Ben gripped Marcie’s hand eagerly as she led him through to the darkened bedroom. She told him to wait at the doorway as the curtains were still open. By the streetlight penetrating the gauzy voile drapes he could see the ghostly shape of her moving around in her nightdress as she quickly jerked them closed, then moved to the bed to put the bedside lamps on. As she climbed onto the bed to reach the one on the far side, he approached. She turned as he got onto the bed himself so that they ended up facing each other, both on their knees, on top of the duvet. He took her hips in his hands as she held the back of his head, and they kissed tenderly.
Even though he knew it was silly, Ben was glad that he was already aroused when Marcie suddenly grabbed the towel that was still around his waist and pulled it off. She raked her fingernails down his chest and stomach, then cupped his scrotum in one hand while holding his still-growing erection between the finger and thumb of her other. “Hmm, a priapic satyr, I’m sure,” she muttered, as if to herself.
But she only held it for a moment, almost as if she wanted to check again that it was real, before pulling him to her for a deeper, passionate kiss. Ben held her against him, embracing her shoulders while she gripped his buttocks. Once more he felt the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her nightdress against his stomach and penis, just as he had in the bathroom earlier. He was upright again now, and he pushed himself deliberately against her, freeing his head from his foreskin, savouring her tongue in his mouth as he stooped down over her upturned face, but he knew to remain calm now.
Eventually they pulled apart, both a little breathless. “This is nice,” Marcie said almost in a whisper, “But I’m still not really getting on with things am I? You said that you wanted to be involved when I masturbated, and I think it’s time for me to make a proper start now.”
Ben agreed contentedly, still pressing himself against the soft pleated cotton that fell over her abdomen. “Well, let go of me so that I can lie down then!” Marcie ordered.
As Marcie began to move around on the bed awkwardly, with her knees pulling on her nightshirt, she seemed to have an idea. “We should turn this around. Let’s throw the duvet back,” and Ben helped her as she did just that, his erection bobbing about in the air as he moved, “Then I’ll move all the pillows down to this end,” she went on, piling them toward the foot of the bed on top of the rolled-back duvet, “So I can lie comfortably this way round,” she said, turning the wrong way around on the bed, before getting onto her back with her knees apart and raised, still with the nightshirt over them, “And you can lie across there,” she indicated the whole width of the bed where the pillows had been with a sweep of her hand, “So you can see what’s going on in the light.”
As Ben lay down on his side where she’d indicated, his head at one of her feet, he could see the sense of her idea. The bedside lamps cast their light clearly across the brilliant white cotton of her nightdress where it was stretched between her knees. He curled himself around so that his legs weren’t hanging over the edge of the bed to pull him off, which brought his stomach up against Marcie’s other foot.
She was pushing herself up on her hands, looking down at him as he lay at her feet with a kind of curiosity. “Oh, this is a bit weird, actually. When I lie back I can’t see you at all, and I can’t keep myself propped up like this comfortably for long. I’m going to have to ignore you for a bit, I think, lying back as if it’s just me giving my pussy a little treat on my own. We’ll keep talking though, okay?”
“Okay,” Ben agreed, touching his penis for his own reassuring comfort at the thought of Marcie sharing such intimacy with him. He felt a little apprehensive about being able to concentrate on talking at the same time, though.
“Well, here she is then,” Marcie said, lying back and finally lifting her nightshirt to reveal her well-toned legs and, of course, her vulva. She wriggled to pass the fabric under her bum, gathering it up around her waist. As she settled down, resting her hands on her inner thighs, she pushed one foot against Ben’s firm abdomen, positioning herself so that her knees were a little more widely splayed.
Ben saw again her lush dark hair, piling up beneath a crease that, in her current position, ran across her waist below her bellybutton. But now he could see with absolute clarity how that hair went on down more thinly over the long banks of her outer labia, dwindling away as the crease of her vulva disappeared between her buttocks. The way that she’d opened herself to him meant that he could see much more than this though. The shady, rumpled creases of her inner labia were clear before him, tucked inside the broad groove between her longer outer lips. Ben wondered if their pink tints were a sign that Marcie was already aroused, the blood flowing through her intimate parts just as it did in his, swelling his penis. At the top of Marcie’s inner lips, Ben could also see their folds converging at the fleshy bud that was surely her clitoris, or more accurately its hood, he guessed. At their opposite end, he saw a short dark groove in their glistening folds, and recognised this narrow line as being the mouth of her vagina.
It took Ben only a moment to take in all this intimate feminine detail. “I guess it’s not exactly a pretty sight,” Marcie’s seemingly disembodied voice said almost apologetically as she stroked on hand idly across herself.
“It is pretty,” Ben replied, then realised he needed to clarify in honesty, “Well, it’s profoundly sexy. I said something similar about my penis too, I think,” Ben added, his hand resting on his shaft now.
“Let’s keep calling him Rod, little Roddie Osborne, Roddie O,” Marcie said, her fingers idly playing with her pubic hair now, “It feels more personal, something just for us. Can you think of a name like that for my pussy that we can use, so she’s her own character too, not just an it?”
“Well, may I touch her first?” Ben asked hopefully.
“Of course! That’s the point, isn’t it? We are surely close enough for that now. If you have an impulse to do something with me, just go ahead. I can always stay stop if I want, like in the bathroom earlier.”
“You asked me for permission the first time you held Roddie, I think,” Ben explained, raising his arm to brush the back of fingers softly against the fur of her outer labia.
“Yes, I did. Hmm, there was a reason for that, a bit of a funny story behind it,” Marcie began after a pause, holding her own hands still within the crease of her thighs, “I felt I needed to, as I’d kind of accidentally touched him already, without your permission.”
“What? When?” Ben asked in surprise, even as he found a way to better reach the edges of her vulva and gently stroke her.
“Back in the gym, after you collapsed and the ambulance arrived, your body seemed to react strongly when you started getting the oxygen. The paramedic didn’t say anything, but I could see a long bulge growing under your shorts. Ooh, that’s good!” Marcie interrupted herself in exclamation, “Keep going just like that. But yes, you were almost unconscious, but I think something in your system wanted to surge back to life in a visceral and basic way. The gym supervisor was fussing about behind us with the other paramedic. He wanted to know if we could find your locker key. With the paramedics busy, I just went ahead put my hands in your pockets. It was over in an instant, but I could feel Roddie O through your shorts, warm and hard under my fingers. It felt a bit shocking and quite embarrassing, but also nice, a cheeky thing to have done with a tall blonde handsome stranger.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, struggling to take in this surprising story even whilst he tried to concentrate on Marcie’s vulva, distracted by his own arousal too, “But it must have also been disgusting, having to touch a strange dirty, horny man.”
“Not really, not with you. Can I stroke too? I’ll show you. Keep massaging those furry bits. My lips are very slippery now. No, touching you then was nice, maybe it was the real starting moment, a bit of the magic that’s brought us together. But you’re touching me now, and you’ve not come up with a name for her yet,” Marcie murmured, taking longer breaths now, as she stroked the fingers of one hand over her glossy inner labia, their dusky folds parting to reveal more flushed pink skin.
“You call her your pussy, but which bit do you mean by that?”
“Oh, you don’t want a gynaecology lesson, do you? Medical words aren’t very romantic. But I meant the whole thing, really, my furry bits, my lips, my vagina, my clitoris. Yes, there she is,” Marcie said, hooking her slippery finger under the little rosy bulge that Ben saw emerging from the creases at the top of her vulva.
“The fur’s not very like a cat’s, is it?” Ben risked saying as he kept idly stroking, “Nor the thick soft fur of a beaver either, really. It’s coarse and bristly, like a dog or a badger. We can’t call it any of those. A fox, maybe. They have dark foxes in Russia, don’t they? They even domesticated them, I think. Your vixen, then, with a beautiful bushy pelt, as well as the soft tawny petals of your lips, the pink bud of your clit too, and the deep dark cwm of your vagina,” the words were coming easily to Ben as he watched Marcie rhythmically itching at herself. The last seemed fitting, even if he wasn’t sure why that Welsh term for the round head of a narrow valley had come to mind. It sounded a bit like the old fashioned quim or cunny, which were themselves somehow politer than the explosive cunt word. But like pussy, those perhaps vaguely referred to just the external vulva anyway, in a way that the deeper cwm did not, and clearly Marcie had meant to refer to her vagina too.
“Great, Ben!” she responded in a distracted way as she breathed heavily, “You missed bits though. The bits your stroking, the mound of my bush, they’re like the cushions, tiny versions of those three cushions you had on the rug. And they’re there for just the same reason, aren’t they? For you to bump against when you’re erect inside. You missed Vixen’s G-spot too.”
“You really have one then?” Ben asked.
“Oh yes!” Marcie confirmed. Ben wasn’t completely sure whether she was just agreeing, or whether she was beginning to reach the peak of her arousal.
Following Marcie’s earlier advice, he didn’t pause to ask permission before he wriggled his other hand to the glistening mouth of her vagina and gently eased his index finger inside. He felt thrilled to feel its warm slippery walls on his fingertip as he wiped it around. “Oh yes!” he heard Marcie say again, definitely in pleasure this time. There seemed to be easily enough room for Ben’s middle finger too, so he pressed it to the back of his index finger and gently pushed, forcing both fingers deeper and deeper up inside Marcie’s vagina, her cwm. Hooking them up, he found that its texture did feel a little different in one place, a little rougher and bumpier. He stroked her there, hoping he’d found the right spot.
Even while he concentrated on Marcie, Ben was aware that his own arousal was achingly hard now. He’d also been becoming increasingly aware of the raw earthy scent of Marcie’s most intimate place, and he was sure that this potent animal muskiness was having a powerful direct effect on him. He felt the urgent need to release his own pent-up pressure, even as she was surely closing in on her own orgasm. He wriggled around so that Marcie’s foot slipped down his belly and bumped against his erection. “Can you press it against Roddie?” he asked, unsure if Marcie could see where her foot was.
“Oh! Yes. I get it. I was miles away. Like this? Take it slow yourself. Hmm, take care, of your lungs. Oh, keep going! I’m almost there.” Marcie said breathlessly. She had easily found a way to press the sole of her foot against Ben’s shaft, letting him push against its rough skin by moving his hips, her toes twitching occasionally against his head. He felt sorry that he’d disturbed her build-up towards her orgasm, but thrilled by the sensations that she was now granting him. She also seemed to have quickly found her own tempo again, holding herself parted with one hand while the first two fingers of her other hand rhythmically itched the wet sides of her bulging clitoris with quick strokes. His own fingers were still deep inside her, slipping in and out a little but concentrating their gentle pressure on that rougher area.
But now he was moving his other hand, wrapping it around the one that penetrated her, exploring lower than her labia, pushing between her thighs at the base of her vulva. Her perineum was slick with the lubricating juices that had leaked from her vagina, so his fingers could slip easily between the cleft of her buttocks to find the tight crease of her anus.
As his fingertips touched this, he felt a delicious warm trickle seeping from his own stiff penis, spilling over Marcie’s foot. Distantly he heard Marcie respond in surprise to his touch on her anus, “Oh, yes!” But he couldn’t help himself as he pushed against her, his hands momentarily frozen, as a dizzy wave rose up from his penis through his body and right over his scalp. He was distantly aware that Marcie was making a kind of urgent grunting noise somewhere above him, but he was becoming lost in his own moment of ecstasy. After an exquisite pause, his orgasm finally exploded through him, pumping his semen out in uncontrolled spurts as Marcie’s toes chaotically flexed against the spasms of his wooden penis.
He was panting hard, but as the pulses of his ejaculation subsided, his eyes focused again on Marcie’s wet vulva. With renewed attention now that he’d received his own thrilling gratification, he pressed his fingers firmly against her anus and G-spot as her fingertips rapidly rubbed around her clitoris. Then he saw her lips seem to make a contraction of their own, synchronising with a powerful spasm that his fingers felt run through the muscles of her vagina, and even a softening pulse in her anus too.
“Qaddisa Marija. Omm Alla!” he heard her exclaim with a kind of distracted urgency through her panted breaths as the spasms came again, then her fingers stilled and they both lay still, breathing heavily.
Gingerly, Ben withdrew his hands, then used one to gently move Marcie’s foot aside, releasing the pressure on his softening penis and its sensitive head especially. He realised he’d come across her bedsheets as well as her foot and his own lower belly. “I think I’ve made a bit of a mess,” he confessed.
“Yes, I noticed that happening,” Marcie said dreamily, rising on her arms only now to look down at him. Ben could see that her smiling face looked flushed, with strands of crinkled hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead and cheeks, yet beatifically calm despite her heavy breathing. Seeing her this way, Ben found her profoundly sexy, with that bleary look of intoxication in her eyes, limpid behind her spectacles. Idly, as if to herself, she remarked, “Who would have thought? Masturbation can mean feet as well as hands.”
“Come here,” Ben said, holding out his arms, “If you don’t mind the wet patches.”
“Of course I don’t!” Marcie said, raising her foot over his head to sit up on the bed, then exclaiming, “Oh damn this thing!” To Ben’s surprise, at that moment she grabbed the edge of her nightdress where it was bundled up around her waist, and pulled it over her head in one smooth movement, suddenly exposing her loose breasts. Once again, Ben eagerly noticed how they swung as she tossed her nightwear aside, then she was throwing herself back down onto the bed to lie on her side facing him, cuddling up in his arms.
As they held each other, Ben was deliciously aware of her soft warm skin pressing against his. They both seemed calm as he simply held her to him, his nose buried in her hair, aware of the heavy beat of his heart slowing. He deliberately breathed deeply and peacefully, savouring the moment, still noticing the bodily fragrance of her intimacy as well as the distinctive smell of his own semen beneath the politer scents of her clean hair and skin.
“So, Vixen it is then,” Marcie said eventually, “The wild little bitch at home in her musky den.”
“I like your musk,” Ben said, the words escaping his mouth before he could catch them, perhaps in his distraction at the sensation of Marcie’s soft breasts pressing against his chest.
“Do you now?” Marcie said, leaning back in his arms to look into his worried face with an intrigued expression of insight in her grinning smile. “Well I like the sweet and salty creaminess of your sperm, with that subtle and strange brie mould flavour, so I guess that’s only fair,” she decided, cuddling up against him again. He stroked her back and hips tenderly, admiring her honest acceptance of his body’s male expression, even as he was gratefully appreciative of her close nudity with him.
“Thinking of your sudden wet rush, though, there was something I should have asked you. Have you ever had a girlfriend who leaked, you know, at the critical moment? I don’t know if you’d call it female ejaculation, if that’s even a real thing, or just a little wet squirt.”
“Yes, it has happened, I think,” Ben answered cautiously, still unsure whether Marcie really wanted to hear the details of previous lovers, especially those casual encounters of whom his memory was pretty sketchy.
“Well, it can happen with me sometimes too. I don’t think it’s like coming, how ejaculation is for you, because usually I barely even notice it’s happened. It’s almost like an occasional side effect of my real orgasm. Do you mind?” she asked, leaning back to look anxiously into his face again, before nestling against his neck once more as she went on, “I don’t really know what it is myself. I’m afraid it might just be a bit of wee escaping. Perhaps I shouldn’t ask you to get that close to me, you know, putting your face there when I’m reaching my orgasm.”
“Really Marcie, don’t worry at all. I’m sure if I ever noticed it happening, I would only find it deeply sexy. What you said about our fluids last night, I agree. However our bodies create them, they’re expressed when we make love, and that can only be good.”
“Thank you, I guess you’re right,” Marcie said, putting her leg across his hip so that Ben could feel her rough hairs rubbing against his soft penis, “Just stimulating my clitoris, what did you call it? Vixen’s bud, just teasing that on its own doesn’t make me go off like a burst water balloon. But the way that you touched me exactly on my most sensitive spots, on the G-spot deep in my cwm, as you called it, and even touching my butthole, all at the same time that I was tickling the bud, that could have been a real trigger.”
Ben was feeling a low tingle as if he were becoming aroused again already, excited to hear Marcie just speak of such intimate sensations. “Seeing you like that, seeing just your vixen,” Ben said, trying out the word again, “It made me think. I was so grateful to you. I’d just been reading about things, about the female bits, in that book, but then there you were, showing it all to me in reality, in the flesh, sharing it just with me. I felt honoured, awed, like you were showing me something divine.”
“Oh don’t talk nonsense. You’re just teasing me!” she replied, digging her nails into his sides in a mock-tickle even as she held his naked body against hers.
“No, I’m serious,” Ben protested, wriggling against her as he realised the full truth of it, “It’s like Vixen is the most important thing I can imagine, and yet she’s so small and delicate. I could cover her with my hand, with just my palm, but it’s like she’s the portal, the wellspring of all life. Everyone in human history was created through her, even Jesus, God incarnate, according to your Catholic stories.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure a priest would agree. It’s not clear how God’s seed fertilised Mary really, but it obviously left her hymen intact. But I see your point. Do you know the painting, L’Origine du Monde in French, The Origin of the World, by Gustav Courbet I think? It just frames some woman’s bushy vulva, but when he gave it that title perhaps the artist saw it in just the same as you do now.”
“There you are then, it’s the inspiration for men, for everything we do. That romantic golden painting in the living room, was that done by a man?”
“Yes, another Gustav, Gustav Klimt. And I think you’re right about why he painted it. There are far more graphic paintings than The Kiss by him.”
“So men make great art, honour their muses, write brilliant educated books, fight and make war, work out in the gym for hours, learn how to climb trees and sail across the Atlantic, all just to show off, to impress women, to help their chances, their chances of getting a bit closer to your Vixen.”
“Well not my Vixen!” Marcie protested, cuddling up against him again, her bristly hairs definitely encouraging a resurgent swelling in his weary and sensitive penis now, “She’s spoken for!”
“Good,” Ben said, then after a moment’s pause, he found himself adding, “I love you, Marcie.”
“I’m glad,” she responded softly, before echoing him, “And I love you too, Ben. We’re good.”
He stroked her bare skin again, imagining that he could feel the scattered bumps of her moles under his fingertips. He deliberately brushed his palm up her side, finding the edge of her breast as it pressed against his own chest. He caressed the soft mound tenderly, finding a way to ask something else that had been on his mind, “Why didn’t you take your nightdress off earlier, Marcie? If you felt shy, you were very brave, showing Vixen to me like that.”
“Hmm, that was part of it,” she responded drowsily, kissing his shoulder with soft pecks of her lips, “But really I was thinking of you. You’d said you were very keen on my boobies, and I kind of saw that in the bathroom. I was a bit worried if I got them out and let you sink your face into them, if I let you do all that sucking that you told me about that turns you on so much, then I’d risk winding you up so much that I’d give you another asthma attack.”
“It doesn’t sound like such a bad way to go,” Ben remarked quietly.
“Not yet!” Marcie said firmly, “I’m not letting you go now. Maybe much, much later, in sixty years’ time perhaps, when the doctors are counting down your final hours. Maybe then I’ll get them out for you one last time, even if they’ve drooped down to my waist by then. I’ll smother you with them just once more, letting you suck them to the end, until a boney hand leads you away. And don’t think I don’t know what’s going on down there right now,” she added in a sultry tone of exaggerated disapproval, grasping his buttock firmly in one hand.
“What do you mean?” Ben asked in mock innocence. At a deeper level though, he’d been struck by Marcie’s words. It seemed as if she’d just assumed they would be life-long partners now, and he recognised how easy it was for him to imagine that too. It also seemed that they’d both naturally been reminded of death, even in the loving glow they were sharing after their orgasms. Yet he vaguely felt as if that made sense too, given their visceral immersion in the currents at the very heart of the eternal cycle of life. He’d also been reminded of the theme of rebirth in Marcie’s recurring story of the hero’s journey, and the more base magic of what he was feeling now.
“Roddie’s getting himself all ready to go again, isn’t he?” Marcie replied, grinding herself roughly against him again, “I can feel him moving around. It’s very nice, but it’s a bit much to ask of your poorly lungs tonight, I think. I expect it will take longer the second time around, and need more work from both of us. And I think we both still need to catch up on our sleep too. Come on,” she concluded, craning her neck back to kiss his lips with a quick peck, “Let’s sort this bed out and then snuggle down.”
Marcie rolled away from Ben and he sat up, looking down at the sorry mess that he’d made. But she had found the towel he’d worn around his waist earlier, and once she’d wiped her foot with it, she passed it to him. Ben wiped himself down then patted ineffectually at the semen he’d spilt on the sheets. It seemed as if there hadn’t been that much of it, but drips had got spread around widely. As he did this, he struggled to not let himself get too distracted by the sight of Marcie rising from the bed, shaking out the pillows and duvet, then recovering her nightshirt. Yet nude, she was a vision to him. He was still drawn to the way her breasts bounced and wobbled, and he saw the bushy dark triangle of her vulva in a new, personal way now. She was intent on putting her nightdress back on though, and as Ben stoically swung himself off the bed to help remake it, she pulled the white cotton down like a veil over her beautiful body.
“I’m going through to the bathroom for a wee and to brush my teeth,” she declared, “Are you coming with me?”
Ben agreed and followed her through the flat to the bathroom, still nude himself. He felt strangely touched when she raised her nightshirt and sat down on the toilet without any hesitation or self-consciousness. It was as if she were completely at ease with him being there as she answered the call of nature, and he felt this brought her yet another step closer to him. He washed his face and hands, put the dirty towel in the overflowing wash, then started brushing his teeth as Marcie finished and rose to join him, giving him a cute little smile.
She left the bathroom before him, asking him to turn the lights out as he came through. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, still braiding her hair for the night as he came in. He clicked his bedside light out then lay down behind her, and she turned hers off moments later, settling down beside him. Ben felt that their whole shared bedtime routine had seemed just as natural as if they’d been doing it for years. He cuddled up to her, letting her roll over so they were comfortably making spoons again. “Another big day tomorrow,” she murmured in the darkness, “I’ll kick off my change of supervisor during my morning shift, then we’ll hear what the doctor has to say about you, and then we’ll hit the town for canny night out.”
“Sounds good,” Ben murmured sleepily in response.
“Love you,” Marcie whispered, lifting his hand to kiss it before placing it back where it had been, softly cupping her breast, “Sleep well, sweet dreams.”
“Love you too,” Ben responded, kissing the bare skin at the back of her neck as he rested his hips against her bum and began to quickly drift off.