This is for My Fox, you know who you are! Love from your Sexy Vixen xx
The directions he had given her were perfect. As she drove down the dirt track, with the first flurries of snow falling lightly on the windshield, she could see a thin spire of smoke rising above the trees. Moments later, she rounded a corner and saw the log cabin. It sat almost on the shore of the lake, surrounded by forest; it was everything she could have dreamt of. He had promised secluded and romantic, and he had not let her down. She recalled that he had offered to take her sailing on the lake but somehow she thought that the snow might put paid to that particular plan.
She pulled up the car alongside his, a small smile crossing her lips as she recalled him bragging he would cycle up here, and that he would get here first. He was always making jokes like that; telling the most outrageous lies, just to make her laugh. The thought made her feel suddenly shy - like an awkward teenager - now she was this close to actually meeting him. They had chatted for almost a year on the internet, had mailed each other and had slowly fallen in love. It was the typical older man/younger woman scenario with which he had been uncomfortable at first but somehow to her had never really mattered. She loved his magnetism, his zest for life, his sense of fun, the way he was always in control and the way he always made her feel so good about herself. They had planned this weekend with care and with excitement and now it was actually happening she was filled with a mixture of anticipation and a sudden attack of last minute nerves.
Stepping out of the car, she turned to look towards the cabin and there he was – standing on the porch, smiling, watching her. He looked ruggedly handsome, even better than the pictures he had sent and her heart skipped a beat as he began to walk towards her. He was taller than she – and God, he was even sexier than his look-a-like Steve Martin! As they came towards each other, his whole face lit up in a smile which spread to his soft brown eyes. He held out his arms to her and held her for a moment, kissing the top of her head, then gently holding her away from him as if he was committing each detail of her face to memory so he could savour this first moment of togetherness forever.
He picked up her bag and slid his arm around her as they walked to the cabin. It was immediately obvious how much he had put into preparing for her arrival. There was a roaring log fire burning, delicious smells were emanating from the kitchen, the table was set for dinner with a centrepiece of freesias, and his favourite song - “Miss American Pie” - was playing on the stereo. They sat for a while and laughed and joked until they were both more relaxed and as at ease with each other as they had been online.
They talked, she found her imagination wandering. She imagined what it would feel like to be in his arms. All these months of desire and need were pent up inside her and now that she had met him she knew those feelings were very real. She felt conscious about her every word, how she smelled, how she looked. She wanted him to want her. Could he smell, would he know that she was using some of the body lotion he had given her the previous Christmas? Or that she was dressed in the red thong and bra he had sent her months before? She hoped she was making a good impression on him, that he liked how she looked in the casual pair of black wool trousers that she had chosen so carefully, and the black cashmere sweater that she prayed accentuated her breasts.
.
They moved from drinks to dinner, chatting like two old friends, laughing and teasing as they sipped their wine. He had remembered her favourite wine was Sancerre and had stocked up the fridge. She drank nervously, greedily. When dinner was over he opened a bottle of champagne and proposed a toast to ‘them’ and to this one stolen weekend where they belonged to each other completely.
They drifted over to the sofa, warm and content, not too full, but refreshed and intimate with each other. He sat on it, she on the fluffy woollen rug at his feet, leaning against his knees, both of them watching the fire spark and crackle. The snow was falling heavier outside, flakes drifting past the window silently.
He started gently running his hands through her hair and along the nape of her neck. She could feel how he wanted, needed to touch her. She needed it too. She sat very still for a few moments afraid to break the spell, eventually turned her face towards his, letting him see that she was smiling. Very gently he tilted her face upwards and moved closer towards her. Their eyes met and very softly their lips brushed against each others. She moaned softly as he kissed her again, this time their hunger for each other mounting as their kiss became more urgent, more passionate. His tongue gently probed her lips, pressing into her mouth exploring her, tasting her, wanting her. She responded with a passion that she had only ever dreamed was possible. His hands caressed her face, her hair, as she ran her hands along his firm thighs.
He broke away from their kiss, leaving her gasping for more. His strong hands reached to pull her sweater over her head and she heard him gasp when he saw the red silky bra.
‘Do you like it better on me than on the girl in the shop?’ she asked, smiling seductively. In answer, he dropped to his knees beside her and buried his face between her breasts, breathing in her scent, licking her soft feminine body. His hands ran along her bra, teasing the outline of her breasts. She felt her nipples react and begin to swell. His self-control was equally fading. He slid the straps of her bra down her arms releasing her breasts, and she heard him gasp as his fingers touched her breasts, her soft skin pale, yet glowing from the flames of the fire and the heat of her own arousal. His fingers gently toyed and played with her nipples, twisting and pinching the way she had told him so many times that she loved.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Just like that. Please don’t stop.’
