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It is Friday night and all day my head has been filled with her and little else. I leave the porch light on, our sign that I am alone and she is to come, always late, always near midnight. She arrives carrying the wine and the flowers she presents to me with each visit, requesting glasses and the cork screw.
I have come to visit, but only to talk. Nothing more.’
I watch her as she replaces the flowers in the vase for the fresh bouquet she has brought. ‘Of course. Tonight is a night for tongues.’
The pop of the cork startles her. She turns her head and nods. I slowly sip the wine while I drink in the sight of her: blonde and soft, tiny in stature but with the longest of legs. She steps back to admire her flower arrangement with hands on hips that appear to have hiked up her skirt a couple of inches
‘There is nothing finer than a burst of natural beauty within one’s home,’ she says as she reaches for the glass I have poured for her.
‘I was admiring the exquisite stems. So long and lean.’
‘Yes, they taper into such a fragrant offering.’
‘In celebration of those smells shall we listen to the new recording I purchased of Beethoven’s pastoral symphony? It’s his sex symphony.’
‘His six symphony,’ I say innocently.
She looks about the room and frowns. ‘But there is no music player in here.’
‘It is in the bedroom.’
She narrows her eyes at me. ‘I am here to talk. Nothing more.’
‘And I am here to listen. Do you object to having my pastoral symphony serve as soundtrack for your voice?’
She stiffens and places her drink on the table. After a bit of a pause she replies to my question by walking over to the flowers and lifting up the vase. She silently follows me into the bedroom.
I insert the CD and wait with a trained patience. ‘Tonight is strictly about freedom of speech. There will be no other liberties taken. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes. I understand you.’
As Beethoven makes a soft entry that fills the room, she begins to slowly undress. After teasing the buttons on her blouse, she slides the zipper of her skirt and glances to see if I am looking. Her underwear is matching, a soft muted pink, understated and expensive. She slips from bra and panties and takes her time crossing the room to my bed, watching me watch her.
I open the covers and she gently glides in beside me. I know not to touch her. With deliberate small moves she reaches out for me, her hands and fingers inquisitive and sure, exploring my skin. Rubbing her hands against my fully aroused cock she gasps and says I am far too big for her, that she couldn’t possibly cope with my size. I smile for I know what is coming next.
Softly, slowly I begin to caress and touch her long legs, moving my hands along her thighs and up over her hips and her flat smooth belly. My fingers inch towards her breast and the erect pink nipple. She turns her head and whispers in a shy voice how good my hands feel upon her body.
Kissing her neck and shoulders, her body reacts with pleasure to my lips. I move along her body with a deliberate hesitancy of licks as I make my way back down. She moves her legs ever so slightly apart so I may slip my tongue along the insides of her thighs.
I can see she is wet with excitement as I part the soft folds of her lips and begin to suck at her clit. She moves beneath me, making gentle adjustments. . Her pleasure is building as her legs slowly open wider apart, her body telling me she wants me to fuck her. She grasps my cock with both hands, guides it towards herself. Looking into my eyes, she admonishes me to be careful and not hurt her.
The head of my cock is inside her. I am barely moving when she lifts her hips and pulls me deeper inside. This drenched girl clamps and squeezes my cock, moving with me, matching her desire with my delight.
Now is my turn for she is breathing quickly and wants to move.Her legs are raised and she is holding her knees wide apart for me. I am driving into her wildly. I cannot help myself. I toss her over on top of me and spread her cheeks from underneath while she sighs and moans. Her skin changes colour as her pleasure builds and peaks.
‘Oh please, you know what I want!’ she cries and once again she is on her back, this time with her legs spread wide apart, her hips meeting mine as we thrust together.
I can feel she is coming and I cannot hold back as I am no longer in control. We are one, together. I am so excited I am pounding into this girl, this beautiful Friday night lover. She lunges forward with her hips, driving me down into her. I can hold back no longer and begin to groan and spill inside her as she trembles and clings to my back with both her arms and legs wrapped tightly around me, her sighs and moans wild and raw. Each time the same dance between us, the girl who comes over wanting to play but with the verbal denials, wine and flowers. Me longing for her arrival, knowing what will follow, but keeping to the rules of the game. She leaves me in the early morning light, quietly dressing, collecting her things, and each time she tells me ‘I shall look for the light.’
© Sher Gillard 2013
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