The Best Erotic Stories.

A Weekend at the Cabin
by db01

The snow began falling an hour ago and it looks like there are at least 3 inches on the ground as we drive up to the side of the cabin. A single lamp on a side table lights our way as we enter. You stand there, in the doorway, looking around at what can be seen. It is just as I described it last night when you just couldn't wait to know where we were going this weekend. A large fireplace sits on one side of the room with an old bearskin rug on the floor in front of it. Just ahead are leather chairs to relax in while reading or drinking coffee in the morning. The walls hold old mounts from hunting days long ago. A big picture window fills the one wall where you can see the snow falling gently outside while sitting on the windowsill wide enough for two
people to cuddle on. The kitchen is open style with only a half wall to divide it from the dining area.

You walk into the kitchen and open the fridge. It is fully stocked and a bottle of champagne chilling sits in front and catches your eye first. You hear the fire starting to pop as you round the corner, seeing me crouched in front, the glow of the fire casting a soft glow around me. I turn to you, reaching out my hand as I stand, asking you to come join me.

I watch you walking towards me and my arms circle your waist as I feel your own arms moving around my neck. Your warm breath touches my ear as you whisper, "I love this, it's perfect." "There are more surprises waiting for you upstairs in the loft" I say and I feel your tongue dart out to flicker over my earlobe. A small sigh escapes me. Our bodies move closer together as your tongue travels over my neck till you find my pulse, racing from your touch. My hands reach up to cup your face as I bring my lips to yours, touching them as soft as a feather. Your arms tighten around me pulling me closer to you as your tongue teases me to open my lips to you. The kiss is passionate and filled with yearning and love touching both of us deep inside. The fire behind me isn't the only thing roaring right now. As the kiss ends I gently turn you away, patting the wonderful curves and tell you "go look in the loft my love, take what ever time you need."

As you turn to go, yours eyes linger on mine for a last moment. I can feel the reluctance in your fingers to let go of my hand as you slowly walk towards the stairs. You don't have to turn around to see me following your movements as you begin the climb up the steep stairway to the loft. Are your hips swaying a little more than usual as you walk up? Does it matter really because I am completely enthralled by the light from the fire and the shadows that you cast on the wall as you walk up the stairs.

When you reach the top of the stairs you look out over the rail and see me once again at work on the fire. As you look to your left, through the large circular window over the door of the cabin, you see the snow continuing to fall, large incredibly delicate flakes floating down from the sky.

There is an oil lamp lit, the wick barely showing, on the table beside the bed. Your mind jumps to last night in our own bed, the hours we spent tasting, touching, nibbling, caressing until we could no longer wait and the explosion that was our reward for being so patient. You smile wondering how it could be any better, knowing that with any luck there are still new heights to be reached even after all these years.

Looking around the room you discover that it is sparsely furnished, a single dresser, one nightstand, the bed has four posts about 3 feet taller than the top of the quilts on it and is just big enough for 2 people. There is also something large and upright in the corner of the loft almost hidden by the shadows. You feel drawn to it and as you get closer your breath catches in your throat, your hand going to your mouth. How did he know you think as you turn the full-length mirror around, moving it out from the corner closer to the side of the bed? The mirror catches the light from the oil lamp and some of the glow from the fire downstairs.

I wish I could see the smile on your face and read your thoughts because I know how long you have wanted to see ourselves as we make love, as we caress. I know that even though your imagination sees so much you are excited by the thought of making love up here, the mirror beside the bed, watching as we touch and so much more.

You look closer at the mirror. What is that hanging on the side of it? The first sense you have of it is the scent that floats up as you remove it from the mirror. You smile again, it is White Diamonds, your favorite, already sprayed lightly over the material. The color is a deep burgundy. It shimmers in the light and as you hold it to your cheek you feel it's softness knowing that it is silk. You laugh softly, and call out to below " oh darling, it is lovely," sure that I will know that it is not just the negligee but everything about the loft.

I can hear your feet shuffling above me as you twirl around, my own feet stretched out and bare in front of the fire. I close my eyes and relax, imagining what is happening upstairs.

I see that you are in no hurry as your clothes slowly find there way to the floor. First your socks, then slacks, your sweater and turtle neck, each being removed with a smooth grace, your movements fluid. I hear the movement stop above me, the fire is too loud for me to hear any other sound. It takes me a moment, then I smile a little knowing what it is.

Standing as you are in your bra and panties, your eyes are again drawn to the image in the mirror. The lighting is soft yet you can see every detail of this body you know so well. It looks different as you touch yourself, running your hands from the top of your legs, over your stomach, lifting your breasts, moving your hair up and off your neck in one long, slow sweeping motion. You reach to unclasp the bra and as it falls forward and off of your shoulders your nipples, already erect, look large in the mirror. Is this what he sees you think? Is this what he feels you wonder as you run your hands over your breasts, flicking at the nipples. Why is it so different tonight you wonder? You have touched and stroked all of your body so many times, why is it?

The panties come off quickly, your fingers so close to touching your lips and beyond but you resist, wanting my touch to be the first this evening. There is a small bottle of perfume next to the bed, not noticed at first, but you see the glass twinkling in the light now. You take your time dabbing it behind your ears, inside your elbows, between and under your breasts, dabbing more behind your knees and finally between your legs so close to your lips that once again it is a battle not to touch there, not to stroke even just once.

Your eyes return to the mirror seeing yourself bare like this, hand near your lips, eyes wide open. You smile knowing what fun you will have tonight with this mirror that I so cleverly made sure was in the room. Oh yes, returning the favor will be sweet ... for both of us.

The gown slips on easily, the silk so soft against your skin. It fits like you were almost poured into it, molding itself to your particular curves and contours. It has a warmth that you cannot explain but are happy to feel as it moves with your steps, gently moving across your thighs, buttocks, breasts. The slit in the front is up past your knees, almost mid thigh. You steal one last look in the mirror, legs spread, shaking out your hair, smelling once again the perfume spread out into the room before beginning down the stairs.

I hear your steps when you are halfway down from the loft, hear you humming something soft to your self, some tune I do not recognize. There are two large pillows on the floor, I am leaning back against one, feet towards the fire, my heavy shirt open and out of my pants, the fire very warm now. I have brought the champagne and glasses in with me and they sit to the side, the flames from the fire reflecting and glinting off the glasses and silver bucket.

I smile at you as you reach the bottom of the stairs and ask you to slowly turn for me. Your movement is slow and sensual as you do this, your hands moving up your sides and lifting your hair as you complete the turn. Is it fire or the reflection from the fireplace in your eyes? There is no mistaking the smile I see. I am glad that the gifts and preparations are to your liking.

Our eyes meet and I am in love all over again, you can see it as you move slowly towards me. It's as if time is slowing down as I watch you, able to see every subtle movement you make, your perfume just now reaching me. I know I am not dreaming because you lean close to me and whisper.....

What is it you whisper lover??

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