Don't Drop Anchor Here (Part II) - Sex Stories

Don't Drop Anchor Here (Part II)

... her empty void. She pressed on. _____________________________________ Veronica took her time charming her sexy neighbour. This was as much because of the uncertainty and awkwardness she felt at the situation, as it was because of Rob’s youth and complete inexperience in matters of seduction. In spite of all the obstacles and clumsy missteps, there was a force drawing the two lovers together. It was a force of nature that would not be denied. Finally all the lusting glances, the sexual innuendos, the light glancing touches, the soft hand squeezes, the feminine giggles, the warm smiles, the wafting scent of perfume, and the growing tension; it all could not be put off any longer. Veronica decided to make her move. “Rob I have a turntable in my bedroom. Do you want to listen to Linda Ronstadt?” Rob looked at Ronnie lost for a moment. He had no idea what he even answered. All he knew was that she was leading him by the hand down the dim corridor to her bedroom. His eyes were locked on her firm ass and her swaying hips. The young nervous virgin didn’t want this evening to ever end. Ronnie’s mind was clouded with her own self-doubt. Was this right? Was it wrong? What would he do if she kissed him? How would he react? Her pussy was tingling and her nipples were hardening in anticipation. And yet—she was married—desperately unhappy, but still, a married woman? Veronica felt Rob’s large hand cradled in her smaller slender one. His big paw of a hand was comforting in a way. His ...

... sheer physical size and muscular strength reassured her. And she did need reassurance. More than anything Ronnie needed to feel like a woman again, to feel whole, and to feel wanted. To be discarded and worthless at twenty-nine, to be childless and barren: it was a future she refused to accept. She squeezed Rob’s hand as she led him to her bedroom. And then the thought of Vietnam struck her. This poor man-boy, most certainly a virgin, was being sent off to war in some godforsaken jungle in the middle of nowhere. Veronica knew in her heart Rob was scared to death of Vietnam. All the people in the neighbourhood wearing MIA bracelets were reason enough to be scared. Was it so wrong to offer him comfort? To let this scared young man taste the love of a woman before he served his country? In Veronica’s bedroom everything was feminine. Her husband didn’t care and so Ronnie had made the room hers. The quilt on her bed had a tiny delicate rose pattern. The small decorative lamps on the side tables had frill-trimmed shades in ivory fabric. Everything about the room was feminine and lacy and pretty. Rob had never been in a room so pretty, or that smelled so nice. His heart was pounding as he looked around. His eyes always came back to settle quietly on beautiful Ronnie. She was so gorgeous. Was this a dream? Would he wake up and realize this was all a horny teenage dream? Veronica walked to the long teak chest and picked up the record jacket of “Silk Purse”. It was a cute album cover. ...