It was a game they played all the time.
When she knew he was on his way, she would soak in a hot bath by candlelight, basking in the scent of the fresh roses, the ones she cut from her garden every day. He liked the smell, too, and they found that the fragrance stayed on her body if she brought the flowers in with her, their sweet breath hanging in the air and clinging to her skin once she drained the tub, only coming out once the water was gone. He liked the red lace bra and panties, which she stepped into as she watched herself in the mirror. And, from the drawer, she would remove the red silk scarf.
She would lay in bed wearing only the lace, making sure the window was open a crack, as she loved the feel of the breeze on her body after a bath. She slowly tied the scarf around her head, making sure she could see nothing. He would only come in the room once he knew the scarf was on.
And she heard him downstairs, his familiar whistle, the song she loved to hear.
"Courtney, darling," he would say, stepping slowly up the stairs. "I smell roses..."
She smiled. He was so predictable.
Courtney heard the door open, his soft footsteps on the hardwood floor. Many times, he had undressed outside of the room, wanting to eliminate the clutter of pulling off pants once he was with her. She knew he liked it all so smooth...
The smell of his after shave excited her; she knew he was close.
"Baby," she said, only a second before his lips were on hers, soft kisses, open-mouthed that began slowly and picked up intensity.
"My girl is wearing our favorite outfit," he whispered into her ear. She felt his hand on her left breast, cupping it so delicately, his thumb rubbing her nipple into life. His lips moving to her neck...oh, he knew how she loved that...before centering on her throat. By this time, his hand was under the bra, and his warm hands held that breast protectively. His fingers were long, the true mark of the pianist that he was, and they moved across her breasts like he was playing a rhapsody. She felt him unclipping the lace, opening it from the front. It was another of his likes, to be able to open her bra like double doors. The cups came off, placed at her sides, and his mouth was on her nipple. She squirmed then, not knowing how he could have ever used his tongue like that...
And then the sucking, like his intention was to draw that bud deep in his mouth, as his hand cupped her other breast, preparing that one for the same ministrations. His mouth would not leave her skin; instead, it traveled under the pert lobe, kissing the sweet underside before moving to the soft valley between them. Then riding the velvety mound until his lips were on the tip again...
His fingers, then, slowly making a trail down her belly...
And dancing across the tender flesh above her hips, dipping under the loose elastic of her panties...
He knew how to tease her, as he would stop as she opened her mouth to moan. She could feel him shift his position and, with her mouth still open, he would rest his thickness on her lips. She reached and grabbed its base, feeling that incredible pulsing. Her mouth opened further and guided the tip through her lips and across her tongue, its girth filling her. She could taste the clear liquid that had seeped from the tip, wrapping her tongue around it, enjoying the sound of the moan he had tried to stifle. She took him like a popsicle, lips tightening and pulling him in and out while cupping his strong balls. He, like her, was shaved. They loved the feel, and the taste of bare skin...
Courtney actually thought she might bring him to orgasm in her mouth; she always tried to, but he would fight it, wanting to be strong, wanting to save it. She loved the feel of him letting go and her mouth suddenly filling with spurting jets...and he would do it only on those occasions where their lovemaking could not go further. She felt guilty about her cycle, needlessly, as he would lovingly remind her. Courtney loved going that extra step for him, as he did so often with her.
His cock came out of her mouth as he moved away. Within seconds, his hands were on her feet. He lifted her right foot and she felt his lips kissing her soles, his tongue trailing down the arch, up and over her heels to her toes. She kept her feet well-pedicured, mixing the colors of the nails (today was red). Her toes were in his mouth and she took as much enjoyment from it as he. She adored his foot fetish; she remembered those days where...for the same reasons as the deep blowjobs...she would sit opposite him and run her feet up and down his excited, hard cock, which was sometimes lubed with a tasty oil, or his own seeping juices. She could navigate him well, knew how to press his balls with her left foot, while her right traveled up and down that rod until he began splattering his liquid lust all over his belly...
