Chapter 6

"Is the wine what you expected?" I asked, acting nervous when she continued silently watching me as she sipped it.

Heidi chuckled, a low, sexy sound deep in her throat, then murmured, "Better than I expected ... exactly like you, Vincey, dear. You look uncomfortable in all those heavy clothes. Why don't you get into a nice comfortable towel, like I'm wearing?"

I gulped and managed a strained-sounding croak, "A towel?"

She nodded, beaming with high spirits and amusement. "Like I'm wearing," she repeated. "Then we'll be ready to dance while this tub fills. Okay?"

She took away the hand that had been holding my hand cupped around her luscious tit. I stood up quickly, my hand coming away from her tit as I straightened. I paused, looking down at her, then asked, "Are you sure you want me to?"

Heidi laughed merrily and declared, "Of course I'm sure, darling. "A towel is the only sensible clothing to wear when dancing cheek to cheek with someone you find very exciting."

Incredulously I asked, "But do you find me ... exciting?"

That brought another merry laugh from her, then she exclaimed fervently, "You probably have no idea just how very, very exciting I find you, lover! No idea!"

I said quickly, "I'd better go pick a stack of records for the-"

She interrupted, urging, "Don't worry about the records, darling! Get out of those heavy clothes and into a towel first. You'll be much more comfortable!"

"I don't know." I said, shaking my head dubiously.

"Don't be bashful with me, love," she chided. "Just trust me. You're going to love the things we do with each other. Now get into a nice towel so we can get started. Go on!"

I turned my back to her as I began slowly pulling off my heavy ski clothes. As I'd expected, that brought a chuckle from her. I chuckled to myself. Until a few days ago it had never occurred to me that inside my dear Auntie Heidi lived a wanton woman who would find special delight in seducing a male virgin young enough to be her own son. Now I had come to realize there's a lusty, life-loving woman like that hiding somewhere within even the most conformity-ridden woman, exactly as there's a lustfully hot-blooded lecher somewhere inside the skin of every normal man. I'll admit I was getting a real charge out of luring Aunt Heidi's wanton side into revealing itself.

My cock was so rigid I had difficulty getting my ski pants and shorts past it and down off my hips. As I pulled my feet free of them and stood up, naked, arms suddenly closed around me from behind and a hot hand closed lovingly around my stiff cock. I'd heard her barefoot stealthy approach behind me, but I acted startled and Heidi giggled with delight, then murmured, "My, but isn't he a beauty!"

"What do you mean?" I demanded uncertainly.

She giggled at that, then gently chided, "You know very well what I mean, lover. Your handsome penis, of course. That's the only part of you I haven't seen many times before."

I murmured, "Probably not much, compared to what you're used to."

She said, "Don't be silly."

"What's silly about knowing you're undersized in one very important-"

She cut me off, declaring sharply, "You're not undersized anywhere! You're like a young Greek god all over. Listen to me. Who should know better than a woman what ideal male equipment looks like?"

I shrugged, ruefully declaring, "I'm smaller than most other guys in that one department. I found that out the very first time I took a shower with other guys in a boys' dressing room at school."

Heidi gently stroked my cock a time or two, petting it affectionately as she said quietly, "Don't worry about it, I tell you."

"That's easy for a woman to say," I declared skeptically.

"Who knows more about what it takes to make a real man than a woman?" She countered instantly. "Listen to me, love. Experience and girl talk indicate to me that basically there's only two types of men. The big mouths, the kind who think all there is to being God's gift to all women is owning a horse-sized penis, the kind who think sex is merely another type of athletic event. I call them the sex athletes, and smart women detest them like some loathsome disease. They always have a chronic case of diarrhea of the mouth, a compulsion to broadcast every little detail of their sick sex life, including the name, address, phone number and all vital statistics of every woman stupid enough-"

I cut in, announcing, "I've heard lots of that kind in athletic locker rooms. They make sex sound like a kind of fight that they always win, by hook or crook, and the girl lost by being outsmarted and overwhelmed."

Heidi nodded. "They're the same creeps who grow up to brag in their country club locker room or at the poolhall about how they stole some other man's wife. They act like getting some dumb woman to cheat on her husband somehow makes them a really big man. They think every woman they fuck is some kind of conquest. They've never heard of the idea that being a real man means knowing how to give a woman the greatest possible pleasure. All they ever worry about is taking pleasure for themselves. If their horse cock is so big it's painful to a woman, they act like that somehow makes their conquest all the greater. Then they turn around and spread the propaganda that the bigger a male cock is, the better it feels to a woman. Every way you take him, that kind of male moron is bad news to a woman. He thinks it's perfectly okay for him to torn cat around, but he thinks a woman is a slut if she indulges her taste for a little strange stuff now and then. I can tell you all about the type; I've been married to one of them for fifteen years. But I was as dumb as most women are and believed all the lies he told me before we were married. Only despite all his sweet talk, I refused to go to bed with him until after he married me. Otherwise I'd have become just another conquest. But as his wife, I can use him the same way he loves to use women. And my conscience doesn't bother me one little bit."

I shook my head in amazement and told her, "You've sure got Uncle Phil fooled. Many's the time when he's been at our place with you for a pool party that he's showered off with Dad and me. Every time he's held out that big cock of his for us to envy and bragged that it's the reason he can be away from home so much yet never has to worry a single minute about you stepping out on him."

"That's just about as romantic as he's ever made sex, too," Heidi said with disgust. "Let me tell you the facts. Any woman who isn't really sick in the head will pick a man who knows how to make sex romantic for her, even if all he has to use on her is his finger, in preference to a moron like Philip who thinks all he needs to be God's special gift to all women is that oversized cock of his."

I protested, "What about women I've heard about who have a man who goes out of his way to be good to them, yet they still cheat behind his back? Sometimes with other men who treat them like dirt."

"What makes you think men have a monopoly on being stupid or sick in the head?" she demanded. "There're lots of psycho women around, too. Also, just being good to a woman doesn't mean a man's learned how to make sex romantic for her. He can be good and always considerate to her, yet also be about as dull as dishwater. And most men's heads are crammed so full of wrong ideas about sex that it's practically impossible for a woman to ever teach them how she'd really like for sex to be ... even if she knows. Of course most women don't even know, because they've never been lucky enough to find a man who knew and could show them just how great a man who knows how can make sex for a woman. It's a kind of vicious circle of ignorance and misinformation and human stupidity."

She turned loose of my cock which she'd been petting all the time we'd talked, pulling her arms from around me abruptly. She grabbed a big towel and threw it at me, chuckling as she ordered, "Get dressed! Then bring the wine and come on." She headed for the front room.

She was stacking records on the stereo when I followed her there a minute later, wearing the towel around my middle and carrying the tray with the wine bottle and glasses. She glanced around, smiled, and told me, "You're a very unusual guy. You listen to what a girl tells you."

I shrugged. "That's the only way I know to learn."

She chuckled. "Most superior males think there's no woman alive who could teach them anything."

"You don't seem to have too good an opinion of men," I suggested.

She shrugged, "A smart man's as rare as a smart woman. More men would probably smarten up if more women were smart enough to demand it. So who's really to blame?"

She started the stereo turntable. Suddenly, sweet, soft music filled the room, as pleasing to the ear as good perfume is to the nose. I put the tray down as she turned from the stereo, glancing at me, checking my reaction. I nodded approvingly. "Nice."

She smiled quietly, then walked to me, her bare feet gliding over the heavy carpeting, her lovely body moving sensuously, her big, luscious tits standing out proudly before her chest. As she approached, she opened her arms, holding them out to me.

Our lips met as we came together. It was another long, searching soul kiss. My rigid cock was sandwiched between our lower bellies, separated from her cunt by only the towels around our middles. She could feel it there and ground her cunt against it hungrily.

Both of us were breathless when she finally drew her lips away from mine. As she stepped back, I brought my hands to the front of her and cupped those lovely big tits of hers in them. She stood there looking up at me quietly, breathing hard. She seemed to be waiting, giving me the next move.

I bowed my head over her and began kissing my way from her ear down the side of her neck and on down the delectable softness of one luscious tit to the nipple. I sucked the nipple in, bringing a soft gasp from Heidi. Her hands softly clutched my head, her fingers working in my hair caressingly. When I had nursed the first nipple for a moment, teasing it with my tongue as I sucked, I suddenly moved my lips to the delicate collarbone above her other tit and began kissing my way downward again.

I reached her second nipple as it wrinkled and puckered with awakening excitement, rapidly growing hard and taut like a miniature penis. Another gasp of pleasure came out of Heidi as I sucked it in and began tonguing it.

After teasing it a moment, I released it from my mouth and straightened, looking at her. Heidi glanced down at her taut nipples, then up at me. She chuckled, "My girls love you, too. You treat them gently, like you knew they're mighty sensitive equipment. Some male morons try to gnaw on them like they thought a nipple was made of rawhide and they think that's supposed to give a woman a big thrill. All it's ever given me is an urge to break their teeth! But the way you treat them-" She interrupted herself for a long, delicious sigh, then went on, "That gives a girl a real thrill."

So I bowed my head again, giving those gorgeous tits of hers the kind of attention she so obviously enjoyed. Her fingers began combing through my hair caressingly again, momentarily pulling my face against her tit more firmly, as abruptly relaxing the gentle pressure, then applying it again momentarily.

Abruptly she proposed, "Let's have some more wine."

I released her tits from my mouth and straightened again, shrugging. "Whatever you like."

She went to the tray I'd put down on the bar. She filled the glasses and brought them back. I took the glass she offered and followed her example, holding it under my nose to savor the rich bouquet. Its fragrance moved swiftly through the entire system of my nasal passages. I took a sip; it went down like velvet.

She'd been watching me over the rim of her glass again. After that first sip I sniffed at the rich aroma again appreciatively. Heidi murmured, "I just knew you wouldn't be a gulper. But you're so wise to be so young. You must have been a real lover in other incarnations and have soul memories below the conscious level that guide you into doing all the right things where a woman's concerned."

"Other incarnations?" I said uncertainly.

"Of course, darling," she murmured. "You've lived before. Many, many times before. That idea that we live and love only once is another propaganda lie of organized religion, exactly like the lie about sex being sinful and dirty. Both lies were created because they give the religious political organizations far greater power over their membership than they could possibly have otherwise. But they are lies. Sex is good and right and natural and where it's free of wrong thinking to foul it up it's even beautiful. And every one of us has lived and loved, been great and been humble, been noble and been despicable many, many, many different times. We've all been black in some lifetimes, or red, or brown, or yellow, as well as white. We've loved as men one time and as women another time. Each of us has had every experience, sometime, somewhere; ever experienced by mortals. Some of us learn the lesson each experience is designed to teach and graduate to new experiences and new lessons. Others refuse to learn, so keep being brought back and back and back again to the same experiences, the same lessons, over and over again until the time comes when they finally do learn and are able to go on to new lessons."

Just then a new record started on the stereo, a romantic fox trot. Heidi started dancing, hands clasp around her wine glass like it was the neck of a dance partner. I put my glass on the bar and moved to her. She welcomed me with a pleased smile, put her glass aside quickly and came into my open, eager arms.

Now you may or may not know that when a man dances a fox trot or waltz or any other classic dance properly, he must use a strong body lead, holding his female partner firmly against himself. Whooooeeee! If you want a really far-out experience, just try doing that with a voluptuous partner whose big tits are naked and she's covered from her hips down by only a towel.

My cock reared up between us, obviously packed with ideas about a far better way Heidi and I could be using that time. But it was obvious that she was really enjoying what we were doing. So we danced.

Not that I wasn't enjoying myself too. Heidi was the kind of partner a man dreams about if he enjoys dancing, which I do. Add to that the spice of dancing with her naked tits pressed against your bare chest and her cunt grinding against your cock as you give her the old body lead and only a real moron would have any complaints.

For an hour or more we drank wine and danced. A record began which featured a singer crooning a very sentimental ballad. We began dancing very, very close; cheek-to-cheek close from head to toe, in fact, with my rigid cock grinding against her cunt in between.

We went right on dancing that way after the record ended. How long, I don't know. Finally we noticed that the music had stopped.

We stopped, but we didn't step back even a little from each other. Heidi stood there with her head upon my chest kind of breathing hard as she held herself tightly against me. Without looking up, she finally murmured breathlessly, "I hate to let you go, but ... will you turn the records over?"

"Sure," I said, taking my arms from around her. She kept her arms around me, though, pressing herself to me. I waited.

"You know what I love about you?" she finally murmured.

"Tell me," I suggested.

"You never seem to get so steamed up with the pleasure you're hot for that you try to rush a girl."

"Most humans get more ultimate pleasure out of something they've had to wait for, at least a while," I told her with a small shrug.

"Like I've marveled before, you seem so wise to be so young. Soul memories of lessons learned well in past incarnations seems like the only reasonable explanation. Like the unlearned skills of a musical protege, or the genius of a baby mathematical wizard." She was quiet for a moment. Then she added, "You know something else?"

"No, what?"

She hugged herself against me more tightly, ground her towel-covered cunt against my towel-shrouded cock hungrily, then murmured, "I'm hotter than I've ever been since I was fourteen-year-old freshman in a little high school where the all-state quarterback was the big man of the senior class. And the first time he dated me-"

She interrupted herself abruptly, declaring, "But I was as stupid about men then as most girls are. Now the reason I'm so hot is because I've had to wait so long to find a man who treats me like every woman longs to be treated. Like I'm worth all the time he has to take and all the things he has to do to please me. Like he enjoys doing things for me. Enjoys doing things I enjoy with me. Enjoys my companionship as just another human being."

She hugged herself to me again for an instant, then leaned back, looking up at me as she murmured, "You're the kind of lover every woman dreams of, but most poor women never meet. The kind of lover a woman gets so hot for she'll lose all her good judgment. The kind of lover who gives her such a comfortable feeling she feels no need for her good judgment, for keeping up her guard, for caution."

Again she squeezed herself against me. She released me that time, however, standing back. As her arms slipped from me, I caught one hand in mine, gave it a quick squeeze, then went to the stereo.

She called after me, "I can't wait much longer, lover. Hurry back. Hear?"

She was cuddled up before the fireplace when I returned to her. I lay down facing her. She lay staring into the crackling fire as if I didn't exist.

Suddenly she murmured, "It's been so long."

I waited, but she didn't go on. I prompted, "So long since what?"

"Since the last time I-"

She broke off. Again I waited for her to finish it. When she didn't, I finally suggested, "Since the last time you what?"

"Really ... really and truly," she murmured, "fell in love."

She glanced at me, her eyes fixing on mine every direct and unwavering. "I'm falling deeply ... madly ... insanely in love ... with you, you know."

A strange startled feeling shot through me. My voice came out kind of a dry, breathless croak. "Me?"

She nodded. She extended one arm, reaching a finger to my mouth. She traced the outline of my lips with the fingertip.

I caught her hand in one of mine and brought the open palm to my lips. I kissed it, then kissed her wrist.