A Village Inn

Together we return, hand in hand to our room in the little village inn. We have been driving the countryside touring the vineyards and wineries, sampling the many wonderful vintages and buying a few. The day was long, exhausting but wonderful, as it was selfishly spent in each other's company.

As we have spent the better part of the day in and out of the car, we are both weary and looking forward to a hot soak and drinking some of the 'fruits of our day's labours', and of course other more intimate pleasures.

Our suite is painted a pale yellow, has a high ceiling with windows to match. Each is draped in heavy brocade curtains, which add richness to the room. There is a single double bed (who needs more?). The fireplace has been lit in anticipation of our return and quickly the chill is drawn from our bodies. Before the hearth is a coffee table laden with fresh fruits and aromatic cheeses with crackers. A carpet picnic for lovers.

The wines are deposited on the bar and a 5-year-old vintage Merlot is selected for sacrifice.

As you busy yourself with putting on a couple of CDs, I start the Jacuzzi and add a little scented oil and bubble crystals. The candles are lit and the lights dimmed. Two glasses and the wine are placed on the small shelf above the tub.

We meet in the middle of the room by the glowing fireplace. I take you in my arms and nuzzle your neck with my lips. You lean your head back, exposing your throat. I inhale your perfume – that which you dabbed this morning and the natural fragrance of a woman in love.

Your hands are in my hair – short (you say) and getting grayer and grayer each year. It is pure pleasure to have you massage my scalp from forehead to the back of my neck. Your fingers are strong and tender. They have an eagerness about them. Your nails gently scrape my skin and the little finger invades my ear – sending shivers down my spine to my growing hardness.

We have been together for twenty-one years - 184,080 hours. We've had good times and hard times, raised two wonderful kids and amazing in today's society we are still together and still in love. More in love than when it all began that wonderful fall day. A half-day stolen from a short business trip as we wandered Niagara Falls, hand in hand. The early evening in the lounge of the Prince George Hotel in Niagara-on-the-Lake, seated on the couch, our thighs touching, and our breathing rapid, sipping wine, oblivious of our surroundings and the others about us. You wore a burgundy coloured corduroy suit with a slit, high on the skirt. Your blouse of cream with ruffles at the neck and sleeves was perfect. After twenty-one years, it is as vivid today as then.

That is what love is.

I bring my hands to your hair and slowly remove the clip holding it back from your face. Your autumn-red locks tumble on either side of your face. You shake your head with a sense of freedom. Your pale skin is beginning to glow. Is it from the increasing heat of the room or the building fire from within?

We look into each other's eyes and I bring my lips to yours - gentle at first, but slowly more insistent. My tongue explores your lips with the faint taste of the fresh strawberry you have just eaten. Your lips part and your tongue meets mine. They dance together, tip-to-tip - then bolder, as each invades the warm, wet cave of its partner. Sharp teeth, soft tongue, hot breath – all elements of the erotic and sensuous mouth -- mouths that give and receive pleasure. The first of the tactile senses to be employed by lovers.

Our kiss becomes more urgent. Lips pressed tight. Tongues wrestling. Hearts pounding. Blood racing. But time is our partner, not an enemy as is normally the case. This is our day, our night, and our time. The object is to move slowly, sensuously, provocatively, exciting our partner with subtle escalations of passion.

Our bodies separate slightly to allow hands to explore. Your blouse is rising and falling with your deeper breathing. Your hardened nipples make twin-peaks just begging for attention. My hands descend your back to the base of your spine, caressing your skin through the silk of your blouse. My fingers leave sparks of electricity on your emotionally charged nerves.

Likewise, you bring your hands to my face, down my chest unbuttoning as you descend. You slip your still cool hands under the shirt and caress my sides. With little circles made by your fingernails you lightly scratch your way to my nipples. Like yours, they too are showing signs of arousal. Using just the tip of thumb and forefinger you pinch and tug, not so gently. I move back in surprise, in a little pain and amazingly in pleasure. It was as if a small jolt of electricity had been shot through my chest.

You looked surprised at my reaction. You quickly coo soothing words and lower your head to gently kiss both nipples, one after the other. My hands hold you to me. You get the picture and begin to play with me - a little nip followed by a sensuous kiss and sucking. If this is what you feel then I begin to understand the pleasure you get from the attention I give your breasts.

As you continue to minister to my heaving chest, I pull your blouse from your skirt. Starting from the bottom I slowly release the buttons. Your hands and lips are too busy to notice. When you straighten up you are exposed, save for the last button at your neck. This I slowly undo. My arms encircle you beneath the blouse. I slide my hands down to your perfectly shaped ass. An ass I fell in love with the first time you exited my office with that sensuous walk of yours – one foot placed directly in front of the other. I cup each cheek in a palm and squeeze. The firmness, the size, the shape all are answers to a man's fantasies - my fantasies - my lover's ass.

I slip your blouse from your shoulders. Each arm is individually removed from the garment with a kiss planted on each wrist as the hand leaves the sleeve.

You stand before me in a chemise, your pleated mid-thigh length skirt, stockings and the high heels you slipped on. You turn to give me a view from all angles. You raise your hands, trailing your fingernails from your hips across your thighs, and slowly up your stomach. As you reach your silk draped breasts you take each one in hand. You weigh them, lift them, and caress them. Then you flatten your hands and work your palm lightly over each nipple, bringing them more alive and extended than ever before. You close your eyes, drop your head back so the hair falls off your shoulders and down your back.

You keep up the slow massage of your breasts - alternately caressing, palming and pinching each nipple. Your colour grows deeper and you're breathing quickens. Your eyes open with a start. You are not alone. You seem ashamed to have been caught pleasuring yourself.

I hold you and reassure you there is no need and it was giving me as much pleasure as it so obviously was giving you – the evidence available for both to see.

You begin to show more confidence now. Your body begins to sway to the music we had ignored until now – light Jazz with a very mellow Sax. Your hips are moving to the beat. You move about the floor as if in a sexual trance. You slide your fingers through your russet-red hair, the hair I love to feel on my body, to see on your shoulders and framing your face.

Your hands move to the button and zipper of the skirt. Both are released and you whirl about, the skirt flaring higher and higher exposing the tops of your stockings. Only a glimpse of flesh flashes into view. How erotic, how completely sensual, how liberating. You slow and drop the skirt.

You stand with your hands on hips, facing me. You are clad simply in the off-white chemise with matching French tap-panties, stockings and high heel shoes. Your hair is tangled in a most sensuous manner. Wanton, sexual and hungry.

By now the tub is full and the bathroom steamy. You approach me and lay your fingers on my belt. It is quickly undone and the zipper lowered slowly. You stroke my hardness through the fabric of my silk briefs and let your fingernails lightly caress my cock. It jerks in anticipation of what is to follow. You cup my balls and give a tender squeeze. You hook your thumbs in the waistband and pull down both pants and briefs in one motion.

This brings you to your knees with your face only inches from my throbbing hardness. You look up with a wicked smile on your lips and in your eyes. Your tongue flicks out and licks a drop of precum from the head. The strand stretches from cocks head to tongue.

You stand and pull off my shirt, leaving me naked.

It is my turn to caress your body. My fingers tangle in the broiling sea of red hair. I pull you to me and kiss your forehead. My lips dancing slowly down the bridge of your nose, alternating light brushes on each eyelid. Your lips are slightly parted, moist with anticipation and eager for attention. It is my pleasure to please you. We lock in a tight embrace, welded together from lips to toes.

My hands caress you through the silk of your lingerie. I feel the heat of your skin, the urgency of your body. I lift the garment slowly up your sides, exposing two perfect breasts. While not large, certainly not small. They fit my hands and mouth to perfection. The nipples are extended, from the darkened areolas. The flimsy garment is pulled over your head and tossed on the couch with your skirt and blouse.

My mouth salivates and is drawn to your right breast. I kiss the swelling above the centre of my attention, my tongue tracing little circles. The hair of my beard is lightly brushing your nipple. Individual hairs are working magic on you. You get even harder.

I leave a trail of moisture with my tongue across the valley between your breasts. The left breast my objective. Your hands grip the back of my head guiding my mouth to your aching nipple.

My tongue glides down the slope like a downhill skier – back and forth, back and forth. Then, I circle the areola further electrifying the nipple. I take you into my mouth and suck hard and scrape my teeth on the post-like protrusion. You shudder and cry out with pain and pleasure at once.

I leave your breasts for later. There is more territory to explore with fingers, lips and tongue.

After one last flick and nip on each eager nipple, my tongue and lips begin their descent to parts well known. Your skin, normally a pale alabaster is showing definite signs of radiant heat. A glow, if you will. I find your bellybutton and my tongue invades it like a stiff cock to a welcoming cunt. You lean into me, almost toppling me over backwards. I grab your ass for support. We remain in contact, tongue in orifice, hands on cheeks and your fingers tangled in my hair.

You insistently push me downwards, downward to your waiting, sopping pussy. My lips and tongue meet the string tie of your tap-pants and release the bow - these, off-white, matching the recently discarded chemise. They flare so very provocatively around your hips. The crotch is loose, but soaked with you juices. I grip the bottom and slowly pull down. My tongue trails after the silk. Down, down, down to the small patch of dark, orange/red pubs. We had trimmed you only last night at home in our bed.

I tangle my tongue in your hairs, then with my lips I grip and tug gently. You moan and your hips move towards me. I remove your pants and gaze at eye level at your SEX. The mound, with the small tuft of autumn red pubs, the outer lips puffy and engorged with heat and passion, the protruding inner lips slick with your wetness, the strands of hair matted together are all within inches of my eyes and lips.

Your fragrance fills my nose, my head, and my heart. As I kneel before you my cock is perpendicular to the floor. You are so wet that a small drop escapes you and free-falls, to land on the tip of my erection. We look in amazement. This could never happen, but we did just witness it. Lovers able to excite each other after all this time!

All that is left is to remove high-heels and stockings. I take each foot in turn and lift your legs to slowly slip off each shoe. Then with practiced skill I roll the flesh coloured stocking down each thigh, past the knee, over the tightened calf to your beautifully turned ankle. The right ankle still has the bracelet I gave you years before.

I stand. We are naked together. This has been the cocktail before the multi-course dinner. There is much to enjoy, to savor, to nibble and to roll about the tongue. We have all night. Our senses are heightened our bodies excited.

Shall we now partake of the appetizer?

End of Part I . . .