing equipment. I had purchased a new windsurfing harness and was eager to test it out. I packed my 3.7 and 5.0 metre sails and other equipment in my car and secured the board and mast and went to bed full of anticipation. It was good to be of some use to a family member and it had been a busy season of float changes and aircraft inspections. I had been averaging 60 hours a week for over 3 months and I was ready for a change in scenery and pace.


June 29th

 The drive to Aunt Sarah’s was uneventful. I had made a commitment to be there for dinner and I left for the 3 hour drive just before noon and passed through the Big Smoke [Toronto] at noon before the weekend rush really started but by the time I got to Oshawa an hour later the traffic had built to that irritating stop-and-go nightmare that was one of the banes of my existence. Coupled with the fact my car did not have air conditioning I was ripe for a change from the 4-lane pariah that was, and still is, the 401 and exited of at Pickering to take Highway 2 and enjoy a much more stately and pleasant journey through the small towns that make up Eastern Ontario. The rolling country side and the lighter traffic helped frame my mind towards being relaxed and on vacation.

Around 4:00 PM I arrived having taken a moment to stop and get some flowers and a bottle of wine as house warming present for Aunt Sarah. I was glad I did because as she opened the door her face beamed with the pleasure of a person who appreciated the recognition and courtesy of such an action. We did the nephew-Aunt hug and she ushered me into her new home.

Her old home had been a custom made bungalow which had my Uncle’s offices attached to it but this house, built in the ‘20s,was a two-story red brick faced house with white framed windows and shutters and I was to learn that it had been her father’s home at one time. It was interesting and poignant that Aunt Sarah had moved into a place the evoked such strong familial memories and I was saddened by this because it was clearly evident to me the depth of her loneliness since my Uncle had died. But you had to credit her for her enthusiasm and pleasure in showing me around her home. It was obvious she found comfort in her familiar surroundings but she was not aware at the clear symbolism of her buying this home. In fact, I was later to learn, she had purchased a home a month previous but when her family home went on the market not two weeks later she offered her first purchase immediately for sale and bought this home without negotiation.

In brief the main floor had a central entrance hall. To the right was a large living room extending the depth of the house. If one walked straight toward the back of the house from the entrance the stairs to the basement gave easy access to the utility areas of the unfinished basement. To the immediate left of the entrance was the dining room taking up about 3/4s of the depth of the house and the last quarter was a small kitchen with a breakfast nook for two people.

Upstairs there was one four piece bath with a clawed tub and 3 bedrooms. One master and two smaller rooms, one of which was the guestroom opposite the master bedroom and the smaller bedroom was her craft room. Aunt Sarah had the entire home done and almost a French Baroque style. There were silk curtains and all of the formal furniture was of dark and heavy oak with lighter coloured gray and gold silk seating surfaces. It was distinctly un-modern and I smiled inwardly at this recession in the style of her home décor as my Uncle’s home was decidedly more modern in its furnishings. All in all it was Aunt Sarah being…well…Aunt Sarah.

Aunt Sarah suggested a shower or a bath for me and I gladly took the opportunity to wash the road grime from my body. The southern Ontario humidity and my open car window had layered a coat of sweat and dust and I really needed to wash. I unpacked my stuff and showered and dressed and found Aunt Sarah on the deck in the back sitting in the shade drinking the chardonnay I had brought her. We talked of the work to be done and she had some chicken salad and beer and we ate and reconnected as the summer night fell and the cicadas began to sing.

That night I went to bed spent. The stress of work seemed to collect in my body and as my body hit the soft cotton sheets of my bed I fell to a deeply restful and reinvigorating sleep.

I was to need it…


June 30th

I awoke with a start. Where was I? Oh shit. I am here…at my aunt’s. It was a strange feeling, like waking in a motel in an unfamiliar city after arriving in the dead of night bone weary of a long drive. Being my first night in this new home it was a little disorienting but the smell of fresh coffee and bacon snapped my mind to the present needs of any young man – FOOD! I went downstairs and Aunt Sarah, in madras style shorts in lemon and a cream coloured golf shirt, greeted me with a simply incandescent smile.

“It’s good to have a man in the house,” she said and plopped a plate with a huge helping of scrambled eggs and bacon on it. As I bent down to take a bite she filled a mug with hot steaming coffee and slid opposite to me in the settee. We talked animatedly about the work of the day and since I had the cool of the morning it was decided that I would clear the bushes that she wanted removed first. To her credit she had a rental shop deliver all the garden tools necessary and after a deep draw from the cup, emptying it, I got up and to work.

There is something wonderfully fulfilling of simple labour. After an hour I felt absolutely Ghandi-esque as I was stripped down to my shorts and work boots sweating in the sun. I attacked the bushes with a vengeance, enjoying the roar of the chain saw as I cut down the overgrown bushes. Within 2 hours I had cleared the majority of the bushes and heard the creak of the screen door as Aunt Sarah brought out fresh squeezed lemonade to refresh me. I toweled off, using my t-shirt, and slipped it on over my body. We sat together, me a bit self-conscious of the odour I was giving off from my exertions but Aunt Sarah laughed and said, “Don’t worry Bruce. I am downwind of you.” We laughed and her eyes brightened for the first time in a long time. The mask of a still felt too strongly grief briefly flared out and I saw my aunt as I had not seen her before: she was an amazingly alluring and attractive woman and laughing unguardedly suited her. I smiled deeply in response and then the mask came down again.

The rest of the day was God damn hard work. I earned my keep that day, I’ll tell you. My motivation was several fold: I wanted to get done as much as possible so the balance of my time was truly a vacation; I had this oddly strengthened need to project my masculinity towards my aunt; and last, it felt good.

An added incentive was that Aunt Sarah kept me plied with wonderful salmon sandwiches and lemonade and at around 5:00 PM I heard the clang of a bottle being banged on a metal table and looked up from my work and saw that Aunt Sarah had brought out a beer in a bottle for me.

“You do like to drink it from the bottle,” she said as she popped the cap open with a flourish letting the cap disappear into the garden grass somewhere. I laughed and nodded my agreement and noticed she had a towel out for me to wipe off. I took the proffered towel and she presented me with a clean t-shirt, which I put on, and sat beside her. Aunt Sarah did not drink beer but had made a Gin Gimlet for herself and we toasted my labour and her garden and we sat in silence enjoying the progress I had made.

I was later to find out for Aunt Sarah that during the day she had made busy in the kitchen as a pretense to watch me work. I was in good shape having been a decent football player and had maintained my physique by regular weight training and upper body work. I was no chiseled body builder but I had definition in my muscles and I was deeply tanned from windsurfing that June. Her sink had a window from which she could steal looks at me working and from our conversations later that week she disclosed that seeing me had been oddly stirring to her.

She suggested I retire to the shower and I washed up and put on some fresh shorts and a golf shirt and she called to me from the kitchen, “Bruce…Can I take you to the local burger joint for dinner?” “Sure,” I called back, knowing it was an old haunt that she had taken me and my sister to during the summer when we were younger. I got down from dressing and she handed me the keys to her car and said, “Your drive.” I caught the keys, adding an all too obvious flourish reminiscent of an adolescent showing off, and we got in her mint 1972 Cutlass Supreme convertible.

I loved this car…so reminiscent of the muscle cars of my youth. For some reason my Father had bought my Mother a 1972 Pontiac GTO as a present and this was the car my Uncle had bought my Aunt at the same time. These were not cars they both liked to drive but it was a token of their partner’s love and my Aunt cherished this car now that my Uncle was gone and kept it in pristine shape. I drove out of the drive way and turned towards downtown and snapped the throttle open and let her have her head. The deep roar of the V-8 filled the summer tranquility of my Aunt’s neighbourhood and she grabbed my forearm in mock trepidation, “Don’t!” she said with obvious glee at the departure from the staid and conservative entrapment of her background and town. We got it up to 60 MPH and I let her ease down dropping the transmission into second and then first to let the revs come up and give us that satisfying All-American burble and snap a high output American engine could make as it engine braked.

It was fun…Aunt Sarah had on a white silk scarf around her neck and the burger joint, called Moxie’s, had curb-side service. With the top down and my Aunt dressed as she was we could be a couple from the early ‘70s enjoying a night on the town. The place was packed with the long weekend holiday crowd and we got our food and ate in the cooling onshore breeze coming off the bay.

After our dinner, which was superb, as burgers and fries go, Aunt Sarah suggest a jaunt “to let her baby air out,” as she put it, in the Cutlass. With the top down I followed her directions and she directed me east out of town and along a secondary highway. We drove and talked about nothing of consequence and I began to notice a familiarity and acceptance of me into her sphere of intimacy she had never shown before. About an hour out of town it was getting dark so we turned around and heading back towards the waning sun and her home. It had cooled off measurably and I turned on the heat and heard mutely over the wind noise a soft click and then the middle of the bench seat weighting as Aunt Sarah slid towards me and gathered my right arm in her two arms and held me close, “I’m colder than I thought,” she said. “I can stop and raise the top, if you want,” I offered. I glanced at her and she was looking thoughtfully down at the radio stack. “Please…don’t,” was all she said.

We pulled into the driveway and Aunt Sarah disengaged from me. It was an abrupt disengagement. There was no lingering touch or pause. She simply let my arm go, got out of the car, fished for her keys as she had a spare set in her purse and walked to the door. I raised the convertible top, the whirring of the electric motor a marked counterpoint to the soft silence of the summer’s night, secured the car and went in. A bottle of beer sat on an entrance way table with a note simply saying “Thank you.” All the lights were off in the house and I walked thoughtfully up the stairs and went to bed puzzled at my Aunt’s actions.


July 1st

A gentle shaking woke me up. “Get up sleepy head,” I heard my Aunt say and I realized I had not set the alarm. Man, oh man did my arms ache! The chain saw wielding and vibration but the zap into my arm muscles not used to such labour. I opened my eyes and Aunt Sarah offered a cup of coffee and I wiped the sleep from my eyes and rose up on my elbow and took it, thanking her. She left me to my devices and I showered quickly and bound downstairs to a pancake breakfast.

Not knowing how late it was I scarfed down several forkfuls of pancakes and Aunt Sarah slid into the settee across from me and smiled, “Slow down Bruce, its only 8 o’clock!” We laughed and I noted the mask gone completely from her flashing hazel eyes and noted the way the sun reflected off her blonde hair. It was as if diamond chips had been sprayed where the sun hit her hair making the hair sparkle like the reflection of a lake in the early morning.

“We made such progress yesterday I think we will get the yard work done by noon,” she said. “What do you mean ‘we’,” I said mockingly and Aunt Sarah laughed. “Privileges of management, you do all the work and I get the credit,” she countered. With that she reached for my left hand which was resting on the table and touched it. Her soft touch struck me like no other display of affection in my life. Her energy flowed to me and I actually drew my hand back in surprise. Or was it only me? Was I beginning to project new and deeper feelings for Aunt Sarah and it was only an innocent expression of simple human contact from her? I was confused and bore down on my breakfast in order to mask my feelings.

“What is it Bruce,” Aunt Sarah asked.

“Just,” I lied, “that I HOPE we can get it all done today.” She gave me a quizzical look and got up and freshened up my coffee and began to self-consciously putter about her kitchen. I had seen this preoccupation with house work before in my Mother and knew it meant something, but what I was yet to fathom its import and soon to know.

Luckily for me Aunt Sarah had organized a refuse removal company to come by the following day so the main part of the work was cutting up the bushes into manageable sizes for transport and then cleaning up the area so that a root removal service could get rid of the roots and then all I had to do was get some top soil and till it into her garden. By noon I was done and Aunt Sarah was now doing the wonderfully comforting and familiar task of bringing me lemonade and sandwiches as needed.

At lunch we sat down and she remarked that she had a new patio set in the garage so before eating I went to task and set it up for her. It was wonderful to sit in the shade of her new patio umbrella and survey my work with pride. Damn, if I don’t say so myself, I did a great job. Aunt Sarah was watching me and she leaned over and put her hand on my shoulder as if she knew my thoughts, “Bruce, what a wonderful job. Thank you.” I smiled at her and took a sip of lemonade and a bite of sandwich looking at her. “And…” she said, “for your efforts tonight I am taking you to a concert in Kingston. In the mood for Mozart?” Laughing I replied bemusedly, “Of course Ma’am.” “Sarah…Bruce…please call me Sarah. This ‘aunt’ business is wholly inappropriate. You’re a man now.” Pausing to digest this, I answered, “Of course Aunt…er…I mean Sarah.” We both laughed at this softly and shook hands to mark this new level in our relationship. It was funny we used a formal expression like a hand shake to mark a less formal means of address. I excused myself to shower up and relax the balance of the afternoon.

Going upstairs I entered the bathroom and stopped. Dead still. Hanging from the shower curtain rod surrounding her antique tub was a pair of chocolate coloured stockings and a black open bottom girdle on a hangar. I stared and noticed had I stopped breathing. I turned to call down to Sarah to…to…to what? ‘Remove the dainty under things please?’ This was silly I thought. I lifted my hands to take the stockings off the rod and stopped. I was broaching on a place I never had been. I had had several lovers but they were transitory ‘fuck’em and leave’em’ encounters and I had never lived with a woman for more than a weekend so dealing with lingerie, other than taking it off a woman’s body was, sadly, not part of my personal skills repertoire. Plus…these were – her – things! These objects of a long and developed admiration from afar symbolic of a latent sexual desire that now penetrated my brain like a bullet. I closed the door softly and committed myself to do something. I took my hand and felt a stocking. It was still damp and then the girdle. It was damp too. Just then, “Bruce…Bruce!” and the thudding of Sarah coming up the stairs. I snapped on the water and stuck my toothbrush in my mouth and opened the door part way.

“Yes?” I mumbled through my ruse.

“Can I remove my things please?”

The word ‘things’ snapped me into normalcy. “Of course,” I said and opened the door for her. Sarah entered and reached on her toes for her lingerie and I noticed for really the first time the smooth roundness of her shorts. I wanted to think ‘ass’ but not yet…maybe…oh damn…EVER. She brushed passed me on the way out obviously embarrassed and I stood stoned faced not hinting at any emotion to give her permission to attempt to surmise my true feelings which I hoped would be a studied projection of bland neutrality to the entire situation. I could not let my secret out. I was at a juncture of discovery that would ruin a long process of admiration from afar that had, to this point been chaste and, in my mind, pure.

As I showered I reflected on the previous night. It had been her that had slid towards me. I had made no overt indication of sexual desire or contact. I had never even intimated in conversation and sort of sexual innuendo or impropriety. I had treated Sarah as an aunt. But there was something…

A knock at the door broke my chain of thought. “Bruce, we are leaving at four. I have reservations at 5:30 so we can make the concert. OK?” Sarah said through the door. “No problemo,” I chimed. God! Lame! Lame! Lame! I mentally kicked myself for saying ‘problemo’ and shrugged it off and finished showering and got ready. I dressed in my suit which was a classic single breasted blue blazer with a blue gabardine dress shirt and gray slacks with brown leather penny loafers, a carry over from a not to successful sojourn at private school. Sure, they kicked me out but I at least appropriated this iconic blue blood Eastern Establishment fashion statement from the fuckers! Plus, I looked good. I even wore my private school tie hoping to bump into some ‘old boy’ and have a go at him with some double entendre he was sure to understand. I laughed at the mental reverberations of that less than a full school year experience still evoked from me and gave my suit jacket a quick brush.

I walked down stairs and sitting on the sofa in the living room was Sarah. On the side table were two glasses of sherry but I stopped in the archway and looked at her. Sarah was wearing a blue-green halter dress with a slim waist and full lower skirt. It had a subtle sharkskin patterning on the fabric. As she sat with her legs crossed at her ankles her coffee coloured stockings accentuated her legs wonderfully and she had on a simple white patent leather baby doll shoes. I whistled involuntarily as Sarah quipped brightly, “We’re quite the couple.” I walked and sat opposite her and she offered a glass of sherry to me. I took it and raised it and made a toast: “To found beauty and those that appreciate it.”

Sarah looked at me sharply. I averted my eyes. “Thank you Bruce. I have not been called that for quite some time.” She clinked my sherry glass with hers and I looked at her eyes and they were iridescent and I shuddered. We drank in a gentle silence and she rose, gathered her clutch purse and we left.

We drove with the top down and she used a scarf to protect her mid length hair from being buffeted by the wind. We talked about her childhood and her expectations of the meal and concert to come. Sarah had selected a special restaurant for dinner and we drove towards the promise of a wonderful evening.

We pulled up to the Rosemount Inn, an 1850 Tuscany style villa located in downtown Kingston. I pulled to the portico and got out and the valet opened the door for Sarah and I offered my arm and she took it lightly and I escorted her to the dining room. After conferring with the Maitre’De we were seated at our table. Dinner was fabulous. Sarah let me select her appetizers and main course and the wine pairing and each act of attentiveness seemed to bring her out of her shell. The new surroundings and excellent wine invigorated our conversation and we began to discuss social issues and politics and I came to the realization just how well read and intelligent my Aunt was. It was a treasure to sit over a fine meal and talk, really talk and her beauty and her scintillating conversation only added to the enjoyment of the evening. I was almost disappointed when I looked at my watch and realized there was no time for dessert and signaled the waiter for the cheque and gathered our things to leave. The valet had the car ready and I drove to the concert hall. We got parked and I secured the car and led Sarah to the entrance and we found our seats.

Sarah was rapt with expectation. “I love Mozart. Do you,” she asked not knowing my exposure to symphonic music. “I love Mozart but I have a confession,” I said leaning conspiratorially towards her. “What is that,” she said, eye brows rising. “I fall asleep because I find a live performance of this type of music so relaxing.” Sarah laughed and pulled my arm to her and whispered, “Just – don’t – snore.” We smiled at our joke and the chimes signaled the performance was about to begin and then the house lights went down.

Through the first act I was completely conscious of Sarah. I could not concentrate on the music. Usually I revel and delight in the formality of the dress the musicians have to wear and acknowledge with sadness the rapid diminution of traditions and culture that our society seemed to be giving up without question or a fight. But tonight all I could do was feel her presence. Sarah had her arm draped over mine and for the first time, in the permission that the darkness gave me, I really looked at her. My eyes passed over her gently rising and falling breasts and down to her legs crossed, coquettishly feminine. I noted the well defined curve of her calf in the soft light and shifted in my seat and she drew my arm more tightly to her. Jesus Christ! This cannot be happening. I knew I was in trouble. I mentally discard word contractions during conscious thought when I am stressed. I thought ‘cannot’ not ‘can’t’ and I knew that a new change in my attitude towards Sarah was broaching my consciousness like a realization of some fundamental personal truth discovered when mentally or physically tested.

The act ended and all I could offer was the question, “Drink?” Sarah nodded and I let her out of her seat and followed her. She motioned to the terrace and I nodded and got into the hubbub of people eager for libation. Getting two white wines I went out to the terrace and finally, after some effort, found her. She was standing under a lamp with one leg slightly forward and her arms crossed looking out over city. I approached her and she turned and smiled. I stopped and offered her drink to her and she took it and thanked me.

“Bruce,” she said as she formed a question and then, abruptly, thought better of it. “Yes, Sarah.” “Oh, nothing,” and she gave a dismissive shrug and sipped her wine. We stood in silence, a new tension palpable in the air. Not an uncomfortable tension but, as yet, undefined. The chimes signaling the audience to get their seats rang and we set our glasses down and we got into our seats. We settled and Sarah pulled herself to me by my bicep and kissed me softly on the cheek. “Thank you.” I looked into her eyes and expressed a ‘you’re welcome’ but could not bring myself to say it.

The second act started and I was in agony. This unresolved tension was welling in me and I was obsessing about it. As if she sensed this Sarah whispered, “Relax…” and the sentence trailed off like the last note of a musical score. I settled down a bit and tried to read the program. I had totally forgotten what was playing and I busied myself trying to get some foothold on the evening…to create some concrete connection with what I was feeling with what was happening between Sarah and I.

Finally the second act ended. I got up and made small talk about how great it was and how, as a regional orchestra, Kingston had a good one. My commentary was trite and superfluous. It added nothing in helping me feel or to put Sarah at ease and I felt like a teenager on a date that had gone very bad.

We walked to the car and I started it up and asked Sarah if she wanted the top down and she nodded ‘no’. I pulled into traffic and headed for the 401 but Sarah started to direct me to Highway 2. We passed through Loyalist in silence and then I sense a question forming from Sarah. She sat upright with a posture very erect and not relaxed at all.

“Have I done something wrong Bruce? I really want to know,” Sarah stated. “Nothing…it’s nothing. I am just distracted,” I offered. “Come now…the evening was going so well and you have withdrawn from me. Is there something bothering you?”

“Sarah, can I ask you a question?” She nodded her agreement. “What was it you were going to ask me before and then stopped?” I wondered. She paused and smiled slightly and actually put her hand to her face. “I shouldn’t.” “Please do ask Sarah. I promise not to laugh or judge,” I said, almost pleading. I was trying to change the subject because I really did not know what to tell her. “I was…” A pause. “I was going to ask if you had…many lovers.”

“Oh that’s all,” I exclaimed in relief. I think my nervousness had crystallized and my outburst was not appropriate to Sarah’s earnest question. A question that I had no doubt she had some difficulty getting the nerve to ask. “Bruce?” Sarah asked pointedly, obviously feeling some sting from my reaction. “Sorry. Sorry Sarah. Please ask it again and I will answer you properly,” I offered by way of making amends.

“Have you had many lovers, Bruce,” Sarah asked calmly but with a hint of cold doubt to my reaction.

“Honestly,” as I made mental count and truthfully told her, “three.” “Did you love them,” Sarah asked softly. “No. I did not.” No expansion was necessary. I had not been in love. I had shared…well I hoped it was sharing, sex with them but I knew I did not love them. I felt a deep emptiness fill me and then the click of Sarah’s seatbelt and she was beside me and a hand stroked the back of my head. “It’s OK. It is a part of life,” Sarah said simply. I sighed deeply.

“Why did you ask me that?” I wanted to know where this was leading. No one had asked me that before and among my male friends it was something we certainly did not readily, if at all, talk about.

“Because I love you,” Sarah revealed. I gripped the steering wheel and my knuckles whitened and the tension in the car hung like exhaled cigar smoke in a room. It wafted and moved making me aware of it in waves and then receding only to come back to remind me of what we were talking about. I had never told my Aunt Sarah I loved her. Sure, I had written it on birthday and Christmas cards but it meant nothing, really. Sarah let the silence exist and for that I was thankful for her discretion and tact. The thud of road and gentle moan of the convertible top being pulled by the wind were our only companions.

I pulled into the driveway, walked around to Sarah’s door and opened it for her and I offered my arm. She took it silently and I unlocked the door to the house and went to turn on the hallway light. Her hand covered mine, “No.” I turned to Sarah and I could not only sense her presence as a woman but I felt I was feeling her essence as a person. I was oddly outside myself looking down at a man and a woman standing awkwardly in a dark hallway.

I paused and looked into her hazel eyes. All I could see was two small points of light reflecting from her pupils. I reached out and took her hand and drew her into the light coming from the kitchen. “Sarah…” “Yes,” she asked so softly I had to strain to hear her. “I love you.” She let out a deep breath and the sweetness of her breath passed over me. I leaned over to her and kissed her softly on the lips.

“And tonight you are going to love a woman you love,” she stated clearly.

I pulled her to me and hugged her tight. So tight that she felt like she was going to collapse from lack of breath. I released her and she took my hand and led my up the staircase lit by one of those incongruous night lights that look out of place in an older home. I followed her hearing the rustle of her dress in the darkness and smelling her subtle perfume for the first time this evening. We entered her room and I stopped and asked, “Candles?” and Sarah nodded and briefly kissed me and left the room. I heard her footfalls down the stairs and then up again and she had retrieved a silver candelabrum from the dining room, and clearing a space on her bureau, set it down and lit the candles.

In the soft light I realized she still held onto her purse as if it was an amulet of protection. I pulled it from her grasp and set it down on the bedside table and approached her. She backed away involuntarily and I stopped and bowed my head slightly. I took her left hand and bowed lower and kissed her hand and drew her to me.

“I…,” she began.

“I know,” I replied.

I knew she had been a faithful lover and wife. I knew with a certainty she had only been with one man. I knew that she was conservative in all aspects of life.

“Some things are going to change Sarah,” I said. In a flash I remembered the two single beds in their old home and that the first night for her after her wedding had been a night of her in a peignoir lying nervously in a hotel bed waiting for a man to come to her bed in pajamas and slide under the covers and share a mutual fear and ignorance of each other’s bodies. “I want to give you something that is us,” I said by way of explanation.

Gently I unfastened her halter and reached, first to the right and then to the left, of her dress and unzipped the zippers on the hips of her dress. The dress released at this point and fell away to the floor and I gently, reverently retrieved it and lay it on a chair. There was Sarah in a black full bodied girdle and coffee coloured stockings, her hands nervously smoothing her hips of an imaginary dress. I lifted her up in my arms and gently placed her on the bed and slipped her shoes off. I stood and undressed slowly looking into her eyes. Her hands were now clutched at her chest and I took a moment to hold her hand and touch her face. Once I was completely naked I unfastened her stockings and slipped them off and then I slid into bed beside her. Sarah got up and shimmied out of her girdle and the black panties she had on under them and took my hand and slid into bed beside me. I held her close and kissed her gently and her tongue tentatively moved out of her mouth and into mine. I responded in kind and we rolled on our sides and began to kiss, our hunger rising with each new sensation and exploration.

I felt her hand on my wrist and it being drawn down between her legs. Her thighs opened and she placed my fingers over her vulva and stopped kissing me. “Please…,” she whispered and I gently, delicately touched her. She took a deep inward breath and opened her legs more and I massaged and caressed her. After a time I held her close, “When you’re ready lover.” She nodded and I lay on my back and she straddled me. Her eyes were a mix of remorse and need. Of love and regret and I left us in silence because there was nothing to say…nothing that ever could acknowledge her past loss and her new gain. She knew I was ready. She knew I loved her. She accepted my body as hers melded with mine and I held her close as her hips moved slightly back and forth until she found that position and rhythm that was only ours. Sarah let out a sharp gasp and her hips bucked once and she let out a deep cry and lay against my shoulder and cried until she fell asleep.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry.” She was not crying for me. She was not crying for her. She was crying for him.

Part 2: Erotic Closure

The more you love, the more you can love — and the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had time enough, he could love all of that majority who are decent and just.

Lazurus Long


Diary Entry: Summary 1980 (Aunt Sarah)

It has been a while since I have written specifically about Aunt Sarah. Time has passed and so have the circumstances that impinge of family life. I am older, more mature, more developed in my mind and body. And tragedy has struck our family: My Uncle, Aunt Sarah’s husband, is dead from a catastrophic accident. Through that time of turmoil I reflect on and now realize I had suppressed some of my feelings and longings for Aunt Sarah but I am compelled now to write about them as a means of clearing the air. I want to put a name and face on my desire. My Uncle’s death only served to bring me closer to Aunt Sarah and I began to feel guilt for my casual feelings I had generated in my interest in my Aunt and the mode of that interest. I was not simply a friend or family member interested in her well being and grief. I was now a man that could see many different sides to my Aunt that no one else could see. With some shame mixed with selfishness and need I wanted to be more than a nephew to her. I wanted to console her:  To be her special confidant.

I am compelled to admit, like some drug addict, that I, at the height of the tragedy, sat in that church at that time of grief thinking about that stolen moment not hours before when I had crept downstairs, like Dr. Jekyll to his lab, to pander to my basest instincts. I needed my Aunt Sarah fix. I HAD to see her under garments. I needed to know what she was going to wear at some time in the near future and if I would be lucky enough to recognize the style, cut and colour of her stockings.

I was relieved that at the funeral I did not see what I had viewed hung in the basement but on the drive home from the funeral and wake I had an opportunity to muse and reflect on several singular moments.

The times I yearned for most was Christmas for at that time at Aunt Sarah’s home the greatest opportunities existed to go downstairs on some pretext to retrieve a chaffing dish or an old jazz album would offer the glimpse of my desire. I would often get a visual fix by seeing several stockings and girdles hanging to dry or lying in a pile to be hand laundered. The stockings changed in hue slightly: honey, charcoal, coffee, nude and off-black would greet my wondrous and hungry eyes and slake that visual thirst I had come to crave at regular intervals. Her lingerie began to reflect the changes in her body as well. For in the past there were only panty girdles and open bottom girdles had been supplemented by full body open and closed bottomed girdles. As always virginal white was the main colour but now she was wearing nightshade gray, light yellow and beige girdles hung from that cord.

I began to understand why Aunt Sarah took so long to go “to the ladies room.” It had to be a somewhat onerous process to disrobe almost completely to attend to her needs. This delay only served to increase my curiosity and desire. Curious to know about a woman’s intimate ministrations in all aspects and desire because the delay acted as a catalyst for my imagination as I sat at some restaurant with my family waiting her return. Sometimes I would become so distracted in my musings that I missed conversations directed at me and I would blush in deep embarrassment if they only truly knew why I was not paying attention to the repartee rolling round the dinner table.

Thinking back from my last entry about Aunt Sarah I remember these singular moments in my quest for visual enticement:

Aunt Sarah in a boat in a summer weight white blouse and, unbelievably, a mid-length pencil skirt, totally non-nautical attire, jumping to the dock in crepe soled shoes and the flash of stocking seam as she bent down to tie off the line.

Going to the Opera and opening the passenger door for my Aunt and as she slid out of the seat her dress rising and glimpsing her stocking top. Her hand rushing to correct this most sinful of displays and in a flash the image gone from sight but etched into my mind forever.

Morning one day at her home when everyone was out early except for Aunt Sarah and I. I was eating cereal in the breezeway and she was passing through in a thigh length nylon dressing gown and through the sun shine I could see the outline of a lace full body girdle.

Moments like these were the fuel, like an atomic pile being activated slowly, that sustained me from one family get together to another.

As these moments were rare I reveled in the opportunities that presented themselves to ingratiate myself with her and become her favourite nephew – not all that hard since I am an only nephew – and given her tacit and, later to become, obvious pleasure in having me be near her. The odd time our bodies would touch outside of the obligatory greeting and leaving hugs – a momentary brush against her thigh as we sat on a bench seat in a restaurant would sustain me for months.

Through all this experience and momentary reward it was my secret. I only had one secret I held closer to me than this and no one knew either secret. I had no Confessor…no entity to share this with but the stark whiteness of paper and blue ink of my Journal. There was no longing for I knew that what I desired was met by what I would garner from my infinitesimal machinations to see only objects that represented her. I never got drunk and acted inappropriately to Aunt Sarah or stole a touch on the nape of her supple neck as I hugged her. For everyone, save me, I was the example of what was once called courtly love. I was mildly chivalrous and attending but never fell into a saccharine sweetness of behaviour that would expose my true feelings.

My admiration for Aunt Sarah was perfect in its intent. There was only desire satisfied by the self-imposed strictures I had created.

I look forward to seeing Aunt Sarah soon. Christmas is just around the corner!


Part 1: Erotic Closure

“Never crowd youngsters about their private affairs—sex especially. When they are growing up, they are nerve ends all over, and resent (quite properly) any invasion of their privacy. Oh, sure, they’ll make mistakes—but that’s their business, not yours. (You made your own mistakes, did you not?)”

Lazurus Long
Diary Entry:  January 13th, 1977

Summary of 1976: Thoughts about Aunt Sarah

I can remember when I was younger and staying for a long summer weekend at my Aunt’s. Sometimes I would head to the basement to watch TV or explore in the back of the storage area in the basement recreation room for my older cousin’s long forgotten toys or board games looking for something to occupy my mind. But amongst the organized stacks of old belongings there they were hanging from the cord strung parallel to the floor joists – my aunt’s lingerie.

Aunt Sarah was a bit older than my parents but even in the mid-1970s had not adopted the then relatively new fashion convenience of pantyhose. From the clothes line it was evident she still wore nylon stockings and, even though she had a fine figure she, for some reason, wore panty girdles or open bottom girdles with her stockings.

In fact, just about everything about Aunt Sarah was a throw back to the 1950s, as if she found this era in keeping with her value system, sense of morality, and ethics. Her’s was a  time when men and women were sexually repressed and experimenting with a new morality coming from the 1950s and 1960s in no way reflected in the values of “Leave it to Beaver” and “The Danny Thomas Show”. She consciously reflected her conservative values in the hair, clothing, lingerie and other interests she practiced and believed.

The specific moment that triggered this passion and interest in my Aunt and her intimate attire was preceded by an experience I had 2 week previous to this visit. On a long bike hike out into the country my friends and I had stopped at a large culvert to take a piss and as we entered the culvert we found a stash of old Penthouse magazines in a plastic bag wedged under some rocks beside the culvert. Somebody, probably about our age had hidden them there to retrieve them later and delight, as we did sitting in the deep grass of the drainage ditch that day, in the scantily clad women portrayed in the January, February and March 1976 editions of Penthouse. I remember that most distinctly…that there was some sort of cosmic symmetry to the fact that we had found 3 consecutive monthly issues of Penthouse! What a find for young men! It was a window to a new world and as we sat in the grass and pretended to have seen all “that” before our eyes widened to this whole new world of the naked female body.

For me it was a seminal experience. I had seen in one of the pictorials a wonderful; some would say by today’s standards, rubenesque blonde women dressed simply in a black 1 inch elastic band garter belt and black Cuban heeled stockings with a back vertical seam. I was in love. I loved the way the dark sheerness of the stocking met the welt of the stockings and became a stark demarcation line to the soft sinfully milky whiteness of her thigh. I loved the way the garter straps extended perpendicular to the waist band on the belt accentuated her curves: how the stark straightness of the elastic straps only served to round and soften her feminine features. I simply adored how the stocking caught the soft light of the sun and accentuated her ankles, calves and thighs and made more of what was a stunning woman…well more! More of what I began to realize I wanted to see and experience this – That was for sure

And now here I was looking up at Aunt Sarah’s nylons and foundation wear drying in the still air of the basement. The stockings were carefully pinned to the cord with small bits of cloth so the pins did not mar or damage the stockings. They were of such a fine material you could look at them and not tell that the material was a tube of nylon. It was like you were looking through a slightly tinted piece of single pane glass. The coffee colour contrasted to the virginal whiteness of her girdles, and, since she had removed the garter clips to hand launder these items, the way they stayed up in this particular lingerie style was a mystery to me.

What I remember most was the temptation to touch them. I wanted to feel their texture and discover what they felt like to run over my palm or across my fore arm but fear of discovery was to prevent me from acting and as my cousin was getting curious why it was taking so long to retrieve his ‘Risk’ board game he called to me and I snapped out of my momentary reverie and let the temptation of its titillation pass until such time as I could act on it. Since I was staying in the hotel room with my entire family I would sadly have to wait for the return to home before I could rid myself of the all too immediate and erotic images in my mind.

The bad news was that we all went out for dinner that night and Aunt Sarah, in her peculiar way, was able to dress like a sexed up Jean Cleaver. She was wearing a pink patterned afternoon tea dress and I realized, like a bolt of lightning had struck me in between the halves of my brain, that this is why she had the figure she had! For heavens sake it all made sense now! In order to have such an hour glass figure she had to be wearing a girdle and with a rushing realization I saw that she was wearing the very stockings I had only hours before been admiring.

I have to take a moment and back up or this experience will not make sense to you…

You see my family moved to a relatively progressive and economically viable part of our province. It was not far from Toronto but it was growing and had new schools and from the influx of families new and fairly liberal attitudes about social, economic and political issues. But Aunt Sarah and my Uncle lived in what I would characterize as a provincial backwater. The downtown was at night a smashing clash of multi-hued neon and there were two old style movie theatres in full and viable operation were as we had already lost our downtown theater to a multiplex with modern seating and stereo sound. They even had an operating soda fountain and the two taverns still honoured (and you need an appreciation of previous Ontario liquor laws here) the old law providing for the patrons to use a separate entrance for men and women. So you can see that I was from a relatively small ‘el’ liberal background from a highly urbanized background and Aunt Sarah was from some rare form of June Cleaver’s universe albeit transplanted to eastern Ontario. The nearest and best characterization I can give you is the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Watch that movie and you will know what I mean.

Add to this that Aunt Sarah’s family were scions of the county community active in business, church and small ‘c’ conservative politics and you can see that poor Aunt Sarah had to comply and meet some very Edwardian expectations of behaviour. Not a lot of people understand the English cultural and political influence on Canadian culture and even at this time in the mid-70s my Aunt’s town was one of many pools of Tory moral sensibilities in Ontario.

Even at my unsophisticated 18 year old mental development and sensibilities this contrast of cultures…this clash, as it were, of the new and the old was oddly compelling. Here was an attractive woman related to me through marriage that looked so damn sexy and yet…unconventional… because of the fashion and attitude time warp she immersed herself in. From that moment I wanted to be near her. I used that opportunity, which was to stretch into many opportunities over all our family visits in the next decade, to sit beside my Aunt and get to know her. I was a chaste and respectful admirer of her beauty and poise and even though I wanted to extend this relationship in my mind to a rather undignified and undeveloped masturbatory expression of lust I never acted on it. I simply would find ways and means to steal downstairs in their house to see her lingerie drying carefully in the basement or breach the sanctity of the matrimonial bedroom to smell her perfume and body powder.

I had yet to create in my mind and substance the true needs of a fetishist. I did not crave her clothes or presence or desire to possess her sexually. All in needed was momentary but predictable transitory contact with her and the items of clothing that I so closely associated with her. Luckily for me our family shared a predictable stream of social interaction over all of the major holidays…Christmas every second year, one long weekend a summer and one weekend winter skiing vacation were all typical events that gave me opportunities to satisfy my need. All told I could count on 3 times a year I could be with my Aunt and stand, at some point during the visit, mesmerized looking at her lingerie.


Her First Set of Stockings

Introducing something new to someone you care about, even love, can be a tricky business fraught with danger. Having long appreciated the female leg clad in sheer nylon it was something that had been on my mind for sometime during my relationship with S.

S was my first love – perhaps my most intense love – as first love often must be. And as S and I both were experimenting and learning our respective roles as each others’ friend and lover we fell into this wonderful exploration with passion and an open-mindedness that young adults have and hope to never loose.

But how to broach my interest and passion in stockings? S was a farm girl more comfortable in jeans, a wool sweater and an anorak than fine lingerie and stockings. Luckily circumstances were to prevail that would conspire to help create a wedge from which I could leverage my passion for stockings in a manner that would benefit S and certainly benefit me!

The wedge, as it were, was S was to become as she put it “corporate cookie.” Though this term was meant with some derision as in her wildest dreams S never thought she would be dressing in corporate attire for any job, less a career. But as happenstance would have it she got a job as a sales manager for a marketing firm specializing in supporting the arts and she was required to upscale her wardrobe from the comfort of cotton to that of nylons, dresses and skirts and appropriate footwear.

Since this was a summer job one of her first complaints was the discomfort pantyhose created in the humidity that southern Ontario is apt to experience due to its geographic proximity to some of the largest bodies of freshwater in the world. Even with the benefit of air conditioning S hated the tactile feel of pantyhose.

This was my chance.

One weekend I gathered my courage and took her down to Rosalind’s, a fine lingerie shop in my home town. The proprietor, Rosalind, was a breath of fresh air in lingerie retailing. She had a passion for and a deep knowledge of her well selected stock and she handled each customer with understanding and enthusiasm. Knowing that S would immediately feel at ease with Rosalind I took S downtown on some other pretense and when we were about to pass the lingerie store suggested we go in to look around.

Somehow my apprehension disappeared, and for what at that time was unusual, I took the initiative and opened the conversation with Rosalind when she greeted us and asked us if she could help us with anything.

Taking the proffered bait I offered out that ‘we’ were looking for some stockings and a garter belt. Rosalind in her way and without missing a beat asked if this was for “pleasure or for every day wear.” I could have kissed her. It was obvious to me my intent and I am sure S knew what too but Rosalind’s comment, with its implied humor, broke the ice nicely and S, being the assertive woman she was, made it known it was for every day wear.

Rosalind selected some eminently practical and non-frilly garter belts and showed them to us and even mentioned about the one she was recommending that the small rosette in the center of the belt was “sexy” and suggested S try it on. S went into the change closet and then emerged after sometime with the statement that the garter belt was fine and now it was time to select some hose. Inside I was beaming and expectant for the time S would first wear them.

A selection was made. A pair of taupe and grey stockings with no adornments like reinforced toes or heels – that would come later – and we paid for our purchase. Well, I gladly paid, and off we went.

As it turned out S was a stocking convert. As long as we were together she never wore pantyhose to work or for any time she wanted to wear a dress or skirt and she knew that like Pavlov’s dog, any time she covertly revealed to me that she was wearing stockings an appropriate response could be guaranteed from me!

Rosalind was guaranteed a return customer as well. I would often drive from Toronto to buy lingerie for S and Rosalind would always preface our dealings with, “Is this for you or for S?”

—by Eric