They’d got inside the hallway, Marcie locking the door behind them, and Ben had already slipped his shoes off. As he straightened up, he saw the twinkle in Marcie’s eyes as she made that last statement, and he figured that he knew what she was thinking. He went to put his hands on her waist, but she threw her arms around his neck, jangling her bracelets beside his ear as she pulled him towards her lips. Ben let his hands go to the big round cushions of her buttocks, scrunching the soft warm cotton of her loose dress to dig his fingertips into her yielding booty. But they were already kissing hungrily, Marcie forcing her tongue deep into Ben’s mouth, which he encouraged by sucking, making brief raspberry noises as their lips slipped against each other. Her fingers were clinging to his scalp through his hair, while she seemed to be deliberately pushing her chest against his. Ben could feel an immediate response in his loins, from Roddie, despite the numbing fug of alcohol in his system.
But suddenly Marcie pulled back, letting Ben see that he’d already smeared her lipstick as he relaxed his grip. “Oh, we reek!” she wailed, “I’d forgotten how smoky pubs and clubs can get. I’m going to have to shower and wash my hair again too before we get into your lovely clean sheets. And your poor lungs! Are they okay after breathing all that in?”
Ben took some deep and slow breaths while Marcie cradled his chin in her hands, looking up with concern, as he rested his hands on her hips again. He realised there was a bit of a dragging rasp there, right at the extremes, but he judged, “I think it’s okay. Maybe we need smoke free pubs now, though. There are more these days, aren’t there?”
“Yes,” Marcie agreed, but sighed as she rubbed his cheek, “Oh, why does always end up being so practical? We can leave all that until tomorrow. Come with me to the bathroom where we can both have a shower. You can help me to undress, if you like.” As she led him by the hand through the shadowy living room, she saw the laundry and added, “Oh, and we can definitely leave all that too, just drop the blind if you would while I pop the lamp on?”
Ben let go of her hand to comply, guiding the blind down behind the houseplants. Marcie had already left for the bathroom when Ben turned around, then as he began following her, he thought to drop the kitchen blind too, just as they should have done earlier. He could hear the flow of Marcie passing water, but seeing the door ajar, he went in anyway.
She smiled to see him, sat on the toilet with her legs bare. He saw she’d gathered the skirt of her dress up around her waist, and he saw the sky-blue puddle of silky material that was her knickers, fallen around the ankles of her boots. “I was being cheeky when I said I needed to keep my legs crossed on the Metro, thinking of what I’d let you do up there with Vixen, but I really did need a wee too.” She must have seen where his eyes had glanced though, as she added, “I was going to leave them off now, but maybe I’ve disappointed you. You might have liked to take them off for me, and I said I’d let you see me in them. Sorry. Do you want to take them off from there?” she asked, sticking her feet out now that her flow had stopped.
Ben gladly fell to one knee before her, carefully lifting them over her boots. Then he risked acting out his impulse, maybe incautiously, under the influence of the night’s drinking. He brought Marcie’s knickers to his face and inhaled dramatically through his flared nostrils as he threw his head back. He was joking around for Marcie, but he enjoyed the sensations too, of the warm satin on his nose and lips, and of the smells, Marcie’s intimate musky scent clear over the lingering perfume of fresh laundry.
“Ben!” Marcie said in shock, even as she laughed, “I can’t believe you did that! You’re a very naughty boy!”
“Only sometimes, and just for you,” Ben admitted, grinning, tossing the blue bundle of cloth towards the laundry basket. Then he asked, “Shall I unlace your boots, Ma’am, while you’re sat there?”
“Why yes, my good man, you may,” Marcie replied, giggling as she put on an exaggerated accent, pointing out the toe of one foot.
Ben knelt down properly, sitting on his heels, putting up with the slightly painful pressure of the hard bathroom floor on his knees. He placed one hand behind her calf, on her bare skin at the edge of the soft leather, lifting her boot to place its sole flat on his thigh. Then he began to diligently untie the knot and unthread the lace with the clumsy fingertips of both hands. For some reason, an old fashioned song came to his mind. Again, feeling incautious against what might have been his more sober judgement, he began to sing, probably off-key, in a quiet gruff tone, “Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green. When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.”
Marcie immediately picked up the tune, carrying on with words that Ben didn’t even know, her high voice cautiously wavering, “Lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue. You must love me, dilly dilly, ‘cause I love you.”
Ben had loosened her boot enough to ease it off now, quickly peeling off the thin and slightly damp sock that he’d discovered she was wearing too. “Thank you,” Marcie said as she wriggled her toes, Ben guessed for the song as well as the boot removal, “That was lovely. Where did that come from?” she asked as she carelessly raised her other boot.
“I don’t know,” Ben honestly answered, “It just seemed old fashioned, like your boots, but in a nice way, I mean. Maybe that talk of Narnia, Aslan the king with his magic winter queen, bowing to honour his lady, maybe that triggered something too.”
“Maybe your mum used to sing it to you. Oh, I’m sorry! My mouth just runs away before I can stop it.”
“No, it’s okay,” Ben reassured her, still enjoying the moment despite the strange thought. “To be honest, maybe she did, perhaps way back when I needed help to dress myself. We’re still the children we were though, inside, aren’t we? Even if we’re doing naughty grown-up things now. Maybe she is here with us, in some way, in my memory. If so, I bet she’d be happy to know I’m happy, right here. And I liked your words too, if they were new, or a part I didn’t know.”
“Oh Ben, I’m glad you’re happy, and my words were true,” Marcie sighed, “I do love you.” After a pause, she went on, “Hmm, but yes, you’re so right. We are still the children we used to be, deep inside. You can still play with Lucy in Narnia, and a part of me can still be that giggling teenager, shocked and intrigued by what grown-ups actually do with those private bits beneath their underwear. Speaking of which, am I going to show you mine, and then you can show me yours?”
Ben had got her other boot and sock off, and now she’d risen to stand on her bare feet before him, letting the skirts of her dress fall below her knees again, almost brushing his face. He shuffled back a little on his painful knees, rising to kneel so that his face was level with her chest, ready to bury his nose into her cleavage as his hands rose to her hips.
But she was already turning, putting her back to him. He guessed that this was to let him see her dress’s zip, which he began to tug down confidently. When it was all the way down, in the small of her back where the flared skirt’s pleats were gathered, he reached up to slip his hands under the soft cotton to brush her skin and push the fabric over her shoulders. He saw the thick straps of her bra exposed, their pale blue vivid against her tan skin.
Marcie made a kind of self-satisfied noise as she shucked the dress down her arms, gathering its folds around her hips as she turned to face him again. She smiled down at him as he raised his eyes from the satin orbs of her breasts which she’d brought to face him, then she finally let the fabric pilled around her waist fall to the floor. Ben’s eyes dropped again to see the dark bushy triangle of her vulva, of Vixen, tucked under the pubic mound at the base of her well-toned stomach. He felt warmed by the sight, but he could not resist his gaze from returning to her chest, taking in the bulging mass of her breasts under the seams and stitching of her bra. He thought of the celestial association to its colour as he reverentially raised his hand to brush one warm hillock, feeling it yield softly under his fingertips.
Marcie had raised her hands to cradle the back of his head, and now she drew a slow breath through her teeth, as if relishing his touch. He brushed down again, then back and forth, with his fingertips and nails, imagining that he was stroking her nipple. And sure enough, he detected a solid bump beneath the thin silky fabric, perhaps rising to his stimulation.
“Take it off, now,” Marcie whispered, as if issuing an urgent order.
Trembling a little on his aching knees, already aroused beneath his own clothes, he reached around Marcie’s ribcage with both hands. He found her bra’s catch easily, and managed to unhook it without too much difficulty. Marcie slipped the straps over her shoulders herself, and then the satin cups were falling away from her breasts. Ben drew the bra down and away as he gazed with reverential awe at her chest.
Her breasts hung heavily under their soft mass, making long sweeping curves from the deepening gap between them, under the folded crease beneath them, then sweeping back up over her ribs all the way towards her armpits. Her skin was paler across them, still marked by the red pressure lines left by the hem of her bra. It seemed stretched thin too, thin enough to reveal the subtle tracery of veins beneath, especially across their lowest pendulous crescents, yet a few melanin spots were scattered even here. But Ben’s eyes naturally focused on her dusky pink areolae, their softly crinkled skin like silk itself, distorted slightly from perfect circles to stretched ovals by the full grown volume of Marcie’s development. He could see small bumps on them, dotted around the much larger and enticing bumps of her nipples at their centre.
He leant forwards to gently press his lips to one, his mouth parted, then felt for her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Finding it, he licked around its slightly upright edge with a circular motion, noticing how much bigger it seemed in his mouth, and then gently sucked. He felt it rising from the creases around its base, entering his mouth between his firm lips, touching his tongue as he still delicately played it around her teat.
Marcie had been gripping his head, holding him to her as he knelt before her. Now she pulled his head back, making her bangles jangle softly beside his ear. “Oh Ben, I do feel deliciously naughty. But you’re still dressed. That’s not the deal. Come on, stand up. You’ve got to show me yours too.”
Ben complied, letting Marcie help him up, making a bit of a show of it as he straightened his genuinely sore knees. Then she unbuttoned his shirt, naked in his arms as he loosely rested his hands on the smooth warm skin of her waist. When she’d undone the last button, she flattened her palms against his chest, running them over his collarbones then down over his own nipples as Ben did the real work of pulling his shirt off, pulling the sleeves over his hands at his back.
Marcie was idly tracing her fingertips over the Maltese cross on his chest whilst her other hand was already low on his belly. Down there, she idly rubbed the thin fur below his bellybutton, her fingers slipping under his belt, almost into his thicker pubic hair and therefore, Ben was aware, almost touching his awkwardly tangled erection. “I’ve had this such a long time,” she said dreamily, clearly with reference to the necklace, “I never imagined I’d be seeing it like this.”
“I’ll keep it safe,” Ben promised her, gently resting his hands on her bare shoulders.
“Hmm,” Marcie murmured, “It’s almost like they’re here, isn’t it? My Nanna, your mum. It feels as if they’re smiling on us, as if we have their blessing. Oh, I’m sorry! Do I spoil the mood with my inane and inappropriate chatter?”
“No,” Ben reassured her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her tight against him. He felt the wonderful touch of her soft breasts pressing against his stomach as she wrapped her arms around his waist, saying, “You’re talking about our female ancestors, the women we owe our existence to. They knew sex, or we wouldn’t be here. Perhaps they know when things are right, even if they’re just in our memories now. Perhaps they’re like our conscience, the small inner voice, still guiding us. And it does feel right, doesn’t it? And it’s not just Roddie’s voice, urging things on, honestly.”
Marcie laughed, leaning her head back to look into Ben’s eyes, before he leant down to kiss her lips tenderly. “Thank you. You come up with such wise thoughts,” she said, resting her head against his chest as he straightened up, cuddling her warm soft skin tight against him again. She sighed, then added with a cheekier smirking tone, “But I still think can hear Roddie’s voice speaking too. Come on, let’s get him out to check!”
Ben stepped back and slipped his hands to the back of Marcie’s neck as she worked deliberately now to undo his jean’s belt buckle and buttons. Ben was aware that with the time passing since he’d first felt his passion rising for Marcie in the hallway, and since his exquisite experience at her breast especially, his sometimes stiff erection had now softened. Perhaps the alcohol was taking its toll too, though he still felt confident that Roddie would rise to the occasion when needed. In any case, Marcie seemed unconcerned as she opened his belt, unbuttoned his flies, and then pushed his jeans and boxer shorts down together over his hips.
Ben’s long penis was exposed, and Marcie seemed to watch it as Ben hopped out of his jeans, holding her on each elbow for balance. Even though he was soft, his shaft was thick, and his head, currently flushed to a deep crimson, had escaped his foreskin at some point. Marcie raised it carefully in one hand as she wrapped her other arm around Ben’s hip, guiding him towards her so that his manhood was upright against her stomach, just below the deep crease between her breasts. Then she held him tight to her once more, palms flat across his shoulders, sighing contentedly as she leaned her head against his collarbone once more.
Ben could again feel the soft cushions of her breasts pressing against the bare skin of his abdomen, but now he could feel the warmth of Marcie’s skin against his penis too. As they held each other restfully, Ben gently stroking Marcie’s neck and shoulders with one hand whilst the other was clasped firmly against the small of her back, he grew firm again against her.
“Ooh, I’d like you to rub him there,” Marcie murmured, obviously feeling the movement herself. She leant back to smile up at Ben as she went on, still pressing her abdomen against his, “I’d like you to push his cheeky little head against my boob, just like you tried when I was still in my nightie. But we know where that ends, with a sudden creamy squirt, and I want you to save yourself for that until you can put a johnny on and get him up inside me again. Does that sound good?” Of course Ben agreed, so she wriggled against him and said, “Then let go of me, and I’ll get into that shower!”
Marcie twisted away from him, took her glasses and bangles off, then stepped into the bath to start the shower. “Sit down on the loo and watch, if you want,” she told him. Ben hadn’t realised how heavily he’d been breathing until he put the toilet lid down and took the weight off his feet, but he deliberately calmed down as he sat, knees apart, his erection already softening again. Suddenly aware of other urges, he murmured an apology, rose again and quickly raised the seat before sitting back down to pass water through his softened yet still turgid member. Marcie seemed unconcerned as his copious urine flowed noisily, starting her shower in an industrious way, running the water all over her body, then soaking her hair.
He’d finished and was back on the closed toilet seat lid by the time that she was rubbing the shampoo that she’d grabbed into a thick foam. Then she was rinsing it out, lifting her elbows high to massage her fingertips into her scalp, an action that raised her breasts and made them swing hypnotically. Ben watched the soapy suds running down over her glossy skin, making quickly shifting rivulets as the water found runnels over her shoulders, around her breasts, across her stomach, through her pubic hair and down her legs. Marcie’s wet hair clung to her face and neck now as she blearily looked towards him.
“Should I be making more of a show of this?” she asked, reaching for the scrunchy mesh ball of her spongey shower puff and the bottle of shower gel. Ben watched her breasts jiggle as she shook the bottle vigorously, trying to get the last drops out, unsure of how to answer. But then she began rubbing it over her body in a purposefully lewd way, working the puff in her hands to make a rich lather.
Ben watched as she performed, wriggling her hips, pouting her lips towards him, squeezing the sponge across her chest. She cupped her free hand under one breast, raising it towards him, trying to make the foam run over her nipple. At some level, Ben did indeed enjoy the show, seeing the play of soap and Marcie’s own fingertips over that thin skin of her breast, now deliciously slick under the running water. But at another level he felt embarrassed and guilty, as Marcie played up to those stereotypes of the exotic dancers that they’d spoken of earlier. Ben recognised that indeed he had been looking for just such thrills when he undressed Marcie earlier. That fitted him to the stereotypes for men who sought out such performances, confirming Marcie’s tacit assumptions about how they made objects of the women they looked at. And even worse, he recognised that the way Marcie now held her breast towards him was almost exactly as he’d imagined Shona doing that morning. A part of him had also got a lecherous thrill from seeing that accidental display then, so it felt like a betrayal to consciously enjoy such titillation now.
But Marcie had suddenly stopped, wailing, “Oh, they’re so ridiculous, aren’t they? What are they, really? A pair of fatty lumps, hanging off me all the time, for what? Maybe to be useful for six months of my life, to suckle my child? And these pointy bumps with their big stretched stains, areolae, whatever, just there to be ashamed about, to keep hidden. It’s all an untidy mess. Like these bits of hair too, under here,” she said, lifting her one arm and twisting towards Ben to rub her wet hand over one shadowy armpit, raising the glossy rounded breast that she’d been criticising, “and down here,” she added, grabbing her vulva, “It’s a great big mess of bushy hair sprawling across me, and a smelly bleeding pit of rubbery flesh with those stupid baggy lips. And my huge bum and these heavy, muscled thighs too, strong enough to crush your head,” she added as an afterthought, slapping each of them for emphasis, “It’s a freak show, the whole thing, a botched mess of flesh and animal bits.”
“Marcie, don’t say all that,” Ben urged as her diatribe ran down, rising and stepping towards her to perch himself on the edge of the bath, letting the shower’s spray mist his bare skin. “I like it all. You’re beautiful, your body is magical. All those things, they’re feminine, they’re sexy, they’re attractive to me, right to my core. Maybe your shape is like an hourglass, swelling out at your bust and your hips,” he added cautiously, raising a hand to stroke those glistening curves from her waist to her thigh, “But that’s the essence of womanliness, the ideal form that’s driven men wild since time began, that’s made us adore you. You’re a woman, Marcie, and you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she responded, standing still under the hammering water, now stroking his ear with her wet fingers as she smiled sadly down at him.
“Just be grateful you’ve not got one of these,” he said, parting his legs to hold his scrotum, making his softly swollen member bob about, “A weird little sack, for a pair of painfully vulnerable stones. And this wonky pipe too,” he added, gripping his shaft to wave its head around, “It’s all pretty gross.”
She giggled, “You’re right. Not that yours are gross I mean, just that all our bits are a bit weird and funny looking from some points of view. It’s the drink talking too. It’s like my thoughts are an overloaded shopping trolley with a dodgy wheel, pulling me off where I don’t want to go. The half-empty glass, the inner critic, says I’m dumpy, lumpy, maybe even fat. The half-full balancing thought says I’m physically fit and, yes, maybe a bit appealing to some men. Nature is weird, isn’t it? Bodies are a bit disgusting. Sex is a strange thing to do. But I like your little Roddie, or very big and long Roddie I should say, not that I’m much of an expert on these things. I like his jolly, bright head when he’s standing up, and I like the heft of his meaty weight in my hand.” Marcie was moving out of the shower’s flow now, urging Ben to his feet. “Come on,” she said, “Let’s swap around. You get nice and clean for bed now too, then we can tuck Roddie up with Vixen, where she wants him to be, as freaky nature intended.”
Ben eagerly agreed, holding Marcie’s elbow as she stepped out of the shower, then getting in himself. He saw Marcie reclaim her glasses, quickly rub herself down with her towel, then wrap it around herself as he started washing, making his own shower gel lather just with his hands as he usually did. Then she said that she was just going to get her hair things, but she’d come back to keep him company.
Ben had already finished, even giving his own hair a quick wash too, by the time she got back. She sat on the toilet seat to brush her wet hair and then dextrously weave it into her nighttime plait. As Ben finished towelling himself off and hung his towel up, she explained that it would go extra crinkly for being still wet when she went to bed, but she really didn’t care. Ben remembered his brown inhaler, taking an awkward puff whilst reflecting that this was now part of his morning and evening routine, then began brushing his teeth, smiling in a foolish and foamy way at Marcie, who was still diligently braiding her hair. Then, as her elbows were raised over her head, her towel came loose and fell into her lap, revealing herself once again as she said, with a little giggle, “Oopsie.” Ben had watched this happen, of course. He looked up from her round breasts, raised high and proud by her arms’ position, with their big dusky areolae and creased nipples, to meet her smiling eyes, which were looking bashfully up at him as Marcie’s head tilted forwards.
For some reason he felt a huge surge of affection toward her at this, even whilst her body’s voluptuousness appealed to his libido at a far baser level. He felt she was sharing something with him, in the shy exposure of her private body, in a somehow far more innocent way than she’d shown in the shower. She’d done this accidentally, but she was at ease with it, despite that self-critical body image that she’d just shared with him. He somehow felt that she was now demonstrating profound trust and honesty with him as they got ready for bed, and their shared intimacy, when they got there, would be so much stronger and more sincere for it.
He quickly finished his teeth, then got back onto his knees before her, just as he had been earlier. He reached out to respectfully rest his hands on the towel that was still gathered around her hips as he said, “I love you, Marcie.”
Working fast, Marcie finished her plait and tied it off with a bobble, saying, “Thank you Ben. I know that now. You could have gone off tonight too. You could have jumped ship, or just played around with Sofie more, but you didn’t. You came home with me, to our home.”
She leant forwards to kiss him. Ben’s lips were parted, ready to make it deep and passionate, but she said, “Ooh, your mouth’s so lovely and minty clean. Mine’s still disgusting!” She sprung to her feet, making her breasts sway just in front of Ben’s face as her towel dropped to the floor to reveal her bushy Vixen too, but she was shooing him away, saying, “Let me brush my teeth too. You get some big glasses of water to take to the bedroom. We might need rehydrating in the night. Ooh, and would you like to light a joss stick in there, if you think we might have a romantic moment before we go to sleep?”