She came by for breakfast around 9 this morning – coffee, French toast with vanilla extract in the batter, and bacon. She enjoyed the contrast between the sweetness of the maple syrup soaked French toast and the saltiness of the bacon, as this was the first time she had tasted the two together. One very attractive thing about her, in a never fixed top 3 – her incredibly soft hair likely another - is how honest her enjoyment is – giving pleasure to such a person is a luxurious pleasure in its turn. And like most luxuries, better to occasionally indulge than to expect on a regular basis.
After breakfast, we talked, restarted the fire in the woodstove, and walked around the house, looking at the various plants flowering, sprouting, and growing. The wood from the forest is neatly enough piled, and most the kid toys put away, but still, no yard and garden are that attractive in early spring. We came back inside – the gorgeous spring weather of the last 3 days is today gray and 50°. Considering that various things we like to talk about are best without others around, private time is just the first step in a woven tapestry.
She had arrived in the way I generally prefer women – unshowered (not that there is anything wrong with freshly showered, by itself – I was), no make up, hair done in a couple of pullbacks. Adorning / braiding / brushing / pinning / tying is so easy to make hair attractive, and look interesting – but most women spend more time on make-up which generally is a waste of time, in my generally shrugged off opinion.
The room is still full of her scent. That is a sense I fully enjoy, and the smell of her body, especially as the accepted back massage inevitably turns her on, is irresistible, leading to even better massaging, a positive feedback loop of the best type. And I only do my best massage work on bare skin – that is one of my requirements for good work. And in her case, no problem at all. She left her jeans on, and laid down, lightly kneeling with a couple of pillows supporting her stiff back. A half hour or so of working her body over with my hands led to definitely less tension. And because she had pulled off her shirt and bra a long while before. less clothing getting the way of my hands.
Cutting a lot of wood by hand makes giving a decent massage pretty casual if very enticing work, and she kept wondering if I was getting tired. Not really, and considering how hard I became leaning ever closer to her skin and rubbing her ass through her jeans, there was no way I would stop. My lips started brushing her skin as I kept smelling the perfume of her skin, somehow dark like her hair, and then my fingers started running through her exquisitely soft hair, tracing along her ears and neck, and back into her hair. By this point, we were both enjoying ourselves and getting too turned on to stop, not that we wanted to. After several minutes of lightly using my lips over her back, neck, and ears, I started to very lightly run my fingers over her back, and she started quivering at the touch, gasping at times. My other hand started stroking over her jeans, at times rubbing along her thicker seam at the V of her legs. Then the phone rang, a slight interruption, quickly answered – real life is like that.
I knelt back down beside her, and started rubbing her back, moving my hands in a pattern which sank slowly but steadily lower over her chest. Her quivering and gasping became more constant the closer I came to her breasts, and as I started to rub the very edge of her breasts, and then along the outside of her dark nipples, she started moaning without any hope of stopping, her body relaxed but still tensely waiting for more. My hand moved steadily between her glorious breast and the giving pillow, my fingers spread underneath her, and I knew exactly where her large, rounded nipple was, merely from her gasping. Her breast lay heavy but soft, and moving my other hand to her other breast the same way caused no objection from either of us – if something works the first time, it will probably work again and again. And paying attention closely to someone's pleasure at what is happening always leads to me enjoying myself in turn, a delightful spiral.
