A FBOW excerpt in sequence: “Voyage Of Discovery”
Careful, extremely sexual interllude coming up
Chicago, Illinois
February 17, 1963
“In case you’re wondering why I’m telling you all this, it’s because it’s the way I am and I’m damned sick of pretending to be other than what I am and I want you to love me for ‘me’, and not ‘just’ for the way I look.”
Sitting up again... Thoughtfully quiet.
Concerned. Maybe I told him too much. “Why so quiet, Mitchie?”
“Your ‘tush’! You never told me ‘bout your tush.”
“Thought I’d let you find out ‘bout my tush for yourself.”
“Yeah! ‘Promise’, I’ll be ‘sure’ to do that! And your ‘boobies’?”
“What about my boobies?”
“You mind showin’ me all them stretch-marks on your boobies.”
“Mitchie...” unbuttoning her blouse, “...I thought you’d never ask.”
Still sitting on the edge of the bed, turning his body he watched as Elizabeth unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders…
Used to the darker skin of his wife, surprised at the witness of Elizabeth's chest and shoulders.
Watching him. Watching his reaction, reaching behind her back she unhooked the three hooks holding the two ends of the bra together.
Holding his breath, Mitchell moaned as the bra fell onto her lap.
The flesh of her breasts the colour of ivory with thin barely describable vertical stretch marks. The aureole of her nipples about two inches in diameter, light pink in colour with perturbing approximate half inch thick darker pink nipples.
As Elizabeth reclined, her breasts lay against her chest midway to her lap.
Waiting for Mitchell to say something, Elizabeth remained still.
“Lizzie...” speaking in a low tone, “...you’re beautiful.” Leaning to her, holding both breasts within the palms of his hands hands. “So, ‘beautiful’!” Lifting one to his lips, he kissed the nipple then, with Elizabeth’s hands held to either side of his head urging him closer — though he needed no urging,
drew the warm flesh into his mouth.
The aureola immediately tightening,.The nipple immediately hardening; sensing the transformation within his mouth Mitchell also sensed the transformation of his no longer, far from flaccid penis.
To reiterate:
Elizabeth Herzon had long, dark blonde, honey coloured streaked hair. A beautiful round face with large almond shaped, green eyes and a crooked smile that warmed ‘everyone’ Elizabeth came in contact with, and most certainly the young man who was now suckling on her breast.
Standing a bit above five foot, five inches, Elizabeth weighed approximately one hundred twenty-five pounds, with vital statistics of 38–28–38.
Born in 1936, Elizabeth was near the same age as Marsha Lipensky and two years younger than Mitchell Lipensky, and now…
On this day. At this instant, as Marsha Lipensky had her sexual epigraphy so then does this beautiful — no longer ‘fat girl’ that would ‘always’ imagine herself as ‘the fat girl’.
In an instantaneous epigraphy, sensing her body and, though the stretch marks and the two barely noticeable instances of lose hanging flesh were certainly ‘not’ —at least in the mind of Elizabeth Herzon ‘enhancements’...
“Mitchie...” sliding lower onto the bed, still feeling insecure about her body. Wanting any misgivings Mitchell might have, wanting ‘all’ or ‘any’ misgivings Mitchell would have out of the way, “...undress me.”
However in the eyes and mind of the young man kissing her breasts. Elizabeth’s ‘abstractions’ were not in the ‘slightest’ distractions.
His erection pressing. About to undress himself, Elizabeth’s request coming as a complete surprise. “You’re asking me to take your clothes off… All of them?”
Her head resting on the pillow, otherwise flat on her back. “Yeah, Mitchie. I want you to see me naked before...”
Remembering her words, repeating her words: “ ‘So it doesn’t come as a surprise when we get ‘personal’.”
“Yeah, Mitchie. And so you know, I’m very anxious for us to get ‘personal’.”
“Oh, Lizzie, me, too!”
...Standing along side the bed, he unbuttoned the three buttons of Elizabeth’s skirt. Wearing a half slip, he slid it along with the skirt off her waist, down her thighs and over her feet leaving but her pink panties and knee length nylon hose.
Trimming the pubic hair along the outer sides of her vulva so a not to have escaping long strands showing through the thighs of her undergarment, but in order to cover the thin flap of flesh between her navel and pubis, Elizabeth allowed hair to grow upward towards her navel…
Besides... Although Myron did not seem to care too much for his wife’s— in his opinion under muscled still flabby body, he did say that he ‘loved’ the feel her abundant ‘pubies’ on the sides of his face.
Yet to find that Mitchell Lipensky — regarding Elizabeth’s abundant ‘pubies’ was very much of the same opinion…
Regarding the rest of Elizabeth’s body...
In a reclining position, very obviously staring at the bulge in his slacks, Elizabeth’s tongue circled her lips.
When she realised Mitchell had stopped, looking up, seeing him watching her, forcing a nervous smile, “You need help?”
Attention paid to her pubic hair, rubbing a few long strands of dark blonde hair between his fingers. “No, Baby.”
Leaving the knee length nylon hose on, taking hold of the elasticised top of the pink panties—lifting her hips, Mitchell removed them.
All in a matter of moments…
Studding the nude body of the young woman that Mitchell Lipensky had fantasied over for the past five years.
Elizabeth Herzon’s breasts with their near translucent pink aureole and thick nipples lay flattened and slightly to the sides of her chest. Her slightly rounded stomach had a slim, though noticeable line of dark blonde hair growing upward from the thick patch of like coloured hair. Her hips a bit wider than best fit her frame.. Elizabeth's well rounded thighs were lightly muscled and, indeed her calves were no longer thick.
More a lingering figment of Elizabeth's ‘fat girl’ memory, were sparely situated thin, near invisible stretch marks.
Feeling slightly embarrassed—because, after all, this was her idea, and fully exposed, looking from Mitchell’s face to his crotch, she did see a slight jerking motion.
Waiting for him to say something.
Within the thirty seconds this erotic time of discovery unfolded before his eyes— and within his upper, and lower brains. Elizabeth Herzon’s beautiful face and unbelievably sensual body— with whatever imperfections came with it, along with, for some unknown reason, the nylon, knee length hose excited him even further…
“Lizzie, I love you!” Speaking truthfully. His words formulating from both upper and lower brains. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined.
“ ‘You’, Mitchie!”
Breathing heavenly, “Me?”
“Get naked, too! I...Oh, God, Mitchie! I want to fuck you!”
She wants to fuck me! “Yeah, baby!”
Still standing alongside the bed, unbuttoning the first three buttons of his dress shirt, he then pulled it over his head…
A time of discovery for Elizabeth Herzon also.
Taking the seconds from the removal of his shirt to the removal of his stockings...
Mitchell Lipensky’s face the face she had loved since their first meeting in early December of 1958.
The extreme muscle building exercise working as a ‘schleper’ in the early summer of 1958 a long gone memory.
Void of Myron’s ‘six pac’ chest and well muscled arms—With minimal exercise and his wife’s ‘thin eyes’ keeping him from over eating, Mitchell’s black haired chest was still on the lean side and his upper arms still retained a slight bulge. His stomach, though, did show the mere trace of a distant middle-aged bulge. His thighs and legs — from work walking and short hikes with Michael, Ellie and Mercy were noticeably muscled…
Mitchell’s penis:
Short of exhibition, loving being nude in front of a woman, though knowing his wife no longer looked at him, no longer saw him.
Watching Elizabeth watch him…
Fully nude now. Mitchell’s penis, within its forest of black, now in full view stood rigidly forward... inches from Elizabeth’s face.
Longer than Myron. Elizabeth thought. Thicker than Myron.
Each seeing what until that moment had been a fantasied dream of the other and, oh, no! In true life ‘not’ disappointed by any means!
She laying. He standing.
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... Love me for me!
The dream of his fantasy. The fantasy Mitchell Lipensky’s erotic dreams were made of, the ‘real’ Elizabeth different than his dream Elizabeth…
This Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth even more than his imagined dream girl. “Oh, my God, Lizzie!”
Reaching forward, taking hold of his penis... Causing a pleasurable gasp frpm mitchell.
“Baby...” Elizabeth said “...come into bed.”
Looking at the no longer illusory beauty of Elizabeth’s naturally hanging breasts. Looking at the pale pink areolae along with the non-trimmed thatch of 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 — being larger then she’d imagined, not too different from the real Mitchell 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— seeing the crystalline string of semen…
Anxious before, anxiety levels now beyond comprehension…
Each studying the other…
My God! Both thinking the same thought.
Taking but seconds.
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.
“Come on, baby!” Her arms open to him. Her thighs open to him. Once again surprised at her wantonness. “Fuck me, Mitchie!”
Remembering. “Lizzie, I never thought we’d be here, like this. At not 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 areolae.
Knowing how quickly he could ejaculate—no time for foreplay—positioning his body between her thighs and into Elizabeth’s arms...
His penis immediately drawn forward and inward.
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 Elizabeth whatever movement she needed. feeling the gentle 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… 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 triggering 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 on his face. “What’s ‘never happened before’?”
“Myron’n’me, we’ve ‘never’ came together! I’ve never ‘come’ at the same time with Myron.”
Their faces inches apart. 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!”
“Mitchie, you were wonderful!
Taken back by Elizabeth’s frankness, I’m ‘wonderfu’l! 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.
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.
“Know what I’d love to do, Mitchie?”
At this time anything Elizabeth would love to do was okay with him.
Thinking it the only way she enjoyed sex with Myron.
Rolling off the bed. “I’d love us to take a shower together.”
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!”
“Then after...” Elizabeth said, “...I’d ‘love’ to do a ‘sixty-nine’ with you!”
A ‘sixty-nine’!
Envisioning his head held held tightly between Elizabeth’s thighs.
Envisioning his face pressed tightly into Elizabeth’s dark blonde pubic hair.
Envisioning his tongue deeply into Elizabeth’s vagina…
“Yeah, baby! I’d ‘love’ to do a ‘sixty-nine’’ with you!”
Following a step behind…
Seeing Elizabeth nude from the backside for the first time, slightly surprised because her clothing had previously hid her figure.
Accentuated by somewhat 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 marke’ 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 might 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’.
Walking behind, Elizabeth’s thighs actually looked to be a bit chubby also. But again 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, barefoot now, her calves and ankles were also not quite as well defined as he’d thought about forty-five minutes earlier.
No problem what-so-ever with ‘anything’ about Elizabeth.
Often wondering what he had seen in the perpetually thin woman he’d married.
He had analysed the reasons he and Marsha had married at ‘least’ a million times and always came to the same 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.
Next FBOW excerpt in sequence; “Three Times”
