A Quiet Embrace

I heard the footsteps in hall, careful, cautious steps. I had left my door ajar, so as to stop it from creaking loudly when she opened it. I lay on my side, in my usual sleeping position, despite being wide awake. I was aware of every little sound in the vicinity of my room; the soft rustling of the leaves outside, the low hum of the air-conditioner.

It was summer, an unusually humid one that made for sweltering days and sticky nights. I slept in satin pants and my underwear, forgoing a shirt in this heat. My door finally swung open, slowly. She took two steps into the room and pushed it shut with attentive care. The moonlight shining through my window – the only source of light in my otherwise darkened room – lit up her skin like an ancient Greek statue. She came toward me, kneeling down beside my bed, a small smile playing on her lips, a smile I had come to know intimately; it was never very big, held back always by the fear of being caught, by the knowledge that what we were doing was wrong.

She put out a searching hand and ran it along my covered leg. I readjusted my position, to let her know I was awake. She lifted the covers back, and leaned over to kiss my bare chest. My skin seemed to melt in the places that her lips touched, exciting me, rousing my manhood. I put my arms around her neck and drew her up onto the bed, then down beside me.

I kissed her full on the lips, savouring the sweet, fruity taste that seemed to exist naturally in her mouth. She clung to me as though she were a virgin, as though she were the inexperienced one, and not I. She was still a few inches taller than I was, which served only to emphasise the age difference that I had come to love so much; my fetish, if you will.

She was wearing a robe made of the same material as my pants, but pale blue in colour instead of jet-black. Our upper bodies were mercifully above the bedspread, though it made little difference now; we had become experts at doing this in the dark, with only slivers of moonlight to aid us in our taboo exploits.

I found the sash of her robe easily, because of memory perhaps, and not the moonlight. We knew every inch of each other’s body, every touch, every smell and every taste. We would not, perhaps, have recognised them in the light, as we had only seen each other naked during the night.

The loose knot of the sash came undone, her robe parting under gravity’s influence. I pushed the other side over her torso, exposing her body to me. As always, I didn’t know which part to begin with. She had told me recently that I needn’t go through the same routine every night, which consisted of squeezing her breasts, sucking on her nipples, licking her belly and finally taking her, with a scattering of kisses in between. She was still teaching me, after all this time, and I was grateful for it.

I moistened my tongue as best I could and slid it along the crevasse between her breasts, before dropping my mouth to her navel and sealing it in a kiss. I played with her throat, nibbling her collarbone and sucking her ear lobes, my heart racing with every muffled sigh and smothered groan.

I divided my attention, one hand stroking the fine hairs on her neck, the other probing the tunnel between her legs, and my mouth licking her face like an animal. Her thighs clenched tightly around my head, drawing it deeper, welcoming like the old friend that it had become.

She seemed to like having her face licked, enjoying it in the same animalistic way that I felt I was giving it. As I stuck out my tongue for another soft caress, she caught it between her thumb and index finger, bringing her mouth up to suck on it, an overwhelming sensation that I could not tolerate for long.

With her entire face, and most of her neck and chest wet with my saliva, I rolled atop her, parting her legs with my hand. She looped her arms around my neck, smiling with abandon, as she always did at this moment, when the hunger in both our bodies made it impossible to turn back, so that fear was forgotten. My eyes were downcast, concentrating on my entry. I had one last look at her beautiful smile, before entering her, which replaced the grin with a look of ecstasy, her mouth a perfect oval.

“Yes,” she whispered, as I lowered my body onto her, turning my head to one side, no longer able to peruse the intricacies of her lovely face. Her hands rested on my shoulder blades now, our legs were twined together and her ample breasts were smothered between our bodies. I drew back, then plunged forward, then repeated the action. I paused to kiss her, but she pulled her mouth away and, wrapping her legs around my knees, pulled me down again.

I worked my hands, with some difficulty, beneath her body, circling them around her back, eager to be as close to her as possible, to have as much contact with her body as could be had. I would have lain like this for a time, savouring the passion and the pleasant feeling that only this moment could bring, but she urged me on, forcing my groin toward the bed, pushing me in deeper, until I was wholly buried in her wet cavern. No other girl or woman enveloped me so well; no other did I seem to fit so perfectly inside, like a key in a lock.

I drew it out again and she whimpered with protest, until I slid it into place once more and she sighed in content. She clung to me like a baby, refusing to let me go, seeking to hold me against her forever.

They were bittersweet, these experiences of ours that we had whenever we could. We loved to enjoy the dance of our bodies, the simple proximity of one another, and would do so as long as we could. But that hunger led to climax and once that was over it meant we had to part. And so we hurtled towards it, both longing for it and hoping it wouldn’t come so soon.

Her legs were rising further up my body, her heels now pressing into the cheeks of my ass. Her arms though, still circled my neck. I felt, as I often did, that if either of us pulled any harder, we’d melt into one being. There was no possible way we could be closer together, I thought with some disappointment.

We clutched each other fervently, guarding the other’s body jealously. No one could take us from each other, at least not for tonight. I sped up my rhythm, pulling partly out and quickly driving back inside again. Harder and faster we danced until the familiar, yet always new and exciting feeling stirred in my loins. It was in hers too, I could tell.

Now was the time when we turn our thoughts to ourselves, to our own selfish pleasure, the time when we would hold each other so tightly that there would be pain mingled with the quiet moans of orgasm. And indeed her legs wrapped so tightly about my waist that I felt the blood would fail to reach it, and her nails dug deep into my back. For my part, I squeezed her torso in my arms, hugging her as no step-son should.

Smothering our cries, as we had learnt to do so well, we began to orgasm, long and hard and brilliantly. I spewed my seed into her womb, emptying myself to her, begin drained of it as only she could do. Her legs parted wider, welcoming it inside her body.

Exhausted and weak, I toppled off her, now pathetically limp and shrivelled. Her eyes were closed, one handed over her heart and the other over her womb. When she opened them, I drew her into my arms, getting drunk on the aroma of her hair.

***

A fortnight later, she came to my room during the night, and told me that she was pregnant. I should have been horrified at the news, perhaps angry with myself or even depressed, but instead I was overjoyed.

This

was the woman I loved and only she should rightly have my children. There was no one else, would never

be

anyone else, only her.

We talked long into the night, finally deciding that she would keep the child, and raise it as my father’s. I wasn’t happy about that, but it was the lesser of two evils. She spoke to me in that optimistic way that I loved so much, as she drew circles on my chest with her fingers, telling me that one day we might run away together, to a distant island where no one would know us and where we could swim at the beach all day and take walks along the tourist market’s, sipping colourful drinks we’d never heard of. I would leave reality all together when she spoke to me of those things, picturing it so vividly that I was sure it would one day happen.

The night wore on, towards morning. I grew hard as I gazed at her voluptuous breasts, but she said she didn’t want to harm the baby or upset anything, so she wriggled under the covers and pleasured me with her mouth.

We laid together a while longer before she disappeared back to her room, to where my old father would be snoring loudly, as he did on the nights he drank his bourbon. They were the nights we set aside for ourselves...any other might see him waking to find his wife gone and lead to unwanted discoveries. I pitied him a lot, sorry that I had taken her from him, but he had had two others, and I had found none that I loved as much as Monique. She would be mine for as long as I lived, even if that meant betraying my own father.

I pitied Monique too, having to tolerate my father’s bi-weekly attempts at copulating, despite the fact that he never had much success, according to Monique, and when he did, it gave her no pleasure. That was why she had turned to me, originally, to fill the single void that existed in her relationship with my father. But then I’d fallen in love, and so had she, until we found it increasingly difficult to be apart from each other, and always longed for those nights we shared together, those nights which were ours alone.

Monique had made sure that my father succeeded in one of his attempts shortly after our last, so that there would be no question as to the timing of the baby’s birth. We spent the next few months exploring different ways of pleasuring each other, which was exciting in its own way. I had learnt to use my tongue to tickle her sex, kissing it as I kissed her mouth. And at times we would simply lie side by side, rubbing our bodies together until we came.

I dreamed every night of running away to that fictitious island – though I was sure we could find some real island that resembled it – and raising our child together, away from forbidding eyes. By day we would watch him or her swim in the pool and run along the beach and by night, we would make love, finally able to yell our professions of love and ecstasy.

I hoped that time would come soon.