Dear reader, after much deliberation I commit to posting the beginning of a story whose essence has preoccupied me for a long time. While strictly a work of fiction, there is much that has a strong basis in real experience. I have tried to keep the mood faithful to the experience, so that the excitement might be understated in comparison with other stories posted on Literotica. It suggests a continuation, but I haven't yet decided if I will be able to continue. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
There are presently just two characters, both demonstrably over eighteen.
Did my heart love till now?
The roads were quiet that morning as I unhurriedly made the journey to the house of a very special friend. I was grateful for that because it meant my hands and feet were able to work almost on autopilot as I drove the familiar streets, allowing my thoughts to dwell on the upcoming visit and drift to our times together. On reaching the house I parked neatly in one of the spaces for visitors. I saw I was early so instead of announcing my arrival immediately I paused for a few minutes before calling at the door.
How many times had we shared in the last six years? Too many to count, yet not enough to satisfy my hunger. I was acutely and painfully aware that this day would probably be the last time, and I needed some minutes to compose myself, lock my emotions and the sad realisation away in separate compartments of my heart and mind. Above all I had to make sure that any visible signs of these negative feelings were wiped away when we came face to face.
* * * * * * * * * * *
1. Reminiscence
My mind regressed to our first meeting, I remember it so well .....
The afternoon of Good Friday 2009. I was approaching the mature age of sixty and I'd been having a bad year. The recent economic crash that affected the entire developed world had killed off my son in laws' job and their marriage collapsed under the strain. My most valued office colleague had been head-hunted leaving me overloaded at work. Then I picked up an injury which curtailed my capacity for sport and my fitness level dropped.
But I apologise, dear reader, my racing thoughts as I write are causing me to get ahead of things. Let me go back further .....
I had been working in Cologne, Germany for the past fifteen years. I was happy with the work, most of the time at least, and it was well paid. I was very fortunate. The reason I was in Germany and not England was that our leaders' economic measures had hit many careers hard, including my own as an engineering researcher for the government, and I had grasped the job opportunity as a lifeline against the almost certain redundancy that would come shortly. We had a daughter who would soon be going to study at university and who would need financial support -- I saw no practical alternative. Unfortunately my wife could not settle outside of Britain and soon went back to our home in England to live, with the result that I was in a state of limbo, feeling unable to settle and build a new life of my own abroad yet having little future career and breadwinning prospects at home.
Over the next years we made many visits to each other but with each passing year our relationship as a couple became weaker and emotionally we drifted apart. In all honesty it was never a very passionate relationship and we remained man and wife partly because it was easier and to me it was less painful, and less frightening than splitting up. It also kept some stability for our daughter while she was still growing into adulthood. At another level I retained the deep-seated belief that marriage was important enough to me not to end it, though if I was honest with myself perhaps really I did not have the courage to do so.
I didn't feel right about seeking and a girlfriend and trying form a relationship. In the circumstances it wouldn't have been fair on her, nor on my family, and in any case I didn't really want one. But of course loneliness, desire for female company and the natural need to satisfy my sexual needs prompted me to occasionally visit massage studios and other such "Houses of Tolerance", though I never found the experience particularly satisfying. OK, it was physically satisfying at the time -- the meeting with an attractive lady, the foreplay, becoming naked together, the contact, the caresses, orgasm ..... but afterward I looked on it as something forgettable, even regrettable. On the plus side it was easy to keep any such liaison compartmentalised in time and space, as well as emotionally. And of course there was no danger that it would impinge onto other aspects of my life, above all my marriage.
While looking for something better, I learned about tantra and tantric massage. It promised a classier experience, maybe one I would enjoy enough to want to repeat. It sounded interesting and mysterious, perhaps exciting. I learned that tantra has its own vocabulary. One does not use the words like cock/prick/... for penis, nor cunt/slit/... for vagina, the words I use. Instead they are "lingam" and "yoni", suggestive of something more worthy, even sacred, which to the tantric practitioner they are.
My first such experience was at Institute Tantra, and the massage was everything I was hoping. At the core was an unhurried exchange (intended to delay the climax), a holistic communion between giver and receiver, and elements that were not solely aimed at sexual gratification. It was not only intensively pleasurable but I went away feeling good about what I had experienced. It was not about sex as such, not at this institute anyway as I realised from before the start. More about communication of bodies and souls through the medium of sensitive touch, naked contact; the sharing of energy and the evoking of desires and emotions.
And so it happened on that particular Friday, I called that day to seek an appointment for a two hour massage. I wasn't sure if I could, half expecting them to be closed for the holiday, but there was no problem. I didn't know who I would see, I had visit a few times before and knew they normally assign a lady of their choice. It was fine to me as the institute was renowned for high quality -- the ladies were warmly tactile, sensual, had sensitive hands and a comforting manner. They were real people, with their own individuality, but they followed an established routine so there would be no disappointments or embarrassing surprises.
I arrived a few minutes before the appointed hour of 3 pm and at first sight the place seemed deserted. I rang the bell and was met at the door by a lady slightly older than those I had seen previously. Barefoot and dressed conservatively in a cream cotton blouse and beige corduroy pants, she stood about 5'4" and was slim without being skinny. She had medium length, dark chestnut hair which cascaded to her shoulders; her eyes were soft blue, warm and open as they made contact with mine. Though outwardly modest in her appearance, she possessed a compelling presence and communicated a calm empathy which produced an unmistakable magnetism. Her understated sexuality accentuated rather than detracted from this impression and at that moment I knew instinctively that she was someone I would be completely comfortable with. Had I been more sensitive toward my inner being I might have been aware that I was meeting the woman who might have been the special person for me.
Smiling warmly she faced me, standing close enough to invite contact be not so close as to invade my personal space, and introduced herself, "Hello Edward, I'm delighted to meet you! My name is Renate, I am your tantrica for this afternoon."
"And it's lovely to meet you too, Renate. I know I will enjoy this time very much."
With that she smiled again, gently took my hands in hers and with a relaxed, open gaze looked me directly in the face, as if inviting an embrace. I instinctively held my arms out to return the invitation and a few moments we hugged gently. I felt the feminine softness through her blouse and yielded to the temptation to kiss her softly on each cheek. Reflecting upon it now, I think perhaps even then my heart was trying to tell me something.
