She stood at the island in the kitchen scanning a magazine, her sandy hair loose over a white blouse that was tucked neatly into trim, black slacks. Her heeled shoes were locked together, pulling her legs and back into a graceful architect’s curve. As quietly as I could, I approached from behind and pulled the hair away from her neck, and drew close enough to exhale my hot breath on her soft, white skin. Sylphlike shoulders rose instinctively, then she caught herself, and they eased down again. I slipped my arms under hers and around her waist, and pulled myself tightly into her backside.
With her one hand resting on the counter, and the other still turning pages, my hands found her breasts over the blouse. She did not respond with a look, a word, or any movement that might suggest she was aware of my actions. I knew she would let me do whatever I wanted, as long as she didn’t have to acknowledge me doing it. One by one, the opened buttons freed her from the tight fitting blouse, and I pulled the shirt tails from her pants. Her head dropped slightly as I undid her bra, and the pages of the woman’s magazine turned more slowly. I remember when the pages she turned were from comic books.
Her bare breasts in my hands, and my lips on the back of her ear made her shiver ever so slightly. I unfastened her slacks, pulled down the zipper, and let them drop until they bunched around her ankles still held together. The thong was new, replacing the brief, white panties of her youth, and I pulled it down to rest on the pants.
Sliding down until my knees were on the floor, I spread her cheeks and licked until I found the wrinkled hole I was so familiar with. Her sphincter tightened reflexively around my tongue as I explored as deeply and as thoroughly as possible, until my lingual muscles were too sore to continue. I stood and dropped my pants to release the pressure, and pushed into her ass, hard. Her cheeks tightened against me, creating a delicious tension of opposing forces between us.
A cabinet door containing tall bottles was next to her, and I removed from it a bottle of olive oil. Taking care to place the tails of her blouse on her shoulders, I slathered myself and her butt with the oil, and pushed at her again. She resisted again, but the oil defeated her effort, and my wooden erection found it’s mark, and the tip nudged inside.
She gasped once, and I held steady and caressed her breasts until she began to breathe again in slow, swelling waves I could feel in my hands and in my chest pressed against her back. Her easing onto me was inevitable, and exquisite, and complete. I lifted until her heels were slightly off the floor, her shoulders curved into me, and her hands clutched at the magazine without purpose.
I drilled inside repeatedly, achingly slow at first until all anal resistance was gone, then as hard and as fast as I could. Each of my plunges was welcomed with a yelp she stifled to a delicate mew. With one hand teasing her nipples stiff, I slipped the other around and between her legs. Her wetness guided my finger to the most sensitive area, and I worked her in the same fashion that had left her weak and panting so many times before. Her hands spread wide before the magazine to brace herself against me, and her head fell back on my shoulder until her breath caught in her throat, and she was overcome by the little death of my making.
As I guided her limp hand to the magazine and helped her turn a page, she tried to regain focus, struggling until she turned one on her own. I resumed my thrusts, hard and high each time, lifting and pushing her against the island, until I expelled everything I had inside her fever-warm flesh. She relaxed and settled as I withdrew, her attention on the magazine again. I wet a towel with warm water from the sink and washed the oil from her body as she grew steady and composed. I dressed her, doing everything from behind to remain unseen, kissed her neck, and left the room.