Its Your Love

This story, a joint venture of dawnj and me, was both a lot of fun and very exciting to write. We hope it's a lot of fun to read, too.

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I will never forget the look you gave me when I turned up on the symposium, out of the blue. I hadn't told you I would come, because I meant to surprise you -- I certainly did. Your eyes almost popped out of your head...I felt so sorry; I didn't mean it that way. You didn't take it amiss, though, fortunately.

I'm trying to select the right clothes to wear to take you out for dinner - but as it is one of the things we never talked about in our email contacts, I just have to follow my own lead; there's no reference section for me there.

We have known each other -- how long? It seems like always; but it cannot be more than a little over six months that we chanced upon each other on an online forum on teaching literature and started to talk to each other outside of it...

It was strange - your ideas on teaching echoed mine in an uncanny way, and we liked all sorts of other things, too, and I started to look forward to our talks eagerly -- I even got grumpy when we couldn't talk for whatever reason.

Then you told me of the symposium. It was exactly half term here, and I got a brainwave. I'd always wanted to visit New York, and visit the Guggenheim Museum, and wander in Central Park, and go up the Empire State Building, and sit and look at the Hudson. A forefather of mine must have sailed up it...Is it possible at all? I don't know; New York isn't London, and perhaps you can only stand and stare...

But now there was a truly good reason to go. I don't think I would have gone, otherwise.

You told me enough to go and book myself in, and the rest was easy enough. After the initial shock of finding me here, I was treated to the most brilliant smile I've ever seen. I knew it from the pictures you sent, but in real life it was so animated, and you lovely brown eyes sparkled. You'd told me you were proud of your legs - I could see why! Oh girl, you bowled me over online; now you easily did it again. Wow. I hope you didn't notice me looking at your breasts...I still feel all warm and fuzzy and hot and bothered. I loved this day -- can't say I heard much of the symposium, but that's alright, I will read the handouts when I'm back home.

We talked and talked during breaks. I love your voice -- it reaches parts of me other voices can't reach – and your face... I could just sit for hours and drown in it.

Phew. I have to concentrate on getting dressed. You agreed to come and have dinner with me...We'll be meeting in the lobby in five minutes, and I want to be there in time -- I hate making people wait.

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I smooth my hands down the sides of my dress, as much to calm my nerves as to make sure I'm not ruffled anywhere. The black dress falls just to my knees in a demure pencil skirt hemline that belies the dramatic neckline -- scalloped but seductive despite the fact that it hides my cleavage nicely. It is demure enough not to raise any eyebrows, but sexy enough to make anyone who wanted to, take a second look. I hate that I don't have a flat belly, and that my arms are fat, but I know the dress will disguise my imperfections, and maybe I will get lucky and you'll not notice all that. I thank my lucky stars that I had decided to bring a second formal dress, in the event I have to do more than go to the final grand ballroom celebration on the last night. I know the ball gown I have ready for that occasion would be over the top tonight, but I want to look as good as I can for a first date with the stranger who is also my friend.

I touch my hand to the silver chain that gleams at my neck, and remind myself that I look quite presentable.

I know when you get to the lobby before I see you, because the fine hairs on my arms stand on end, as though they have been electrified. I look up and meet your eyes, and immediately the charge arcs between us. You smile at me, and I watch your blue eyes grow warm. You are a handsome man, gray hair adding to a distinguished jaw line. It suits you, as does the dark business suit that you're wearing. The crisp white shirt and dark tie are conservative, and they match my outfit nicely.

I return your smile and allow you to take my elbow and lead me out to a waiting cab, which takes us to a nearby restaurant. How you have managed to secure us a table for two in the quietest part of the restaurant I will never know, but I'm grateful for the dim lights and ambiance. You've been a true gentleman so far, though every touch is electric, no matter how accidental. We talk of everything and nothing through the courses of the meal -- your parents and cousins, your trip to Sri Lanka, your plans for Christmas, my issues with my principal, my plans for the house, my new business. By the time dessert arrives, we are all caught up, and comfortable in each other's company.

I've been wondering all evening what it would be like to hold hands with you, and I look down as I scoop some ice cream into my spoon. Your fingers are long and slender, and your hands are ropy and large -- a man's hands. I'm fascinated by them -- the blunt fingernails, clean, almost buffed, the veins on the backs of them, the large knuckles, as though you are used to cracking them. Without thinking, I reach across and rest my palm over your hand. You look up, startled for a second, and then a slow, heated smile breaks over your face. You turn your palm to mine, and your big hand engulfs my small one. Instantly, I am so hot I can hardly breathe, and when you raise my hand to your lips and kiss each knuckle, I cannot stop the trembling that overcomes me.

You abandon your own dessert to cup my hand between yours, and I wonder, suddenly afraid, that you won't be able to control the urge to kiss me that I can see lurking in your gaze, which is fastened on my lips. I can feel myself blushing. When you lean forward, my heart hammers in my chest, wondering where this new and urgent intimacy will take us.

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I slowly look up from those tempting lips to your eyes -- my seated heart knocks at my ribs, but I see a look of anxiety there. I remember your emails -- I know them by heart, more or less -- and I have to go slowly, so I smile at you, and nod, and slowly the anxiety leaves your face again for a lazy smile. Penny for you thoughts...

In our emails I would have asked you straight away -- sitting here face to face is different. It really is -- more joyous, but it is harder to restrain the urges your smile sends up and down my back, making me shiver a little with the thoughts that course through my mind, the feelings I can only suppress wit an effort, and I feel a little shy -- being able to blurt things out without being seen has its advantages...

Still, I'm afraid my face is one big smile all the time -- I haven't felt so happy for years, and I tell you so. It just slips out before I know.

I was never good at flirting -- we did flirt a little on line, but I had to be shown -- and I didn't intend it as such, but it sets your face aglow. You look so beautiful it makes me blush, and I run my hands over my cheeks, which makes them only feel hotter.

I put my hand on the table again, so you can put yours in mine if you want -- I know it was an impulse, and I know you are rather weary of men -- and to my delight you put yours in mine again. I think I blush even more; you must notice. I look at you to see if you don't think I'm being ridiculous -- but the smile I like so much is still there. The old country song you sent me plays through my mind - Faith and Tim singing "It's your love," and you have a look on your face I cannot describe but it goes straight to my heart.

I finish my dessert. It's good but I don't think I really do it justice; my mind is too much on other things. You toy a little with your wineglass, running your fingers along the stem, and that makes me think some very ungentlemanly thoughts... I feel a stirring I don't want just now -- not yet. I have to look away from your hands.

When I've finished my dessert I ask if you like some coffee but you decline. So is there anywhere else you'd like to go? You look at me with a far-off look in your eyes. Then you smile at me, and your smile does something strange to my knees...

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I tell you that I've never been dancing with a man before, that my few such excursions were always with my girlfriends at a club they'd drag me to. Your smile shows your delight at the prospect, and we make our way to the club recommended by the waiter whom you ask for suggestions. The club is full, mostly with a younger crowd, but we make our way over to the bar, order drinks -- another first for me -- and wait for a song that appeals to us both. The musical choices have been eclectic, to say the least, but this club has an old-time feature...a jukebox. We watch as a few people go to it and make their choice for the next dance, and when we hear the one a couple who look like punk rockers choose, we stare at each other for a long heartbeat and then place our glasses carefully down and walk over to the dance floor.

You take my hand and pull me into your body, and we're almost hugging as we move slowly to Faith and Tim. I cannot believe that anyone in such a hip place would choose such a song to dance to, but the floor is crowded with couples swaying to the tune. I feel your grip tighten around my waist, and I feel your body hardening. You try to keep space between us, but you cannot hide the fact of your arousal from me, and it turns me on. We both try to remain calm and collected, but I can feel the faint trembling in the fingers that hold my hand. You're singing the words softly as the song comes to an end -- "And if you wonder 'bout the spell I'm under, oh-oh-oh it's your love!" -- and I hum along with you, caught up in the moment.

An unexpected burst of applause shakes me out of the daze I seem to have fallen into, and I join in, moving off the floor as another couple chooses a crazy teenage dance tune. I smile at you, and we watch for a moment as a smaller but very energetic crowd of dancers gyrate and jump and prance wildly on the dance floor. You ask me if I'm ready, and I wonder how you know that I am. I nod and we leave, you holding my hand tightly as if to make sure I don't escape you. We decide to walk back to the hotel, holding hands the entire way, enjoying the cool night, the bright lights, and the electricity that sizzles between us.

Back in the hotel lobby, you tell me you'll walk me to my room. I smile at your old-world chivalry and we take the elevator to the sixth floor. Outside my door, you ask if I enjoyed your surprise, and when I smile broadly at you, you seem relieved. I don't want the night to end, and I wish I knew how to say it, but I bite my lip nervously instead and ask if you'd like a nightcap or a cup of coffee. Your face is wreathed in smiles as you accept my offer, and we go in together. I reach for the light switch as you push the door closed, and our hands touch. I gasp, and you bend your head. I raise mine, and our eyes meet. I want you to kiss me...all evening I've thrilled to the sound of your voice, to the smile you flash at me, to the flirtatious remarks you make to get me to smile at you, to the way your lips curve. Everything about you has been stirring me up, and I need a kiss to take the edge off the ache of longing I feel building inside me. I don't know how to say what I want, or I'm afraid to give it voice, but I must have said something because you cup my face in your hands and lower your mouth to mine, your blue eyes never leaving my brown ones...

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Oh dear -- to be allowed to kiss you... And then, perhaps...I kiss you hard and try to find your tongue, to taste your lips with your face in my hands, looking into your big brown eyes... I feel you press close to me -- your soft breasts against my chest, your tongue doing wonderful things with mine while one hand firmly holds the back of my head. You seem to want this as much as I do, and you lead me to the side of the bed without breaking our kiss.

I find the zipper of your dress and undo it, expecting to be rapped over the knuckles -- but as you don't feel like doing so I open it slowly to find the skin beneath your clothes, warm and a little moist with anticipation -- I hope -- and use all I have to pay homage to it -- my hands, my fingers and my tongue, and take it all slowly, and enjoy every moment of it. I try and make your nipples wet with my saliva, and pull at them with my lips first, and move the tip of my tongue back and forth over their tips. I caress your breasts with my hands, between excursions to your navel and short ones back to your mouth, alternated with little kisses on your breasts and nipples. I slowly exert more pressure and try to get your nipples as hard as possible, and tell you how nice they are, and when I have more or less succeeded I undo the clothing on your lower body with my hands and once those barriers are slighted I slide down your body with my mouth, first softly kneading your breasts with my hands and rolling your nipples between my fingers, and then lowering them over you to your stomach and around your navel.

You tremble with anticipation -- and suddenly your legs seem to buckle and you sit down on the bed. I worry for a moment, but the smile you give me stops all that entirely; and you move up till you are stretched out on the bed.

I probe your navel with my tongue and tickle your belly, and then make a wet trail from your navel on down -- down, down, down -- and enjoy the smell of your lower body and the feeling of all the parts I can reach with my hands, and go down further until it is very obvious what I intend to do. I wait for a moment to find out if you'll object -- but you don't and so I use my hands to caress your buttocks and lower my face between your legs, and use one hand to part the outer folds first, and the inner ones second -- and then run my tongue along the length of your sex. Oooh! I must keep a grip on myself after all these years or I'll have to wash some of my clothes... I push the tip of my tongue inside to taste you and lick the smooth, soft skin. Hmmm!

You have your hands in my hair and push my head down, and I can hear you breathe, and I try to see your face and you smile a lazy, slow smile. Your brown eyes are on mine for a moment. I run the tips of my fingers along your labia, and lick up to your clitoris without touching it -- yet, and I resist any attempts to make me go there for a little time. Then I do -- I wanted to all along, but I want to enjoy as much of it as possible. I hope you are not really in a hurry either. You aren't. Finally I take the little nub between my lips and move my tongue over it, from left to right and back again, very fast, while trying to pull you into my mouth and to produce as much saliva as possible. My ears are red and hot, and my tongue feels wonderful, and so do my lips and hands. I try to make you explode, hard, and I touch your entrance with a finger while I continue to use my mouth, looking up all the while hoping to get a glimpse of your eyes. I run my hands up your body to your breasts -- they have had to share the attention, and it's their turn again while your smell is in my nose and my nose in your pubic hair. I continue until I find your legs around my head, and I softly nibble on you with my teeth, careful not to hurt you. I keep my ears geared for suggestions all the while; they will be executed promptly, whatever they are.

Meanwhile I try to get rid of my own clothes. Their confines are bothering me and I feel a little overdressed... It's not too practical with one hand. The other is much more pleasantly employed, caressing your breasts and running up and down your belly. I do succeed to undo the fastenings, and stop a moment to get rid of them while you impatiently wait for the interruption to be over. Then I continue for a while, touching as much bare skin as I possibly can with my own, rubbing my thighs along your calves, and pressing my chest to your thighs. Then you feel you've been passive long enough, and you say you want another kiss, so I move up and stretch out alongside, and you hug me and we kiss.

You use your hands to investigate, and you find the effect you have on me, while I happily return to your breasts and buttocks with my hands.

You touch my member and I beam at you, loving the utterly new feeling of a woman's -- THIS woman's -- hands down there. Then I lie down and give myself over to that sensation, wondering what it is that you will do.

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I don't really know what I want to do. I'm so overwhelmed by feelings of gratitude mixed in with lust and hunger so deep it's almost terrifying. There had been no plan for this...it had just happened, overwhelming me with desires so sharp I could not seem to resist. Under the weight of those feelings, I stroke your hardening cock, loving the way it feels as I alternate between squeezing and stroking, and then, in heated imitation of future action, pumping it between my hands fast, then slow, listening to you catch your breath, feeling you holding it, as though you dare not breathe. I use a nail to tease the vein on the underside, and trace the line below the reddening head, and watch the colour suffuse your cheeks, your ears, and watch your eyes go bloodshot, and feel you stiffen and grow warm under my ministrations. I watch a pearly drop of semen pool in the little slit at the top, and I spread it over the head, watching as your cock jerks in my hands. I let go, and watch it jerk again, as though it can feel the weight of my fascinated gaze. I know you would probably love for me to suck you off, but I don't know if I'm ready to do that just yet. I have to be wild with lust before I can, but I want to please you, so I decide that a tease is as good as a lick to a stiff cock. I bend over and brush my breasts over you, listening to your moan softly, and look up to see your smile. I'm in new territory here, not being one to initiate lovemaking, or do much of anything to assist the process, but I want to please you, so I try to be as innovative as I can be. I blow warm air over the head, and lick it, going down the sides teasingly. The licks are more flicks of my tongue than long lollipop licks, but they seem to drive you wild despite that. I decide to give you a treat, and go outside my comfort zone a bit. Watching the pleasure suffuse your face, I lower my lips till they cover the head of your hard staff, and I suck it slowly, lightly, then stopping to lick around it, as if it were an ice cream cone. You groan, and I smile, and suck again. Another, deeper groan greets that one, and I am surprised to feel myself getting wetter. I suck again, a bit harder, and scoot up so my pussy walls are close to your hand. I beg you to touch me as I suck you, and then I'm the one groaning as you rub my clit and push two fingers in, fucking me slowly as I suck and lick you. I have to fight to concentrate on what I'm doing for you, because you are rapidly bringing me closer to an edge I'm not yet ready to fall over. I want to keep feeling this building ecstasy, and I want to take you along with me. I want the fire to burn around us, higher and higher, without consuming us. I want to fuck but not come. I am so hungry, so horny, I can't explain to you what I want. I'm beginning to feel the need to have that cock I'm sucking and stroking and pumping doing those things inside me, where I can grip it tight and ride it and fuck it and never stop. I moan around the head of your hard shaft, and you moan with me.

We're both breathless, and aching, and hungry and wet...

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I know from your emails how much you are in a double bind in these things, how badly you want them and how much it takes out of you, and the treatment you are giving me must be so much of a victory over the conflicting feelings they make you feel, so much of a manifestation of trust I won't take advantage of you, that it makes me feel very warm and grateful, and just a bit embarrassed -- and very much into you. It also makes me feel very, very aroused. I cannot remember having been so hard, so excited, nor so overwhelmingly happy. I know I'll have to let you choose the time and place, but that's ok. You're lovely, and I'm determined our lovemaking shall leave you as happy as it will leave me.