In the late 90s, I was working for a firm that dished data to radio broadcasters. My job was to compile books of audience ratings so broadcasters in one city, say, Kansas City, could see what stations in, say, Pittsburgh, were doing, audience-wise. It was detailed and difficult work, like juggling multiple oranges while riding a unicycle, to the tune of commonly sixty-five-hour weeks at the office and at home.
I was three years a widower, my wife having passed from metastatic breast cancer after twelve years of marriage. I had fled our Maryland home – too many memories – and come back to Ohio. I had a great house, worked with fabulous people and had a reasonably good life.
But no love life whatsoever. Bummer. I masturbated numerous times per week.
Then, one day at work, I heard over the intercom the voice of a lusty angel. It was absolutely the sexiest voice this side of Allison Steele, “The Nightbird,” on WNEW-FM in New York. When I heard it, I had to locate a face to go with the voice.
Quickly, I found the face. It was on a short, buxom, blonde female with perfect skin and rich hazel eyes who hadn’t invented that voice, she’d been born with it. I walked up and with uncommon bravery, I said, “Hi, I’m Tim, I work over there (pointing to my office) and I want to say you have absolutely the sexiest voice I have ever heard or ever hope to hear. Have you ever done voiceover work?”
I couldn’t believe my effrontery. I was coming on waaay too strong and stood a very good chance of having my words thrown back at my face. But I was lucky.
“I’m glad you like my voice, Tim. Yours isn’t bad either. And I’m Nina – that’s ‘Nye-nah,’ not ‘Nee-nah’. I’m not named after that paper-making city in Wisconsin. Good to meet you. I’m told that if I want to know anything about the radio biz, I should see you. Should I?”
“Absolutely! I’m at your service 24/7. And thanks about my voice. Now that we’ve broken the ice, how would you like to have lunch?”
This was aggressive for me but I had no choice. I was transfixed, mesmerized. She was hot!
“Well, Tim, that would be nice but I warn you, I have a boyfriend and besides, you’re more my Dad’s age – maybe I should introduce you to my Mom; they’re divorced. But if I’m safe with you, sure, we can go to lunch.
“Ask any of the women here and they’ll tell you you couldn’t be safer.” (That was a fact I hated.)
“How about 12:30? Where’s good to eat around here?”
“Let’s try Bella’s. It’s right down the street; we can walk easily; and the food is good Italian.”
“Sounds like a plan. See you at 12:30.”
Admittedly, I walked back to my office about “eight feet off of Beale.” Yeah, she was a lot younger. Yeah, she had a boyfriend. Yeah, I was nearly as old as her father. But something told me this could be the start of something big.
At 12:30, she showed at my office. She said, “So at lunch, explain what you do.”
I said I would and then I’d show her the process when we came back.
Lunch was pleasant. By the time we’d finished – me, a small pepperoni and mushroom pizza; her, baked ziti – we knew our backgrounds, current statuses and future plans.
I discovered she was 4’ 11”, had a 34D” bust, a rich boyfriend, and a bi-sexual roommate. She had grown up in East Bumfuck, Ohio and as a senior in high school, had been her county’s sheep queen (I am not kidding), having raised a rather amazing ram from birth. She had two sisters and a brother. Her parents were unreconstructed hippies. Her father ran an organic farm; her mother had tired of the rustic farm life and retreated to a nearby college town where she served as a graphic artist at the university. Nina had majored in English with a minor in Russian (she could speak fluent Russki) and had spent two months studying in Moscow.
I gave her my background. Ohio born-and-bred. College degree in Radio/TV. Drafted; enlisted for three years; got very lucky and spent two years of that enlistment protecting Hawai’i against the hordes of godless Communism (this was during Vietnam). Spent two years in New York City finding myself, then landed a job in DC working for a radio audience ratings company. Met my wife; we lived together for two years and finally, she agreed to marry me but she contracted cancer a few years later and died after a seven-year battle. I was offered the job in Cincinnati and moved back to what I considered my spiritual home town. And had been cranking out ratings books ever since.
We found we had similar tastes in music, books, the theater, and life in general. We became fast friends but to me, she was the ideal woman – except she was seeing a rich boyfriend and she was twenty-five to my fifty.
But she seemed to realize I had little social life outside of the company we worked for so she would invite me to gatherings of her friends. And I found I fit in better with these 20-somethings than I thought I would. So, in general, life was good.
After a few months in her job, she found she couldn’t deal with her boss and was looking for a transfer within the company. At that point, the division for which I worked was looking for an office manager. I suggested she apply; she did and was hired. So now, Nina and I were working together every day.
It was heaven. It was hell.
And then, one night, magic occurred. We both were working late. I was wrangling with audience numbers; she, with overdue accounts. At about 7 pm, she came in and said, “Are you about ready to leave? I ask because I missed my last bus and was hoping you’d give me a ride home.”
I responded, “What say, we get some dinner and then I take you home?”
She agreed and off we went to my favorite Cincinnati chili parlor, Camp Washington. (For the uninitiated, Cincinnati chili is actually a Greek meat sauce that contains things such as cumin, cloves served over spaghetti and grated cheddar cheese with oyster crackers on the side; options are kidney beans and onions. It is a feast fit for the gods.)
As we scarfed down our five-ways, we had a generally fine time poking fun at her somewhat pompous former boss, our somewhat micromanaging overall boss and some of the many characters with which we worked.
She also unbidden blurted out, “God, I love sex. Don’t you?”
I was so taken aback, my not-so-witty rejoinder was, “Uh, yeah, I do.”
At the time, I had no idea where this might lead except that my member immediately became stiff as a board.
Oh, and her voice? It was so sexy, so incredible. So fine that a friend of mine would call me just to hear her voice when she answered the phone. He told me it always gave him a woody.
After our sumptuous feast, I drove to her apartment. And then it happened; to me, it is “The Kiss.” We were looking at each other and the two of us simultaneously moved toward each other and kissed. A gentle but longing kiss that lasted, oh, fifteen seconds. After we parted lips, we looked at each other with “Wow! What just happened” looks on our faces, paused, and then kissed again – this time, with tongue. We kept this up for long enough for the car windows to fog over.
Finally, she looked at me and said, “My roommate is out of town ‘til Friday” (this was Wednesday). “Would you like to come up for a while?”
I said, fairly calmly, “That sounds nice. Yes, I would,” while on the inside, I was doing my happy dance. I might actually get to snog this golden fantasy of my dreams.
We went up to her apartment and before even turning on the lights, we grabbed each other and did some serious kissing and fondling. She was all over my ass. I was all over hers. We were bumpin’ uglies through our clothing. We nearly dragged each into her bedroom as we attempted to undress each other at the same time. I was working on her blouse and then, her bra. Did I mention she had 34D breasts? On a 4’ 11” frame? She did and I was in tit heaven.
I fell back on her bed, my shirt half off, my belt unbuckled but my pants still on. She had lost her blouse and bra – both surprisingly sheer given the magnitude of her bust – but maintained her skirt and nylons. We had both lost our shoes in the living room. I had pulled her on top of me and with surprising force, she started kissing me.
Suddenly, I thought of her boyfriend/fiancé. I said, “Uh, Nina, what about Mike?”
She stopped kissing me and said, “Oh, he’s in Ann Arbor and he’s been such a dick lately, I told him to go back to Michigan until he can pay more attention to me than his damned sports. And dammit, I need to be the fuckee and I want you as the fucker.”
I quickly said, “Lady, you don’t have to worry about sports dominating my interests. I have a passing interest in the Reds; that’s it. I’ll be most happy to give you all the attention and fucking you deserve.”
“I thought you might,” she responded. “Even with your Diana fling, you have to be pretty tired of being alone. So, and no long-term commitment to be considered, you can be my Cincinnati boyfriend, so long as we keep it on the down low around the company.”
For a twenty-five-year-old, she was pretty hip to corporate politics and we vowed to keep our relationship out of the company’s notice if at all possible.
By this time of the evening, we had become a bit less fevered. We finished undressing each other and finally, I was able to gaze upon this woman who had become my fantasy.
Her breasts were simply stated, large and gorgeous. Her nipples stood up at least a half-inch surrounded by areola of light brown. The breasts themselves did not sag, even though they were large. And, as I found out quickly, they were quite sensitive in a good way. She was a natural blonde and her fleshy cunt lips peeked through a nicely trimmed bush.
“Play with my tits,” she exclaimed. “Suck my nipples. Bite ‘em. Squash ‘em. Make ‘em yours.”
I did as I was commanded and was rewarded with various oohs, aahs, and moans. While kneading her impressive mounds, I started kissing their undersides, which drove her even more crazy.
After a few minutes, I worked my mouth down her lovely torso and softly placed my tongue on her labia, separating them carefully. I then lapped at her building moisture, finding it delectable beyond belief; God, there are few things in life better than eating pussy! She ground herself down onto my face and put me even closer to heaven.
I gently nibbled on the hood then would forcefully thrust my tongue into her vagina, probing up and down, in and out. She seemed to like it.
“Oh, God. Keep eating me. Suck on my pussy. Make me come.”
We kept it up for some time and finally her body clenched and she let out a loud, “Ohhhhhhhhh” as she came. When she recovered, she lifted my face, pulled me toward her mouth and kissed me long and hard. As she did, part of me became even longer and even harder.
“That was fabulous!’ she said. And kissed me again. She could taste herself on me and said, “I do taste pretty good, don’t I?”
I responded in the affirmative, “Sweet and a bit salty at the same time – just right.”
Then, we lay back and cuddled for a few minutes but all the time, she would make passes at my cock with her hand, just to make sure I stayed hard – as if that was going to be a problem.
After some time of fondling each other, she climbed on top of me and started rubbing her cunt up and down my dick. If I hadn’t already been as hard as I’d ever been, she would have made me so. Finally, she manhandled me, squeezing my cock firmly and then settled her cunt down on it.
I had been concerned to find that one of the reasons she liked her boyfriend, as she mentioned during one of our heart-to-heart talks, is that he had a 7-1/2” dick that filled her to an exciting extreme. However, she seemed to find my 6” appendage reasonably satisfying, given the way she kept pulling me into her body. My dick was the wettest it had ever been and her cunt was flowing with lubrication. Then she rolled us over so I was on top.
“Now, In me. Now. I’m on the pill. And I don’t guess you have any diseases. I certainly don’t. So let’s fuck. Now.”
I obliged, plunging my dick, which had never been harder, into her waiting vessel. She let out a satisfied moan and immediately started moving against me. I had to make her slow down as I would have cum in about fifteen seconds. When I told her that, she had a great remedy.
She made me lie back. Then she leaned down and started licking my dick, pausing only long enough to say, “If I make you come now, you’ll last longer later. So paint my face, baby.”
With that encouraging message, she proceeded to suck my dick like she was taking the chrome off a two-inch trailer hitch. I lasted about two minutes. When I said, “I’m cumming,” she released my dick and let the cum spray all over her face and breasts. She then proceeded to lick what she could and used her hands on what she couldn’t, put it all in her mouth and said, “Do you like snowballs?”
I said I’d never tried one, but I had found the taste of my cum reasonably good during solo sessions, so we swapped spit and ejaculate for some time.
Then we indulged in some wonderful lovemaking. Slow, passionate, meaningful. I had never had better. We went on for some time, with her experiencing orgasms several times. Despite the fact that I had ejaculated massively a little while before, when I came, I sent six large spurts of semen into her welcoming cunt.
When we finished, we lay in each other’s arms for long while. She snuggled; I snuggled. I was in absolute heaven. About midnight, we realized we had been co-mingling fluids of all types for several hours and I felt I should go home. She said, “Yeah, don’t want to make this a habit right off.”
I dressed; we gave each other some great tongue lashings and I headed off into the chilly night with a smile on my face and female cum on my teeth.
Eventually, we both realized we had no future at that time. There’s the old adage that the minimum age of a woman should be half the man’s age plus seven years. By that measure, We’d have the right age ratio when I was sixty-six and she was forty-one – not particularly likely to occur.
Shortly after we called it off, I was offered a job back in Maryland and took it. I met the woman who would become my second wife, and Nina and Mike married. However, five years later, my wife and I had returned to Cincinnati. She and Mike and two kids later, Nina announced to her former co-workers including me at lunch that she and Mike were divorcing. By this time, she was a successful media advertising executive in Cincinnati; her kids were growing and she was devoted to raising them.
So the fantasy woman I had dreamed of for so long, for that short, sweet period, was no fantasy – yet she was. We still e-mail each other on occasion and trade Christmas cards. She looks great – a whole lot better than I do. And that’s only right.
She’s Nye-nah, and her kiss – and what followed – are among the best memories of my life.
