His tongue flickered across her lips - testing and tasting the pressure of her desire. She felt her breasts tighten, her quim open and remain at the ache for something thrust there: his cock, his tongue, anything to release the sweet moisture growing within.
She responded to his tongue by gently taking it with her teeth and pulling his firm, fully-clothed body to hers. Heat flowed between them as she caressed his back and felt the thin stuff of his white shirt slide over firm muscle.
He was kissing her eyes, her cheeks with a needful rapidity; stroking her sides, hips ... each became absorbed in this almost innocent exploration. Avoiding their sex was tacit between them. She wanted to delay their nakedness but their need of each other was becoming urgent.
His tongue entered her mouth with ferocity; it hurt but her lips swelled and opened to accept it. Whipping their tongues in and out, sucking and biting each other's lips without breath was flooding their brains with hot, smoky blood like waves of Sicilian heat.
His breath was becoming shorter, "I can't - I must - please let me see your breasts." He pulled away, stood still with effort and let his eyes slowly slide to her breasts.
All became quiet; a suspended silence of sexual tension hung between them and each stood still. She felt strong, in control and pulsing with desire.
The room was darker now; neither had noticed the light fading. Pupils dilating, the room began to take shape, however, with the cigarettes burning in the ash-tray and the half full wine glasses on the little Italian table that he'd bought on his last trip there.
"Sit down," her voice sounded deep and choked. He sat, looking at her like a young boy to the older woman who has decided to take his virginity. He could hardly contain his excitement as the bulge proved.
She turned seductively - and she knew it - to draw the heavy linen curtains. The world was shut out now : time to create their own. He licked his lips. She looked down at him and unbuttoned the black crepe de chine wisp of blouse, dropping it onto the wooden floor. Her nipples were erect and straining at the lace of her bra. She was aware of her shallow breathing and knew her breasts were moving in rhythm - his eyes were fixed on them with unmasked yearning.
She wanted to make him wait, so she stroked the bare thigh above her stocking top and slid a finger under the crotch of her lace knickers and began to finger herself. Her juice started to run - oh God, this need coursed through her as she rubbed her clit. Her breasts were becoming full and warm. Unhooking the straps, she sighed as they fell free.
