The 8x10 of Darcy O'Dell Ch. 02

What if Gina had recognized Darcy/Kate? They might have been in L.A. at the same time. I never told her how many years I had grieved for what I'd lost. Gina saved me in that respect. She knew the first names of all the important girlfriends in my past, particularly the live-ins. I knew the same for all of her major relationships. We were very open about giving a heads-up if former lovers popped up socially or in the media.

I'd tell her the next day. Gina wouldn't care. I wasn't trying to hide anything. I just didn't want an old girlfriend discussion to wedge its way into the moment. Oops, that would be girlfriends—plural. I'm surprised she hadn't heard of Tim(othy), but how many camera lenses had she looked into over the years?

We walked out of the medical building and were halfway to the car when she took my hand. She looked drained.

"Jeff, can we sit down for a few minutes. On the bench there, in the shade."

Gina deflated like a balloon as soon as we sat down.

"I got a burst of adrenaline to get me out of the building, but I'm totally sapped. Yes, it was good news, but I really need to decompress. Can we sit here a bit and enjoy this perfect day, this perfect weather? Until the rest of the anxiety leaves my system?

"Jeff, I know you've been beaten down, too. You've been there for me every time I needed it. You'll never know how truly touched I was when you wanted us to look at those post-op pictures together." She started to cry.

"Let it out, honey. You need to let it all out." And she did. My shirt was soaked with her tears. It took a long time before she could sit back up.

"Oh, Jeff, thanks. I can't think of any other man I'd want holding me right now. I love you so much."

She sat back on the bench and closed her eyes, letting the warm breeze waft over her. I was in no hurry—even though the promise of that nasty tit fuck hadn't been forgotten. Gina finally spoke.

"The amount of psychological suffering I've had since that first biopsy result—you can't imagine. Thinking about how much of my identity is wrapped up in these two bags of fat on my chest. You were right about the coffin, though. I wouldn't have hesitated to do what needed to be done. To stay alive. I couldn't leave you alone."

She looked down at theGQ that was still in her hands.

"Jeff, I've got an idea—tell me what you think. All that extra money we've been paying for my treatments and medications: co-pays, out-of-network doctors, special drugs. We won't have that expense anymore. We can afford to be nice to ourselves.

"I want you to get this suit you showed me. You haven't bought a decent dressy suit in ages. I'm not talking about those bland things you wear to work. Something that'll turn some heads—even if it is younger women."

We had a nice laugh at that.

"I know Macy's carries that line in menswear. My employee discount can make a dent in the cost. And I want something, too." She turned to me.

"I know you've been too polite to say anything, but it's no secret I've been dressing differently since I got the bad news. Wearing more conservative clothes. Hiding my cleavage. De-emphasizing my bustline. Baggy, unisex items. Middle-aged lady clothes. Not really me. That's going to change.

"I want a new cocktail dress that'll show off the girls. Like I used to do. You've never minded my 'busting out' in public, have you?"

I don't care who's looking at the dress, as long as I'm the one unzipping it later. I knew she'd always be attracting attention: admiration, envy—as well as leering. And cattiness from other women.

"We can go shopping this weekend. OK?"

We were quiet on the drive home; the tension had pummeled our bodies. It took a long time to come down from it. Gina finally broke the silence.

"Townshend. I do remember him. It didn't ring a bell until now."

I glanced over at her. Was another shoe going to drop? Did she know Darcy/Kate, too?

"There were so many."

I must have had an involuntary flinch she noticed.

"No, I meant there were so many photographers taking mypicture. Not so many taking me to bed," she laughed. "Now, I'm not going to claim I never succumbed to the charms of some of those guys. The whole setting reeks of seduction. But they travel too much. And give in to temptation too easily—because they can.

"Townshend wasn't one of the photographers I screwed. I remember every one of those names."

Normally I might have wondered how many that might have been, but not that day.

I knew she'd head for a shower immediately when we got back. It was a ritual she had after any medical appointment. Needing to wash off the anxiety sweat and bad juju from being around sickness and despair. I headed for our home office to answer some emails until she was ready. And to daydream about what she looks like in the shower, nude and soapy, skin glistening, hands going all over her body—especially her breasts—and between her legs.

* * *

While I was waiting for her, I began thinking about our rich history of tit fucking. Gina is, hands down, the Michelangelo of inter-mammary intercourse. Yes, she has a big advantage (actually two) that many women don't, but her skills go beyond the mere provision of dermal friction.

There are busty women who just aren't that sensitive in their breasts and find the practice boring—no sexier than a guy rubbing his prick between their thighs or feet. Gina is very much the opposite of that. She moans and writhes with every thrust of my cock sliding between her tits. And garnishes it with a flow of inventive dirty talk.

We've done every variation on the standard woman-on-back/man-on-top tit fuck: woman squeezes breasts together; man squeezes breasts together; or each uses one hand to squeeze, the other used for partner stimulation in other key areas.

Sometimes we forego her cleavage altogether: she presses my cock against her nipples or other parts of her breasts while I glide back and forth. Her other hand stimulates my cockhead or balls. Completion is very messy.

Other times I sit back, and she kneels and takes full control of the process. She's very creative with her manipulations. This can result in an impressive "cum geyser". If she crouches over me on all fours, I handle the breast squeezing and try to add lots of nipple stimulation. At the final moment, she bends her head down and takes my cum on her face or in her mouth.

The most challenging, as far as positioning and stamina, is when she's on her back and I reverse my approach, sliding my cock down the top of her cleavage as I crouch over her. Once we realized a stretchy bandeau bra could keep her breasts squeezed together, it solved a lot of problems. She now has both hands free for just about anything: caressing my thighs, fondling my balls, or putting her finger up my ass.

We discovered that her small, palm-size vibrator meant for external clit stimulation does an incredible job when she uses it on my scrotum, perineum, or anus. When she teases me a long time, I've been known to shoot my load on her pussy—even all the way down onto her legs and feet.

And with any of these—depending on her mood—she can request a more "hands on" wet shot, grabbing my cock at the last second and directing the torrent of cum onto her face or breasts.

The most inventive approach we came up with is when I'm on top and using my hands to press her boobs together, leaving both her hands free. Gina bought an expensive silicone vibe with a flat tip that curves up to stimulate her G-spot. She's gotten so good at edging herself while I slide between her breasts that, when I'm about to come, she can time her orgasm with mine. Often this causes her to ejaculate from the lengthy tease she subjects herself to.

Gina was so relieved and aroused when she found someone who reveled in her squirting abilities. She'd suffered so much from insensitive and clueless partners: being tossed out of bed, accused of pissing, or having her cunnilingus privileges revoked. Guys would sleep alone in another bed after sex, get grossed out in general, or avoid sex altogether for fear she would rain down on them. I love when she does it, especially when she gives me a facial. I can do a pretty good dirty talk while she's on her way to that squirt.

Other times I'll handle the vibe. She's less certain where and how it's going to touch, and I can get a good tease going. I bought a pair of padded wrist cuffs for her and installed some discrete hardware on the door molding. That way she can be restrained and relax into a partial squat to get the proper tension in her thighs and pussy. I'll sit on the floor, between her legs, and work the vibe in her quim. Often I'll have a lubed finger teasing her asshole, sliding it in when she's close. She gets overwhelmed with lust, knowing I want her to soak my face with her cum.

PART 3: Gina's Tribute

Gina was done with her shower. She walked in wearing a thin silk bathrobe tied at the waist. Her unfettered breasts tumbled around inside. Looked like we'd be getting it on in the office that day. She had towels, her vibrator, the massage oil, and ... a large envelope?

"Have you finished your scanning project yet?" she asked, pulling out an 8x10 photograph from the envelope.

"Yeah, last weekend."

"Got one more for you." She placed it on the scanner glass and hit the button.

I looked puzzled.

"For your 'Sexy Women in Lingerie' gallery."

She smiled while the scan progressed. Why were we doing this when we should be fucking? I saw a black and white image of a bosomy young brunette appear on the screen. Shot from the waist up, she had a hand partially covering an embarrassed smile, like she had been caught doing something. A slight lean forward made her boobs bulge out from her low-cut bra—talk about Grand Canyon cleavage!

"What's this?"

"Look closer."

Holy shit! It was a picture of Gina. In her twenties, modelling a brassiere. Even with her hand in front of her face like that, I could definitely tell it was her.

"It'syou, isn't it? I thought you said this was gone."

"I found it—in 'the last place I looked'. That old suitcase I had stuffed with things I didn't want to get rid of. I recently cleared all that mess out and was going to donate the suitcase to Goodwill. Then I felt something funny behind the lining. That was the super-secret hiding place where I put the last remaining portfolio photo that wasn't destroyed. This almost went to the thrift store, and I would have had no clue.

"I actually found this two months ago. I've kept it hidden. I'm not sure what I would have done with it if the news had been different today."

"This doesn't look like a Macy's ad."

"It was at a Macy's shoot but after the client's work was wrapped. The photographer was a friend of mine. She had film left in her camera when we were done, so she suggested I do a few provocative poses for fun. This was my favorite."

Gina took the photo from the scanner bed and handed it to me.

"Here you go. An 8x10 of Colleen Collins. Captured in the flower of youth. And now you get to have your way with the real, flesh and blood Colleen Collins. Who wants to show her husband how much she loves him."

"Gina, you know what's funny? All those magazines I was looking at in the waiting room today ... I saw plenty of ads that had pictures more revealing than this."

"I've got something you can reveal," she teased, stepping closer.

I reached around to turn off the computer. She stopped me.

"No. Leave it on. I want you to see my picture while we're doing it. I wish we had known each other back then. It's sort of a way for you to have sex with the young Gina."

"So you're saying I'm the lucky guy who gets to slide his cock between his wife's still very sexy fortysomething boobs while looking at a picture of her twentysomething boobs?"

"Exactly."

Well, OK. I touched her robe, sliding the thin silk over her skin as I caressed her hips. Gina sighed and ran her fingers through my hair. My lips grazed the robe where her breasts were taut against the fabric. She moaned softly as I pressed my face against her bosom, her nipples swelling when I gently nibbled on them.

I parted the robe below the sash and reached inside. She took a deep breath as my hands wandered over her hips, onto her backside, and around to the spot where her ass joins her soft inner thighs. As I felt below her waist, I caught the first faint whiff of female arousal. My cock was already aching.

Gina shifted her legs slightly, opening her stance, silently giving me permission to touch her sex. I buried my fingers in her bush. A few years ago she had asked me if I minded if she let it grow out again. Frankly I preferred her natural state, dark and mysterious. Since that's what women looked like down there when my sexual experiences started, it actually made her seem younger in a way.

My fingers were still teasing her thighs and mound, not yet touching her labia. I felt a slick drop of her wetness settle into my palm. She began to whimper.

"Mi fai tremare le ginocchia, caro."

And dear, my knees would tremble, too, if you were teasing me between my legs like that. Usually she didn't revert to Italian until she was close to coming. I sensed things were different that day.

I gently brushed my fingertips back and forth on her engorged labia. She was so wet she may have well been the young woman flirting with me from the computer screen.

Gina untied the sash of her robe and let it fall open. My fingers slowly worked their way into her pussy. She began kneading her heavy breasts and pinching her dark, swollen nipples.

I drank in her full, womanly aura. Her hair was still damp from the shower. No makeup, no attempts to mask what forty years of living looked like. The few insignificant flaws she worries about—but shouldn't—were invisible to me. She arouses me most powerfully in her natural state. No artifice or concealment. She knows I'm still turned on by the sight of her pure nakedness.

I slid my fingers all the way inside. She began to call out my name, professing her love to me. Her body trembled as I sucked on her nipples and squeezed her breasts with my free hand. I was ready to taste her nectar, but she beat me to it.

"Mettimi la faccia tra le cosce."

Ah, there's nothing I would like more than to have my face between your thighs, honey. Giving you my special kisses there. I moved off the chair onto the floor and lay back, freely submitting to her as she requested. As she straddled me I positioned my arms so I could have both hands ready to fondle her breasts. Gina lowered herself on my face.

"Leccami la passerina."

Lick your pussy? It would be my greatest pleasure. Freshly showered that day. But she knows I also like to taste her when she's not so clean. After exercising, or yard work, or a long day. She protests strongly when I ask her, but I insist—strongly insist. Her resistance crumbles at the first swipe of my tongue. My lips have felt some of her fiercest orgasms under those circumstances.

That day I lapped her pussy until her musk overtook the clean fragrance of the bath gel. That's how I like her. The earthy taste and aroma of her arousal. Things she has no control over, particularly after my mouth has its way with her.

My hands were all over her breasts and nipples: squeezing, rubbing, pinching. Gina spread open her swollen lips with her index fingers. That was the signal to stiffen my tongue and concentrate its tip on her big clitoris. Slowly flicking it back and forth, up and down. Swiping it in a circle—one way, then the other. And random bursts of high-speed left-to-right flicking with just the right amount of pressure. I could tell she was seconds away from losing it. Her voice gasped as she announced her climax.

"Dai, amore. Sono tua. Vengo!"

As soon as I felt her first spasm, I relaxed my tongue and switched to a steady sucking on her clit with my lips, like I was nursing on a teat, drawing it back and forth into my mouth. She grabbed my ears and screamed. I hoped she was going to squirt in my face, but it didn't happen that time. Her contractions were deep and numerous. I enjoy her coming on my mouth almost as much as when she sucks me off and swallows.

She slumped over on her elbows and knees, moaning and twitching. I stayed under her, softly kissing and licking her kitty as she came down from her climax. Gina crawled back slowly until her body was even with mine. She lowered herself and began kissing me, tasting her cum on my lips. Our afterglow was full of emotion. We stayed like that much longer than we usually do. She finally spoke up.

"Jeff, I'm going to get my full-length mirror and put it where we can see ourselves. You sit in the chair and I'll mount you, facing the mirror. I'mso ready to have your cock inside me. Pull it out but keep your pants on."

That was a cue that we were doing our version ofuna sveltina—a quickie where there's minimal disrobing—a staple of Italian porno movies from the '80s. The male unzips his fly and pulls out his cock and balls. The female bares her boobs and/or pussy while keeping most of her clothing on.

She went to get the mirror while I rolled the chair over. It was one of those really expensive office "seating solutions" that has every adjustment possible and nice cushioning. I lowered the arms and draped a large beach towel over it, knowing things were going to get sloppy that afternoon.

Gina positioned the mirror while I sat in the chair and massaged my balls and shaft. She had donned one of her sexy sundresses and buttoned it only partway in the front so her tits were hanging out. I lifted the back of the dress and guided my cock into her kitty as she sat down in my lap.

"Oh, Jeff, you feel so good in me. I'm just going to use you now."

Gina's pussy was so tight and hot I probably could have come after a dozen strokes. I don't know how I managed to hold back, but her being so wet probably made a difference. So wet that my slacks were getting a good soaking. My only hope was that she would come first. Gina demanded my attention as she picked up the pace.

"Scopami! Scopami duro!"

So I fucked her. Fucked her hard. Damn, she looked hot! Yeah, we could both see ourselves doing it in the mirror. Looking into each other's eyes. Like watching a fuck film that we're starring in. I let her grind on me while I cupped her big breasts in my hands and got rough with them. She squealed her approval and begged me to squeeze them.

"Sì, così! Strizzamele!"

I needed to take charge or else my seed would fill her long before the tit fuck got underway. I stood up and grabbed Gina's wrists and ordered her to bend over.

"Piegati, amore."

As I pushed her forward we began a vigorous doggy fuck. Gina yelped in surprise as her tits started swaying wildly.

Seeing ourselves in the mirror amplified the lust that was pumping through our bodies. We locked eyes. Gina's face was contorted with the imminent orgasm that was quickly building inside her. She yelled my name out again and again as she got close. Her dirty talk got even raunchier.

"Sono la tua troietta, Jeff. La tua sporca puttanella. Scopami come se mi avessi pagato!"

Wow! I would never call her "my dirty little whore" or say I'm "fucking her like I paid for it." But it wasso hot hearing her yell it out moments before she came.

"Vengo! Vengo!"

A mournful wail escaped her lips followed by wild yelps as the climax lurched through her body. She writhed and twisted, but I held her wrists tightly and slammed my cock deep in her pussy. I could see her eyes roll back just before her head slumped down. Random contortions rocked her body as her orgasm took its sweet time in finishing her off.