III

I had been in Australia for eight months and been living in St. Kilda for six. Being unattached and on the lookout for female company, one Saturday night I met Elizabeth. She arrived at the Austrian Ski Club at the Upper Esplanade in the company of a younger woman that I had seen before.

As in all these continental clubs, tables could not be booked. The staff took later arrivals to wherever seats were still vacant, or chairs could be squeezed in. It just happened that Elizabeth and her younger sister finished up on our table. Our getting to know each other quickly followed.

The younger sister was a nurse-in-training in one of the large city hospitals. She had been, in the company of other nurses, to the Austrian club before.

Her sister, Elizabeth, was, I guessed, in her late twenties, blonde, slim, quite tall and, in a British-rose way, attractive. She appeared to be, initially noticeably ill at ease with the surroundings. I thought this was funny, as her at least ten years younger sister was bubbling over with self-confidence.

Over the following hours, the ice-maiden thawed just a little. Elizabeth liked to dance, and except with her sister, I danced with nobody else but her that night. I was beginning to like her, and she gave no sign of disliking my attention. I had a car that night and drove her sister first to her Hospital and then Elizabeth home to an unfamiliar suburb.

When I turned as directed into her street, she asked me not to stop in front of her house. She had told me that she lived, for the time being, with her parents. When I pulled to the kerb, Elizabeth gave no sign of wanting to get out of the car with a hurried 'Thanks' and 'Good Bye'.

As she seemed in no hurry to take flight, I switched off the engine and lights and turned to her. She moved readily into an embrace followed by kissing. It was well past midnight. We spent more than an hour, only kissing at first but then moving onto some tentative petting. Elizabeth, while not passionate, did not resist my admittedly shy groping of her lovely breasts.

On parting, we agreed to meet again next week at the entrance of the club. Elizabeth refused my offer to pick her up at home.

The reason for her refusal was, at our second meeting, cleared up. Elizabeth had been married, was now separated, and was in the throes of securing a divorce. I knew nothing then about her problems or the intricacies of the Australian divorce laws. She only told me that nobody from her family must know of our relationship, including her sister.

I was not discouraged but rather enjoyed the clandestine nature of our meeting and what I hoped would develop.

For the first time since arriving, I found that being an outsider in Australia had its rewards. With me, a stranger-nobody, an Australian woman could be safely indiscrete. Therefore, Elizabeth saw no need to hide what she wanted in our relationship. I had told her where and how I lived and about the easy-going relationship with my landlord. As a bachelor, he did not object to his tenants being visited by their girlfriends.

At the end of our again prolonged and promisingly warming up petting in her street, in the dark between two streetlights, Elizabeth suddenly said, "If you want, Fred, I could come and see you next week at your place. Give me your address."

I happily agreed.

The day arrived on which, I was confident, I would finally lose my virginity. As we had the whole night, when Elizabeth arrived, we sat down for a coffee and brandy in my cubicle in the kitchen I shared with my landlord. He came in, passed by with a friendly 'Hello' and cast an approving eye over Elizabeth. So put at ease, she smiled back at him.

Back in my rather small and sparsely furnished room, we sat down on my bed. We kissed, and sitting awkwardly at the bed's edge, I began to undress Elizabeth. I was tense and had no idea how to turn the undressing into an exciting caress. I fumbled with the seemingly unending combinations of buttons that then adorned the dresses and blouses and the tiny hooks that secured the brassieres and girdles of women.

Elizabeth just smiled. Her body helpfully turned and lifted, but her hands were idle. Finally, I had finished the task, and she lay naked on my bed waiting for me.

I continued to do everything wrong. Firstly, I turned away to undress as quickly as I could. Then came a fumbling search for the condom in the drawer. I struggled to unwrap it. Then, becoming more and more flustered, with my bare bum turned on Elizabeth, I tried with clumsy fingers to roll the flimsy rubber onto my half-erection. I had never done it before.

It was difficult, and I got more and more flustered.

When I finally joined Elizabeth on the bed, I had gone limp. And Elizabeth, when I tentatively began to kiss her, first her lips and then on her breasts, barely responded. Her skin, even her lips, felt cold. I was losing hope that my kisses and caresses could revive either her warmth or interest.

I mumbled some excuses, and we scrambled awkwardly off the bed to be able to slip and hide under the covers. I don't know whether I thought at that stage of the night with Erna; how our desire to make love was thwarted by cold and an unhandled embarrassment. I should have felt safe in my room, on this only coolish September evening, without the numbing cold and threat of embarrassing exposure.

However, what was lacking on that night was the hungry desire that had driven Erna and me. Elizabeth had quite unemotionally decided that we might as well fuck. She was twenty-seven and sexually experienced. I, being a virgin, was merely temporarily deflated and embarrassed. I did not realise that my blundering had left Elizabeth pretty much undisturbed and quite possibly unsurprised.

Once under the doona, Elizabeth snuggled up. I was tense, but she seemed happy in just joining me in a relaxed, companionable warming up. After a while, I found the courage to apologise for my clumsiness. She just gave a short laugh and told me not to worry; we had all night if we wanted to. She said not what. We got warmer. More and more, the slight movements of Elizabeth’s still so foreign body felt like it was reaching out for mine.

We started to kiss again, at first, gently teasing with probing lips and tips of the tongue. I was still not sure that Elizabeth wanted more. Only when her hand moved caressingly behind my head, and our tongues began to mill and thrust, did I dare to touch her body. I don't know what stopped me from throwing off the doona, but it seemed just right to caress Elizabeth blindly. Although my hands knew parts of her body that knew my touch from our petting in the car, now, naked, stretched out and open to be explored, it was intimidatingly new to me.

It was so different from our petting in the car. Now I could and began, hesitating at first, to move my hands over Elizabeth. I kissed and caressed her breasts until her nipples hardened. Then I slid my hand down her belly, brushing over her bush before seeking the velvety inside of her thighs. And it tempted them to open! Responding to Elizabeth's sudden drawing in of breath, followed by her invading, urging tongue, my hand closed over her sex. Then, as in the car once before, parting her lush secret lips, a finger slid readily into a, to me, surprisingly hot and slippery cunt.

Tonight, there would be more, and I could wait no longer. I withdrew my teasing finger. Then, gripping Elizabeth's buttocks, I pressed my now painfully hard erection against her groin. There was no countering response, but turning her face sideways, Elizabeth said in a surprisingly matter-of-fact voice, "I think you are ready".

It sounded as if, knowing it was my first time, she had decided that fucking just had to be done and gotten over with. She turned onto her back and spread her legs. Her face calm, her body's language instructed me to get on top of her. She raised and opened her legs some more, reached down for my cock, and guided it, centimetre by centimetre, into a from foreplay still hot and welcoming pussy.

For me, it was a partly disappointing first fuck. I was, while a virgin, not ignorant about sex. With the theoretical sexual knowledge I possessed, I suspected that I disappointed Elizabeth as a lover. Her readiness to fuck and the incredible hot-gripping tightness of Elizabeth’s cunt undid me much too quickly. She gave no sign, however, of being displeased or disappointed.

On driving her home that night, Elizabeth still wanted to park. As I killed the engine, she pulled me immediately into a tongue-wrestling, hungry kiss that demanded more.

I was too inexperienced to understand what drove her. It was undeniably a delayed response of arousal that Elizabeth had suppressed while we fucked. Now she wanted it; wanted it all. Not breaking away in protest, when my hand reached for her thighs, she pressed closer. As they opened, her tongue thrust and whirled deep into my mouth.

With a moaned, "Fred, Fred! Touch me!" Elizabeth reached between her legs to push her panties aside. My fingers parted her lush pussy-lips, and first one, and then two fingers began to slide in and out of her still or again, slippery-hot, and now so welcoming cunt.

Elizabeth responded to my fingers probing, at first, with a hungrily excited tongue. But then it changed to a staccato of whimpering sobs of - "Yes! Yes! Yes!" which finished with a shriek of "My God! No! - No!" Her body shook and convulsed as she dug her face into my shoulder. Through my clothing, her teeth left their mark. It was Elizabeth's first orgasm; perhaps, as I learned later, not only with me.

Over the following four months, we saw each other surprisingly often, considering that our relationship had to be kept secret for Elizabeth. Her regular going-out and late returns soon raised the suspicion of her policeman-father. He was already angry with her for wanting to divorce; he had liked his son-in-law and disapproved of their separation.

Elizabeth had trained as a hairdresser, had married at nineteen, and had worked since her separation eighteen months ago in sales for a medium-sized distributor of cosmetic and beauty products. She had one close friend: a divorcee, who provided her with an alibi when needed.

About her Ex and her marriage, Elizabeth refused to talk. Although I was young and inexperienced, I often sensed his presence, especially in bed. For Elizabeth, he was, sometimes, an intimidating third party that she found impossible to banish.

Because of the hidden nature of our relationship, we rarely went out. Only twice, I think, I took her to a different continental club than the one where we had met. We did not want to risk meeting her sister. Practically all the time was spent in my place, and Elizabeth was quite relaxed about being there. On a few occasions, she stayed overnight, telling her parents that she was on a sales trip to the country.

In being so much together, we talked a lot despite my, at this stage, rather elementary English. But we did not mention two things. One, quite naturally, was the future. Both of us knew there wasn't one, for us two, together.

Our silence on the second topic was rather strange. Elizabeth did not want to talk sex or about sex, even though ours was an intense, almost exclusively sexual relationship that she had sought. She wanted sex cloaked in silence. I learned to accept it - until her oral shyness eventually broke - as a part of the puzzling ambivalence that Elizabeth brought into our relationship.

My first impression on meeting Elizabeth was that she was an ice-maiden. I had danced with her and courted her for much of the night, and she had barely thawed. Then later, parked in the car surrounded by darkness, she sat and did not want to leave. She waited for me to find her quietly glowing centre of sensuousness.

Over the following weeks and months, I learned much about the challenge of relating to someone whose sexual feelings swayed unpredictably between a simmering sensuality and then, suddenly, its sullen denial behind a mask of indifference.

It was, of course, as much my problem as hers. I was inexperienced and insecure. Foremost, I wanted to show Elizabeth that I was a better lover than my, I thought, disappointing first-time performance in bed had indicated. My problem was that I had no idea of what my capabilities as a lover were or were supposed to be.

Two evenings later, Elizabeth revisited me. I was determined to make, this time, 'proper' love. With a heater glowing in my room and the light low, we started to pet. To avoid the difficulties I had on our first night together, I asked her eventually to undress for me. I half expected her reluctance.

But Elizabeth just turned away from me. With a slight shrug, one that I felt more than saw, she began to undress. It was no teasing strip. Taking unhurriedly off one piece of clothing after the other, she folded each item to place it on a chair. All this she did in silence as if I wasn't in the room. Naked, she lay down on the bed; resting on her elbow, she looked at me and calmly watched me undress.

I did not notice that there was something odd in Elizabeth's response in my excitement and still virginal inexperience. All I saw was her beauty as she lay there naked, waiting for me. And, God, did I want her as I hurriedly undressed!

Eventually, when I clambered down next to her, Elizabeth stretched out, offering her beautiful body to my sight and touch. But her eyes were shut, and there was no smile on her face but an expression of almost resignation.

I began to kiss her, but while Elizabeth did not resist, neither her lips nor tongue respond with any signs of excitement. When I moved down to kiss her breasts, her body held still. There was no quickening of her breath and no hardening of her, as I knew from our petting, arousable nipples. Only when my lips began to wander south over her belly did Elizabeth respond. With a firm "No!" she pushed my head aside.

Then, as if reluctantly giving in, she spread her legs and raised her knees. Elizabeth was permitting me to fuck her!

My cock was hard, and I was in my performance-anxiety insensitive. So, I mounted. I had not yet learned to take consent not for granted, and Elizabeth, ice-maiden-like, neither gave it nor resisted. But there was no helping hand to guide my blindly searching cock. I penetrated her painfully, opposed by her dryness all the way. Suddenly I was overcome by shame, and it sobered me up.

Still mounted, I stopped to look at Elizabeth’s half-turned-away face. Its bland calmness and, what could only be, the show of indifference humiliated me in my desire. It drained all arousal. I withdrew. Not in defensive anger but ashamed I pulled the covers over us.

Elizabeth had turned away, but I did not want to be left alone. Wordless, I drew close to her back without daring to embrace her. She was silent, and I could find no words. So, we fell asleep.

It was the feel of her body that woke me up. She had turned towards me, and her nakedness touched my body almost along its length. I could feel her hardened pointy nipples that earlier no kissing could arouse caressing my chest. Our mouths found each other, and hers was unashamedly wanting. My hand slid down, searching to touch her lovely ass. Her hips pressed closer, and her groin searched for the feel of my hardening erection.

After a while, she turned her hips away from my hand on her buttocks. It slipped, as if guided, over her sex. With slight, hesitantly gyrating movements, her pussy was searching for my fingers. And indeed, first one, then two slid in as if drawn. In our kissing now, Elizabeth's tongue thrust deep and deeper into my mouth. I read this as a signal that now she wanted more.

With a sigh – was it regret? - Elizabeth reached down to guide my cock slowly into the warmth of her cunt. I tried to be as caressing as my clumsy, untrained hips allowed, with only now and then a deep probing thrust. It was good, and I wanted it to be good for her. I kissed her, but now, as we fucked, her kisses were no longer charged with desire. Elizabeth willingly offered herself to pleasure me: it was an offering that she did not fully share. Realising this cooled my ardour; it also helped me, paradoxically, to overcome my performance anxiety.

This second time I fucked Elizabeth with feeling, lovingly and long. I did not, however, bring her anywhere near a coming: I knew it, and she did not pretend.

It was not only that I was too young and immature to understand Elizabeth's ambivalent sexual responses. Part of the reason was that she refused to talk about her marriage, her husband and why she wanted a divorce. She did not want to bring this into our, for her, purely opportunistic relationship.

In hindsight, it seems clear to me that in her marriage Elizabeth had learned that to fuck meant to be used. In reacting, she had learned to respond to getting fucked with non-caring indifference. She had married young and had been sexually non-awakened. She found herself, I suspect, married to an insensitive husband that demanded of her, as per right, sexual services that for her offered no erotic reward.

The developing love story of Elizabeth and I eventually proved that her apparent sexual ambivalence rested not in her character. It was learned and, when shown to be no longer necessary, gradually and for both of us happily unlearned.

I feared losing Elizabeth. I wanted to please and pleasure her, wanted her to like me. This made me, for the time we were together, into a careful and considerate lover. Ours was a sexual relationship, and we had sex, often prolonged and intensive, every time we met. I left Elizabeth, however, alone in my room to get undressed and into bed.

I joined her later, slipping naked under our doona. We talked and joked, sometimes for an hour, with just an occasional casual touch and kiss to confirm our togetherness, and then just lying, as if waiting to go to sleep. It was beautiful how her body unfailingly responded to our nearness. Elizabeth soon pressed closer, wanting to be held and touched and caressed even if it was under the covers in our early days.

I wanted very much to look at her and cover all of her with greedy kisses. I had learned that she would not protest if I left the light on and urged her to strip; she would do so without hesitation. She would let me throw off the covers and do with her naked body as I pleased. I knew now, however, that it was not something that she liked to happen. If so violated, she turned into a disengaged ice maiden.

Elizabeth did not like to be naked. Like all the women I have known, she found fault with her body and did not believe that I was blind to them and found her beautiful. It was a drawn-out but tantalisingly exciting task to convince Elizabeth that she could show with pride what I loved to touch. I loved her breasts, which she thought were too small and too flat to be reshaped by a bra into the then fashionable pointy prominence. She felt her midriff was not narrow enough. It did not bother me when I was finally allowed to kiss my way down, closer and closer to her light-coloured bush.

At its edge, she always stopped me. Reaching for my head, she gently moved my kisses up her belly and again to her breasts. I loved to feel her belly-tensing unrest as my lips moved closer, and my nose slid into the hair of her auburn triangle and the smell of her sex. Elizabeth hesitated longer and longer with each of my journeys down before her hand directed me north again. It remained a boundary that we did not cross, and I regret it still.

Elizabeth also, I found out, disliked her bottom, despite her long and shapely legs ending in curvaceous, sexily dimpled buttocks. I loved to touch her ass, but there was always a tiny signal of discomfort when I did. Later, when we were making more uninhibited love, I asked Elizabeth if I could take her from behind. She did not turn cold but said firmly, "No".

About three months into our relationship, I was beginning to believe that the ice-maiden had fully thawed. We still started our night by a companionable being together in bed. Our growing familiarity with each other, however, did not prolong our stay. Instead, both of us got quicker and more heatedly aroused by our naked nearness. Our talking to each other – Elizabeth still being too shy for sex-talk – was replaced by a less and less inhibited foreplay with the bedside light still on.

One night, fully aroused, we turned hungrily on each other to fuck. Risking more, I turned on my back and pulled Elizabeth, panting and far from calm, on my top. I wanted a change from the missionary position that she so exclusively favoured. I wanted to look at Elizabeth, with her body arching and twisting under the trust of my cock and caress of my hands.

While she did not resist what I attempted, she did not assist either. I knew better than to force or rush her. So, I enjoyed her body huddled over mine. We kissed, and her mouth was welcoming and loving. My hands feathered lightly up and down her back. Eventually, my hands dared to slide down to stroke, with the lightest of touch, over her shapely buttocks. Her body did not shrink away, and as her tongue sexily entwined mine, I felt encouraged to go further. I reached down to pull her thighs up till her crotch straddled my waiting cock. She willingly lifted for my cock to slide home. She, being on top, continued to kiss me while we, restricted in our movement as we were, gently and sensuously fucked.

But I wanted to see her ride. Gripping her shoulders, I almost forced Elizabeth to sit up. She sat on me, stock-still, her shoulders slumped, her face filled with a sudden sadness. I could not bear to look at her, so I pulled her down into my arms. I said nothing; there was nothing to say. I just held her close, stroking her hair. After a while, we separated and covered up. Clinging to each other like children lost, we fell asleep.

I must have turned away from her. When I woke in the dark, her body was pressed tightly against my back, and I could feel the touch of her firm nipples on my skin. Her arm was across my middle, and my cock was in her hand.

Elizabeth had never done that before. I did not move, but she knew I was awake. She bit into my shoulder, following it with a wet, sucking kiss. It was meant to punish and mark me! Her grip on my hardening cock had firmed, and she was slowly, tantalisingly slowly, masturbating me. If I did not stop her, she would get me undone.

So, I turned out of her dangerous grip. I slid lower on the bed, and although we were in the dark, I crawled under the light covers. I wanted to lock myself in with Elizabeth's body heat and smell. My mouth closed in on her breasts to punish her with sucking, teasing and biting her sensitive nipples. But Elizabeth, instead of shrinking away, began to push my mouth from one perky, hardening nipple to the other. Her hand in my hair did not hold me back when I drew my tongue down over her belly, with my feverish kisses just stopping at the edge of her bush.

And my hand had begun to stroke up and down Elizabeth’s cramped and in indecision rubbing together thighs. Eventually, as they opened, Elizabeth’s groin jerked up and pressed her shivering pubes against my hovering mouth.

New as it was for me, God, I was tempted! But when my fingertips parted the lusciously plump lips of her pussy, Elizabeth roughly grabbed my hair and pulled me up and into a wild kiss. Her thrusting-in tongue and the searching grind of her pussy against my fucking her fingers told me how tempted she had been to let my tongue have its wicked way with her pussy.

And then we fucked, and we fucked with all restraints abandoned. In the darkness - in my imagination - I could see Elizabeth as I rose and rammed my steely rod into her straining and twisting loin. I loved what I saw, and I wanted to hear her cry out as I thrust my cock again and again into her hotly counter-pushing cunt.

It brought me close to the edge, much too soon. I pulled out to recover. Elizabeth’s protesting moan of, "No! No! Don’t stop!" I answered with a gasping kiss as I began to stroke her shivering body. Whispering, I told her how beautiful she was, how much I loved her, and how happy she made me by now wanting me as much as I wanted her.

And then we fucked again, now immersed in a long, lustful search for the ultimate pleasure. When Elizabeth finally climaxed, she shivering stretched-out with a loudly moaned, almost triumphant "Yes, Fred! Oh, yes!

For me, no holding back was possible. We collapsed into each other's arms. After I recovered, I suddenly remembered that I had not put on a condom. It was the first time I had failed to do so. Elizabeth just smiled when I apologised and told me not to worry. Since a miscarriage in the early years of marriage, she had never gotten pregnant.

When Elizabeth, late into the night, reluctantly got up to get dressed, she paused. She was gloriously naked as she looked down on half-awake me and held up her panties. With a smirk and glint in her eyes, she asked, "Do I need these? You still want us to park again, don’t you?"

She folded the panties and put them in her handbag. Giving me a telling wink, Elizabeth slowly rolled up her nylons. In drawing up her girdle to wriggle it over her hips, her thighs spread. As she fixed with steady hands the girdle straps to her stockings, I could watch her knuckles brush teasingly over her pussy's lips. It was an incredibly sexy promise and invitation. My supposed ice-maiden had truly thawed!

We talked little during our drive to Box Hill, but Elizabeth's hand was on my thigh, almost touching my rampant erection. With the car parked and the engine and lights turned off, I turned to her. I was curious and eager to find out how she would keep what she had so wantonly promised. She put a hand on my chest, not pushing, just holding me away.

"Do you mind if I make it my night tonight?" Elizabeth asked. Her voice was slightly hoarse as she pulled me into a long, lingering kiss. She only stopped to draw me closer to allow her lips to wander over my cheek and throat before sliding slowly up to my ear. A probing flicker of her tongue made me shiver as she whispered, "Touch me, please! You know how much I love you fingering my naughty pussy!"

Elizabeth took hold of my wrist, guiding my hand under her skirt, onto her bared crotch until my fingers had found her already or still lust-swollen lips. Her in excitement labouring breath filled my ear as my fingers caressed them open. As they found their way, Elizabeth moaned a hungrily urging, "Yes! Yes! Feel my hot pussy!" in my ear. When she switched to kissing, her tongue thrust into and explored the depth of my mouth. My fingers in her pussy matched her tongue in a wild sort of dance. Neither was sparing and gentle,

We had fucked beautiful and long already that night, but both of us still wanted more. Elizabeth almost threw herself over my thigh to unbuckle my belt, unzip my fly to free my straining cock. Her feverish hurry let me know how eager she was, how much she wanted us to fuck right now.

But, at this moment, a car approached, and its lights invaded the car. Elizabeth hid, pressing her face onto my thighs without releasing her grip on my cock. Looking down, I saw how close she had pulled it to her lips.

I almost cried out.

When darkness cloaked us again, Elizabeth let go. Rising, she moved away from me on the Holden’s bench, all the way to the car's door. Both of her hands reached for me, urging me to follow. Once I was close to her, she swung her leg over my thighs. Then her groin began to circle, searching for my cock. I grabbed her buttocks to lower her gently onto my length, but Elizabeth would have none of this.

With her head thrown back and a half-swallowed cry, she thrust herself down to spear in all of my cock’s rampant size. Then, gyrating out of her hips, Elizabeth started to ride me like the cowgirls I had read about. She fucked me hard, and her kisses told me, better than words, of her newfound passion for fucking. The sudden arching back of her body and her hard grinding of cunt against cock were like shrieks of unbridled lust.

Suddenly she threw her arms around me and buried her head against my shoulder. With a drawn-out moan, her whole body convulsed and shook as her ass lifted and strained away from my undischarged erection. New to such an orgasm, she wanted to escape. With a voice still sexily hoarse from the wild ride, she whispered, "Fred, I hope you are pleased with me. I have never done anything like this before."

Elizabeth was in turmoil. She was still pretending it was all for me and not admitting how much she liked to fuck. Yet, on this night, she had become insatiable. My cock was still deep inside her, gripped and released, lasciviously sucked, not being surrendered. Her lips were on my ear; her panting, hot breath suggested the words she still refused to say. I decided to challenge her, force her over the blocking hurdle.

I grabbed Elizabeth's hair and pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips opened on touch, and her tongue joined mine in a lecherous wrestle that hid nothing anymore. With her hair in my grip, I pulled her out of our kiss. Holding Elizabeth's excitement-flushed face close to mine, I said, "Don’t keep silent. Tell me how much you love to fuck! - Fuck hard and long, us fucking like tonight: Again, and again. Don’t you, Elizabeth?”

Gripped by anxiety and fighting for breath, I ran out of words.

Elizabeth, for long, long seconds, remained silent. I began to fear that I had been too crude, gone too far, too quickly. I let go of her hair. Suddenly her arms locked around my body, and with an explosively gasped, “Yes! Yes, Fred! Fuck me! God, I want it! Don’t stop now!” her cunt started a seductive grind anew. And I slipped my hands under her skirt and girdle and dug my fingers into her straining ass.

Without ever releasing my grip and spreading her buttocks, we fucked. Elizabeth, still astride, wanted to fuck me now into a shared coming. However, she was no longer in control. My grip on her ass could hold her back and urge her on. I made my cock tease her lips and clit, before ramming it in deep, again and again, tantalising her hot and eager and still partially innocent cunt into a boiling heat.

The hitherto forbidden words whispered, gasped, moaned and shouted poured out of our mouths while we fucked for a long, long time. Both of us climaxed in shaking spasms that did not want to stop. Elizabeth tried to suppress her welling-up moans. But then, throwing back her head, she cried out in shrill joy that turned into body-shaking laughter. Then she just sunk into my arms.

We rested with cock and cunt linked together for quite a while, almost falling asleep. It was past four in the morning, and it had been a night filled with surprises. Elizabeth finally reluctantly pulled away and straightened out her skirt and blouse. With a giggle, she dipped her finger into my soaked groin and the wet on the bench before admonishing me, “You will have to clean up this lovely mess. Was it really us that did this?”

Kissing me farewell on my ear, she whispered, “Sleep well and naughty dreams. God, I’ll have them after tonight!”

When I pulled away, my headlights caught her walking down the footpath. Looking briefly over her shoulder, she walked on. Her ass swayed in a cheeky farewell.

We were to see each other next Saturday. I think it must have been for me the longest week ever. What Elizabeth had chosen to reveal to me that incredible night, I could not get out of my mind. I was elated and jubilant and also, with the vanity of a young male full of pride.

Some doubts still bothered me. Did it mean that our sex life had now changed? Had it, to put it crudely, normalised so that it needed no longer the forbearance with which we had nurtured and maintained our desire for each other before? For me, the most significant discovery in loving Elizabeth was how much I needed, as a man, to be desired and wanted.

Most importantly, I had learned that desire could not be forced and that I wanted that slow, in unison shared welling-up of lust. I did not want it to change.

One Saturday night, it was a warm November evening, Elizabeth came early. We sat for a while outside in the garden, having a coffee. In my room, as often before, I left her to undress and get into bed. I came back with champagne and glasses. With my still clumsy English, I told her that I loved her and that we are celebrating our what: Union? Affair? Adventure? Words failed me.

Elizabeth burst out laughing and ordered me to get undressed. When I poured the champagne for us and slid in next to her, she pushed the cover slowly aside. She blushed as we toasted each other. The lights were on, it was a warm evening, and Elizabeth clearly wanted to be naked, leered at, and desired. And God, I wanted her! The champagne, therefore, was by us not sipped. Inbetween wildly kissing and groping, not only by me, we drank it in greedy gulps!

Turning on my side in our wrestling, I had lifted Elizabeth’s leg, bending her knee almost to her chest. It opened her crotch to the probing tip of my cock. While it slid slowly into her slippery, oh-so-ready pussy, I watched Elizabeth’s lust-filled face. In this, for me, new side-on position, we could fuck more lovingly, more teasingly, more lasciviously than in the missionary one that she had so exclusively favoured.

Raised on my elbow, I could now not only see her face and body but could freely touch her breasts and let my fingers play on her sweet clit. And, both of us could look down to watch my cock, as it tongue-like kissed and caressed her pussy’s lips before sinking deep into her pulsating cunt with a passionate thrust.

Elizabeth was quickly won over. We had become in our sexual tastes a match. We delighted in the playful sensuality of our new way to fuck. It became for the remaining meetings that were left to us the favoured position.

It thrilled me, especially that the sensual intensity of our fucking finally broke her earlier silence. The second time we fucked like this, my cock just teased her too long and gentle. Squirming under my fingers that played with her nipples, Elizabeth grabbed my hair and moaned, “Don’t make me wait forever, Fred. Fuck me! Fuck me hard, Fred! - Show me how much you want me!”

I responded with a burst of deep thrusts into Elizabeth’s hotly pulsating cunt. As she began to come, her whole body shivering, stretched out. She wanted me to see how she embraced her pleasure. Facing me, with her arms thrown back and her groin arching and grinding against my spurting cock, she cried out, “Yes! Fuck me! God, I’m coming! Don’t stop!”

And we fucked, almost demented like, through wave after crashing wave of coming together. Our sex possessed us; with every restraint abandoned, we could not get enough of each other.

Elizabeth had shed all her initial passivity but still left it mainly to me to initiate the new into our arousing plays. I learned to read her responses and never persisted with what Elizabeth did not want or was not yet ready to try. Regarding the latter, as with her shyness to ride – except that wild night in the car - she often surprised me. But I never again attempted to take her from behind. She made no move to encourage me. For me, this was enough reason not to persist.

There was one, more uncertain matter that Elizabeth left unresolved. In our love-making, she now willingly offered her body. But, whenever I kissed my way down over her tensing belly, her hands grabbed for my hair. They did not try to stop me when I breathed, in passing over, my lust into her bush and drew in her sexy smell. Neither did they pull me back when, eventually, my kisses and tongue moved slowly up her thighs, closer and closer to the other lips I wanted to kiss.

Every time I did so, Elizabeth hesitated longer before she gently pulled me up for a different kiss. But then she just stopped doing so. I was free to do what I longed for. What stopped me was that I did not want to take what I wanted to be given. I wanted her hand, the one that had stopped me so often from going further, to push my lips and tongue on her now, as I suspected, quite eager to be kissed pussy. But it did not happen.

In early December, Elizabeth ended our illicit affair. Her father was becoming difficult. He kept questioning her closely about her absences and her late returns home. She thought he had searched her things to find her girlfriend’s address and phone number. Her so often used alibi was under threat. She lacked the money to leave her parents and set up on her own. Solicitor costs for the then lengthy divorce proceedings kept her short of funds.

I did not think of it then, but a further reason for Elizabeth’s to end our affair was, I am sure in retrospect, that it had become for her more than just an opportunistic fling. By accident, we had found in each other an ideal sexual partner.

I became that by not demanding what Elizabeth, due to her past, had never freely given. And Elizabeth had inadvertently discovered her sensuality. With me, she neither wanted nor needed to withhold or hide her fire and longings. It was for her and virgin me a proper beginning, a step-by-step journey of exciting sex and liberating discovery.

Elizabeth, as an older woman, would have wished to find this in a long-term partner. But I was a twenty-one-year young New Australian with no real prospects. For her, I was not the right match. That I was not a proposition for her had, of course, tempted the ice-maiden at the start into this, she believed, risk-free sexual diversion. But then – I only understood in retrospect - it became more than that. And Elizabeth just had to end it.

Not understanding what made her do so spared me from anger. At our last meeting, I was desperately sad. We did not make love. Fully dressed, we lay on the bed for a while. Both of us found nothing more to say.

Early in the evening, I drove Elizabeth home. Stopping between the two streetlights where I had always parked, I kept the engine running. Elizabeth sat there, next to me, her head lowered, her hands in her lap, for what seemed a long time. Then she lent-over to kiss me hurriedly on my cheek. I had turned my face away from her.

With a strangled “Goodbye Fred”, she reached for the door’s handle and quickly got out.

When I pulled away from the kerb, the car’s headlights caught Elizabeth in their beam, hurrying down the footpath. She did not look up to see me go.