_______________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth in a heightened state of anticipation. Mitchell in deep thought, still considering the life altering move he was about a half hour away from.
Once again in their quiet mode, the Oldsmobile turned off Lake Shore onto Bryn Mawr, onto Ridge angling northwest to—the street that bordered the cities of Chicago and Evanston—to Howard Street and the Elevated station. Taking a right on Howard…
“There it is.”
“The blue convertible?”
“Yes.” Okay, Mitchell thought, when I get out, I’ll tell her I’m sorry, but I’m going to go home.
Chicago, Illinois
February 17, 1963
Pulling into the no parking area behind the Ford convertible. Turning to him, “Don’t worry,” caressing his cheek, “I won’t lose you, Mitchie.”
His door to fidelity still open, thinking, Tell her you’re going home! Tell her! Instead, taking her hand, holding it tightly against his cheek, “I won’t let you lose me, baby!”
****
Stopping in front of a large, three story C shaped structure, getting out of her car, coming to his. “Park here, Mitchie. I’ll meet you in,” pointing, “the foyer.”
“What if someone bumps into you with me?”
“No one knows anyone here… I’m parking in the back and I’ll see you in a minute.” Leaning through the window, she kissed his forehead and, as though reading his thoughts, “You’re not going to disappear now, are you?”
His door to fidelity still open, Tell her! “No, baby.” Holding her face in both hands, kissing her on the mouth, “I’m not going to disappear.”
****
Following Elizabeth to the second floor landing, It’s still not too late! Watching, as though in slow motion, as Elizabeth slipped the key into the lock, It’s still not too late! The door unlocked, Tell her. His door to fidelity still open, Tell her! Stepping inside of the fashionably furnished apartment, Tell…
The door that was open, closed.
Taking hers off, “Leave your coat here, Mitchie.”
Dropping his coat onto a chair…
Following her, feeling as though in a metaphysical dream, knowing that in a minute he was going to be naked with a woman other than Marsha.
Knowing that for the first time in his life he would be making love… having sex with a woman other than Marsha. Knowing that within minutes he would be naked and making love… having sex with this beautiful young woman whom, since meeting in October of 1958 Mitchell Lipensky felt he loved. With this woman whose body, whose breasts and vagina he’d imagined the hundreds of times that he’d made masturbatory love to.
Mitchell followed Elizabeth into what he assumed was the guest bedroom.
Now, at a loss as how to proceed, he watched as Elizabeth kicked her shoes off, laid on the bed and, “Come on, baby,” patted the pillow.
Draping his jacket over a chair, pulling his tie and shoes off, Mitchell Lipensky lay alongside Elizabeth Herzon.
On their sides, facing each other, the length of their bodies touching, sensing the heat of their fully clothed bodies through their clothing. Laying closely together, their lips met… gently, gently… Their tongues touched… touching, feeling, tasting. His hand now clasping her left buttock, her hand now clasping his right buttock…
Kissing, tasting, feeling…
Closer now, tighter now…
Sensing the sluice of her moisture.
Feeling the tickle within his penis.
Closer yet, tongues darting, open mouth to open mouth, each breathing through the mouth of the other…
Mitchell’s hand now beneath Elizabeth’s blouse… touching her bare back, feeling the smoothness of her warm flesh…
Elizabeth’s hand now beneath Mitchell’s shirt… touching his bare back, feeling the smoothness of his warm flesh…
Oh, my God!
His fingers finding the clasps to her bra, squeezing the two fabric ends, the three clasps slipped open. Hesitating a moment, the fantasy becoming reality, Mitchell’s hand, moving from her back to her chest, now held, My God, Elizabeth’s large—larger than any he’d ever held—so warm, so soft breast within his hand. Pulling his lips from her lips, easing her onto her back, her blouse and bra now high on her chest, looking at the dream of Elizabeth’s breasts, his tongue touching the very tip of one tightening nipple, closing his mouth around it, tasting Elizabeth, drawing on the nipple, lifting the other breast, feeling its soft weight, kissing it, putting his face between both, kissing her chest, smelling the special soap scent of Elizabeth’s flesh, pressing the flesh of both breasts against the sides of his face…
Breathing heavily, “Mitchie…” Fluid soaking her panties, wanting… needing him in her. “Let’s get naked, Mitchie.”
Get naked!
“Yeah, baby!” Pulling himself from the warmth, yanking his socks off, standing, facing Elizabeth, watching her watching him, not bothering to unbutton his shirt, pulling it over his head…
Not bothering to unbutton it, pulling her blouse and loosened bra over her head, standing, lowering her skirt and knee length hose…
Short of exhibition, loving being nude in front of a woman, though knowing his wife no longer looked at him, no longer saw him, lowering his slacks, along with his shorts. When released, his penis springing forward—watching Elizabeth watch him…
Both standing nude now.
As much as Mitchell Lipensky enjoyed the sensation of standing nude before this young woman…
This young woman, in spite of her husband’s taunts, threats and cajoling, knew that her body was far from—forget perfect—Elizabeth Herzon/Lipshitz knew that her body was far from what she hoped it, one day, might be, but, amazingly, now being nude with Mitchell overshadowing any doubts she had…
This is me, Elizabeth thought for the first time in her life. Love me for me!
Each seeing what until that moment had only been a fantasized dream of the other
And, oh, no, not disappointed by any means!
The dream of his fantasy, the fantasy Mitchell Lipensky’s erotic dreams were made of, the real Elizabethdifferent than his dream Elizabeth…
This Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth even more than his imagined dream girl. “Oh, my God, Lizzie!”
Looking at the no longer illusory beauty of Elizabeth’s naturally hanging breasts. Looking at the silver dollar size, pale pink areolae, along with the trimmed thatch of her dark blonde pubic hair. Exciting him almost beyond comprehension; stretch marks across her breasts, soft abdomen and fairly wide hips bothering him not in the slightest! “Oh, my God, Lizzie!” Sensing the tickle within his urethra, “You are beautiful!”
Pretty much as she’d imagined, the dream of her fantasy Mitchell, except for his penis, not too different from the real Mitchell now before her.
Darker complexioned, with more body hair and far less muscular than her overly athletic husband, which was just fine with Elizabeth, looking at Mitchell’s rigid penis—though not having the length of Myron’s, was certainly thicker than Myron’s. Seeing the crystalline string of semen…
Anxious before, anxiety levels now beyond comprehension…
Each studying the other…
My God! Both thinking the same thought.
Becoming visually acquainted one with the other…
The barely seen stream of semen lengthened…
The fluid within her vagina flecking onto the low hair there.
Laying again. “Come on, baby!” Her arms open to him. Her thighs open to him. Once again surprised at her wantonness. “Make love to me, Mitchie!”
Looking at the stunning picture before him, still not quite believing he was really here, receiving an invitation from the loveliest woman he’d ever seen, let alone “been with”…
Remembering, “Lizzie, I never thought we’d be here, like this, at least today, and I don’t have a rubber.”
“No need, baby. I’m on birth control.” Wiggling her fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture. “Come, on, baby!”
Looking at Elizabeth’s breasts, now flattened across her chest. Looking at Elizabeth’s obviously easily excited nipples protruding a half inch above the tightening, now russetcolored areolae. Knowing how quickly he could ejaculate—no time for foreplay—positioning his body between her thighs and into Elizabeth’s arms, hearing, actually hearing the displacement of fluid as, needing no compass, immediately finding its way, My God, his penis swathed within the slick heat, Elizabeth’s thighs held tightly about his waist, her pelvis immediately pumping hungrily. Knowing he could be seconds from ejaculation and not wanting to—allowing her whatever movement she needed, bringing his mouth to her mouth…
His penis deeply within her warm, ultra wet vagina, his tongue deeply within her mouth, allowing Elizabethwhatever movement she needed, feeling the soft heat of Elizabeth’s bare chest against his bare chest…
Feeling her thighs tighten, breathing her rasping breath through her nostrils, the fluid of her passion overflowing…
“Oh, baby!” Her thighs loosening, her legs extending from side to side, with each thrust hearing the wet sounds emanating from the upward and downward thrusting of her vagina onto his penis. “Yeah, baby!” moaning loudly, “Yeah, baby!” Arching her pelvis upward, “Oh, God!” and downward.
Hearing her! Actually hearing a woman in the throes of passion, and by her accelerated movement sensing the onset of her orgasm, joining in now, pumping now… once, twice, three times… “Oh, my God!” Feeling the sweet explosion. The sense of this stronger, harder, sweeter than any in recent memory
Feeling the throbbing ejaculations. “Yeah, baby! It’s okay, baby!” Her legs again tightening about his waist, “‘Come’ baby!” Her lips coming back to his lips, knowing he was triggered a second orgasm, or possibly this was one continuing orgasm.
Beyond description, the sweet pulsing pounded from brain to rectum…
“My God, Mitchie,” breathing huskily in his ear, “that’s never happened before!”
“What?” Catching his breath, feeling her breath. “What’s never happened before?”
“Myron’n’me, we’ve never come together! I’ve never come at the same time with Myron.” Their faces inches away, feeling his breath on her face, looking closely into his eyes, holding nothing back, wanting to hold nothing back. “And I think I came twice!” Thinking, rightfully, that his wife doesn’t tell him often enough, or ever, “Mitchie, you were wonderful!”
Taken back by Elizabeth’s frankness, I’m wonderful! he thought. A woman that loves having sex with me, and thinks I’m wonderful! Looking into her eyes, feeling her breath on his face, the words sounding completely inadequate, “Lizzie, honey, I didn’t do anything; it’s you that’s wonderful.”
Rolling over now, laying closely side by side, their hips touching, their hands held…
Elizabeth watched as, the blood draining from the spongy cells, Mitchell’s penis lowered, than draped onto his thigh, as…
Mitchell watched as, no longer excited, looking somewhat like a cherry pit in the sphere of her once again smooth, light pink areolae, Elizabeth’s stiffly standing nipples retracted.
Holding hands now, laying quietly side by side—I love you—each thinking the thought that both knew, at least for now, would best be left unsaid.
“Know what I’d love to do, Mitchie?”
At this time anything Elizabeth would love to do was okay with him.
Rolling off the bed, “I’d love to take a shower with you!” Taking hold of his arms, she pulled him upright.
Watching the sway of her breasts, “A shower together!” Scooting to the other side of the bed, “I’d love to!”
Following a step behind, seeing Elizabeth nude from behind for the first time, slightly surprised because her clothing had previously hid her figure.
Accentuated by wide hips, her sharply defined waist appeared narrower than it actually was and, okay, being a man who preferred zaftig (well rounded) women, loving each and every dimple, Elizabeth’s faded but noticeable translucent stretch marked stippled buttocks were a bit on the large side… Not too large, mind you, because, from the perspective of the young man walking a pace behind, Elizabeth truly appeared to be what could be considered as curvaceous and this he truly appreciated; however it would be easy to see how a woman, how a slightly, or certainly a more than slightly envious woman might misconstrue “curvaceous” for “a big ass.”
Elizabeth’s thighs looked to be a bit chubby also, but imagining his head between those comfortable looking thighs, to Mitchell Lipensky, Elizabeth’s “bit on the chubby side” thighs were just fine! Though having more definition if wearing a pair of moderately heeled shoes, barefooted now, her calves and ankles were also a bit on the thick side.
No problem whatsoever with anything about Elizabeth.
Often wondering what he’d seen in the perpetually thin woman he married, he’d analysed the reasons he and Marsha had married at least a million times and come to the conclusion, I was lonely and horny and she wanted to get away from her mother.
Because Mitchell’s taste in girls, and later women, had always leaned towards the more zaftig, the more well rounded, the more curvaceous girl and later woman. As far as Mitchell Lipensky was concerned, everything about Elizabeth Herzon/Lipshitz was absolutely beautifully perfect.
Shame they weren’t both single.
