The Reclusive Beauty

She smiled at me, victorious in her quest for my orgasm. But I sensed something more, like she'd re-affirmed her womanliness. How a lady like that could feel unattractive I'd never know, but I've found the most beautiful women are sometimes the most insecure. I smiled back at her and stroked her hair.

She sat back on her heels, brushing at a few strands of reddish-blond hair that had fallen over her face. Her sapphire eyes peered at me through half-closed lids. A single fingertip glided over her chin, pushing stray trickles of semen into her mouth.

She was right: not a drop had been spilled.

My cock pulsed with spent passion and I worked to get my breathing under control. For a couple of minutes I basked in glorious post-blowjob bliss. She politely waited for me, still kneeling on the pillow. At last I staggered to my feet, unsure what to do next.

Standing there, naked except for my socks, my damp cock and balls felt cool and thoroughly drained. Mrs Miller gazed up at me. Looking into her worldly face, I felt the heat of her passion radiating as if I were standing in front of a blazing fire. Her volcanic blue eyes burned into me, saying all the things she would not speak aloud.

She extended her hand. I helped her to her feet, though it seemed like two drunken sailors trying to steady each other. Her oral ministrations had drained me, body and soul. I suspect I had done the same to her.

As I dressed, I struggled to regain my senses. It seemed like some impossible dream. She descended the stairs and I followed, using the hand rail to steady myself. After what felt like an eternity I reached the ground floor.

We paused at the bottom.

"David," she said, as we stood among the antiques.

Turning to face her, I said, "Yes?"

Smiling up at me, she ran a finger across the back of my hand and said, "You will bring my bid to me, correct? Not by e-mail or any of that foolishness?"

I wanted to tell her I'd re-wire her whole damn house for free for another blowjob like that, but I sensed she would be offended. She wasn't hurting for money and I needed the work. Trying to appear cool, I said, "No man would e-mail you if he could deliver his message in person."

"And I can count on your discretion regarding our...encounter?"

"Absolutely," I assured her a devilish grin. "Both now and in the future."

She graced me with a beaming, pin-up girl smile. Her gaze smoldered with the promise of more earthly pleasures to come. Bathed in her radiant sexual energy, my cock began to harden again. She must have sensed this because she moved closer and slid a hand between my legs, gently cupping my half-erect dick. Stroking me through my jeans, she looked into my eyes. I felt like the most privileged man in the world.

I started to speak, "Mrs Miller..."

"Shhh," she said, stepping closer.

Her breasts touching my chest, she released my crotch, stood up on tip-toe, and draped both arms over my shoulders. I slid my hands around her narrow waist, holding her close for a few more precious seconds. I bent over a little and she brought her mouth to my ear. Her breath felt warm on my skin as I inhaled her scent one last time.

Her voice smoky and deep, she whispered, "Call me Marilyn."

(Author's note: Thank you for reading! Some may say that this belongs in the Celebrities category but I didn't want to ruin the surprise. This story is copyright 2013 by David Dustarr. Please feel free to vote and comment...)