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He thanked her then raised his glass, "And thank you for saving my life." She smiled her response. As they ate they introduced themselves. Her name was Blondie: easy to tell why. They exchanged the minor details of themselves, at first a little hesitantly as with strangers, but becoming more relaxed as they chatted. He enjoyed listening to her voice and watching the firelight flickering over her face.

She was dressed in a knee length blue denim skirt, a loose pale blue angora jumper with a big roll neck. Lovely face, maybe 44-45, he speculated. Pretty legs, trim figure. Greybeard tried, without making it obvious, to detect the shape of her breasts through the loose folds. The tantalising glimpses, as she moved, made him think hers would be lovely, and Greybeard was an unabashed tit man.

They finished their simple meal and she rose to collect his empty plates. "Thank you again, that was delicious," said Greybeard.

She refilled their glasses, placed the rest of the bottle by his chair, kicked off her mules and tucked her feet up on the chair. They talked happily, discovering about each other. Blondie's casual movements were gradually pushing her skirt up her legs. Greybeard's eyes were attracted to the mysterious dark area where skirt met her legs, Blondie caught him peeping and with a giggle dropped her feet back to the floor.

She drained her glass and stretched over to pass her glass for another refill. He shared the rest of the bottle between them and passed her glass back. Each time she stretched like that her knees parted a little, tantalisingly.

As they talked, Greybeard relaxed into a sprawl in the comfortable chair. Soon Blondie tucked her feet back up. Again her skirt kept rising up but this time she never checked it. It seemed to Greybeard she was shuffling around to encourage her skirt's movement. His glances became an unabashed stare. Their conversation became flirtatious and he caught her glancing down at the growing bulge in his pants.

Blondie seemed to make a decision, got up and returned with another bottle of wine. She poured and set the bottle beside him again. Standing hands on hips in front of him, legs slightly apart, she challenged, "I've seen you peeking up my skirt, and looking at my boobs. Guess what colour my underwear is," she gave a giggle, "and you can take it off." She bent over him, kissed his forehead and ran her hand over his short bristles, her fingers trailing sensuously over his chin.

Surely, she wouldn't be saying 'No' even if he did get it wrong, he thought. The atmosphere had changed from flirtation to sex. He went along with her game. She sat back and sipped at her wine, watching him try to decide. Her partly opened knees still did not show enough. After a few minutes as she shifted slightly, he thought he detected an extra dark patch. "Black," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I guess black. Am I right?"

"I can never remember, I'll have to check." Pulling her head down inside her sweater, she looked at her bra, then hoisting her skirt she revealed dark blue. "Guess you lose. Unless you pay a forfeit. You can take my underwear off, but take my pants off with your teeth!"

Greybeard grinned. He liked that kind of challenge. Standing up, he kissed her lips briefly then raised her jumper over her head. She obliged by lifting her arms. His eyes went straight to the full breasts filling the blue bra, taking in the soft creamy swells at last. He planted a kiss on her cleavage then one on each proud nipple showing through the lacy material before removing her bra and gazing at her perfect breasts.

He located the fasteners for her skirt and slipped it off. Her matching blue pants hugged her slim hips and nicely framed her ass. Dropping to his knees, Greybeard first kissed her damp crotch then started working her pants down. He had to move around her once or twice to pull the back down as well, and finally he knew he was in a position to take them all the way.

As her pussy was revealed, Greybeard's prick gave another je