<<<<>>>> Even though we'd stopped going out a year ago, I was still curious about Norman. He'd always been intriguing, he'd always made me laugh and smile, and I remember his being dynamite in bed. But he'd gotten serious about another girl (god, don't you hate to compete with 18-year olds? and I'm not sure she was even 18) and without much ado I'd just made myself scarce. No big scene a year ago, but I wasn't going to be merely an irregular Thursday-night diversion for him! But then just last week someone had mentioned him in passing, in the single mode. It wasn't "Norman and Chris," but merely "Norman." So I called, and knew as soon as he answered I'd got myself wrapped up again. I loved just hearing his voice. He was delighted, even over the phone he made me smile, and we eagerly set a date for a movie Friday evening. I would come over to his place, and I knew there was already a good chance I wouldn't leave until Saturday or even Sunday. When I arrived I presented him with a bottle of wine and a very sensual kiss. I'd dressed in tight jeans and a thin crepe blouse, and I could feel his hands warmly embrace me right through the fabric. We decided to start the wine--so it could breathe for later, of course--before leaving for the theater. I stood right next to him as he maneuvered the cork out, so he'd catch the perfume I'd worn for him; I know I was close enough to feel the warmth of his body without even touching him. We toasted our good fortune and then left hand-in-hand; during the drive over I kept my hand on his leg and he was most terribly distracted. You give men just the hint of sex and they go to pieces on you! In the theater I pulled his hand over to my leg as soon as the lights dimmed. I held it down firmly as he massaged my thigh and then slid up to cup my mound. He gently rubbed me so that I could tell he hadn't forgotten a thing. My legs were spread wide apart and I held his wrist in close to me. Pretty soon my breath was getting shorter and shorter and I had to make him stop. My sigh of relief was almost audible, for I was about to come right there! Then it was my turn. I reached down between his legs and grabbed his balls. I could slide my hand up his shaft and back down again, and even through the heavy fabric of his jeans could feel him thick and throbbing. I kept that up for a half hour or so, and had to quit when my arm was so tired from the contorted position that my only other choice would have been to drop down on my knees between his legs; it was a hard (!) choice, but the theater was too crowded to do something obvious like that. So I squeezed his thigh, let go, and sat back in the chair, resting while trying to catch up on the plot I'd been ignoring. He put his arm around my shoulder just as the movie began to shift to the romantic part of the adventure. Inspiration to Norman! He let his hand drop down my front and squeezed my breast. I had only a slender, thin bra on beneath the crepe so that I could feel every one of his fingers caress me, and in a very few moments my nipples were quite erect. He reached over and undid a button on my blouse and slipped his hand inside. I was so hot I was surprised there wasn't steam coming out, and the warmth of his hand just reflected right back onto my chest. Audacious as ever, Norman then proceeded not merely to cup my breast, but there in the theater to slide his hand beneath the bra cup and directly stimulate my nipple. I was about to come right there, once again! The sexual tension was so high I had to grab the armrests to keep from jumping him there in the seat! Thankfully, the movie soon ended and we emerged into some surprisingly cold night air. Well, the whole world was cold compared to us! We went to get a bite to eat, where he and I played a marvelous game of footsie. The wine didn't at all measure up, though, so we rushed home to where we had something worth our attention(!). Norman lit a fire while I freshened up (and put in a diaphragm!). When I returned to the living room he had two glasses, the wine and some pillows all arranged in front of the fireplace. I bent over and kissed him as he handed me a glass, and rubbed his chest. He grabbed my calf in reply while I sipped the wine. What a smooth, sensual bouquet! A good beginning to this part of the evening, for sure! Then we stretched out before the fire and kissed. Gently at first, our lips just sort of nibbling on each other. Then we drew each other closer and really explored mouths. He put his glass down and began again on my blouse's buttons, and I likewise started in on his shirt. I soon was rubbing my hands all over his hairy chest, kissing his neck and tongueing his ears, and he was fumbling with the front closure of my bra. Once he had it open I rolled him onto his back, pushed his hands away from my tits and rubbed my chest directly over his. I was so horny now! With his arms pinned to the floor I wrapped my legs around his waist and squeezed there, then ground my pelvis against his. He closed his eyes and just took it like a man! When I let his hands go they went for my butt and began to massage it firmly, exploring all of it from my waist to the tops of my thighs, and as he held me down I could feel him growing and throbbing beneath his zipper. I lifted up and began to pull his zipper down, soon exposing his shorts and then opening his pants all the way so I could reach inside. What a find! He was moist, and warm, and full of fun there! I soon moved my mouth's attentions there and took him fully between my lips. He was tasty, too. I started sucking, kissing, and squeezing him, all the while my hand cupping and massaging his balls. In a very short while his hips were moving up and down in rhythm with my mouth and I knew he wouldn't be long in coming. When the spurts came I was swallowing it all and kept sucking even after he had collapsed. After a brief recovery, he pulled me up to face him. I first maneuvered his pants the rest of the way off, and then he began to work on my belt. He had this great smile on his face that made me let him do to me whatever he wanted! Soon, my jeans joined his in a pile and his face was down between my legs, his hands on my breasts. His tongue explored all the crevices and folds of my labia and soon I was rubbing my mound up and down his face, getting him thoroughly wet. In a last spasm I collapsed in a series of yells and was twitching on the floor, like an epileptic, until I just fell asleep. I think he did too, because the next thing I remember is his gently shaking me, murmuring with half-closed eyes. Whatever he said, it had something to do with going to bed and I was all too ready. Somehow, with unsteady legs, I managed to stand up and we both sort of wobbled down the hallway, leaning on each other. We didn't get out of bed for thirty-six hours, though we must have slept no more than five. For that night and the next full day the only sunlight we saw was what came in through the curtains blowing at the open windows. Well, Norman did get up to get the champagne and bagels we had for breakfast, and I did have to pay attention to the contraceptive supply. We would doze and awake only to make love. Then we'd decide we were too musky (an oxymoron?) and go take a shower, where I'd climb up on him in the hot stream and we'd screw away, my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as as I pumped away and he swayed in the hot water. Then we'd towel each other off and climb back into bed where he'd eat me again. I wholly lost track of how many times I came, well over a hundred. I was at once exhausted and exhilerated. After I went home, Sunday was shot, of course, but I was exhausted for good causes: I think I'm now bowlegged for life, and I think Norman has sworn off inexperienced girls!