Alicia's Awakening
Alicia luxuriated in the touch and smell of the freshly laundered sheets enveloping her body. She was
warm and happy. She loved her alone mornings. After her jobs were done. And,
after George, her husband of 20 years, had left to follow another job lead that,
like the others, would undoubtedly only lead back home. As much as she cared for
George, he really had become a house eunuch - faithful; eager to please;
underfoot. So Alicia cherished the times when the house was empty and she had no
one to organize or do for; when she could snuggle back under her covers and let
her mind doze-dream. And this morning there was also the anticipation of the
call she knew would come.
Her life was so full, and yet so different than
what she'd assumed it would be. She'd married George because he was a good
catch. That's what her mother had told her. And Alicia was always the dutiful
daughter. She'd been in love at the time - not with George, but with a
schoolteacher, a man of no prospects. He wanted to be an architect, but he was
mired in a dead-end teaching job, and she’d laughed when he told her of his
dream. Still, she was in love with him, and with the romance of being in love,
and with being in California and the sunshine and beaches and starry nights.
Her family was solid, conservative, Nebraskan. They didn't believe in
starry nights and romance. They believed in prospects. And George had plenty of
those. As the heir apparent to the town's leading merchants, George was the
perfect match, and he was utterly devoted to Alicia. So she made the rational
decision and followed her roots, and her mother's advice. It was a good choice -
a solid choice. She’d cried for four days before the wedding.
Alicia and
George were launched in 1980 in one of those idyllic wedding ceremonies that you
always see in Vogue, or at least The Ladies Home Journal, but which you've never
really seen yourself. It was staged at the home of George's uncle, the merchant
king, whose sweeping expanse of manicured lawn made the perfect setting for the
floral archway under which they were married, and for the tent where the dance
band played. The elite all came and strolled and nodded, and sipped champagne.
The contract was made. Alicia would be a good wife, and mother. George would
work hard, be successful and rich, and together they would enjoy all the best
that the American century had to offer.
But it’s never that simple, is
it? The children followed, and with them the tennis and ballet lessons, the den
mothering, and PTA-ing. George and Alicia traveled, cheered at soccer games, and
swooshed the floor at country club dances. Their lives seemed perfect. The town
swirled around them, but Alicia and George didn't talk. The center of their
marriage was an untuned radio playing nothing but white noise. Their lives
seemed so solid from the outside, but they were struggling.
When George
was fired, Alicia was not surprised. The signs had been there for some time.
George's jovial incompetence had caught up with him. His two cocktail lunches
were leaving him vacant in the afternoon, and the family business, which had
seemed such a sure thing, was shunting him aside for brighter and more
aggressive men.
In the days that followed his firing, George became
totally dysfunctional. At night, he’d have a scotch, doze in front of the
evening news, and go to bed early - not to their bed. They slept apart. And
unless she pushed him out to another hopeless job interview, he slept late. She
worked hard to stretch their savings, but as the year-end holidays hit, the
family's prospects and hers looked as barren as the snowy landscape that
surrounded her. Alicia didn’t want to be resentful, but George’s endless winter
of discontent left her with little joy.
The Christmas card on its face
did not seem to be an epiphany, a catalyst that would send her world spinning
into new orbits, but life's important events often begin quietly unnoticed. It
was from Evan, her old California lover and friend. Alicia had not heard from
him in more than 20 years, not since she'd dropped him and laughed at his
ambition. It was a nice card. Nothing special. Just "How ya doin'?" Still she
couldn't believe it, - after all this time.
Alicia was swallowed up by
Christmas, and forgot about Evan's note. It reappeared as she was cleaning up in
January and tossing out the last of the Christmas detritus. The cards were
always the last to go. Evan's she kept. He'd left a phone number in Portland,
Oregon, and she started to call him a couple of times, but always chickened out.
Why was she so nervous? It was just a phone call for God's sake. He was 2,000
miles away and had his own life. But the door to possibility, like Pandora's
box, was open.
Alicia walked through that door a few days later when she
made the call. "Hello?" The voice was pleasant, and familiar.
“This is
Alicia." They had a lot of catching up to do. Evan was now a successful
architect, and headed a large firm. He'd spent time in New York, but would
always be a Westerner at heart. He had two kids. He and his ex-wife had a "good"
divorce. They were friends. He had traveled around the world and lived in one of
those panoramic houses that look like movie sets. How ironic that the school
teacher her mother had rejected for her had gone on to success and a life far
more interesting than her own hand-picked one. She was jealous and mad at
herself for not following her own instincts. But that decision was made long
ago.
She called again, late at night, a couple of weeks later. She wasn't
nervous. The preliminaries were over, and they could just talk as old friends.
Why had he divorced? The passion had left his marriage. He'd had an affair, and
then confessed. Counseling hadn't helped; his wife simply didn't want him any
more. There was no one in particular in his life. She volunteered that her life
wasn't all that great right now. She admitted aloud that her once successful
husband was ineffectual, and that her sex life seemed dead.
The
conversation was harmless, but intimate. They both really wanted to connect. For
her, Evan was safe. He could be a sounding board, and he was far away. He
listened, and his soft responses comforted her. She was not alone in feeling
alienated from her spouse, and being disappointed with her life. Her friend, as
successful as he was, was in the same boat.
When they talked again, he
asked how she could call and talk so freely. She told him she was downstairs on
the couch, and she would often be up late after her husband was long asleep.
They talked about their kids, and their jobs, and it seemed so casual when Evan
asked: "What are you wearing?" Alicia didn't hesitate to describe the shorty
nighty that covered her breasts, but little else as she sat on the couch. "I
wish I was there." Alicia's body responded involuntarily. A little wave of
excitement circled her neck and cascaded down between her breasts, and tingled
her most inately. "Why?" She tried to keep it light, but her body was already
alert.
"Well, I'd like to give you a massage to get rid of some of the
anxiety you’re feeling. I'd start with your back, and I'd massage your
shoulders, and work the tension out of them." Alicia hadn't had a man touch her
in weeks. George had simply become a non-entity in her life. Now, she was
powerless to stop the words in her ear. She didn't want to. Her body didn't want
her to. Her body just wanted to drink in the soft sonorous sounds and let them
flow around and through her. Let them do their magic.
"Then I'd move my
hands to your back, and I'd rub it softly from the middle out to the sides, and
along the edges of your breasts." Alicia longed for the feel of his hands, and
not just on her back, but he was moving deliciously slowly. Alicia thought after
thoroughly rubbing her back, he might quit. Or move to her more intimate
regions. Evan's words did neither.
He moved to her feet. He kneaded them,
and spread the toes and slowly rubbed and pampered them. Now he was rubbing her
calves with lotion. Alicia could feel the cool pleasure in the words, but, as
Evan's hands moved ever upward, the center of her sex was becoming heated, and
she could feel the wetness come to her lips.
"I'd then move higher and
massage your thighs. First one side then the other. First just above your knees,
and then rising higher until the sides of my hands brush almost by mistake
against your sex, and I feel its wetness." Alicia let out a soft involuntary
cry. He moved on and massaged her rear, and allowed his hands to caress her back
again. This was driving her wild with desire. He still had her on her stomach,
but she wanted him to turn her over; to touch her breasts. That would give her
permission to touch herself.
"Then I would turn you over, and massage and
kiss your neck, and your arms." My breasts, please, my breasts. "And I'd want
you to touch your breasts, as you should be now, and I'd watch you pull your
nipples hard and erect." Alicia could not resist the command; she pushed her
full breasts up. Her nipples were long and she stroked them between her fingers.
They were already hard and now she played with them, and brought them to full
erection.
Evan's massage had moved down her arms. She was acutely aware
that he was watching her play with own breasts, and it excited her. The touch of
her own fingers on her breasts was sending signals to her groin. Her pussy was
now fully involved. She could feel and smell her wetness. She wanted him to move
on. To get to the heart of her sex, to ravage her, but he didn't.
"Then,
I would let my hands join yours, and together let them trace circles around your
breasts and nipples. While you held them for me I would lick you ever so lightly
and feel the hardness of your nipples on my tongue, and place them in my mouth
and suck them and run them over the roof of my mouth with my tongue.” A moan
escaped from Alicia's throat.
While she stroked her nipples with one
hand, the other slid to her now soaking pussy. She felt the curls of her hair
between her fingers. She rubbed along the sides of her cunt, and felt the juice
that overflowed from her desire, but she did not touch her lips. She was waiting
Evan's permission.
"I would move my mouth down to your belly, and cover
it in kisses, and then farther down so I can smell the exquisite fragrance of
your sex in my nostrils. Then I would blow gently on your hot cunt, and let my
tongue flick against the lips of your pussy, and kiss your thighs down to your
feet.
Alicia couldn't stand more delay, her fingers wanted to touch her
clit, and he was teasing her with foreplay. "No, I can't wait. I want you to
fuck me, now." "Not yet." But, she couldn't wait. The tip of her finger found
her clit, and the electricity of passion shot through her.
Evan moved on
more quickly. "Your thighs are warm as I bring my hands to them and allow them
to brush against your lips. Now you are hot and wet, and you spread your thighs,
and allow me to kiss and lick you, and feel your wetness on my tongue, and let
it flick against your lips and clit. What are you doing, now? Are you touching
yourself?” "Yes."
"Are you stroking your pussy? Do you feel the hardness
of your clit against your fingers." "Yes." The word escaped almost as a gasp
from Alicia's lips. He had given her permission, and she let it all go. "I'm
stroking myself, and I have two fingers in my cunt, and it feels so good." "Now
I'm going to kiss your pussy, and while your fingers go in and out I'm licking
them, and my tongue is flat against your clit and massaging it up and down, and
going in and out of you with your fingers. And while I lick you, my fingers are
on your nipples, and I'm stroking them while you stroke your pussy."
"Oh, God. This is good. I'm almost there. Are you touching yourself?"
“Yes, I'm stroking my cock and its really big and engorged, and I can see you
stroking your pussy and I can tell you’re going to come, and I'm going to come."
"I wish you were here, and I'd be sucking your cock and feeling you
getting closer. God, I'm so wet. Can you hear my pussy sucking in and out.
Listen." Alicia put the phone between her legs while she stroked herself wildly.
The beating, slurping sounds in 's ear were unmistakable. "Did you
hear?"
"Yes, I heard your passion. Now, come with me!"
"Yes, yes.
It’s coming now, It’s coming. I'm coming. Ahhhh!" Alicia's pussy contracted over
and over as her orgasm washed over her, and as she listened to her lover.
“I'm coming, too. Now!" Two thousand miles away, Evan's orgasm sprayed
hot salty cum on his belly three times as he pumped.
Hot juice covered
Alicia's hand and fingers. She was spent. She had never done anything like this
before. Oh, she’d brought herself to orgasm, but never with a man's voice in her
ear, almost watching as she pleasured herself, and stroking himself at the same
time. She loved it.
And so Alicia waited, snuggled in her sheets. Looking
forward to making love. She and Evan were going to meet in person, in Denver.
She hoped he wouldn't be disappointed in the unseen fortyish woman he had been
making love with for two months. But it really didn't matter if it worked out
with Evan. He had awakened her passion, and her possibilities. Now, it was time
to explore.
Alicia's Awakening
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