Angelic Empath

She groaned and then asked, "Is this a curse or gift we've been given?"

"A gift I'd say. Too often we can hurt people without realising. Or we think we've upset someone when we haven't. That won't happen to us now will it?"

He knew there was nothing amiss with his physique. He'd kept himself in reasonable shape.

In the tackle department he was a grower not a shower. She'd already found that out. After a skinny dipping episode, in a freezing cold reservoir; one of his mates once commented that he looked like he had a walnut whip masquerading as a cock. When it was cold, it was a very accurate observation.

"Ah, this feels good." he said, lowering himself into the water.

Diane went out and came back with some candles. She lit them and placed them around the bathroom. She removed her robe and hung it on the door. He saw that she had a lovely body, she loved the way he was looking at her. He held out his hand to help her get in.

"Is it safe to do this?" she asked.

"What?"

"Touch your hand. Electricity and water, they don't go well together!"

He laughed, "You'll be fine"

She touched him, tentatively at first, indicating that she was partly serious. Then she held his hand. She stepped one leg over the side of the bath. He could see her pussy was trimmed, a small neat triangle of dark blonde hair above her clitoral sheath, everywhere else smooth.

Her legs were very long, so was her back. She was at least 5'10. Her body was slender and toned, certainly not skinny. Diane's breasts were a lovely shape. They were fairly pert, not like a girl in her early twenties but pert enough, with light brown nipples and areolas.

He realised he didn't know her age. He'd never given it a thought. If she asked what he thought then his honest answer would be mid to late forties. He absolutely hated the "How old do think I am?" question.

The worst case was going older than they actually were. Even going one year over you make yourself a candidate for summary castration. He defaulted to going fifteen years older than he actually thought. That was usually safe ground, they knew you were just winding them up.

He was once caught out when the lady in question was ten years older than he thought. He'd then given her a five-year over estimation. Not high enough to be a wind-up, but high enough to make her treat him like he was shit on her shoe for the rest of the night. If he'd only been honest with her, she'd have told her husband that Martin deserved the promotion.

The next worst case was being spot on, because deep down they want you to think younger. You aren't in deep shit, but you could do better. The sweet spot was about five to six years younger than their actual age. Martin didn't yet know it, but he was in the sweet spot with his estimation of Diane's age.

Still holding his hand she lifted her other leg into the bath and knelt down in the water. She was above him looking down at him, her hands on his wide shoulders. He put his arms around her, his hands on her bum, he rested his head on her tummy, his face turned to the side. It was a very tender moment.

She lifted his face then leaned down to kiss him, a soft, gentle kiss. Then she laid back against the curve of the bath. He did the same at his end, they lay facing each other. The taps were mounted at the side of the bath.

They were both very relaxed. Diane didn't want their conversation to touch on Martin's current situation, she wanted him to have some respite.

She asked him, "What's your favourite film?"

He thought for a moment, "Not Raiders of the Lost Ark." they both smiled, "For a long time it was Shawshank Redemption. A few years later I saw Billy Elliot. That film really moved me. I still cry every time I watch it. So I now have two favourites, those two.

What about you?"

"I want to watch Billy Elliot with you, find out which bits make you cry. I also have two favourites. Out of Africa and Somewhere in Time."

"That's interesting. Do you know what links them?"

She thought, then shook her head.

"The music, the amazing scores of both were written by John Barry."

"Perhaps that's partly why their my favourites. In Out of Africa, when Robert Redford takes Meryl Streep up in his aeroplane. That's a tear-jerking moment for me, I can hear the music now. With Somewhere in Time it's all the music. It helps make those scenes so magical. I never realised it was the same composer."

"You're a romantic aren't you?"

"Aren't we all? Deep down."

He smiled at her. She turned around in the bath, moved towards him and lay back against him. His arms were around her resting on her tummy.

"Have you any children?" she asked.

"Yes, two daughters. Rachael the eldest, she's 32 a barrister, lives in London. Then there's Louise, she's 26 a graphic designer, she lives in Leeds. No grandchildren, yet.

What about you?"

"No, I don't have any. I was prepared to, with Tim my ex-husband. He wanted kids, but his sperm count was too low. I've never been a broody woman and if it wasn't for Tim saying he wanted to I would have stayed on birth control."

"I did think you might have a son."

"Ah, you saw me with Josh then?"

"Blue Golf?"

"Yep, that was Josh. He was my boyfriend."

Martin didn't respond immediately.

"Does that shock you?"

"No not at all, I think I'd be a little shocked if you said he was your son."

"Why?"

"Well, when I saw you with him, you kissed him goodbye. I couldn't decide whether it was a lover's kiss or a mother's kiss. My mum never kissed me that way. That's all."

"I broke it off the day I met you. Not because of you. Let's talk about it another time. I'm enjoying feeling so relaxed and want to stay this way."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-eight."

Martin said this to help him with the "How old do you think I am?" question. If she was too young to be his mother, she'd have said something when Martin thought she could have been his mum.

Twenty-eight means even if her lower limit for being his mother was sixteen that would put her mid-forties as a low end for her actual age. That was where Martin had already estimated her lower age. He now felt he was on fairly safe ground.

She asked, "You're not going to ask me how old I am then?"

He was now enjoying this game.

"No. I don't care how old you are. How old do you think I am?"

"Erm... About eighty?"

Martin burst out laughing. Waves of water threatening to spill out. If he could have seen her face, he would have seen her smiling.

"I sometimes do that, add fifteen years to what I think, just for the comedy effect."

"I'm not joking."

He laughed again. Her smile was wider.

"So eighty minus fifteen makes you sixty-five?"

"Correct, you're exactly right."

"You lying old fart!"

He laughed again, "Stop it, I know laughter is good for the soul, but my sides are starting to hurt."

"They're hurting because you're so ancient."

"I could dunk you."

She turned her head to look at him.

"Are you really sixty-five? I thought you were a bit younger. You move well, you're in shape, you have nice skin and although you have gone white you have a good head of hair. I did, I thought you were a bit younger."

Then she said, "I chose a fifty-one-year-old body, when Gabriel told me I had to materialise to help you."

For a split second Martin wondered if he'd been involved in some miracle, then he saw the look she had in her hazel eyes.

"Gotcha! I had you there for a moment, didn't I? You daft sod!"

"Almost, so you're fifty-one?"

"Yes, my teeth are a bit younger."

"My grandma used to say similar, when I asked how old she was. She'd say she was old as her tongue and a little bit older than her teeth. I thought you were mid to late forties."

"Honestly?"

"Yes honestly."

She pulled the plug.

"Come on. Bed."

She took a towel off the radiator, wrapped herself then went to fetch him a towel.

She started drying his broad back, she couldn't get over how broad his back was. It narrowed quite sharply to his waist, the muscles fairly well-defined.

"Are you going to share my bed, or do you want to sleep alone tonight?"

"Are angels allowed to sleep with mortals?"

"Oh yes."

"Then I'd like to sleep with you. Thank you."

She took his hand and led him to her bedroom. There wasn't a cuddly toy or heart shaped pillow to be found.

One wall had a row of fitted wardrobes with mirrored doors. A dressing table between the wardrobes. A mirrored unit over the dressing table bridged the wardrobes. The mirror of the dressing table was surrounded with light bulbs, like an actor's dressing room. Various brushes and lotions were neatly arranged.

There was a king-size bed with just enough room to have bedside tables either side. Full length red curtains. Diane walked over to close them. Above the bed was a print of a giant poppy flower.

The walls were white. The colour scheme was predominantly red, poppy red. There was a porcelain poppy on the dressing table. On the left-hand bedside table was an old wedding photo. That would be her preferred side. The other table had a clock.

"Which side would you like?" she asked.

"I'll take the right, if that's OK?"

She smiled as she got into bed naked. He climbed in next to her.

She rubbed some cream into her hands and put some onto her face. He lay on his side watching her.

She put the cream away in one of the drawers of her table and rolled back to face him. She pushed him onto his back.

"I want you to sleep now. Hopefully the best sleep you've had in a long, long time. The desire for you to make love to me, for me to explore your body and for you to explore mine is hard to resist. But I want what's best for you and what's best for you right now is sleep. Tomorrow is a new day."

She kissed him, a soft, long tender kiss. Then she put her phone that was on her bedside table on silent, turned out the lamp and snuggled into him. Her head was on his shoulder, her arm over his chest, one leg over his legs.

"Goodnight Martin"

The only reply she got was contented breathing, he'd already fallen sleep.

Diane woke first. They were both in the same position, they hadn't moved during the night. Although he was lying on his back, Martin hadn't snored. If he had, she hadn't heard it. She lifted her head to look at the clock, a little after six-forty-five. She carefully lifted the duvet to look at him. Diane gasped when she saw his morning wood.

"Oh, I was right, that will do" she thought.

He was around eight inches and very thick. At first, she thought he was circumcised, then she saw his frenulum. She reached out to hold him. He was very hard.

She moved under the duvet and brought her face close to him. His shaft she kissed from the base to the tip. The kisses were motivated by affection rather than the desire to give him pleasure. She would take care of pleasure later. Her hand started to stroke him, her thumb stroking the underside of his glans.

She lifted his engorged cock as she stroked him. Then she held him at the base. She flicked the tip with her tongue several times, then engulfed him with her mouth. As she was bobbing her mouth on him, he started to stir.

"Oh, Diane... Yes that's so good."

When she heard him say that she threw the duvet off and straddled him. They looked into each other's eyes. She felt between her legs, she was ready. Holding his cock she moved the head along her slit to coat it. Then she positioned him where he needed to be. She pressed down slightly, enough for the head to begin to enter her then she paused. Leaning forward she kissed him, the kiss very quickly became passionate.

"I'm ready for you Martin, if you want this, take me. You can have me. I want you, but only if you're ready."

She resumed kissing him, tasting him. She felt both of his large hands around her waist. Diane wasn't sure if he was going to lift her off him. Then he started to move, slowly at first but insistently. He wasn't lifting her, he was holding her in position. She felt her vagina stretching, opening to take him inside her. He kept moving into her.

When he was about a third of the way inside her, he felt resistance. He started to withdraw, his shaft glistening with her wetness. Before he was completely withdrawn he re-entered her, this time there was no resistance, her juices allowed him to enter her completely.

Martin felt her cervix touch the tip of his penis. Diane felt completely full, he was a perfect fit for her. He gave three or four thrusts at a steady pace until he knew the limits of each stroke, then he increased the pace. His hands were holding her steady he was now forcefully thrusting in and out of her. He moved both hands up her torso, both thumbs moving over her nipples.

Diane was now pushing back at him, her vagina had adjusted to his size, he could go harder if he wanted. She wanted him to go harder, she was forcefully meeting every thrust.

He rolled her onto her back. He was careful to not let his weight bear on her, he didn't come out of her, they remained connected. This huge man was now over her, the muscles in his straight arms rippling as they supported his weight.

Diane looked down over her wobbling breasts and between their bodies at the powerful hips thrusting into her. She felt her orgasm starting, she looked at his face, he was looking right back at her. His expression was of someone doing a hard workout, feeling the burn but knowing they had to keep pushing.

His eyes! Oh my God, his eyes! It was more than adoration, he was willing her, encouraging her, strengthening her, reassuring her, taking her with him, making her his.

She felt she was flying with him, then they were falling, spinning, then everything exploded around them like shattered glass as their orgasms hit. It was as if that jolt when their hands touched had been amplified a thousand times.

They became one at that moment. He held his body still. She could feel the last pulses of his ejaculation. She looked in his eyes, he had come back to earth. He looked at peace.

Martin had never experienced anything like that. He looked at the woman beneath him. Her chest rising and falling, her breath not yet returned to normal. Her ash blonde hair spread out on the pillow. He could feel her vagina squeezing him.

He smiled at her, she smiled back. No thoughts regarding Jackie had entered his head. He was now at peace.

This vision in front of him was all that mattered to him now. He wondered if she felt the same, she smiled at him and whispered, "Yes, I do feel the same."

When he heard her say that, a tingle ran down his body from his scalp to his toes. He hadn't said a word to her.

She knew she'd found The One. She wondered if he would put everything else behind him and fall in love with her.

He smiled and said, "I already have."