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VISIONS

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May 25th 2015  |  0  |  Category: Romantic Love  |  Author: winstonbentley  |  732 views

The Dress

I had often been asked to accompany her on “decision” trips to the store. These outings were of use to her in validating an item of clothing or accessory that her inner shame told her she wasn’t worthy of enjoying. She could never be good enough or pretty enough in her eyes but to me she was gorgeous, clothed or not. I had loved this woman for more than half my lifetime. Everything about her, her warmth and compassion to the downtrodden was a welcome beacon shining among a world that had become too harsh for our liking. For my part these small vacations from the day to day were enjoyable mostly for the chance to see her in something newly spectacular. Generally I agreed with her choices and as she valued not only my opinion but also recognized my taste in what looked good on her, the outcome was usually agreeable.

We had a couple of important events coming up and had gone through the usual back and forth over whether she needed something new to wear. She had mentioned this particular item would be perfect for the little get together on the next Friday evening and I knew that the initial description told me this particular dress was something I knew I would want to see. My motivations in these visits were certainly complicated. The desire to see her happy had always been a driving factor, always seeming to fulfill a basic personal need in me in some small way, but in truth it was just for the chance to see her glow.

The appointed hour came; we met around five in the afternoon haze and took her car up the freeway toward our destination. Sometimes a frugal shopper, she could spot a bargain anywhere and always made any item look like it cost tenfold what she had paid for it. The store was quiet; the ladies working there were pleasant, not overdressed and not overly attractive. This was going to be easy, my companion already had the edge in lighting up that room. She was nearing sixty yet had the body of a much younger woman and the too often hidden personality of a talk show host. The confidence that had been stolen from her had nullified any prospect of her being able to pursue such well-suited career choices. Sacrificing career for raising two wonderful children had taken more of her self than anyone deserved, but to me she was simply the best at whatever she decided to do.

I made my well rehearsed introductions to the store ladies with a customary little joke about not knowing who this woman were and I always knew that the slight foreign accent would work its charm and I would be accepted into that inner circle so often dominated by the opposite sex. Once the early formalities were complete, one of the pleasant ladies brought out the items in question from that secret place where they keep on-hold requests and handed them to my companion. I was summoned or if that is too harsh a word, beckoned toward the changing room area and relegated to enduring that uncomfortable moment when the decision whether to accompany her into this inner sanctum or to sit on the usually sparse seating available had to be made. My basic instinct is always to go in if at all possible to witness the undressing and redressing this entails; I have always found pleasure in observing the inherent beauty of this wonderful creature undertaking such intimate actions.

On this occasion however, the available seating was a long chaise type bench with a small pillow that was conveniently propped against a steel pillar. It was perfect for relaxing and trying one’s best to look nonchalant in dark glasses anticipating the mystery of what would soon appear from behind the slightly translucent curtain. I had been in these situations many times before and had usually been pleasantly surprised or excited by the vision that emerged. It was easy to tell what looked good on someone with such perfect figure; shape has everything to do with fashion and hers made most things look better than they often deserved. A few minutes past, then out from the muted light of the changing room came, “The Dress.”

I had constructed in my mind some preconceived ideas of what this particular dress would be like. Any time there is talk of “fitted” and “full-length zippers”, imaginations are bound to set the deepest erotic zones of the mind into full racing mode. There were two color choices to be made and it was left to pure chance and her choice, which one was to see the brighter more piercing and revealing light of the mirrored area first. As the curtain parted, my heart beat a little faster as the vision that unfolded in front of me set off a series of thoughts and emotions that made me sit up from my comfortable slouch and compelled my eyes to gaze a little longer and deeper upon the beauty of the form before me.

When we arrived she had worn black exercise leggings and athletic shoes, the leggings well fitted of course and she had brought other shoes that would better show the dress in its rightful context. She wore the dark choice first and I knew right away that I didn’t need to see the lighter one. I gazed from the floor up, noting the smooth white outline of her calf muscles being pulled taut by the higher heels. The perfect length, the clinging of the soft cloth to her body was intoxicating. In a word it was stunning. That was a word I had often used before but this truly lived up to the description, vivid colors on the front and back that popped out in a burst of joy and enough solid black down the sides to accentuate the acute elegance of her curved outline.

We went through the usual “what do you think?” chat but I don’t know if I even heard what she said, I knew this would be the one. As I said before, there were two choices and so we had to go through the formalities of seeing the lighter color and so the exquisite vision disappeared again into the inner sanctum to return wearing a much lighter version of the same dress. This is where it always gets tricky; especially if one knows her initial preference is for the one you don’t favor. Sometimes one might be tempted to tell a little white lie in order to ingratiate and curry favor that might be expected to return rewards later. Not this time, I knew.

I loved this dress but it simply had to be in the darker and splashier color that became so much a part of her that it looked like it just, well… belonged. I asked to see the original again; she obliged and once more emerged from the shadowy light of the dressing room. This time my eyes were drawn to that indelible part of my preconceptions, the full-length frontal zipper. Erotic thoughts were now dominating my senses and it took all my effort to somehow rationally explain my preference for this particular one.

The store ladies whispered in admiration as my companion posed and preened in the mirror holding her head slightly askew so as to observe from all the right angles. There was perhaps a need for a little alteration in the bust area and so a smaller size, albeit in a different color, was tried on and this made the fit even more stunning and murmurs of approval could be heard among the other ladies in the store. So that was it, she ordered the smaller size in the darker color and it would be delivered in time for the first event that the new garment was to be put into use.

The Party

It was to be an informal gathering of about fifteen or so to celebrate the graduation of her good friend’s daughter from college. They had stayed in touch all these years and although we moved in different circles, we always managed to enjoy these soirees. We decided I would be designated driver and we would get a cab home if needed. It doesn’t take much these days to get a little tipsy and my thought was that it would be good for her if she let her hair down a bit.

She had taken the usual time to get ready, makeup painstakingly applied with her hair in rollers sitting in her pink robe at the dressing area of our master bathroom. Of course I was ready in less than half the time but that had never bothered me before, it gave me the opportunity to watch as the wonderful effects of the preparation unfolded before my eyes. As she dried her hair and used whatever tools a women must keep in her always-overcrowded drawer I marveled at the efficiency with which she had mastered this routine. Soft curls in her blond hair added the finishing touch to what had become a vision of great beauty standing in the dress ready to go out the door. “Wait, I need a picture of this,” I said and she obligingly posed by the front entryway as I captured the moment on digital medium.

When we arrived at the hotel we were greeted at the large central lobby seating area by our friends and ordered drinks to accompany the ancillary morsels that served as appetizers before dinner. I ordered a beer and a glass of Merlot for her. It didn’t take long for me to notice the effect she had on both the men and women in the hotel. The women in general looked on in what I perceived to be a mixture of awe and envy. As to the weaker sex, well I knew the moment I first saw it that the full length front zipper was going to make most men and perhaps some of the women fantasize about unzipping it. The thrill and pride mixed with sheer excitement I felt in this observation was truly exhilarating. I wondered if Paramedics might need to be summoned to treat all the strained necks from the gentlemen both in the general area and in our immediate vicinity.

At the dinner table the full figure hugging splendor of the garment was for too long lost beneath the gatherings of the white linen tablecloth. The chatter was enjoyable, ranging from earnest discussion of our children and their accomplishments to idle banter and gossip. After dinner we moved to the bar area where an eclectic mix of music was playing from the hotel sound system. A few people were dancing and this was an opportunity that I wasn’t going to pass up.

We had taken Argentine Tango dance lessons together and by now we made a pretty good tandem. We both had found the intensity of the dance a benefit to our relationship as the hold and proximity of our bodies forced inevitable feelings of intimacy. The music was perfect, we advanced to the dance floor and the moves involved in the tango only emphasized the perfect form that was filling the dress. I knew the other men were likely fantasizing about the zipper and what may lie beneath, but I knew for sure that my desire for her was as strong tonight as ever.

I had always felt pride in seeing her glow in any light and the limelight was all the more suitable for tonight’s incandescence. We danced for what seemed like a few minutes but was in reality an hour or so. By that time the rest of our party had decided to retire to the lobby for one more nightcap. I had only had the earlier beer and a glass of wine with dinner and she never drank much in any setting so we both imbibed in a shot for the road. After a few hugs and those all too lengthy goodbyes that members of the female sex seem to enjoy so much and men have to endure, we waved to the attendant for our car. Even after such an evening I got the “never gets old” pleasure of watching her slide into the driver’s seat and noting the approving and I felt somewhat leering looks from the valet as he closed her door. The car hummed out of the driveway and lurched North to the place we call home.

The after party

I wasn’t going to waste any time with the mundane tonight. It had been too much of a build up, the excitement bubbling below a gossamer thin layer of surface tension for over a week. We walked through the front door, and almost in the same motion of closing and locking the door, I took her hand and led her through the house to the bedroom. As we neared the bed, she made a move toward the bathroom but I gently stopped her near our bed and said in a faltering voice, “no please, stay right there”. To my surprise she did just that and the events of this moment that had been cascading through my consciousness for a long while seemed about to unfold.

As she started to remove her shoes, again I whispered no and reached for the object of my fervent anticipation, the zipper. Slowly I pulled it down, down past the black bra from which her petite breasts spilled to form the perfect cleavage. Black underwear has somehow an intoxicating effect on the senses and as I pulled the zipper further down, the light skin of her stomach gave way to the lacy fringe at the top of her panties.

The dress almost too suddenly, dropped all the way to the floor and as it landed my hand simultaneously reached into the soft area of the inner thigh and I hooked one finger under the edge of her panties and lightly brushed against her already moist lips. As I flicked the finger upwards lightly crossing the fold where the hooded rosebud lay in wait she let out a soft but perceptible sigh. We both knew she couldn’t continue to stand this way so she moved across to the bed. As she lay down I followed her lead and knelt between her outstretched legs, her knees pulled upward for better support.

Once she had completely rested her head into the familiar comfort of her pillow I reached into the top elastic of her panties and gently began to ease them down her smooth legs and pulled them over her feet and they fell behind me adding to the mound that had started with the fallen dress. Taking turns I took off her shoes, and rubbed her feet and legs with just enough pressure to keep sensuality intact while relieving any latent stress in her limbs. As I moved upwards my lips began to kiss her thighs lightly moving ever closer to the warmth that I had waited to feel and taste for what had seemed like an eternity.

With the advancing years, lubricant had become a necessary part of our lovemaking and I had taken the precaution before leaving earlier that night to place the requisite bottle of magic in the nightstand on her side of the bed. I reached into the cabinet, took the small blue bottle and using the very handy pump action on the top, squirted some liquid onto my fingers. I gently applied it first to her vulva and then slightly inside the vagina. Even though I had rubbed the liquid between my finger and thumb to warm it up, the still slightly cooler sensation made her jump a little before the gel warmed to body temperature and melded into her own dampness.

Before I moved closer I took a moment to take in the vision that lay before me. One can never tire of the unique sensations that the female form can elicit in a man as ones eyes feast on the soft, gentle lines of her body. Her soft blond hair lay partly across her now slightly flushed face accented by her high cheekbones. My eyes passed down across her slender neck and I stopped for a moment to watch as the carotid pulse showed the rapid pumping of blood to those regions of her body that I had briefly visited earlier. Onward then to her wonderfully pronounced clavicles and elegant shoulders that gave such form and structure to the flatter areas of her chest. Her breasts were still entrapped by the black bra, nipples hidden from view but protruding prominently through the cups. I continued my eye movement down her slender stomach, pausing to take in the bones of her hips that began the lower half of this perfectly formed figure and then down further to that most treasured and intimate area that lay directly beneath the pubic bone.

Her sex had always been a wonder to me and in recent years she had groomed her pubic hair as had become the fashion among the younger generation. The remaining hair formed a small neat rectangle that beckoned me to explore what lay at its extremities. The lower shorter side of the rectangle ending just above the hood that was being pushed apart by the now slightly engorged clitoris that it once shielded.

Eventually I moved in closer and nestled my mouth in to that mysterious place and as I alternated between darting my tongue between her labia and making circular motions around her clitoris she quickly made the shifts and deeper breaths that were the unmistakable signs that the first orgasm was close. In our earlier days I had often marveled at the hair trigger that led her to rapid orgasm and although later in life it had taken a little longer, tonight I sensed it was going to happen quickly.

As the mounting pressure built up inside her she began to lightly push on my head as a signal for more direct pressure on the hood and the blossoming flower that lay beneath it. Stopping the circular dance that was reminiscent of our tango earlier I began to apply more direct pressure with the flatter part of my tongue. Seconds that seemed like an eternity passed and then she let out a cry of pleasure as she reached down and applied her own pressure with her fingers as her whole sex pulsated in a crescendo of orgasmic pleasure.

Taking her hand and replacing it with my own I began to apply light pressure to the entire length of her outer lips. When I sensed she was over the crest of the first orgasm I began to lightly caress her clitoris with soft circular movements and once again the signal came for more pressure of which I obliged by using three fingers and rubbing in what might seem too violent a movement but one which I knew would bring that second deep throated cry that signaled renewed ecstasy. Once more her hand closed over mine adding to the downward pressure and pushing my fingers inside her now welcoming canal. As the pulsations slowed and she once again reached the plateau of relative calm, she whispered softly but firmly that she wanted me inside her.

Once more I reached for the small bottle and applied some liquid gel to my erect penis. It was superfluous to say this as it seemed as if I had been aroused for most of the night, such was the desire invoked by this entire episode, beginning with the trip to the store a week or so before. With the shaft suitably lubricated I mover between her thighs and she reached her tiny, elegant hands down to assist my entry into her, welcomed first by the slightly tighter folds of her inner labia. We had done this before and to excuse the pun that had become somewhat of a laughing matter between us from our first sexual experience together, we both knew what was coming next.

As I moved further into her now very moist vagina she started to give the look that said she needed me all the way inside. After a few more short, teasing strokes I pushed all the way in, the slight, upward curvature of my penis glancing against her special spot on the way. As soon as I reached my full depth she arched and came again in another body shaking and whimpering cry of sheer delight. On other occasions we had been able to draw another orgasm or two from our intercourse but on this occasion I could not hold back that tide of sweeping inevitability that was impossible to control. Almost immediately I felt the heat and overwhelming sensations that only climax inside the woman you love can bring.

Intimacy between lovers that have known each other for a long time is something that has to be planned. Spontaneity usually disappears along with one’s hair and waistline. I am not ashamed to say this had been planned but it was an exciting and intensely satisfying exercise of unbridled desire being fueled by the knowledge that it would be me that fulfilled those erotic fantasies that other men would only dream of when they went home that night. It began with the sight of my lover in a new dress and ended with her in contented sleep that told me all I needed to know about the passionate fire that could still smolder between us after all these years.

 

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