tagRomanceChamber Meeting

Chamber Meeting

byDaisygeek©

Rendezvous. I must confess, I didn't think I could spell the word without some help, but for the first time I seem to have managed it (if my spell checker is to be trusted). From the French rendez vous; present yourselves. Used as a noun or a verb. The act of meeting or the meeting place itself. The French have some of the greatest phrases. I love that we can use one word or phrase from another language to capture something more completely than we can in our own.

While I'm confessing, I will tell you about my latest rendezvous. A secret rendezvous. This is not the first time I have arranged to secretly meet this man who had, within the last couple weeks, quickly transitioned from my friend to my lover. Maybe the exact point of the transition was that first rendezvous, when I contrived to visit his cabin on the lake to discuss and lament my dissolving marriage. We walked and talked in the promising sunshine of early spring. We sat on his porch and he held me as I cried. We talked some more, his kind and understanding words a balm to my aching heart. Some time later, having migrated to chairs in the sunshine of his yard and under the watchful eyes of nesting songbirds, I tapped some unknown source of courage within myself and quietly asked if I could kiss him. He agreed with a pleased and slightly surprised smile, offering his mouth to my tender kisses. Maybe that was the physical turning point in our relationship, yes, but upon reflection it was only an expression, a confirmation, of what had been growing between us from the beginning, since our librarian friend had introduced us a few months before.

After the kiss our relationship continued to develop on the internet, with email, chat, and other social media. Only a few days passed before we arranged to rendezvous midway between our homes, in a secluded alley downtown. I was at least as nervous as I had been when I'd shown up at his cabin, maybe more so. I arrived first and waited anxiously, drawing deep, slow breaths in a fruitless attempt to calm myself. My heart leapt in my chest as he walked around the corner into the alley. So cool, so handsome with his sexy, hippie geek thing going on. So otherworldly. So mine.

We exchanged greetings and held each other's eyes for ages. Then we were in each other's arms, exploring a little more of each other than we had before, seeking out skin to taste and touch, learning each other by sighs and murmurs of pleasure.
Does he like my hands in his hair? Does he like it gentle or rough? Oh God, his hands feel so good on my bare waist, pulling me against him. His hot mouth on my neck is sending hot tingles to my toes.

My mind reeled when he began caressing my bare leg beneath my skirt, working his way up my thigh with gentle strokes. The man was fascinated with my thighs. He was not unwelcome when he moved higher and slipped his slender fingers under my damp panties and into me. My knees nearly gave out as he gently worked me. I opened to him, held him close, moaned my satisfaction.

That was as intimate as we got that day, though I was so out of my head with arousal I probably would not have stopped him if he'd wanted to do more. I was so starved for attention and his touch was so electrifying.

We were short of breath and eager like a couple of teenagers one minute, slowing down to gaze into each other's eyes and absorb each other the next. We explored the depths of each other with sight alone, our eyes searching, asking questions, "Who are you? What do you see in me? What do you expect of me? Do you like what you find here?" Replying, "I am yours. I am open. You fascinate me and I want to know more." We talked some, yes, but mostly we focused on the aspect of US that we could not experience in written word.

Up until this point I knew he was as enamored with me as I was with him, but did not know if he was considering a future with me or just enjoying it for what it was. I didn't dare question it; I would rather enjoy it for what it was than risk ruining it by wondering what it could be. That didn't stop my imagination from building a life with him, however, nor did it keep my heart from hoping. Somewhere near the end of our hour or so together, as we were exchanging sweet words, I picked up on a crumb of something that I don't think he even realized he had let fall to my plate, and surely he couldn't know how hungrily I ate it up, how I had been waiting to hear it. Maybe I didn't even realize the latter myself. He spoke of someday. Someday when our librarian friend would know about US. This man who was everything I'd ever hoped for in a companion was entertaining thoughts of a future with me. I had to fight back the tears to keep them from falling.

Back to the internet; late nights and early mornings chatting. The universe smiled upon us a few days after our alley meeting. I was freed up for a couple of days, with only minimal responsibilities. I sent him a message: I would like to spend the night with you.

And so I did. I found my way again to his cabin and a delicious meal, feeling relaxed and at home for the first time in over a week. I unloaded my emotional baggage, with no small amount of sorrowful weeping. Again he held me and spoke reassuring and loving things to me. We spent the night in each other's arms, in his bed, finding no end of ways to express the love we felt for each other. We slept some, loved some more, slept some more. We spent the next day together, reveling in our love, feeding it, watching it thrive. That night we lay down in his bed again, together. Connected in so many ways. It was a premature honeymoon of sorts and we knew it. We embraced it.

Since then we have managed to steal kisses, touches, and knowing glances at social functions. Sweet, sweet love. On the internet, learning each other, planning our future. And we had one amazing night under the moon in his yard, after our friends had gone for the night. Dancing in the moonlight, the air cool but not very cold; reclining together on a cozy piece of lounge furniture, talking. So much to talk about with my Love. Both of us always thinking, always communicating, always wanting to connect. Soon time pressed and I felt an urgency. I had to be close to him. Closer. Before it was time to leave. Who knew when we would have another moment? I climbed on top of him and let him see the desire in my eyes, let my body suggest things to him. He was in tune; eyes afire, hungry hands sliding beneath my skirt, along my thighs, touching me, discovering how ready for him I was. I made brief but passionate love to him there, our love sounds mingling with the lake sounds; the night sounds of the frogs and the honking and splashing of geese. My legs were trembling when I finally stood to leave. He helped me to the car and kissed me goodnight. Such promising kisses.

My love and I; always following up online, remembering our times together, reflecting on life, the universe and everything. So full of hope. Making each other laugh and cry. The best friend I've ever had. My tender and passionate lover. My life partner.

It was time to rendezvous again. I wasn't sure I could handle another casual, restrained public encounter. Just a half an hour alone with him would, hopefully sate me for a bit. I thought this while in another part of my brain I laughed at the absurdity; I would not be sated. Ever. I couldn't get enough of this man and his love for me, of which, it appeared, he had an endless supply. Another private encounter was just as likely to make me more frustrated and impatient as it would satisfy and calm me.

My Love has access to our local Chamber of Commerce and I was to meet him there yesterday evening when it would be dark and empty. I was not as nervous as on the previous secret meetings, still nervous enough to be trembling, to get confused about which back door to approach. And then there he was in the doorway (the other doorway, to my embarrassment), smiling at me, inviting me in out of the cold spring rain. I entered. We faced each other. I had thought to just grab him and begin kissing him passionately, but I could only stare at him, overwhelmed with sweet emotion as he unsnapped my long overcoat and slipped his hands in to hold me by the waist, drawing me to him. He seemed to wait for me to make the next move, always willing to go at my pace, whatever it should be. I wanted to hold him close, so close that he melted into me so we could be one person, to ease the ache of wanting him with me always.

I shed my coat, tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor. I took him in with my eyes, observing, as always, my own feelings reflected there. Time ceases to mean anything with him, so intense our gazes, our mutual love, respect and desire. I touched his face, his full beard tickling my palm. I leaned in close, my arms sliding around him, breathing in the smell of him. I sought his lips, kissing him slowly, deliberately, so hungry for him and yet not wanting to rush, not wanting to miss a thing. He held me tightly to him, as lost in our kisses as I was. I broke away to look at him again. He smiled knowingly at these affectionate little acts that have become sort of an Absorbing Ritual for me. For us.

After a few minutes like this we managed to move away from

the entry to the main room where some tables and chairs were set up. The lights were off and it was private, but there was enough light filtering in from outside to see clearly. To see him. To see the joy and hunger in is eyes. His arms were around me again, loving hands on my waist, my back, grabbing my ass through my skirt, sliding under my shirt to my warm skin as we searched each others mouths, tasting, teasing. Talking could wait; this touching and tasting and looking was what we couldn't accomplish online. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I wondered how far he was interested in taking me during this encounter. Making out at the Chamber was one thing, the idea of having sex there was exhilarating. Yes, as he pulled my shirt collar aside and eagerly nibbled my neck, one hand in my bra, massaging my breast, tugging the nipple until it hardened, drawing a quiet moan from me, his other hand on my outer thigh, working my skirt up to my hips, discovering, with a delighted little moan, that I had left my panties at home... Yes, he would take whatever I offered this evening and I would offer everything. And I would eagerly take whatever he would give me. So greedy, we two.

Kissing my Love's neck, my hands in his wild dark hair, my tongue flicking at his earlobe, breathing warmly into his ear and relishing his response; pulling me tighter against him, his hand finding my warm center and his fingers making their way like they had studied a personal map of me for eight hours of every day of the three months prior, so skilled was his touch. Pressing, circling, teasing. I backed against the table and propped one leg on a metal folding chair for support. He quickly took advantage of my openness, plunging his fingers into my wetness, causing me to gasp and moan, lifting my hips to him involuntarily, my eyes closing and my head rolling back. Oh god, what this man does to me with his fingers! He worked me with his hand, his fingers, his other hand on the small of my back holding me to him. I am not sure how long we continued like this or which of us enjoyed it more. He truly loves to give me pleasure and I become hyper-aware of my responses to him, knowing that he is drinking me in. It makes me feel so beautiful and sexy, heightening every sensation.

Soon my Love moves between my legs. I hear and feel him undo his pants and push them down. My heart pounds harder in anticipation. I open my eyes and catch his, letting him see my desire, seeing it matched in his. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him, eager and passionate, seeking his tongue, sucking his lips. He pushes between my legs, his hardness brushing against me, making me jump a little, making me gasp a little. His hand finds its way between us, he guides himself to me, pushing gently, parting my swollen lips and barely entering. Pulling out again, teasing. My head rolls back, eyes closed, another moan. It is too much. I lay back on the table and he assists by shoving aside some papers and things, clearing a spot for me. I pull up my t-shirt and sports bra, giving him access to my breasts, my tummy, of which he quickly avails himself, crushing my soft breasts in his hands as he pushes into me again. A little way. Out again. Torturing me. My mind is fuzzy and my sex is hot with the need for him, the anticipation... I wrap my legs around him, encouraging, begging. He pushes into me fully and stops. Mmmmm... yes. Yes. We both moan. I open my eyes again; I must see his face. I must see the desire and pleasure on his face. So amazing, this love of ours.

From somewhere outside myself I see us, I take in our situation. We are fully clothed, shoes on and everything, and he is fucking me on a table in the pale evening light at our Chamber of Commerce. Ridiculous and delicious. So naughty. So fun. The vision remains but fades again to the background as my Love's hands find my hips and he begins to move within me, to find his rhythm. Oh yes... he feels so good, fills me so completely. He is so good to me.

With the awareness of our limited time he picks up the pace, letting the urgency and hunger lead his movements, thrusting harder and faster as I lift my hips to meet his thrusts. And I know he is delighted with me, delighted to have me spread before him on this table, delighted with my moans and gasps and murmured encouragements, delighted to be pleasuring me, fucking me, fucking his woman, his own Love. His breath grows ragged and he moans as he nears his climax. I cannot describe what it does to me, listening to my Love as he comes. I think my own moans become quieter just so I can listen to him and absorb his abandon. Now I am feeling him tense and pull out. I am so suddenly empty it hurts, but he is coming and I savor the moment. There will be time later to learn each other, time for him to come within me.

I sit up and wrap my arms around him. So satisfied, so pleased with him, feeling so tender now and communicating it with my lips, my hands, my eyes. I stand. He holds me tightly. We kiss for awhile. In a moment of inspiration I drop to my knees and reach out to him, pulling him to me so I may kiss him and lick him clean. He is still fairly hard and I take him into my mouth, sucking and teasing with my tongue. I want to make him feel good, to give him as much pleasure as I can. If his response is any indication, I am succeeding. I continue for a little while, thoroughly enjoying myself, then I stand before him again, smiling into his eyes.

"All clean," I say with a grin.

"Mmmm... You," is his response. He pulls me close and we communicate in kisses, sighs and touches for a few moments.

"Would you like to lay down again and I can go down on you or touch you?" he offers with hope in his voice. Just the offer melts my heart. He has been down on me a couple times before and it is a fairly new experience for me. My ex-husband had done it a few times in our 14 years but it was awkward and he never seemed to enjoy it so I was never free to. My Love loves to give me this kind of pleasure and is very, very good at it. How could I resist? I lay back on the table, each foot on a chair for support.

My Love begins by kissing and caressing my thighs. I feel so vulnerable, open before him this way. Then his mouth is warm upon me and I feel only pleasure. His tongue is dancing, he is kissing and sucking. Oh God, he is so good to me. I lift my head for a moment to observe. The sight of him between my spread legs, feasting hungrily upon me... oh my. I reach down to run my fingers through his hair, to encourage him, then lay back and just enjoy, gasping and writhing under his attention. It feels wonderful, incredible, but I do not feel the need to climax. It's so much work for me sometimes and this isn't the place. I'm not like the women I read about in stories, who come so easily and repeatedly in any position. I have my moments and they are sweet but, another time maybe. I sit up and pull my Love up to me so I may kiss him again. Why is it so thrilling to taste myself on him?

We finally pull up his pants and get decent, grinning like canary-eating cats. After checking the time I decide we can sit and visit for a bit. So, we finish up our rendezvous just caressing and kissing and talking, enjoying each other and dreaming of the future, wondering if and when the universe will provide another opportunity for us to be together before we are finally Together, my Love and I.

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byDaisygeek© 2 comments/ 6354 views/ 2 favorites

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by Anonymous

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by Daisygeek12/25/13

Thanks. True story. =)

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by fleetusa12/23/13

Good writing!

Yes excellent story telling

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