“Come With Me Baby, And I’ll Take You To The Moon.”

My first one-night stand was with a Double Delicious Vixen, and she made me see stars.

Decades ago, when I was a strapping, cocky, and confident young buck, I popped my one-night stand cherry-and I didn’t do a damn thing to make it happen.

I was minding my own business, playing shuffleboard with my roommate and his pal in the local tavern. Maybe it was because there wasn’t much of a crowd that she chose me. Perhaps it was because she liked my easy-going smile and glacier blue eyes. Maybe she couldn’t see my eyes or my smile from where she was perched at the end of the bar. It could have been precisely what it was; she was a fully grown, prowling cougar, and I was easy prey.

I wondered for a long time, after the events of that night, just why she chose me, but all I can say for sure was that I had little choice in the matter from the get-go.

I mean, I did notice her. I gave her a couple of sidelong glances and may have dropped a salacious smile her way, but I had about as much a plan to approach her as I did climbing Mt. Everest. She was a full-scale, steady ten, stone cold fox, and I was a cub. This was long before the terms “cougar” and “milf” were in the daily vocab of the sexually hopeful.

The boys and I were playing shuffleboard, sipping beers, and burning smokes. See, that’s how far back I’m reaching. Smoking was still permitted indoors. Pubs were still a safe haven for your sins. Like, I was saying, I was throwing rocks across the long silk sand dusted table when my roommate leaned into me, bumped my elbow, and said, “don’t look now, but the owner of the restaurant across the street is coming over here, and I think she wants you.”

Unaware of his meaning exactly, I responded with some dense answer like, “wants me for what? I wasn’t in the restaurant tonight. Is she looking for a cook or something?” referring to my occupation at the time.

“I’d go with the something on this one,” roomie said with a smirk, then graciously skirted himself to the far end of the table.

I felt the light landing of a woman’s hand on my shoulder followed by a soft, husky purr of a voice near my ear.

“Hi. I’ve been watching you. I like what I see. Want to finish your game?”

My hands were bracing the bumper of the table, my arms straight, leaning over with my ass hitched out a little bit. When I turned my head towards her, I felt the warm pillows of her breath bouncing across my lips.

That saying about reading between the lines? Well, the message she was sending was blinking in neon lighting beneath her hungry green eyes. Her gaze ran across my face, her fingers trickled down my arm. My insides rushed in waves of molten steel, and I rose to the occasion.

“I can think of better ways to spend a night,” I replied. It wasn’t solid gold, but at least I was willing to get in the game.

The vixen was in another stratosphere. She owned sexual prowess; she oozed confidence, hunger, and need. I’ve never forgotten her following words.

“Come with me, baby, and I’ll take you to the moon.”

I dropped a few bucks on the table, tipped my fingers at the boys, turned on my heel, and left the bar with a woman that could make the devil break out in a sweat.

Standing my height, the fox wore her hair short in a pixie cut with one side her bangs kept long and cut back towards her ear in a sharp, edgy angle. Jet black but streaked with hues of red at the tips. She smelled exotic. I didn’t know much about perfumes back then, but I knew that none of the girls I usually hung around with smelled like that. It wasn’t a spice or candy sweet. It was the scent of that flower that grows next to a waterfall at the edge of a deep, dark, damp forest someplace, far, far away. Mixed with almonds and something else that has no name. But breathing her in opened every pore on my body, and something beautiful and primitive responded.

We walked across the street, past the dark windows of her restaurant. She had hooked her arm beneath my elbow and slipped her fingers through mine. She squeezed my hand, tilted her head up at me, and smiled, “I’m just a block from here,” she purred at me, “and I can’t wait to get you inside.”

Volcanoes were threatening eruptions. Every step existed in slow motion in another universe. “This is really fucking happening!” my mind screamed at me with my insides, trying not to jump outside of me in celebration. Another spark went off.

I stopped walking, pulled our clasped hands back, and pulled her into me.

“I can’t even wait that long,” I told her, then my hand slipped to the small of her back, and I stepped her against the cold brick wall of a shop. I leaned into her body and felt her very ample breasts push into my chest. I moved one hand up her arm, skirted over her tits then cupped the base of her chin. Her mouth opened and returned the most delicious kiss to my exploratory taste. I pulled my hand firmly against the top of her ass, pressing my leg between her thighs. We kissed some more. Our hands slipped beneath shirts and found pockets of warm, soft, bare skin.

Her next kiss ended with a sharp bite into my bottom lip. I growled.

“Ohhh, I’m going to have fun with you!” she exclaimed, her green eyes sparkling with glints of gold, her tongue stroked across her teeth. She grabbed my hand again and pulled me away from the building. Our pace to her door was brisk.

Stepping inside, she pulled me along with her into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter as she fetched two tumblers from her cupboard. She set the glasses on the counter, stepped into me for another long, deep, tongue-dancing kiss, and we both moaned. Then, before turning to her liquor cabinet, she leaned back on the opposite counter and gave me a long, once over, then pulled her sweater over her head.

She had gorgeous tits. Even held in her lacy lavender bra, they were exquisite. Her nipples, hard and eraser thick pressed the soft fabric.

“Do you like them?” she teased.

“Oh fuck yes.” I hushed back.

“Good. They like attention,” she said.

Turning her back to me, my eyes took in a very nice ass. She poured us each a generous serving of Disarrono. I’d never had it, and the taste was a surprise. Sweet and nutty but smooth and rich. A perfect elixir to linger on our lips.

“Let’s see what I have to play with,” she said as she set her drink on the counter beside me and her hands undid my pants. Then, slipping her fingers into my boxers, finding what she was after, she moaned again.

I then received the most ego-boosting and most selfishly satisfying compliment of my life. For weeks afterward, I would see my reflection in the mirror and replay her words while laughing at its absurdity and brazenness while brushing my teeth.

“Mmm, that’s a beautiful piece of meat,” she cooed. I knew virtually nothing about this woman, but at that moment, I felt like she was a connoisseur of cock, and mine was a worthy sample.

She sank to her knees and vocalized her appreciation, but she gave no more words.

Rising back to meet my lips with hers, she handed me back my drink and raised hers. We clacked rims and toasted to a fun night. I set my glass down and moved behind her. Unsnapping her bra, I moved the straps over her shoulders and gingerly over her arms. Stepping back to her front, I set the brassiere on the counter and took her beautiful breasts in my hands. I took my time giving them the attention they deserved. Then I removed the rest of her clothes, kissing my way down across her hips, down her thighs, and kissed the tops of her feet as I raised them from the floor and stepped them through her panties.

On my knees, I raised my eyes to a beautifully groomed vagina. Her labia was bare, glistening skin. Goosebumps flushed above into a small, tidy rectangle of dark pubic hair thinned and looked more like tiny feathers blown back against her skin.

“That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” I told her in honest admiration. Her slightly pouty lips were of a slightly darker hue than her skin tone. It was as though she was made to be gazed upon with reverence.

“Why thank you,” she replied.

“Grab your glass, lover, and bring the bottle,” she ordered.

When I stepped into her bedroom, she lit candles on her dresser and bedside tables, giving the only light in the room. Then, stepping to me, her full breasts with her erect nipples pressed against my chest. She took the bottle from my hand and splashed a little more liquor into our tumblers.

“They’re not too strong, are they? The candles?” she asked.

“No, they’re fine,” I said. “But, if it were up to me, I’d have a spotlight on you, so my eyes don’t miss a thing. I’ve been burning every minute into my memory since we left the bar.” I told her.

She smiled, and giggled, raised to her tiptoes, and kissed my ear; then, with the heat of her tongue swirling over my lobe, she whispered, “You’re adorable.”

I’m sure, and I mean that I fully believe, that God reached his hand into the matrix of the space-time continuum and pulled back the cogs. Everything moved slower. She poured herself onto the bed; her body flowed. She unfolded her legs slowly. Feet curled, toes pointed, knees bent, and hips rolled open. Her flower was nirvana. It was an offering to experience beauty; every inch of the woman was given to me. I drank in every moment.

By the time I raised my dripping lips from her drenched pussy, she had writhed, shook, called out, and tore her fingers across my scalp.

The sex was amazing. It was, to that early point in my youthful trysts, the most incredible sex I’d ever experienced. I was attentive, I listened, I read the reactions of her body. The sounds of her sounds. This was a woman that looked spectacular having sex. I was young, and I hadn’t fully understood that women like to fuck as much as men do, and women like her desire to fuck well.

Then, she fulfilled the promise she made to me at the beginning of the night. She climbed on top of me, set me deep inside, then draped herself over me and whispered the words in my ear once more.

“I’m going to take you to the moon, baby.”

I had zero ideas about what she had in mind.

She became ferocious, in complete control, and worked me to the edge. It was on its way. The finish. Building and pulling all that ache, fire, and thunder down to my balls, my cock throbbing, pulsing, aching, fully charged.

And then…

Right before I crossed the bridge.

This gorgeous goddess of sex. Leaned back and raised her beautiful tits to the heavens, and without any warning whatsoever…she pushed two fingers in my ass.

I wasn’t sure what had happened. I remember the pain. Then this pressure. Then I saw stars, and the universe exploded.

The vixen rocked her hips deep and down, rolled them up and back. I came and came and came. I was in a different state. Confused, elated, quenched, and quivering. My lover kissed my face all over, kissed my chest and stomach, and apologized a dozen times.

She was happy. Smiling. She wore joy like a cloak.

“I’ll run a bath. Fix us a snack. There’s cheese and crackers; get some fruit.” She instructed as she slipped into her bathroom.

As I gathered my senses and stepped to the hall, she poked her head out of the bathroom. Then, with those same shimmering green eyes, she said, “After the bath, I want to do all of that again!”

I chuckled and replied, “Ok, sounds good to me,” then upon consideration, added, “But let’s leave the moon out of it this time. That eagle has landed.”

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