A First Time For Everything
Elsa was one of my clients, or rather she worked for one of my clients. It was on a Caribbean island where everything was imported, mainly from Holland. Many of these islands do not grow their own products, but there is no real reason why not; you just have to spend some money on the water and make sure your soil is rich enough.
I had set up a small business growing tomatoes and cucumbers and herbs, first selling it at a roadside stall, then, as the word went around, providing restaurants as well as private customers. This included a vegan operation led by a strange assortment of idealistic women. There was a pretty but very reserved Indian woman whose diet reflected her religious beliefs, then a bubbly and lively woman married to a firefighter. And in the background, doing most of the preparation and deliveries, was Elsa.
She was of Dutch origin, and white-skinned, but not of the typical elongated Dutch type (women can dominate a medium-sized British man like me). Elsa was fat. There is no other way to describe it. She was born lardy and was introverted because of it. She had long shiny, coppery hair that seemed to be operated manually, as in an animated children’s television show in the 1960s. I don’t know if Captain Pugwash is known outside the UK, but that’s what I mean.
Elsa has pink cheeks and a shy smile that seemed to want to hide her perfect little teeth. Her chest was not a big caricature d’unit, because she was not tall, just overweight. She had good sized normal breasts that were made to look small enough by the mass below them.
This detailed description came through my evening observation of her at a bar called the Hole in the Wall, where she sat with a group of friends while a pair of survivors with long hair from the seventies with old guitars smashed rock songs. I was alone that night and I had caught Elsa’s attention when I arrived. After this first recognition, she had not looked at me, although she knew that my eyes barely left for the two hours that we were both under the same roof. I was sure she could feel my look as he feasted on her eyes, her neck, her chest and the thin, pale legs that protruded from her dress under the table.
I could say that she was quietly reveling in the attention, and her interpretation of the thoughts behind my looks would be suited to what she wanted me to think. Obviously she didn’t mind the fact that I was thinking something, that I was dreaming of her somehow. It didn’t matter. It was our business and that of no one else.
At about ten o’clock she and her friends got up and left and she did not look at me, as I hoped, but she was probably not used to being desired in this way and did not know how to make the little movement that would keep the train on track. But I was sure she could feel my gaze settle on her as she passed and my brain dispensed with her clothes, to show me her milky white buttocks and her pubic area trimmed.
The next time I was in the little kitchen where they worked, I confided a little to Gretel, the sparkler, who seemed to be a woman of the world.
“Elsa is kind,” I said. “Very shy, though.”
“Help yourself,” replied Gretel. “No boyfriend and she likes older men. She said she saw you the other night. She always goes there on Saturdays too.
I have not worked on the problem. On Saturday night, I arrived late, so as not to appear to be lying in bed waiting for Elsa. The place was crowded, but there was a space right next to it on the bench against the wall. It was full of expats; the locals didn’t go for that kind of music, so I was among recent residents like me and American tourists just there for a week.
“Does it bother you?” I told Elsa.
“Of course,” she said, gesturing in the seat. It was tight, but she didn’t flinch as I sat down. She wore a short khaki cotton dress and she smelled fresh and spicy. I think it was shampoo as well as perfume. Whatever it was, it was delicious and I had to stop telling him, because I thought it could be considered perverse. My gaze quickly wandered towards the buttons on her chest and I saw a white lace bra.
Perverse? That’s what we do, not just men, but also women. She noticed my gaze and her own eyes flashed over my chest, and then infiniteatized up to my crotch. She would never have admitted it, but she was checking me.
I bought Elsa a drink and she bought me one and as the crowd grew, her friends, who had subtly allowed me to monopolize her, suggested That I go somewhere else.
“No, I’m going to stay here a little bit,” she said, “if that’s okay with you,” she continued, looking at me.
“Great,” I said, “and the friends left like a collective father who had just given up their daughter in marriage.
This meant that we had to improve our conversation from fragments to larger, longer tracts.
Elsa lived with her mother, a larger-than-life character who acted younger than her daughter.
“She went out tonight,” Elsa says casually. “I have a new boyfriend.” Elsa’s eyes rolled over the embarrassment of having such a person for a mother.
So, invite me to your place, I urged by transfer thought. It didn’t seem to work, so I articulated it.
“It would be quieter elsewhere,” I said. I don’t really like this guy, do I?”
The “guy” was a Venezuelan guitarist who was pretty good, but insisted on playing Spanish-language songs.
“The language of rock’n’roll is English,” I say. I’m sorry, but…”
“I know what you mean,” said Elsa. She had a hard time imagining her lines in that script.
“Do you have British or American music?” I invited.
“You might like my mother’s stuff,” she says before apologizing. “Sorry, I mean she has more music than me. I mostly listen to the radio.
Twenty minutes later we were at his apartment in a block damaged by the hurricane by the sea. His mother had a large collection of CDs, which was a welcome sight in a world where people don’t tend to have any more physical artifacts. I like to look at the cover and see who played what, who wrote the songs and who produced it.
I chose Joni Michell’s Court and Spark and Elsa put it.
We sat together on the small balcony and drank sweet, sparkling, girly white wine. The silence fell between us and then his phone made the WhatsApp sound.
“She’s staying at Keith’s,” Elsa says. “So we have the place to ourselves. Come on …”
She led me into the kitchen and got up, looking at her wide range of herbs and spices.
“You use all these?” I asked the question, but it was not a real question and it did not really show me. It was just a way to get closer to her.
I put my arms around his waist and kissed his neck. She was shaking.
“Oh my God,” she said. “I’m not good at it.”
I turned her over to face me, then I pulled her towards me and kissed her. Her tongue flashed nervously before settling down as mine plowed her mouth and soon we kissed intensely, sensually, and she stood her ground like my swelling ground against her pubic mound.
“Well, you’re a pretty good kiss,” I said. She looked deep into my eyes, looking for more comfort, and what she must have found was a swirling magnetic field drawing her to me, telling her that she was the unmistakable object of this man’s sexual desire and that he seemed to love her Also.
She put her arms around me and we kissed again, she gives herself to me this time and even calling a blow or two as her arms wandered my back and felt my butt.
“Show me your room,” I murmured, “and she led me, holding my hand tightly, in a dark and warm space. She turned on the air conditioning and closed the door. We kissed again.
“You don’t care,” said I, stroking her stocking and moving my hand forward under her robe, touching her between her legs.
She was stuck again, paralyzed by uncertainty, so I unzipped my jeans, pulled my dick out of my underpants, took her hand and put her there. Her fingers closed around the tree and she kissed me with increased passion. Then she took my hand and slipped it into her panties. I could feel his concern at this brazen act, and my tongue gave his ministry to his as my middle finger automatically slipped into his hole.
It was, as I expected, trimmed, but not shaved. I wanted to ask her how many lovers she had had, but it may have embarrassed her, so I didn’t say anything. I just lifted the dress from her body and she finished the movement, on her head and on a chair. She quickly removed the bra, to reveal beautiful perfect breasts and large smooth areolas with soft, smooth nipples. I took each in turn in my mouth, then knelt before her to pull her panties down.
Elsa was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for my next shot. I decided to fuck her first and lick her, so I slipped her on the mattress and lay down between her legs. I kissed her tenderly and she pulled my head down and grounded her mouth against mine.
I slipped my cock into her beautiful body via the fabulous entrance to her silky vagina and fucked gently, then harder as she grabbed my buttocks and pulled me in.
“Elsa,” I murmured, “you are a beautiful girl.”
“Thank you,” she said, “but you know that’s not true.”
“Well, forgive me for having an opinion,” I continued. “But I’m lying in bed with a beautiful woman, with my penis inside her and she kisses me like an angel and she feels and looks like a goddess.”
I ripped myself out of her and went down, kissing her all the way until I reached her crotch. I separated from the legs and placed my face in its moist, fragrant and pregnant parts. I read his adornment, suck his clitoris and stung my tongue in his little piss hole.
Then I turned it over and started from the top. I kissed her neck and licked her to her spine. I kissed each buttock and tickled the top of his slide with my tongue to test the water. Then I parted my buttocks and put my face up her.
“It’s not in the manual,” she said, perhaps playing for the time.
“It was in the textbook that I wrote,” I said, giving him a little spanking. Raise your for me.
She raised her knees and presented her rump for my attention. I licked his little tawny hole.
“You are so beautiful,” I said. She gave a dismissive grunt, but visibly relaxed and allowed me to worship her. She moaned as I licked her.
“What are you going to do?”
“I do,” I replied. Licking your. And you love him, don’t you?
“It’s very nice,” she says with deliberate simplicity.
“It’s more than very nice,” I say. For me, it’s fantastic. I could do it all night.
The mysterious lick his, she laughs. “Am I not going to get fucked?”
I walked away and slapped hard on my buttocks, then climbed on and pushed my cock into her firmly.
“You want to be fucked,” I said. I’m going to fuck you until you fuck my dick.”
She started moaning, then moaning.
“Oh my God, I cumming,” she said, trembling, trembling and wriggling as if she had never felt that way before.
I retreated before I had the chance to semen, then turned it on her back and pushed her legs up so I could get to her crotch. I licked her juicy sweet and salty and she squirmed and came back, watering my cheeks with her essence.
“Pull your legs up more,” I urged, and she lifted her bottom so her back hole was exposed to me again. I went back down there and licked her and she screamed with pleasure.
“Oh fucking, it’s nice,” she trembled. “I’ll enjoy it again. What the hell are you doing to me?
And with that, she came a third time and I allowed her to lower her legs and lie down.
As I collapsed on her and kissed her, she put her arms around me and laughed. And laughed and laughed.
“You are a bad man,” she said cheerfully.
A first time for everything