The Joy of Sex

The Joy of Sex

— Seryozha! — I called loudly, having undressed completely, slightly opening the bathroom door. — Seryozha!

— Yes, — a muffled baritone sounded from the depths of the apartment.

— Please bring me a robe, a towel, and underwear, — I tried to shout over the noise of the running water. — It's on the bed, … in the bedroom …

Sergey approached the door sideways, shyly, trying not to look into the slightly ajar door, and handed over the towel, panties, and bra wrapped in a robe.

— Thank you, my golden boy! — I laughed, seeing how his hand trembled with embarrassment.

— What would I do without you? — and added loudly, not without irony

so that he could hear. — Wet and naked, I'd have to hop around the room! Shake my tits!

Subconsciously, I wanted Sergey to peek through the slightly open door, to see me in all my glory, and I would coyly squeal, covering my bare chest with my hand from his inquisitive gaze. But that, unfortunately, didn't happen, and couldn't have happened. He's such a clumsy oaf! How is he going to communicate with women further?

My cousin's son had been living in my apartment for a whole year now. I took her request with hostility, but Marinka assured me it wouldn't be for long, that he'd get a dorm room at the institute soon. But time passed, and he still didn't get one. Though, by now I'd gotten used to him; he was a man, after all, living in my house, brightening up my female loneliness. Tall, stately, handsome, he could make a decent match for any woman, but he was very timid and shy. And how does he plan to live further?

— The guy is twenty, and he's ready to faint from touching women's underwear! — The situation amused me, remembering his trembling hand. — And why did Marinka raise him to be so modest? And if he sees a naked woman, he'd probably die of fear altogether! He should have been born a girl! Some man he is!

— A nice-looking guy. He has everything, but he acts like …, — I mentally swore, feeling a slight excitement. — A woman would have to take his pants off and drag him onto herself!

It infuriated me, but I couldn't understand why! Perhaps because he ignored me as a woman? I don't know, but I chased such thoughts away, though it gave me immense pleasure to embarrass the boy. It wasn't even pleasure, but a real sexual delight.

It was no secret to me, the rare, inquisitive sidelong glances at my chest, legs, butt. But how hastily and shamefacedly he averts his eyes, afraid of being caught in the act, as if he'd done something shameful and forbidden. Or maybe I just wanted it that way, and I was making it all up, missing male affection? No, I'd never met such a shy little man before …

— Well, Marinka, you sure raised your son! — Smiling, I closed the shower stall behind me. — And he'll probably be something as a lover, won't he?

— Love has wings like a bird, — I sang loudly, exposing my naked body to the firm streams of water. — You can't catch it anyhow …

I quickly ran the razor over my soapy armpits in time with the melody, removing the stubble that had formed over a couple of days. Rinsing off the remaining lather, I soaped up my breasts.

— Yes, mine is still quite something! — flashed through my head with satisfaction. — Pity there's no connoisseur …

— Love is free, wandering forever, — I continued singing with delight. — It's stronger than all laws …

The streams of water pleasantly tingled my nipples, and I massaged them with my palms, as if they weren't my hands, but a lover's hands, swaying my head from side to side:

— Stop it, Svetka! Don't get yourself worked up!

— Every day I prepare like it's the first wedding night, — I laughed, but sadness gripped my heart. — Why do I need them all? Please them, cook, wash, and then they'll even call you a prostitute!

No, I wasn't thinking or wishing for anything or anyone at that moment when I directed the shower stream at my crotch. The warm water made me sigh pleasantly as it washed away the remaining soap and the shaved hairs from the fleshy dumplings of my labia. And I suddenly shuddered, took a deep, convulsive breath when the pulsating streams gently touched my clitoris.

— Oh, good, so good, — flashed through my head, and I immediately started scolding myself, realizing I'd gone too far and couldn't stop.

— Svetka, you're already forty-three, and you masturbate at every opportunity …, — someone inside weakly protested. — It's just ridiculous …

But instead of stopping, I squatted down, spreading my knees wide apart, and directed the firm streams from bottom to top onto the slightly parted folds of my vagina. The water flow tormented the impatient slit, my nipples tensed, stood erect in the middle of the pink areolas of wrinkled skin.

A hiss of delight escaped my throat as I squeezed, pulled at them, and the water flow tousled my heated vagina more and more fiercely, caressed my swollen, cherry-like clitoris. My lower belly churned, my legs trembled, the wave of orgasm crept closer and closer to me.

My cheeks burned, my face flushed with blood and …, as always unexpectedly, a wave of bliss pounced on my yearning body. I writhed in the throes of ecstasy, as if sitting on a man's face with a vibrating, passionate tongue that skillfully licked my girl, the wrinkled rose of my anus, trying to penetrate as deep as possible into the impatient flesh.

I strongly clenched, then relaxed my buttocks, periodically exploding with delight from the all-crushing orgasm. Suddenly, the climax arrived. My legs trembled, my ears popped, and colorful circles swam before my closed eyes.

— Oh, — weakened from pleasure, I sank to my knees, lowering my head to the floor. — Oh, so good …

Taking a few heavy breaths, I straightened up, turned off the water, and tried to stand on my feet. Funny, but they completely disobeyed me …

Closing my eyes, I tried to calm down, even out my breathing, gather my strength …

Finally, I stood up on my disobedient legs, took the towel with trembling fingers and a smile:

— Oh, how wonderful this is!

My body was satiated, calmed, but I had absolutely no strength to put on my underwear.

— How wonderful that was! — I repeated, perfectly understanding that it was a lie.

It's far from wonderful, even — bad! Terrible, because there's no one to share the joy of sex with!

I smiled sadly, looking at my reflection in the mirror. After masturbation, a wave of loneliness always descended, squeezing my heart, filling it with sadness. I never thought or dreamed of anyone while doing it. There was no object of desire! Only the firm streams of water and passionate fingers were the instruments in achieving orgasm.

During the actual process, I concentrated so intensely that nothing else interested me. It was truly genuine self-satisfaction! Only me, and I don't need anyone!

— Enough moping! — I smiled weakly at my reflection in the mirror, shaking off pensiveness and numbness. — Better hurry up, girlfriend, you still wanted to go to the store, look at a dress.

Sticking first one foot, then the other into the lacy black fabric, I pulled up the panties, covering the snow-white nakedness of my rather wide hips. A smile flickered on my face when my index finger slid over the delicate fabric covering the cleft between my legs. And immediately my pussy trembled with impatience!

— Wow, how lustful and insatiable you are! — I smiled at its reaction. — Little slut!

— My sweetie needs a hard, live cock and a little man as an attachment to it! — A conspiratorial whisper escaped my throat, staring intently into the eyes of my reflection. — Can such a beauty really remain without attention?

— No, of course not! — I answered the smiling, sexy woman in the mirror. — He will still be languishing with impatience to touch you, and you, after much persuasion, will condescendingly allow him to the altar of love, flowing with juices …

But there was no one on the horizon who could persuade her for long. Taking a deep breath, I fastened the clasp of the black bra, quickly twisted it around my body, threw the straps over my shoulders, hiding my still beautiful breasts in the lacy cups.

Drying my hair with a hairdryer, I threw on a rather short robe, and, smirking at my reflection, left the bathroom:

— Time to apply war paint and go hunting!

***

Pulling my long hair into a rather lush ponytail, like a skilled artist, I began applying makeup, and within a few minutes, an insanely beautiful woman looked back at me from the mirror.

— No, still a damn good-looking devil!

Dropping the robe, I examined my reflection from head to toe, turning from side to side. Say what you will, but I am beautiful! Legs, tits, butt — where are the men even looking?

Bright red lips, accentuated by dark liner, just called out:

— Well, where are you, darling? I'm waiting for you!

True, the mischievous sparkle in my eyes was slightly dulled by some sadness, unspent passion, but it's okay, I'm a strong woman, everything will be fine!

— Black stockings are missing, — I said thoughtfully and took out a narrow garter belt and stockings from the closet. — My legs will look very seductive in them.

Five minutes later, I stood in the hallway in a red, tight-fitting dress, the hem of which completely failed to hide the beauty of my slender legs, in high-heeled shoes:

— Seryozha, come with me! I need to buy a dress, you can advise which one …

He muttered something discontentedly, but didn't refuse, and the tone of my voice was adamant.

***

Each time, he timidly opened the curtain of the fitting room booth, evaluating another outfit.

— And how about this one? — I asked him unsuccessfully.

— Good, — was all he could say.

— Which dress do you like more? — I insisted, but Sergey just shrugged, — They're all beautiful …

He annoyed me more and more:

— What a wimp! Can't even appreciate a dress!

— Oh, — I squealed softly, feeling the dress zipper pinch my hair.

I not only couldn't take it off, but I couldn't even get my hands out of the sleeves. Out of helplessness, I wanted to cry. All attempts to break free from the zipper's trap only made it worse; it pinched my hair tighter and tighter.

— Seryozha, — I whispered, perfectly understanding I'd appear before him in a not entirely decent state. — Help …

The dress hem dropped just below my tailbone, completely failing to hide my butt, slightly covered by the lacy fabric of my panties, my slender legs sheathed in black stockings held up by the garters of the belt.

— My hair got caught in the zipper …, — I was losing patience. — Seryozha, where are you?

And immediately he responded, slightly opening the fitting room curtain.

— Why are you acting like a little kid, — I hissed with anger. — Come in! Close the curtain behind you, help me!

I stood bent over before him, perfectly aware that he had a perfect view of my snow-white buttocks, covered in black material, the tops of the black stockings held by the thin straps of the garter belt, in the fitting room mirrors.

— He'll think I did it on purpose! — flashed irritably through my head. — What's taking him so long? Clumsy oaf!

— Seryozha, hurry up, — I was angry, understanding the indecent position I was in before him. — I'm tired of standing like this!

— All done, Aunt Sveta, — he finally exhaled.

— What Aunt Sveta am I to you, — I threw at him irritably. — You might as well call me grandma! Sveta, how many times do I have to tell you? And stop using the formal 'you' with me!

Quickly adjusting the dress, hiding my charms, I looked in the mirror, trying not to meet his gaze:

— And how do you like this one?

He shrugged again.

My mood dropped; I had no desire to choose and try on anything else:

— That's it, I'm taking this one! Take the others back …

But my disappointments didn't end there.

— Is that her son or her lover? — a muffled whisper from a young salesgirl reached my ears.

— Who'd want such a monkey, — her partner giggled in response. — Made up like a clown, dressed like a prostitute, and thinks all the men are hers now. She's already got sand pouring out of her, and she's still at it …

— Why do you think that, she seems alright?

And a moment later, my heart clenched.

— Young man, is this your mother?

— No, not my mother, — Sergey answered calmly. — These dresses didn't suit us …

— Got it, bitches! — trembled inside.

With what disdain and superiority I looked at them, paying at the cash register.

— This is my lover, — I wanted to say, but Sergey wasn't far away and could hear my words.

— Let's go to a cafe, — I demonstratively took his arm, handing him the bag with the dress, — let's celebrate the purchase …

Oh, how I triumphed, feeling their envious glances following us.

— Oh, Seryozha, — I suddenly remembered, — let's stop by the lingerie department first.

— This dress needs beautiful underwear of a matching color, — I looked at him intently. — What do you think?

He shrugged, slightly embarrassed.

***

I spent a long time choosing panties and a bra, constantly asking for his advice, but he only smiled shyly. Oh, how I loved embarrassing him!

— Try it, — I turned the panties inside out and handed them to him, — isn't the fabric very pleasant and soft to the touch? Should I buy them?

Sergey carefully ran his fingers over the lacy fabric, as if touching the very place it would hide from prying eyes.

— Do you like it? — I smiled, looking at him intently.

He swallowed a lump