Aunty Ginny and the fire within

The raging inferno that was my relationship with Sadie blew itself out when she fell in love with Kira. For a few weeks we were the perfect triangle (see my previous story, Three-course feast.) I was the dependable caucasian man (I think that's a description they would agree with), Sadie was the fiery BBW and Kira was the subtly sexy, enigmatic Asian woman.People say that trios never last because two always form a stronger alliance within the three, and they're probably right. My relationship with Sadie was based purely on sex, although we had been growing close to each other before we had invited Kira in. The trio had worked like a dream at first and we were all crazy about each other, but quickly Sadie wanted Kira all to herself and they began having secret girls-only meets. I knew about them because Kira told me, and she told me because we had our own special relationship, albeit a perfectly innocent meeting of the minds.We met a couple of times to explore Trinidad, the island country where this all took place. Sadie knew about my friendship with Kira because I had no reason to keep it from her, and she had said it was fine, but she had suspected all along that there was something different happening, and Sadie's own nature wouldn't let her believe we weren't humping in the back of some regional library or having oral sex in the rainforest.For her part, Kira was bowled over by her first girl-on-girl experience and the force of Sadie's personality. So they split off into coupledom and I was back at square one, looking for love in all the wrong places. Then one Sunday afternoon at the beach I ran into Sadie's Aunty Ginny, the pale-skinned, anglicised relative of the black Trini family. I had got along well with Ginny, but had held back from making bahis şirketleri a move on her because of the beautiful relationship between aunt and niece.She was sunbathing on her own, reading a book, plastered with factor 75 and so apparently happy with her own company that before I sat next to her on the sand I apologised for disturbing her. As it turned out, she was very glad to see me. Shading her eyes like a sailor about to say, ?Land ahoy!? she squinted at me through her big sunglasses and smiled. It was a broad, genuine, happy smile and it occurred to me that she must have smiled it many times over the years at various men who made her feel particularly womanly. Her body was slim and soft, with little ruffles in places that let out the secret that she was over 60.Nobody likes getting old, no matter what they say, because we can all see that our bodies aren't as taut, as athletic, as triumphant as they used to be. I was a good few years younger than Ginny but was already starting to go a bit flabby; there is no other honest way to put it. The Adonis of my youth had passed through his prime and come out the other side, largely intact but with the engine dials a few ticks lower. Maybe Sadie and Kira had been my last hurrah with the rollicking, shag-me-till-my-teeth-rattle young women who had sustained me and entertained me thus far.Anyway, sexy womanhood was still available to me, and here was a prime example. Ginny was like an old photograph of herself, the colour fading and the card a bit creased after spending so much time in a drawer full of pictures, fished out occasionally as a reminder of the great days of the past. You can say that today's top tennis players are as good as any in history, but you can't say they are superior to bahis firmaları the giants of previous eras.I think Ginny could see all this running through my mind in the few seconds I gazed at her in wonder and admiration.?Victor,? she said, as if to wake me. ?Sit down.?I took my beach towel and spread it next to hers, pulled off my t-shirt, and lay in tantalisingly close proximity to this lovely woman. Rejecting her contemporaries' tendency to wear one-piece outfits to hide a lived-in belly, Ginny was resplendent in a multi-coloured bikini with a design based on tropical plants, trees, and birds. Her tan had deepened since I last saw her and she was burnished like the sun-loving mainly-British woman she was. My eyes took in her glowing shoulders, her freckled chest, and that warm, inviting stomach with its deep navel which must have enjoyed silver pools of male passion over the years.Her pubic hair was shaven, at least at the top, as I could see because the briefs had ridden down a little, to reveal the white, scratchy shoreline of her feminine beach. My eyes moved past that, down her gentle thighs, which I suddenly ached to kiss and caress.?Vic,? she said again. I looked up at her face. ?So how are things going? I heard you and Sadie split up. That's a shame, but these things happen.? She smiled with knowing compassion that only age can produce.I had once had dinner with her at an Indian restaurant when I had been stood up by a woman from the website where Sadie and I had found Kira. Ginny and I had got along very well ? almost too well, considering I was involved with her favourite niece. Now, the situation was different, less complicated.We chatted about her book, a 1970s woman-has-views-on-sex novel called Fear of Flying, which she had read kaçak bahis siteleri several times before and I had enjoyed years ago.?Yeah, I do that too,? I said. ?It's like listening to an album; just because you've heard it before doesn't mean you can't enjoy it again. In fact, that's the reason you go back to it because you know it's good.?As I spoke, I found my fingers straying to her body and giving her side a little stroke. She didn't acknowledge it but she didn't reject it either. It's a practice I sometimes indulge in, something of a grey area. There is no conventional wisdom that says a man is entitled to gently stroke a woman's skin ? quite the opposite, in fact. But if you're already at a certain stage of mutual attraction, and you keep it affectionate and respectful, with the sexual message obscured by conversation or whatever else is going on, and as long as only you and she know about it, most women will allow it.I ended up inviting her back to my place for dinner. On the way we picked up some mussels and white wine, so I could make us moules mariniere ? so simple to do, yet it seems like an achievement, as if you're actually quite a good cook.Ginny bought a bottle of expensive champagne. ?Well, fuck it,? she explained. ?I've spent almost nothing while I've been here. Haven't really done anything, and they had another of their parties last week, so I made a few dollars doing the gypsy fortune-telling routine.?We sat together on the settee until she said, ?Show me your music.?I took her to my desk, where my laptop lay, iTunes open and ready, awaiting instructions.?All on digital,? Ginny noted.?'Fraid so,? I said. ?I've moved so often I can't afford the luggage space for CDs, never mind vinyl.??It's the way of the world,? Ginny observed.?Anyway,? I continued, ?I like to put it on random and surprise myself with my good taste.??Every one a winner,? Ginny said. ?Can you have it grouped in genres, though? Have you got a section marked ?psychedelic?, for instance??