Stared into his anguished eyes. Moved my face closer to his. He blinked, a little confused. And I gave him such a sympathetic look, the kind I used to give him when he was confessing to something he did bad. I gave his lips a peck. His eyes had closed for a second. I kissed him again. His arms were around my waist now. I gave him a proud look and three pecks quickly and playfully.“Honey,” I whispered into his ear as his hands began to roam around the thick fabric of my robe. My breasts were by his neck. I moved them closer to him. I guided his head and buried his face into me. The strap of my robe fell. My robe was opening. My silk panties were exposed. His hands were headed towards them. I held him back to let my robe open further. There. Now my breasts were out, too, and he was staring into them. He was breathing hard.And the poor dear still had some tears in his eyes. There were so many things I wanted to do to him. But I just opened my arms and waited. He reached inside my robe. If I ever asked if she minded that we didn't fuck and that I was happy just eating her, she would remind me of the other guy she saw about as much as me - that when she wants to fuck, she calls him, but that's all she calls him for. One night I even got an email - "Big D coming over to fuck me tomorrow night. Can you come over around noon and get my pussy warmed up?" I loved it and was totally turned on by the idea, and I was happy to oblige. (Much more to this story, but again, that's another story.)We also talked frequently about how something seemed to have kicked in around her 60th birthday - something that said it might actually be OK to just sit back and receive pleasure without feeling like she had to do something "in return." Until then she had always felt some kind of "duty" to "return the favor". We talked about how the first few times we were together, it took a lot to get over the feeling that after going down on her, she "owed" it to me to then give me head. She thought.
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