J. Boase © 2003
The Room has an intensely erotic atmosphere. Unmistakably, irresistibly, it envelops you in sexual persuasion.
It is rectangular and roomy, a door at one end, a bay window at the other with curtains that allow you to vary the light. It has a polished wooden floor, ideal for dancing in stockinged feet. It has a fireplace, ornate but unused, and a central chandelier. The high ceiling features pressed metal panels with floral designs. Its only furnishings are a high-backed chair, a piano stool and a black, brilliantly glossy grand piano.
'Pour us a glass of wine and bring it in,' she says with a knowing look before disappearing into The Room and closing the door behind her.
I draw the cork from an excellent merlot, the kind one would expect to find in the cellar of a gourmet cook and wine connoisseuse. On the kitchen bench I find two elegant wine glasses: Riedel, of course.
A single candle and a match lie to hand where she has left them for me.
Lighting the candle, pouring some wine and holding the glass to it. Breathtaking colour. Swirling the wine in the glass, lifting it to my face, sealing my nose with the neck of the glass. Complex aromas, rich and refined, assertive yet subtle. Swirling again, taking a generous draught, resting it initially in my mouth then swishing it around to release the flavors. Holding it there until I finally swallow, to be delighted by the wine's long finish. I may have had a better red wine but I can't remember when.
'Da da da, da da da, da da da daa, da-da da...'
Beethoven! The Moonlight Sonata!
I pour both glasses and carry them to the door of The Room, opening it gingerly.
She has discarded her dress. Her bare shoulders sway gently at the keyboard. Her music fills The Room with its elegant tones, a soft yet compelling sound. I put her glass on the window sill adjacent to the piano stool.
She wears only black panties, contrasting with her fine, pale skin; black, stay-up stockings; and black, heeled shoes. She engages my eyes and smiles.
I take the high-backed chair and sip the lovely wine. A superb merlot, Beethoven, The Room and a nearly naked pianist! I marvel at the combination.
'What is the rest of the world doing at this moment?' I wonder, enchanted by her playing...
The first movement ends. She takes up her glass and walks over to me.
'To us'.
'A worthy toast!.
We clink our glasses and sip.
I stand and hold her hand.
She takes a mouthful of merlot and puts her lips to mine. The wine spills onto my tongue and runs down my throat. Some of it overflows down my chin. She holds herself to me and I draw the wine vapors from her mouth.
Her hand brushes against my cock. She has been rubbing against it while kissing me. There is a wet patch on my trousers.
'That feels promising'.
'I want another one of those wine kisses, please'.
'Liked that one, did you?'
She puts her glass to her lips and sups, holding the wine in her mouth. We kiss again. I marvel at the sensations of transferring wine, then wine vapors from her mouth to mine.
Her perfume is alluring.
Sitting again, putting my glass on the floor and drawing her to me. The scent of her arousal is earthy and obvious. Her panties are wet. Taking deep breaths, savouring her aroused state, running my hands around the shapely curves of her buttocks. My tongue seeks her sex, easing the fabric of her panties into her slit. A little shiver runs through her bottom. She tastes wonderful.
'I have something special in mind for you', she says in her warm, enticing voice.
'Oh, and what would that be?' My voice is muffled, between her thighs.
'I need to leave you for a minute to make it happen'.
'Ok... but just one more sniff and lick... I feel very self-indulgent...'
Luxuriating in the glories of the scent and wetness that she has made for me. Enjoying the feeling of maleness that comes from being able to arouse such an intensely sexual woman. My lover is addictive. Her sexuality is awe-inspiring. Her needs would frighten a lot of men.
She pulls back, slowly. My mock protest goes unheeded. She puts down her glass and walks to the door, exaggerating the movement of her hips. Her bum is magnificent. Her stockinged legs flow stylishly. Her skin is smooth and white in the muted light.
I hear her shoes going along the passage towards her bedroom. Thirty seconds or so and I hear her returning. She comes through the door carrying the duvet and a pillow from her bed. She clicks the door shut.
'Mmm... This looks like fun...'
'Do I ever disappoint you?'
She spreads the duvet, doubled over, on the grand piano and positions the pillow.
'You're overdressed'.
I take the hint, not caring that my fine wool suit finishes up in a pile on the floor.
She leans on the piano, her torso reflected in the brilliant sheen of the lid, sipping from her glass.
'So... show me your cock...'
I sit with legs apart, stroking my cock. It's longer and thicker than most, she tells me. I'll take her word for it. I've never seen another man erect in real life.
Liquid flows profusely from my cock. I use the liquid to allow my fingers to slip easily over the fleshy cockhead. I stroke it like this when self-pleasuring, pulling firmly on the head, rarely touching the shaft.
