Weeend in St. Michaels

Stephanie

Your flight arrives in ten minutes and I've been waiting for half an hour already. I left much earlier than I needed to, but I wanted to make sure I was waiting for you when you got off the plane. We had planed this weekend together for months on chat, the details of how we would stroll the town, shop for mementos and mostly spend long hours enjoying each other. I had to make sure I was waiting for you, reassure you that I'd be there, that you had done the right thing in coming. So I waited.

My heart beats faster as the time approaches, feeling like a kid on a first date. Get it together, I think to myself, you'll be fumbling for words when she gets here if you don't hyperventilate and pass out before then. Then I smile, laughing inwardly at my almost childish excitement. That you can make me feel this way when I am well past childhood is a major part of why I am here now.

Its time now, your flight is on the ground according to the monitor. My heart skips a beat knowing you're here, within half a mile of me. Closing my eyes just for a moment, wondering if I can reach out and feel your presence, your warmth and soft embrace, from this distance.

"Stephanie," I say, your name slips from my lips in a quiet whisper, the sound of it sending a shudder through my body. "Stephanie," again, like warm honey down my throat. Since I've learned your name, since we made that leap, trusting each other with that critical bit of personal information, your name has been my drug. "Stephanie," I whisper again. I know I'm in an airport, I know I'm standing in a cold hard terminal but I feel you near me. My mind drifts into a waking dream of warmth and softness...

"Michael?" your voice coming from close to me. My eyes snap open ... you're there! Disoriented, not sure if I am dreaming. I can't speak, fixed in place I can't move a muscle. It is you, you came, it really is you! You are finally there, for the first time close enough to touch. I want to look at you so I can burn this image into my memory, remember you and the electric feeling through my body as I see you.

"Stephanie," I finally whisper, stepping toward you. Automatically we embrace, my arms around you, pulling you close, feeling your soft, warm body against mine.

Whispering in your ear, "Stephanie, you came, you really came". A flood of warmth, of relief, of doubts swept aside by the reality of you, by your warmth, my arms around you, by your sparkling blue eyes inches from mine for the first time.

"Stephanie," I whisper again like a magic spell from my lips.

Our lips are close together, not touching yet. Hesitant maybe because we both realize this is our first kiss. This is the step from the virtual world, from mere words describing how we would feel, how your lips would meet mine and how our bodies would mesh together in embrace and now to the first hesitant brush of your real lips against mine. A shock through my body at that first brush, then in a torrent of passion and desire our mouths open, our lips press together, tongues gently but insistently intertwining like amorous snakes. For a moment we're alone in the crowd, just you and I, the world beyond the boundary of us ceases to exist.

You pull away and I literally shake my head to clear it. "We better get out of here before we cause a scene," you say.

Taking your hand and picking up your carry-on I lead you down to pick up you luggage.

We make small talk as we wait for your luggage. "Was your flight okay? No fat guys halfway into your seat?" I ask. We both laugh at that private joke. The reminder that we know so much about each other serves to break the ice a bit. There is still a little distance between us, the knowledge that we are meeting for the first time even though we have talked about the most intimate details on-line. We've shared our wants and desires with each other no matter how deeply hidden we have kept them from others. Now, this person that we've trusted with this awesome power over us is there right beside us. Like standing at the base of a dam, it is a little bit scary. I wrap my arm around your waist and pull you close, pushing the fear and doubts back with your physical touch.

"There it is," you say quietly, indicating your bag on the conveyor belt. I slip away for the moment it takes to retrieve it, sling it over my shoulder, and take your hand again.

"Lets go, Stephanie," I say as I lead you from the terminal.

"I had to bring the big car," I say. As much fun as having the sports car would be, driving with a suitcase on your lap would not be, so we settle into the big comfortable sedan. "It will take an hour or so to get to St Michaels, do you want to eat dinner on the way? There are plenty of seafood places just over the bridge .... and on the water ... with candles," I ask, smiling a bit as I add that last description, knowing you enjoy being near the water and can't resist a romantic candlelit dinner. I've been expecting your affirmative answer long enough to have made reservations a week ago, at just the right place and at just the right table to watch the last rays of the sun setting over the bay.

A short, but quiet, drive later we pull into the restaurant parking lot. The sunset almost over as we arrive but the sky streaked with dark crimson and gray. The colors reflected off your light hair catch my eye and I stop and watch you just for a moment. The excitement of our initial meeting has worn off just a bit and the flight is catching up to you.

I remark, "You look a bit tired from your flight sweetheart, lets just get a quick bite to eat, and you can nap on the rest of the ride."

We have a light dinner, salads and the clam chowder I've been promising you for months. You seem happy now, bright conversation about how you are looking forward to sailing and how the hotel looked so nice in the pictures. But I can tell you are tired and still running on the adrenaline of our meeting so we get the check, pay and leave.

On the short walk to the car, our arms intertwine and you lean against my shoulder. I lean my head over and kiss the top of yours, breathing in the fresh aroma of your shampoo, perfume and most importantly the aroma of you. That soft but primal scent unique to you, the scent that will stay with me for weeks after you return home. "Stephanie," I whisper in your hair. You just pull yourself closer.

I expected you to nap in the car and we had not gotten back on the highway before you fall asleep. I pull over for a second and reach back and get a blanket from the back seat. I cover you to keep you warm then I lift your head gently and slip a pillow under you. You smile in your sleep and curl up as best you can on the car seat.

The rest of the drive was peaceful, the car purring along quietly enough that I can hear your breathing. I'm in no hurry and would rather let you sleep so I drive in the right lane gently avoiding rough spots in the road. I am enjoying the ride and the closeness to you, and we get to the hotel too quickly. I entertain the notion of driving around town for a while to make it last but decide that you would be more comfortable in a real bed.

I lock the car, leaving you sleeping, parked under the entrance portico. The bellhop takes our bags while I go to check in and I slip him a tip to get them up to the room quickly. The room number is exactly the one I asked for, looking over the river so we can watch the sunrise. I return to the car and open the door, making sure to catch you because you are leaning on it.

Whispering in your ear I say, "Stephanie, wake up sweetheart, we're at the hotel and I'd make a scene carrying you through the lobby."

Reluctantly your eyes flutter open, I smile at you. "Okay Michael, you may have to hold me up though," you say but you are only flirting with me. Standing, I wrap my arm around you and toss the key to the valet.

We walk through the lobby to the elevator, you heavy and warm against me. I'm enjoying the feeling of taking care of you, even in this little way. Knowing that fully awake you can be fiercely independent, this is a little pleasure I'll sneak in, (forgiving myself for this as I could have worse vices).

The elevator arrives and we walk on. I lean against the back of the car, you heavy against me, your head against my chest and my arms around you, supporting you. I rub your back lightly as the elevator lifts us to the top floor and you purr in response.

Walking down the hall, we reach the door, another threshold. Like revealing our names and our first passionate kiss, this is the next big step. This one I face alone though, you nearly asleep in my arms. I hesitate a bit then draw strength from the simple fact that you are almost asleep in my arms and that you trust me so. I slip the card key in, open the door and flip the light switch on. Should I carry you over the threshold? No, maybe romantic but the symbolism there cannot be missed and we're not at that point yet. You don't seem to give it a second thought, or maybe the lure of a real bed is too much, and you head right into the room. I smile a bit at your practicality, or just your lack of drama and facade. I follow you in and find that our bags are already there.

You immediately lay on the bed, your hair arrayed on the pillow, framing your face. You're not asleep though, your eyes watch me as I move around the room. I don't notice at first but then look at you a bit surprised as your eyes catch mine. "Hi sleepyhead, I thought you would go right back to sleep," I say quietly as I smile warmly down at you.

"No, I want to get out of these clothes before I sleep," you reply. I'd make myself a liar if I didn't admit a stirring in my crotch at those words.

I kneel down in front of you and very gently begin to unbutton your blouse. You don't move, except your eyes, which follow mine as I open each button and reveal more of your soft, smooth skin. After the last button is released, your blouse falls open, revealing your breasts pressed together under your pink bra. I can't remove your blouse in this position so reach toward the buttons on your pants. I look into your eyes for some sign that I'm going to far or pushing you, but all I find is a quiet desire and an invitation. Opening one, then two buttons, then unzipping your pants. I run my hand over your hip, the material of your pants stretched over your feminine curve, so lovely and elegant. Down to the foot of he bed I step, untying and removing your shoes and thin socks.

Stepping back up beside you "Lay on your back Stephanie," I ask of you in a whisper. You roll over and arch your back, lifting your butt off the bed and letting me pull your pants down over your hips. I pull your pants completely off your legs before looking up. The stirring in my crotch becomes pronounced at the sight of your diaphanous pink panties over the trimmed patch of your pubic hair. Your blouse had fallen open completely as you rolled over, pooled under you like a silk puddle, your full breasts rising from your body barely contained in a matching bra. For a long moment I do nothing but look you over, unable, and not trying, to hide the lust in my eyes. You are silently staring into my eyes as you see them travel down over your body (can you feel my eyes on you, I wonder?) and then back up to yours. You smile, and I smile back because you know what I am thinking and you desire what you see in my eyes.

I sit on the bed next to you and lift your torso up. My hands travel behind your back and unhook your bra. Then remembering, pulling the sleeves of your blouse down off your arms. As I lay you back against the pillow, I lift your bra from over your arms and toss it on the growing pile of your clothes.

Except for the nearly transparent panties you are now completely naked. Your breasts are large and capped by pale pink nipples already hardening in the slight chill. Your tummy of pale white skin, smooth and fine as china. Your arms languidly at your side, the nearly transparent skin of your wrists facing up. You have the body of what you are, not a pixie or a supermodel, but a real woman of very nearly my age. The type of body that has inspired, comforted and nourished men for as long as we have walked the earth.

"Stephanie," I say softly not as a request to you, but as a statement, a title for this image in front of me like I am naming a painting ... "Stephanie," again.

I lean forward toward you, kissing you lightly, one lip at a time and then tracing them with the tip of my tongue. A thought occurs to me then that this is out of character for you, that you are not naturally submissive or complacent and that you lying there is not like you.

Just then, in the unexplainable sense of timing we've shared, your arms lazily encircle my neck drawing me in to you. Your lips press against mine and your tongue presses into my mouth. I feel your passion now, the slight metallic tang in your mouth telling me that you want me. You pull me in harder now, our lips crushed together as your hands hold my cheeks. Naked and vulnerable you may be but now you are in control. You lift my head from your lips and push me down toward your breast.

I open my mouth and gently flick it over your nipple eliciting a quiet moan from your lips and a slight arch in your back. Pressing my mouth over your breast you say, "I want you to suck on my nipples, Michael". I open my mouth wide and engulf your breast in my mouth. I suck your nipple into my mouth, amazed at how hard it has grown and how it stands out from your breast. Running my tongue around it, circling in closer and closer until the hard nub is under my tongue. Licking up and back, my soft tongue over you as you arch your back further and press your breast into my mouth.

You relax for a moment as I kiss down your breast and across to the other. My hand cups the breast I just left, slick and slippery with my saliva. My thumb and middle finger pinch your nipple while my index finger flicks over the tip. You moan and your body writhes under me, your pleasure my reward.

My lips on your other nipple now, kissing it, flicking my tongue over it. Finally sucking it into my mouth and running my tongue over the tip. I keep pinching, rubbing, sucking, learning your body and what you respond to. Gentle pinching elicits a soft moan, harder and your back arches, I consider pinching even harder but decide to wait for another night for that kind of play. In my mouth I try circling around your nipple but little reaction, then I capture it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, pressing it upward and applying a gentle pressure. At this you push your breast into my mouth and your hand tightens on my head, my reward I think to myself.

My hand leaves your breast and slips down over your soft tummy, your skin as smooth as silk and cool to the touch of my hands just warmed over your breasts. I slip my hand between your thighs, you part your legs letting me in. Your panties are slightly damp already and I can feel the heat through them as I cup your pussy. As your legs part, the aroma of your sex wafts up to me like a jolt to the pleasure centers of my brain and a release of the deeper instincts that make me want you so badly. I press the thin fabric of your panties into you, parting your lips and rubbing your clitoris. You moan and lift your hips against my hand, increasing the pressure on your sex.

Moving the fabric of your panty aside, my finger slips between your lips.

I whisper to you nearly breathlessly, "Stephanie, you are so wet and so hot". My finger slips easily inside you, stroking you against the front wall of your pussy. Your back arches slightly and your knees part farther.

You reach down to the waistband of your panties and push them down over your hips as you lift your butt. I lift my hand for a moment and then help you pull them completely off your legs. When your feet come down to the mattress, your legs are spread wider. I look up to your eyes and find you smiling down at me. You know I like it when your legs are spread wide and your pussy is open and vulnerable, the pink inside your lips revealed.

"Lick me Michael, lick my pussy baby," you say, your voice soft but commanding and lusty now.

You grab your own knees and pull your legs back toward your chest. You are wide open to me now, you soft thighs meeting at engorged lips guarding the pink within and the dark, hot and very wet tunnel just barely opened. Further below the puckered flower of your anus is just visible above the bedcovers. Kneeling, I shuffle down between your legs. The aroma of your sex strong now, the source revealed in the shiny coating on your pink inner lips. I lean down and inhale deeply, letting the pheromones work into the deepest animal parts of my brain. Finding your clitoris with my tongue and then sucking it into my mouth, making circles with my tongue pressed against it. Now my reward is richer, you writhe on the bed above me your head thrown back and your hands pulling harder on your. I run my hand up your thigh and then probe with two fingers, finding the entrance to your pussy. They press inward, parting the walls of your tunnel, rotating around and flexing them against the inside of your pussy, the walls like pillows yielding to me but always returning to embrace me.

I stroke in and out, still sucking your clitoris into my mouth and rubbing my tongue over it. I hear you begin breathing harder and moaning barely discernibly, "Finger me Michael, fuck me with your fingers, suck my clit, please baby" and your dirty talk just spurs me on.

Thrusting my fingers in and out of you, so wet now they glide in and return shiny and covered in your lubrication. My tongue working furiously against your engorged clit as you writhe and buck your hips.

"I need you inside me Michael, take your clothes off baby I want you to fuck me now," you say, your voice husky and deep with passion and lust. I slip back off the bed and stand at the foot, watching you as I begin to unbutton my shirt. You open your mouth and slip three fingers in, stroking them, licking them and coating them with your saliva.

Watching you I forget to what to do "take them off Michael, show my your hard cock," you say. You are staring into my eyes, watching for my reactions. You pull your fingers from your mouth, wet and shiny, and wrapping your hand around your ass, plunge two fingers into your hot hole. Fingering yourself, your eyes never leaving mine, but a smile on your lips as you see my mouth open slightly, engrossed in the sound and the sight as you plunge into and out of yourself.

"You like this baby? Do you like to see me finger-fuck my wet pussy?" you ask.

I can only manage a nod and a hoarse, "Yes, Stephanie."

You glance down at your own hand making sure I am watching as you slip the last wet finger into your tight back entrance. You throw your head back, the penetration of your ass pressing a nerve somewhere connected to the deepest pleasure systems in your brain.

"Oh yes baby, get those clothes off now," you say. Suddenly, in a rush I pull my shirt off, unbutton and unzip my pants and leave them in a heap around my ankles. I step out of my shoes and pull my pants off with my socks. Wearing just the black boxer briefs you picked for me I stand before you. You lick your lips and say, "Show me baby, let me see your hard cock." I hook my thumbs over the waistband, pull them down and step out of them. I notice your eyes are now glued to the rigid pole pointing straight at you.

I crawl back up on the bed and between your spread thighs, your fingers slapping in and out of your pussy and ass faster as I approach. When I am close enough, you pull your fingers out, reach for me and grab my cock and say,"Give it to me Michael, give it to me hard."

You line the head up with your dripping wet cave and pull me in. I press forward, slowly despite your command, relishing the feel of the velvety embrace as it surrounds me inch by inch. Your hands have returned to holding your thighs up and spread, your head thrown back and your eyes closed tight. You hiss through closed teeth, "Oh god yes baby, your cock feels so good, fuck me Michael, fuck me hard."