Coolsville I
It had started out of desperation, Fred in his airy beach house, plying Velma with sweet words and cosmopolitans and then coaxing her into his bedroom. It was different than kissing Daphne. Daphne only cared about herself and so Fred focused on himself and they were only in it for the pleasure they took away. But Velma was there for him, because she sensed that he needed this, and he could be there for her, because he thought she might have a problem too.
She hooked one finger with its short, unpainted nails into the loop in the zipper on Fred's shirt and tugged downward and Fred thought she was beautiful. His tastes usually tended to bigger and broader and harder, but Velma blushed when he pulled off his shirt and shivered just a little when he lifted off her sweater. She had a soft tummy and round, gorgeous breasts. "You've got girl parts under here, Velmster," he teased.
"Yeah," she said, "I like girl parts."
And she kept her glasses on so she could see him.
Afterwards, he was better. It hadn't been the sex, which was nice, which was fun and Velma laughed and he laughed and it had been good and they might do it again, but afterwards they sort of twined together and just lay there and Fred felt like he wanted to cry, because Velma wasn't going to go anywhere. She just lay there, naked and wonderful, and they whispered to each other, and she traded him a secret for a secret, and he wasn't going to go anywhere either.