Linda's Half Term Holiday Ch. 03

Friday

Linda awoke after a deep and satisfying sleep. As her father had once said to her: "The one thing better than the sleep of the just is the sleep of the just after." She and Kevin had, after their initial tremendous orgasms, enjoyed a lengthy session of straightforward missionary position sex. She had judged that on his first time with an experienced woman it was better not to try too much, and just to let him feel in control, although she would have loved to have taken his truly ideally sized penis into her mouth and give him the delight of experiencing the thrill of a woman swallowing. But that would have taken something away from the obviously mind blowing climax he had achieved inside her. There might be another time, and she knew that he would be a quick developer in the arts of lovemaking.

So after he had left to find Tony she had languorously showered and bedded, and sleep had quickly overtaken. She had had to tell a disappointed Kevin that there could not be repeat the next day, as she had a trip planned for her last day, and she would be off early on the Saturday. Nor had she been willing to let him have her address or telephone number. This was a holiday fling, and would best be remembered as that. He had accepted with good grace, assuring her that he would never forget her - and that would almost certainly be true, for very few men do forget their first time, and that would be especially so when Kevin's had been so very memorable. Nor would she forget it in a hurry. She had experienced not a few sexual partners, but she would remember that one for a very long time. Just a shame that Tony had been quite so immature; he had a lovely body and could be a superb sex partner, but like so many young handsome physical specimens he was as yet too engrossed in himself to spend much time thinking of a woman's needs and desires.

She set off for her trip - visiting a couple of Cornwall's spectacular gardens - and lost herself in the scenic surroundings. As she drove back at the end of a relaxing day she was tempted to divert to the camping area and have an evening with the lads, but thought better of it and instead to spoil herself on her last night by splashing out on a proper meal at the hotel restaurant. It was only four or five hundred yards along the beach path and she could walk there. She dressed smartly but not ostentatiously - she was only going for a meal, not clubbing - in a white blouse, which showed off her tan to perfection, and a loose flowing navy skirt which sat nicely on her trim hips. She contemplated leaving off her bra, but decided against, in case it sent out the wrong message to any wandering eyes at the hotel. The restaurant was not too crowded, as it was still early and the evening was bright and sunny and holidaymakers were making the most of the late evening midsummer sun, and she took her time to spoil herself with three courses, washed down with over half a bottle of red wine. She took the remnants of the wine with her to the lounge, planning to finish it off with her coffee.

The lounge was busier than the restaurant and she had only just settled into the comfortable chair when a smartly dressed silver haired man took the chair on the other side of the wide low coffee table on which she had placed her wine. Mid 50's, she thought, maybe 60, but looking trim and fit, and well tanned. Medium height, blazer with light slacks, all set off by a shirt of a delicate blue with a matching tie. He nodded to her with a "Good evening" and a polite inclination of his head before he sat down and opened his newspaper. She noticed that his eyes were a very deep and definite blue. Perhaps that was why he wore the blue shirt? His coffee arrived almost immediately after hers and they found themselves both leaning forward to pour at the same time.

Linda noticed him looking at the bottle of wine; knowing that she was unlikely to finish it all she gestured that he was welcome to some. He smiled his thanks but declined. " I hope you won't think me being forward or pretentious," he said, "but I would not recommend having that with your coffee. The wine would diminish the coffee, and the coffee would kill the taste of the wine." She acknowledged that she was a complete ignoramous where wine was concerned, noticing as he picked up his coffee that his hands were beautifully clean and manicured, and clearly well cared for, and said she was happy to take his advice.

"I planned to have a brandy as a nightcap - may I offer you one?" Not "Will you join me?", which always carried that slight undertone of trying to move in on one. She felt no sense of threat from him and accepted with a smile. He flagged a waiter to order - two doubles. "Might as well make the most of it," he said, seeing her frown. " This is my last night, and I suspect that you're doing the same as me by treating yourself on your last night. And I know you're not driving because I saw you arrive as I came down for dinner, so no problem there." Linda smiled inwardly. A man who did not miss much; she would have to choose any words carefully.

With the ice broken they chatted about everything in general and nothing in particular. The weather. The hotel. The scenery. The crowds. The state of the roads. And so on. Then he teased out of her that she was a teacher, and when he learnt that her subject was English the floodgates opened. It quickly became apparent that he was widely read and with a great love of the language and for the next hour and more the conversation flowed effortlessly. Only when it became apparent that they were the last ones in the lounge, and that the staff wanted to clear up, did they pause. He looked at his watch and she at hers: nearly 11 pm. "I am so sorry," he said. "You have to get back to your caravan, but I only have to go upstairs. By the way my name's Bruce - over two hours' talking together and I haven't introduced myself. I do apologise."

"I'm Linda," she responded, "and no apology is needed. This has been the most mentally stimulating couple of hours I've had in a long time, and I wish we could have kept going."

He looked steadily at her, as though trying to sum her up. "We could continue while I walk you back if you wish. Or," and he hesitated, "we could grab a couple more brandies and adjourn to my room. But," he added hastily, "I do understand if you would prefer not."

All tiredness and thoughts of sleep had fallen away from Linda during the stimulating conversation they had enjoyed. She hesitated only briefly. "Thank you - I would like that - but just a single this time."

He visibly relaxed, and ten minutes later, clasping the brandies he led the way upstairs (a well bred gent, she thought, who knows that it is good manners to go before a lady up the stairs so that you are not directly looking at her bottom). His room was comfortably large - a double - but not spacious, with only one comfortable chair to which he directed her, sitting himself on the edge of the bed after taking off his blazer and carefully hanging it away on a coat hanger. She noticed a framed picture on the bedside table, of an attractive woman of about her own age, or maybe a year or two older in her early thirties, with a young toddler in her arms. He noticed her gaze. "My daughter and grandson. That's an old picture - he's five now. They live in Australia, so I don't see them very often." There was a wistful sadness in his voice and his expression. Linda stayed silent, looking at him. "My wife died three years ago - cancer - and that picture was taken on Bryony's last visit here, only a month before she died; at least she was able to see her only grandchild before she went." He was silent for a few moments, then seemed to pull himself back from memories that had sprung unbidden to his mind.

They chatted as they sipped their brandies, but now the conversation was more personal, rather than the detailed discussion of English literature that had flowed so freely in the coffee lounge. She learnt that he had met his wife shortly after qualifying as a doctor. She was an anaesthetist, and had supported and encouraged him to go on and become a surgeon specialising in diseases and conditions of the heart and they had had thirty two very happy years together, Bryony being their only child. He did not volunteer information as to why they had only the one and Linda did not ask. She had been diagnosed with the cancer only three months before he was due to retire, and it had been very quick; she had died within six months. So all the plans they had been making for the time they would have had come to naught. He had made a couple of trips to Oz to see Bryony and her husband, and of course his grandson, and Bryony wanted him to move out there to live. "But Australia's not for me; I'll visit often, I can afford it, but home is where the heart is. And that's here in old England. I enjoy the chance to visit all those places that I never did when I was younger."

He was apparently just finishing the third week of a month long tour of Devon and Cornwall, and was leaving the next morning to stay in a farmhouse in the middle of Dartmoor, where he planned to do some walking. In between gleaning that information from him Linda found herself opening up about herself, and he learnt that she had grown up on the outskirts of London, with an older brother, had gone to the local comprehensive school, getting admission to one of the newer "redbrick" universities, followed by a year at teacher training college. She was just finishing her sixth year in her first school and was at a crossroads: she felt it was time to move on, but was not sure that she was cut out to be a teacher (she didn't let on that part of her problem was coping with her sexual urges that were made a problem by being in close proximity to so many hunky 18 year olds) and was debating whether to move to a different school or into a completely different career. He learnt that she was both single and, since recently, unattached.

And so the conversation flowed, gentle and relaxed by the soft light of the bedside lamp; he made them some more - barely passable - coffee from the packets of instant in the room, but even with that Linda found herself yawning and was amazed to see from her watch that it was well after midnight. She had planned an early night and an early start the next day. "I wish I didn't have to, but I really must go."

She stood, as did he, saying "Of course, how thoughtless of me. Shall I walk with you?" She demurred, assuring him that it was so close that there would be no problem. He moved towards the door, saying that he would come down with her, but again she said that was not necessary. He held out his hand to shake hers and bid farewell, saying much he had enjoyed her company, and she felt how smooth and dry it was. She recalled her view of his hands in the lounge, and thought that they really were the hands one would expect of a surgeon. On impulse she leant forward to kiss his cheek, but he turned the wrong way, and somehow she found her lips meeting full on his, rather than his cheek.

Neither of them drew away, but neither of them pressed closer; their eyes were open, each looking at the other, and their right hands were still clasped in a handshake. Linda closed her eyes, but otherwise did not move. His lips were surprisingly soft; and very gentle, with no attempt to enter hers or use his tongue. For perhaps thirty seconds they held together, touching only at the lips and the handshake. Then as if by mutual consent they drew apart, still clasping hands. Bruce opened his mouth as if to speak, but before he could Linda dropped her bag from her left arm and put her left hand at the back of his neck, drawing him back to her.

Their lips met again, still gently but now she pressed harder and opening her lips just a tiny fraction. She had rightly judged that, gentleman that he clearly was, he would need some encouragement but would be likely to be put off if she was too assertive. That first kiss had sent tingles like mild electric shocks down her spine and she wanted more. She felt his lips part just slightly, and waited for his tongue to meet hers, but instead he just moved his lips over hers and drew her bottom lip between his, and, featherlike, ran the tip of his tongue along it. He did the same with her top lip and then his lips closed, although they did not draw away. Still only their hands and lips were touching, but as she increased the pressure on his neck with her left hand he put his on her waist. Politely, gently, and firmly in the middle, well away from her breast and nowhere near her bottom.

They drew apart and looked at each other, and for the first time that evening he seemed unsure of himself and when he spoke she did not try to stop him. "It's been a long time," was all he said. She put both hands upto his cheeks and kissed him tenderly and he seemed to relax. His arms went round her and hers round his neck; their lips fused as their tongues each sought the other. Linda pulled him to her, expecting resistance, but there was none and she fell back on the bed, still clutching him as he slid down and ended up on his knees on the floor between her parted legs, his hands on her thighs but with her skirt still down to her knees and capable of preserving her modesty if she wanted.

They both laughed and she raised herself on her elbows and looked down at him. As her grey blue eyes met his of deep blue their smiles faded and they just stared. He moved his hands down to her knees and moved them so that his fingers slipped just under the edge of her skirt. "May I?" was all he said. She nodded and dropped her head back on the bed, closing her eyes for the second time in as many minutes and surrendering to the moment, oblivious to everything except the feel of Bruce's hands pushing up her skirt and his lips gently kissing the insides of her thighs.

She lay back and luxuriated in the nerve tingling feelings generated by the steady movement upwards of his hands and lips, and almost unconsciously she undid the top buttons of her blouse and added to her quickening arousal by slipping her fingers inside and stroking her raised nipples. His fingers reached her panties and there was only the lightest of pressure on her vagina, but she was so keyed up that she twitched involuntarily, once, twice, and a third time. He reached both hands round her thighs and grasped the top of her panties; as she lifted her hips they were pulled down in a swift fluid movement, to be quickly replaced by his lips pressing against her. It took only a matter of seconds for his tongue to find her clitoris and she jumped uncontrollably as, just the once, it moved up and back.Then she felt first one and then two fingers gently inserted into her wetness, and move firmly in. She undid the rest of her buttons and reached behind her to unclasp her bra so that she could hold her breasts and add to the mounting sensations that were taking over.

His tongue continued its gentle movements, and now his thumb started a steady rub in time with his fingers. A low involuntary moan escaped her parted lips and he increased his tempo, causing her involuntary movements to increase. To her dismay the fingers were removed, but were replaced by his tongue, probing well inside her. It could have barely been five minutes since they had fallen back across the bed and yet already she could feel the first signs of an orgasm building, and she knew he must be able to hear her moans, whimpers, and sharp intakes of breath that were such sure signs of the pending event.

As though sensing her surrender to the demands of her body he moved his middle finger between her buttocks, and without conscious thought her legs lifted to allow him easier access. Wet with her own juices the finger rested, just slightly pressing against her sphincter, while his tongue moved back to her clitoris and resumed its caresses. That one movement unleashed the roiling climax, and as she cried out in almost painful delight he deftly pushed the finger inside as the muscle relaxed of its own accord. In the maelstrom of emotions that swept her she grasped his head with both hands and held him tight to her, as though determined not to let him retreat a millimetre. She arched forward over him in her final spasm and then, drained, fell back on the bed. He extricated himself from between her legs, and eased up beside her, taking her in his arms so that her head lay quietly under his chin. When a few minutes later her heartbeat steadied and some semblance of normality returned she looked up at him, and reached up to kiss his face, still damp from her spendings.

"Mmmmm......thank you. That was incredible. I don't think I've ever come so quickly. How do you do it?"

He chuckled. " I suspect that it may have something to do with the fact that I was making love with a wonderfully responsive lover, and learning from her, half a lifetime ago! But it does help to have a woman as lovely and as responsive as you with whom to enjoy the pleasures of lovemaking. That was the first time I have felt able to do that since my wife died, so thank you for letting me." Linda felt almost humbled at the thought that she had been the lucky one, and then realised that he was still fully clothed, even to his tie, while she lay half naked with her skirt around her waist, and her blouse and bra hanging half off. She sat up and removed them, and her skirt, and then knelt up beside him and started removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He attempted to help, but she pushed his hands away as she removed it and then turned her attention to his belt, below which she could make out the bulge of a respectable erection.

She loosened the belt and was about to slip her hand inside when, on impulse, she instead ran her hands over his exposed and almost hairless chest, and moved up to kiss him. As before, his lips were unbelievably soft and gentle and she lost herself in the eroticism which the combination of their gentle lip and tongue play and the feel of her now incredibly sensitized breasts against his smooth skin had brought about. He turned on his side and brought a hand up to her left breast, gently but firmly rolling her erect nipple between finger and thumb. She in turn ran her left hand down to his open trousers and, with only slight resistance from the elastic of his briefs, felt his straining erection slip into her grasp.

Bruce jerked as she ran her thumb over the sensitive head, which was already slippery from his emissions. His breathing deepened and his tongue became more thrusting, his hips starting to move almost involuntarily. She drew back from the kiss and opened her eyes to find him looking at her, smiled, and slipped down the bed, pushing his trousers and briefs as she did so. His cock sprang up proudly from a thatch that, unlike his silvery head of hair, was still very black but very soft and not, as with many men, stiff and bristly. He had at some point kicked off his shoes, so was able to complete pushing his trousers and briefs right down and off. She almost giggled - he was such a neat and tidy man that she half expected him to get up and fold the trousers and neatly put them on a hanger!

She dropped to her knees between his legs and took hold of his cock with both hands while letting her tongue drift over his balls. She loved these moments - feeling the tension in a man while he waited for that magic moment when his cockhead was enclosed in soft warm lips and a tongue probed his frenum - that so sensitive little spot below the helmet. Bruce was not circumcised, and as she drew back his foreskin she found - as she expected - that he was clean and fresh, and obviously took as much care here as he did of his hands. She preferred the uncircumcised man, but so often her enjoyment of the moment was lessened because of a lack of hygiene and the attendant bad taste.