Hunting Pixies

Hunting Pixies, Part 7

This installment is a little shorter than the others have been, but breaks at a more logical place than some other installments. There is less explicit sex, I guess even Steve and Margaret need to take a breather. I think it resolves their first get together reasonably, and bridges things for Steve's return home to Beth, which will be the next installment. That may be a little slower coming than these first sections, as I'll be traveling for a bit.

Alone, my shower is remarkably fast. I note the stubble on my groin and remember Margaret's mention of shaving me with a smile, but that will have to wait for another time. I don't know how it has escaped me until now, but it dawns on me that while we have both agreed we don't want this to be a one-time thing, we haven't discussed exactly when "another time" might be. I recall Margaret mentioned planning to leave Saturday, and I'll be dropping Mom back on Friday, so Friday night may be our only and best option.

As I'm brushing my teeth and combing my hair, I note that the bite mark on my pec is still as prominent as before. It's a little memento well-earned, but I'm not entirely certain how Beth will feel about it if she notices. I shrug the thought off. It is what it is, and I'll deal with it if needed. I finish getting ready and wrap a towel around my waist and go back into the room, intent on making a plan with Margaret before much more time slips away. The Villages time continuum seems to be working at its own strange pace, and it feels very much like our time is running out.

Margaret is sitting where I left her, absorbed in her phone. I note the light in the room is much brighter as she's opened the heavier drape, leaving just the sheer panel filtering the early morning sun. I move to my suitcase and around the room to pick out a suitable outfit for the day: I drop my towel and don clean boxers. I find the pants from last night in the pile on the floor where I'd left them; they aren't too wrinkled and there are no obvious spots of precum leakage on the crotch, so I pull them on.

I see Margaret put her phone down to watch me finish dressing. "Dang, I missed the good parts," she pouts. Then, as I turn to find a suitable shirt, I hear her sharp intake of breath. "Oh shit," she says, "I forgot about the bite, that's...REALLY noticeable."

"It is," I agree, "but that's okay." I pick up the tee she had wrinkled her nose at last night. I do the same and drop it back in the pile. Margaret only gives me a weak laugh, obviously still thinking about the bite and whether to pursue my apparent nonchalance or let it go. I pull a clean short-sleeve button-up shirt from my suitcase instead and put it on quickly, hoping that out of sight will be out of mind. It isn't.

"Steve, baby, I'm sorry, but I think we should talk about that. I really don't think Beth is just going to 'be okay' with it," she says with a little tremble to her voice.

"Well, you may be right. She might not be, but that's okay, as far as I'm concerned. I would never want to intentionally hurt her, but this shouldn't. She agreed to let me go find some fun. She encouraged it, even. This mark is just a little evidence that I did. It might be a shock, because it will make all of this seem suddenly very real, but if she isn't okay with that..." I trail off.

"If she isn't okay with it, what? Will she change her mind and not let you out to 'play' again?" Margaret asks with more heat than she likely intended to reveal.

"She might," I respond with honesty. "Then I would have a decision to make."

"And what would that be?" Margaret asks with trepidation. "Whether to stay in the marriage? Because I don't want you to lose your marriage over what we've had, or might have. I'm not going to lie. This is the most alive I've felt in a long time, but we don't really even know each other. I didn't want this to just be a one-night stand, but I am also not in a place right now where I want a deep relationship. I can't promise you that there is any long-term future for us..." Margaret trails off, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes.

"If Beth were to ask me to make a choice and I opt to end our marriage, it would not be for you, Margaret. I am not ever going to ask you to take that burden or assume that blame, so please don't put yourself in that equation. If I were to end my marriage, it would be for ME. And me alone. The last 30 hours have been a glimpse of a world I haven't seen in the last 30 years, or really, in my lifetime. A reality I thought could only have been fantasy." Margaret is listening, her tears seem to be abating.

I continue, "If I'm asked to make a choice, I'm simply no longer willing to settle for what Beth's offered me for the last, I don't know, twenty years or so. I'm out of that constrictive box now, and she allowed that; she had to know there may be no putting me back in. Being with you may have been the catalyst for it, but the change is in me, and for me. If you were to tell me right now that you never wanted to see me again, and I went home and Beth told me she wanted to close things back, she would basically be forcing me to end things with her. Now that I have experienced all of this, I can't allow myself to go back to that."

"Really?" Margaret asks.

"Really. Whether it's because Beth can't or won't give me what I've been looking for, she doesn't. That's been made clear throughout our marriage. If she did, I wouldn't even be here. Now that I see that, and that there are other possibilities, I would choose to be alone if it allowed me even the slightest chance of experiencing something like this again." I open my arms to Margaret, and she rises to embrace me, the flannel shirt falling open, her naked breasts settling into my stomach. But there is nothing sexual about this moment, as we share our heat, breath, and heartbeats.

Margaret pulls away after a few moments,"okay, but what I said about not being ready for a deep relationship, I meant that. I really want to see where things may go with us, but I can't promise you they're going anywhere."

"And I wouldn't want or need that promise now or maybe ever, Margaret. I just want to take this day by day with you. And I want us to keep it sexy and fun? God knows we both deserve some of that, right? The only promise I'd ask is that we agree when and if this runs its course, or becomes work and not fun, or either of us knows we don't want there to be a 'next time.' We're honest with each other about it? We don't drag it out, or just fade into the night?"

"I agree, and I would like that. Can we have another rule then? No ghosting?" She asks.

"As you wish, Margaret. No ghosting." I lean down and kiss her forehead, and she tilts back up to kiss my lips. Margaret resumes her seat, and I sit in the chair next to her to put on my socks from last night, and my walking shoes from the prior night. Margaret breaks the silence, "Geeze, men have it easy," she laughs, "twenty minutes and you go from disheveled to pristine, and I spent half of that being dramatic," she laughs to put the tension to rest.

"Hmm," I respond, "I'm glad we were able to clear the air, and I believe you were responsible for that dishevelment, and you didn't seem to mind it a bit. And YOU look simply ravishing with that 'fucked all night glow' even when you're wearing MY clothes." Margaret blushes and sticks her tongue out.

"Breakfast should be open now, and I'll head down in a sec, but we need to make a plan," I say.

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"Well, you mentioned you wanted to shave my balls, and have all but promised me your ass, but I'm leaving in a little while, and we haven't made any plans to see each other again yet? We don't need to promise each other anything long term, but we do need to plan for the next time if we want there to be one," I laugh.

"Oh, shit," Margaret replies, "you're right. How can we not have talked about that yet?"

"I think we've just been having so much fun living in the moment? But let's figure out what moment can be next for us?" I respond.

"I think I mentioned I have to leave by Saturday to head home. So that gives us Friday? Are you coming back up to drop your mom off then, or Saturday?" She asks.

"Friday, I'm sure, but I haven't booked a room or anything. I had no idea my 'pixie hunt' would be so successful that I'd want to spend the night again. With the holiday weekend, it might be hard to find a room here. And I don't think your parents' or my mom's place would be a great option." I respond, and we both laugh.

Margaret looks a little concerned, then I get an idea and share it: "Traffic heading out on Saturday is likely to be horrendous until you get up through Ocala. How about you leave Friday and we meet north of there, maybe Gainesville?"

"Ooh, yeah. Daddy mentioned how bad it gets and was already telling me I ought to try to split the trip up into two days instead of leaving early Saturday. That should work, but let me get the hotel room, please? I don't want Beth to see me as some kind of financial competition out of the gate."

"If you're sure? I'll head down to pick up breakfast and take a look on my apps to see what some options might be?"

"Good. I can't believe we didn't think about that until now. Before you go, could you show me how to make another cup of coffee? Then I'm going to 'freshen up' a bit, although I'm not going to shower just yet, because I'm still very much enjoying teasing you by basking in my 'fucked all night glow.'" Margaret laughs.

"Of course you are. Let me just get some water and I'll make it for you," I respond, and move to do just that. When I finish, she gives me a light kiss as I head to get breakfast, and she heads to the bathroom.

I find the breakfast area off the lobby, and it is mostly deserted. It's still early by Villages time. It is a buffet set up, but I explain to the hostess that I wanted to get some things to go, and she is kind enough to let me load up a large to-go box with enough for the two of us, charging for only one and a half. There are no sprinkled donuts, but I make sure I pick up at least one of each of the several sweet options.

I head back to the elevators and as the car arrives, out walk two of our friends from the bar last night. They look to be entirely regretting the early tee time they've clearly booked for themselves today, but they perk up as they recognize me, and begin the kind of schtick that only a certain kind of 'bro' can get away with in real life. One of them assumes the tone of a voice-over narrator on a wildlife documentary, "and here is the silverback gorilla, king of the jungle, fresh from his conquest, returning to feed his harem..."

It makes no sense, and I shouldn't encourage them, but the ego boost feels good, so we high five all around. I decline to provide any details of my mythic 'threesome' that they will no doubt add to their long list of tales to share with other 'bros.' I give Lisa a passing thought as the elevator climbs past her floor to ours.

I find Margaret sitting in the chair where I had left her, knees drawn to her chest, but more demurely now, with the flannel shirt covering all of her private parts. The morning sun is up fully now, filtering through the windows, creating a soft backlight against which she is silhouetted. She has washed her face, and brushed her hair out, and it cascades around her shoulders, framing her beautiful features. She is shining brighter than ever before, and turns to me with a soft smile of contentment, her eyes dancing with mirth. She is a pixie, incarnate.

"I'd like to take your picture," I say, as I pull out my phone, "stay just like that." She does, smiling almost shyly as I snap a few pictures."

"Let me see," she says, and I hand her the phone. She scrolls through and hands it back to me, "that one," she says. I delete the others and add it to her contact information. "What did you bring me to eat?"

I put the box of breakfast on the cocktail table in front of our chairs, hand her a plastic fork and napkin, and move to make myself a large tumbler of decaf. We begin our elegant breakfast date, eating as we chat. "Oh," I remember, "you'll never guess who I ran into in the lobby? Lisa's buddies, at least two of them. They dubbed me a 'silverback gorilla.'" I laugh.

"A hideous one, no doubt," Margaret remembering my story makes me smile. She continues, 'but you'll never guess who just sent me a VERY spicy message?"

"Lisa, I'm sure. Is she reminding you her offer still stands?" I ask.

"Yup. Here, see for yourself." Margaret hands me her phone, open to the latest message bubble from Lisa. I note that it is a continuation of a very long string of messages back and forth, but I don't read them. I'm not sure when or how they could have been engaging so much, but blame it on the curious time continuum of the Villages and the secret communication skills of women.

"Hey girlfriend...you guys are KILLING me down there...You were kind of quiet early in the night, but I heard you getting off after midnight, and twice this morning already...can't you spare me a little something? Lol. By the way, this is how you have me feeling, please share it with Steve..."

The still image for the attached video is of Lisa, all of Lisa, gorgeous and spread gloriously naked on her bed. I hit play. The angle is from low on the bed with her beautiful pussy at the bottom of the frame. She is spreading it open with two fingers of one hand. The succulent lips clearly drip in her essence. Her prominent clit looks like it is throbbing. Her body is arched and her full breasts are upraised, capped with prominent, erect nipples.

Her mouth is open in bliss as she begins to play with herself, tweaking a nipple then moving her fingers down to trace her slit, dipping into it and withdrawing her sticky moisture, holding it out for the camera as it strings between thumb and index finger, before she places them in her mouth to suck them dry. It's about a twenty-second clip, and its production value seems unusually high for a spur-of-the-moment video. It doesn't seem like it was shot on a phone. This is not Lisa's first rodeo, I think.

"Well, that's just, wow," I stumble.

"I know, right?" Margaret replies. "She's really hot. And I think we left the poor woman with a bad case of the blue bean," she giggles. My puzzlement must be obvious, "like blue balls, but for ladies?" She laughs.

"Ahh, yeah, she definitely seems...hungry?" I'm still struggling with what to think and say here.

"It's okay, Steve, I know if I weren't an option right now, you would want to fuck her in a heartbeat, right? Same as Sue if she gave you the chance? You don't have to say anything. I gave you her number because I'm okay if you ever want to hook up with her, in fact..." Margaret trails off.

"I told you this pussy is yours, right?" Margaret says as she takes my hand and guides it to her moistening sex, "and I meant that, so you can tell me no, but..."

"Margaret, do you want to fuck Lisa?" She nods, looking at me shyly. "Then you should fuck Lisa. If this pussy is mine," I emphasize by cupping it and sliding my middle finger in, rolling her clit with my thumb and eliciting a groan, "then I want it to always be a very happy pussy. If you feel safe with Lisa, you should feel free to explore with her. Baby, you have been deprived of a fulfilling sex life for so long, I am the absolute LAST person that is going to deny you an opportunity like this. And at some point, I might want to partake in what Lisa is offering as well, I'm just not comfortable with that yet." I withdraw my fingers and suck them clean, Margaret leans in and swirls her tongue with mine to share in the lingering taste.

"Thank you baby, you're so good to me. Hey, did you find a place in Gainesville?" She asks.

"Shit, no, got distracted, let me look right now." I open my phone and scan through some options. "How about Hotel Indigo, it's near the interstate in a decent area, and it looks like they've got availability for Friday night, or there are some others right around it?" I don't know Margaret's budget tastes, and show her all the listings with availability in the same area. She pulls up one of her travel apps and books the room.

"Indigo looks perfect, easy peasy," she grins, and gives me a quick kiss. "And I put in for an EARLY check-in, when do you think you'll be dropping your mom off?"

"Oh, she doesn't like to overstay her welcome, so we'll probably head out pretty early Friday morning. I should be able to reach Gainesville around lunchtime?"

"Good, I feel relieved about all of this. I don't know where things are going to go with us, but I like knowing we have at least one more tomorrow together to look forward to?" Margaret sighs. "And with Beth, I want to follow the rules you all have set out, and I don't want to do anything that will come between you. But I trust your judgement on how to respond if she wants to change your rules entirely. I know you love her and have your reasons for wanting the marriage to work. It isn't my place to tell you what to do. So long as I know you aren't going to make any rash decisions on my account?"

I reach out and take her hands in mine, "Thank you, I hope it doesn't come to that, but as you say, any decision I make regarding Beth will be made without you specifically in the equation."

"What time do you need to leave to get your mom?" She asks.

"By nine," I reply, we look at the time, and have just over an hour until then.

"Hmm," Margaret purrs, "what could we do with an hour? Let's see, you've given me twelve mind-blowing orgasms since this 'date' began, plus one as a little teaser the first night..."

"A baker's dozen? Really?" I ask, trying to do the math, and failing, but wow.

"Yup," Margaret endearingly pops the P at the end, and continues her calculation, "...and we were probably only awake together for about twelve hours, so you should be able to make me come at least one more time..."

I stand and pull her up, reaching for the hem of my shirt to pull it over her head, but she slaps my hand away playfully, "Uh, uh. I was just teasing, you need to wash that hand anyway before you go, it already smells like pussy." I raise my fingers to see if she's right. "Dirty boy," she laughs, and I pull her in for a deep kiss, squeezing her ass cheeks and trailing my fingers through her wet folds from behind before stepping back.

"Not fair," she pouts, "now you have me all worked up again."

I give a pointed look to the tent in my pants, and she looks down at it and just chuckles. She's very good at this game.

"Aren't you and Lisa going to take care of each other as soon as I'm gone?" I ask.

"Ooh, yeah, I better let her know. Would you care if I have her come up here? I'd feel more in control of things here, and she'll probably get turned on by being in our mess. She was really gunning for you, anyway, I think. And there's something about her video skills that seemed a little...professional?" Margaret seems a little nervous.

"Margaret, if you don't trust the situation, you don't have to do anything," I suggest.

"Oh, I know, I mean...I do want to. It's been a long time since I was with a woman, and I just... want to see if it's what I remembered? And it's not that I don't trust HER. She actually sent me a clean STD panel from like a month ago, which she had after she dumped her last boyfriend. She said she hasn't hooked up with anyone since. I think she may get off on the whole video thing, though, which I get. I mean, I kind of don't trust myself to say no in the moment if she whipped out a camera and wanted to do some filming. And I don't want any pictures or videos of my pussy anywhere but my phone...and yours, because remember, it IS yours." She gives me a flash to remind me. I groan. She's killing me.