Single Red Rose

Before long I could feel the warmth deep inside, radiating out in all directions. I willed Dave to keep going, to keep stoking those fires, to take me higher and higher, closer and closer to that point of no return. This was the one time he seemed not to read the signs, and instead of him increasing his efforts, it was the chill of the kitchen air which I felt up against my sodden sex. I opened my eyes, just in time to see Dave undo his belt and his trousers fall to the floor. Was it just my position, laid back on the table staring through my outstretched legs, or did his cock look larger than ever?

I stared, watching as he inched forward, gasping as his cock once more nudged into my pussy. This time it wasn't a fleeting touch. I felt him reach between my legs, his hand lining up his cock with my hole, a little pressure ensuring the tip was firmly nestled into my opening. I could see the smile on his face as I closed my eyes once more. This time I knew what was coming, and boy did he not disappoint.

"Aghhh," I squealed, a high-pitched sound flooding the kitchen as he sank deep into my pussy, a single stroke taking him all the way in, stretching my walls tight around his hard shaft.

He was so large, so tight up inside, so much bigger than I ever remembered. Was it my imagination racing away with me, or did he feel more than I remembered, or was it just... just... just I loved him so much? I wanted to feel him there, to feel his length filling my love canal, but Dave wanted something more, something more passionate, more forceful, more... the ultimate word was satisfying.

He was like a man incensed, pummelling hard at my sodden sex as if he was on a mission. With me on the tabletop and him thrusting hard, we were like some weird machine, some relic of a foregone age. His cock was like a piston easing out before plunging back into its well lubricated home, drawing a squelch of juices, and a moaned hiss of relief as the body of the machine rebounded on the table to the rhythm of that piston. Even dressed, I could feel my tits bounce inside my bra, reacting to his every movement.

I was moaning profusely, the warmth inside no longer a radiating flicker of fire, but more an inferno of desire. Still though he ploughed his furrow, fucking me hard and long, as fast as he could. I could feel it getting closer, a distant wall approaching like a giant tsunami. Higher and higher I climbed, nearing the edge as the fires intensified. Dave was relentless, slamming his cock into my cunt, pushing me onwards with every thrust.

When I came, it was like nothing I'd felt before. I was climbing, up and up, intensity building inside as I neared the edge. There was no tenderness, no gentle ripple of pleasure as he pushed me to climax. This time I simply rose the edge, higher and higher, moaning louder and louder, before...

"Yesss," I screamed, as I came crashing down the other side.

I clamped my legs around his ass, half in encouragement and half to slow him down. When it hit, it was like somebody had slammed a hammer into me, my body bucking on the table as euphoria flooded my senses. I rode the wave as far as I could, tensing up against the orgasm, pleasure filling every ounce of my body, and then... then... panting, I collapsed back against the hard wooden surface.

I could hear him grunt, but did little to react against his thrusts, my resolve broken by the intensity of that orgasm. Eyes closed, I lay there, listening to his grunts, waiting for that feeling of warmth as he unloaded inside me. Once more it never came. Still panting, I opened my eyes as the chill of fresh air hit my sodden pussy again. Dave was standing a couple of paces back, his cock gleaming with my juices, his eyes fixed on my sodden sex.

"Come on then," he whispered, smiling down at me. "You started it all, now you'd better finish the job off."

Slowly, my body shattered by orgasm, I climbed down off the table. Every move was an effort, my muscles weakened by the intensity of that climax, but I made it back down onto my knees, my eyes staring at his glistening cock, the foreskin still pulled back exposing his engorged head. I reached my tongue out and licked gently at his cock, tasting my sweet juices on his head. It was all the encouragement I needed and, leaning forward, I took him back into my mouth, savouring the very taste of my spent pussy.

This time, I worked him long and fast, using his moans and grunts as encouragement. He must have been close from fucking me, as it didn't take long before he had his eyes tightly shut, his hands on my shoulders as his legs began to wobble. I continued to work hard against his cock, taking him all the way inside, before sucking off again. In response to his every grunt, I stepped up my efforts, working him harder and faster. I felt him twitch in my mouth and knew it would only be a matter of time. Another twitch and I slowed down, holding his cock just inside my lips as I used my tongue against his sensitive head.

One more twitch, the largest yet, and then my mouth filled with warmth as he unloaded his salty reward. I swallowed as much as I could, but there was just too much. A dribble left my mouth, trickling down my chin, leaving damp patches on my blouse. I pulled off his cock, and once more glanced up at Dave. This time I had a naughty look of guilt on my face, a trickle of pearly white still clinging to my chin.

He smiled, then laughed.

"You hungry?" he whispered.

I didn't answer. One hunger had been well quenched, and with it I had most likely made my decision.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I did nothing but think about the situation over the next few days. However much I did consider though, I always came back to the same place, and the same answer. If I didn't have Dave then maybe it would be different, but there was no reason to change a good thing, and boy were we good together.

That evening on the kitchen table was something else. It all started as I planned; my usual submissive side replaced by an air of dominance. No, it wasn't in a sense of dominating him, but more about control. I was the director calling the tune, the leading lady to his best supporting actor.

Did I enjoy being in control? I had to admit I did—there was something pleasing about the way I could tease him, give him the eyes, make him wonder where I was taking him—but then there was something else, something so different, something which I had dreamt about many times. On the kitchen table he came close to my heart's desire, and with the right encouragement I was sure he would fulfil my deepest fantasy.

I still had that dream, that vision of being restrained on the bed, unable to resist as my lover worked me into a fervour. There were similarities. On the kitchen table he hadn't restrained me, but I knew better than to resist. You could say that I was virtually restrained, unable, or more likely unwilling, to resist his every move. Tied to the bed, the possibility of resisting would be no more. I would have no choice but to submit to his every move.

Then there were differences. On the table there was just an inkling of slow stimulation before he reverted to type and pummelled me to orgasm. In my fantasy it was so different. My heart raced just thinking about it. It was all about the passion rather than the power, the endless stimulation edging me closer and closer to heaven, never relenting in its drive to make me cum. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the physicality which came with Dave, but still I dreamt about a different adventure.

Could Rosamunde give me what I desired? Maybe she could, but could I guarantee it? Was it worth risking what I had? I saw how Dave reacted when I took control. All I needed to do was give him the right signals and I was sure I could bring my dreams to life. What's more, he might enjoy a little variety in life. I know I would. Then the other question ran through my mind. Could I achieve the same with another woman? I was sure she would bring the slow sensual aspect that I so desired, but would I lose the raw passion.

In my mind, I knew what I wanted. I wanted both, and only Dave could supply both, of that I was convinced. All he needed was that bit of encouragement, that guiding hand to have him fulfil my dreams as well as his. All I needed to do was tell him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Friday night I joined Rosamunde at the restaurant, my mind made up as to what I was going to say. Rosamunde had been right. It was a fantastic Italian, great food, and even better wine. If the meal had exceeded expectations, so had her company. One to one, outside of the office, she was so different. I wasn't talking in terms of appearance, although the off the shoulder tube dress she chose looked fantastic. I longed to have enough up top to pull off that look. What was different was her character. Gone was the directness, the blunt efficiency of office management. Instead, there was an appealing sensuality to her every word, the harsh Irish accent now softened in a most seductive way.

It was Rosamunde who broke the ice, at least broke it in the direction I feared.

"I've thought of nothing more than you, Rebecca. It's been a wonderful evening, and I'd hate for it to end, but I do respect you, and your decision. Have you an answer for me, Rebecca?"

This time the pause was more for effect than to hide my indecision. I knew what I wanted to say, but I just didn't want to come across as too eager, too keen, too quick to snub the invitation. I had been flattered by the attention, and under different circumstances I may have given a different answer, but I had my response.

"I'm sorry, Rosamunde—"

"Please call me Rose, just like the single red rose I gave you."

"I'm sorry Rose. You are wonderful, and I so loved this evening with you. It's just... I have my Dave. I know I doubted him, but I was wrong. He loves me, and I love him."

I paused, waiting for Rosamunde to try and convince me I was wrong. Surprisingly, it never came. There was no attempt to degrade Dave, nor our relationship. I'd snubbed her romantic proposal and Rosamunde didn't change at all. She had said she would honour my decision, and it seemed she was true to her word.

"I have really enjoyed tonight," I continued, "and I don't want my decision to spoil a friendship."

"Don't worry about that. I won't let anything spoil our friendship. If ever you find you need somebody, I'll be there for you. Anytime at all, Rebecca."

"Thank you, Rose. Thank you for being so understanding. It's not you, it's just..."

"... I know," she replied. "Now, how about coffee? I was going to suggest we went back to mine for a cup and a nightcap."

"Another time, maybe. The meal was great, your company fantastic, but I must be getting back. I hope we can do it again some time, as friends."

"You bet we can."

We continued chatting outside the restaurant, right until my taxi arrived. Rosamunde was intent on walking back to hers, but I insisted she could grab a ride. We'd drop her off first and then the driver could take me back to mine.

It was only a couple of minutes' drive before we slowed down outside what was more of a mansion than a house.

"Yours?" I asked.

"My city house," came the reply. "You should come round one day, for that coffee."

What happened next took me by surprise, as Rosamunde leant forward and kissed me. It was nothing more than a gentle kiss, a kiss goodbye, or maybe au revoir. The kiss wasn't the surprise. It was the way her lips gently nudged into mine in the most sensual caress. It was only a fleeting kiss, Rosamunde pulling back once more and reaching for the car door.

"Promise me, you'll have that coffee," she whispered as she opened the door. "Goodnight, Rebecca. Until Monday," came her parting words.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So, that was that. A most eventful week and a bit had come to an end, and life was back to normal, well almost normal.

I kept the whole episode from Dave. It would have been a distraction and nothing more. Since that Valentine's Day, I had shown him many times how much I loved him, and he had never disappointed in returning the affection. So far, I hadn't quite gotten as far as telling him about my fantasy, but one day I guessed I would. It could be my surprise for him the next time Valentine's Day came around.

As for Rosamunde? Well, she was true to her word. I now had a new best friend in the office. I still hadn't had that coffee, but that was only a matter of organising rather than anything else.

On my desk, right next to the silver name plaque, sitting atop a pile of documents, was a new addition to the office decor. It was a round paperweight, clear resin encapsulating the head of a single red rose. I would look at it every day and remember our friendship.

In my mind there was one more thing. Sometimes I wondered. It was nothing serious, but I did wonder. What would it have been like if I had said yes to Rosamunde? What would it have been like to be with another woman?

I guessed I would never know.