Not a satisfactory meeting

"When can we meet?," she asked on the telephone, soon after flying in and done unpacking in the flat.

The occasion was supposedly scheduled for the handover of the album of old photographs, retrieved from forgotten boxes of memorabilia. She looked tall and slim in the pictures then, her schoolgirl chest had not yet filled out.

Peering down from the higher mezzanine floor of the office complex, she was sighted outside the ground floor departmental store as pre-arranged. Her waistline looked substantially thick. The full bosom, not a typical Asian attribute, came about only after her children arrived. "You should have seen them when I was expecting", she had boasted after our first time in bed. Almost clinically, she had then indicated her blind nipple, which her doctor assured, would not interfere with breast feeding.

She had dressed simply, almost shabbily, compared to the evening shoppers and office workers in the crowded mall. But she had a dress on, not the usual pants or slacks that was her style of ensuring access to her secret place between her legs would require a bit of effort.

"I thought we were eating here," she said, as we made a beeline for the basement carpark.

"I thought of a better location, where we might catch the sunset." The blatant lie was obvious when we drove out of the complex, as the sky was overcast with threatening clouds of monsoon rain. The "location" was a remote part of the city, preferrably with large, empty parking lots for the night's activity in mind.

At dinner, a simple seafood affair with pepper crab and scallops, it was painfully obvious age had been unkind to the once youthful face. I had a glimpse from a distance when looking out for her, but it was not that part of her anatomy that was of significance to me. During our last interlude, I theorised her middle age spread had prevented us from a proper coupling. Her waist still appeared substantially rotund, though the skirt did not emphasize it like her stretch pants did the last time.

It looked like the bottom of her face, from the cheek bones onwards, were weighted down. The surface was like the melting wax of a candle, burning too long into the night. Distorted, a battle lost to gravity. I tried to focus only above her eyes, as my mind entertained the possibility of cancelling my plan for the evening and just send her home immediately after dinner.

The night fell quickly like a curtain, soon after we finished the meal, and the automatic street lights came on. She sat wordlessly as I scouted several carparks for a suitable spot, silent partner to our surreptitious mission. After giving up on finding a darkened area, we settled on the shade of a large tree, which blocked the harsh invasive glare of the closely spaced lamp posts.

Without a sign of exchange, the pants came down and the recently shaved groin was made available for her exploration. No token objection this time, not even the false "why you want this" query. She fondled the member with both hands, and I asked her to run her tongue over the whole length, including the testicles, before putting it between her lips. Her bobbing head prevented me from seeing the administrations with her mouth. I reached under her left arm to shove aside the bra cup, to reach for and squeeze the hanging globe of hot meat, and tweak the taut knob of her hardening nipple. Her breast was reassuringly firm, it had not yet sagged.

Barely five minutes later, her panties roughly dispensed off, she was lying horizontal on the fully reclined front seat. Her blouse was partly raised, exposing only one full left breast. The shade of the tree, intended to provide modest shield for her face, also shaded her body, now naked from the waist down. She had also shaved her pubic region for me. The faint triangle pointed to the slit of her smooth sex, our mutual destination.

The ejaculation came quickly. It was like emptying into a toilet bowl. In the manner her body was positioned, I had made sure her broad waistline would not be in the way. Not this time. The wet, smacking sound of contacting flesh as I rammed my shaft through the parting labial folds of her mons veneris confirmed the trajectory was correct. Her grimace, with eyes clenched tightly shut, evidenced her orgasm was intense. She arched her back as she came again, her hands clawing my back, and pulling me deep inside her.

Once upon a time, we were a perfect anatomical fit. Lying together, the post coital penis still nested in her damp vaginal portal, we had wished the moment to be frozen forever in time.

As she laid back to rest from the exertions, I had no desire to remove the rest of her blouse and bra, to play with her breasts, to feast in her complete nudity. "You wanted me stripped naked," I recalled what she said the first time we copulated in a car.

When we reached her block of flats, she asked if I wanted to park. We used to do that. To engage in a final round of frenzied coupling in the confines of the automobile, furtive pleasure heightened by the exciting possibility of discovery by wandering neighbours in a public place. But I had discharged my load in her twat, mission accomplished.

As she alighted, I didn't even reach into her pants to finger her clit as a parting gift.

"I don't know when we'll ever meet again," was my plaintive truth.