The Boeing 747 lifted off the runway at Heathrow International Airport, its engines powering the massive plane into the clear blue morning sky.As it made its way west towards the United States with 300 people aboard, Megan MacLean looked out of the window, lost in her thoughts.
Her fellow passengers would see a mature, seemingly confidant woman in her mid twenties, five foot five inches tall and one hundred and ten lbs, blue eyes and brown hair with naturally auburn tints cut to her shoulders in an ‘easy’ style. There was a slight ‘wave’ but not curly and needed minimal grooming. Not beautiful, but with a pleasantly direct and intelligent look.
Her apparently confidant look concealed a mind full of doubts and uncertainties. Why, she agonised, was she getting cold feet now?This wasn’t some foolish decision she had made on the spur of the moment, she'd been mulling it over for some time.Muttering to herself under her breath, “How has my life become so complicated in four short years?” she sat back in her seat with a heavy heart. The man she was travelling to see, the man she loved, had no idea she was on her way to tell him goodbye.
Her mind drifted back to her first sight of him six years ago; it was her second week at Queen Anne’s College, University of North Norfolk, England, where she would be reading for her degree in English with American studies.As a young teenager her dream had been to pursue a career in international journalism or some form of media, and her University advisor had steered her towards a new and unusual module.A visiting American Professor would offer study in “The Americanization of the English Language.”
Megan had walked into class on the first day half expecting to see some tall, lanky, dowdy, solemn, grey haired old professor reminiscent of James Stewart, peering out at the students over a pair of half lens professor-like reading spectacles.The man who greeted her, as well as every other student, with a handshake as they entered, was not quite what she had expected.
He wasn’t tall or lanky. Dowdy, yes. Slightly unkempt, yes.But a professor who looked to be in his early thirties.His brown eyes were the colour of liquid milk chocolate which, had he been a dog, would have made her want to stroke him and pull his ears.Not exactly good-looking, but not bad!
When the students were seated he picked up his notes, reached into his jacket pocket, took out a pair of half lens professor-like reading spectacles, perched them on the tip of his nose and peered over them at his students. Megan couldn’t resist giggling as his spectacles confirmed his dry, dusty professor-like image to her.She lowered her eyes as she fought to control herself. The class went deathly silent. Megan's friend dug her in the ribs with an elbow before she managed to stop. When she looked up the professor was looking directly at her.
“My name,” he said in a rich baritone voice, with a southern States intonation - Megan smiled to herself, the way he said ‘Mah,’ sounded so cute. Clearing his throat, he started again.“My name is Dr Andrew Scotsdale; I am currently a Professor at Crestin University in Hinsdale New York, where I teach Humanities, English and its history.Each year Crestin University sends a group of students to London to study British Literature as well as exchanging visiting professors.I am working with Queen Anne’s College on such a three year instructor exchange program.
Please call me Andrew if you wish, but I do not care at all for the nickname ‘Andy.’ If the young lady with the sense of humor would care to share the joke with us, I would most welcome it. I must improve my understanding of English Humor.Now perhaps I might know your name?”
Megan was mortified. What a beast! No sense of humour obviously. She felt humiliated but stood defiantly, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “Professor Scotsdale,” she stressed the formality of his name, “My name is Megan MacLean and you may call me Miss MacLean.” She sat. She couldn’t, she damn well wouldn’t tell him why she had giggled.
“Thank you, Miss MacLean. I am very happy to have you in my study group,” he said in a dry tone. “I have the list of my students here and perhaps you will each introduce yourself as I call your name.”
The formalities over, he began.“Now for the next thirteen weeks all ya all’s unnerstandin' of proper English is fixin to get innerestin.”Giggles and laughter floated through the room.He stiffened in mock indignation and responded to the outburst, “What? Was it something I said?”He made eye contact with all of them slowly as he continued speaking about the course. Megan relaxed and began to take notes. She thought he really is quite innerestin, smiling at how easy the twist in pronunciation was to pick up.
Megan sat quietly in her seat on the gently rumbling airliner and remembered what Andrew told her years later about that first day.At the end of class, as the students noisily filed out chattering and laughing, his eyes followed her making her way to the door absorbed in an animated conversation with her elbow-digging friend. He watched the gentle sway of her hips and the way her auburn hair seemed to sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the windows.He became infatuated with the way her blue eyes would take on a deep sapphire glow if she was concentrating or upset.Her intelligent, witty and upbeat personality had won his heart quickly and he hoped over the ensuing months he would able to keep his growing desire for her from the rest of the students and faculty.The disgrace of being sent back to Crestin due to improper behavior either towards or with an undergraduate under his tutelage would have disastrous consequences on his standing in the world of academia.
Time passed. Semesters came and went. Megan had worked diligently at her studies and became fascinated with the facets of language development in a multi-cultural, multi-lingual society that Andrew, yes she called him ‘Andrew’ now, facets that Andrew had made so clear.By the time Megan entered her final year she had attended four of the five courses Andrew taught and was looking forward to reading the last one.
It was in her final year that Megan found her heart beating more quickly when an occasional smile lit his face as he looked at her. Andrew was quite attractive in a crumpled-up sort of way. She didn’t realise at first that he started to find something about her written work which caused him to delay her as she left his class. Something he had to discuss with her. She also totally failed to recognise that she was taking longer to gather her books and papers, making her the last student to leave.Had Cupid been watching over them he would have smiled seeing his golden darts striking their targets.
After the last class before the Christmas and New Year break he said, “Megan, please wait a moment.”
She stopped where she stood, feeling a frisson down her spine at the softness of his voice. She turned and her papers slipped from her hand, scattering over the floor. “Damn” she said as she knelt to collect them. He was suddenly beside her, kneeling, collecting, and offering them to her. As their hands touched, she felt electricity flash between them.
She stood up, blushing madly and unable to meet his eyes.
“Megan.” He cleared his throat. “Megan, I...well I…err, Megan.”
She stole a glance at him. “Yes, Andrew?”
“Megan, look here. I just was going to say Merry Christmas. And. and...”
“It’s just that …Megan …I’m staying in England for Christmas and the New Year. You know, I never did get to celebrate Hogmanay as you do over here. Would you find the time to have a meal with me? No strings. Just for you to be my guest and my friend. Please?” Thank god he’d remembered to say ‘please’ he thought to himself – these Brits liked the courtesies of language. He better not foul up now.
Her heart leapt. “Andrew, if I ask Mum and Dad will you have Christmas lunch with us? And you could join us for New Year’s Eve.”
Andrew took a deep breath which Megan knew was a sure sign he was nervous.A smile lit his face. He beamed. Then his face fell. “Megan, your parents won’t want a stranger under their feet. Not at this time of the year.”
“You just leave it to me, Professor!” She stood on tiptoe, kissed his cheek and before he could respond she left the room. He heard her feet running down the corridor and, as she turned the corner, he heard her shout, “Yes! yes!.”
Megan asked her parents if one of her tutors could join them for Christmas Day and the New Year, explaining that he was American and would be alone in England this year. They immediately said yes and Megan blushed when she saw her parents’ eyes exchange ‘that look’ which passed for “Oh Hoooo. What have we here?”
“Now listen you two, I just feel sorry for him being alone and knowing no-one. That’s all. He doesn’t know anybody. Don’t you go thinking there’s anything special here. He is just a tutor of mine. Right?”
“Yes dear” her mother said, “Yes of course, if you say so” but she couldn’t prevent a tiny smile showing in her eyes.
Later that evening her father suggested they should meet her 'tutor' before Christmas Day and perhaps go for a drink at their local pub, maybe even have a pub meal. It would break the ice and everyone would relax more easily on neutral ground. “And Megan, shall we know his name before then, or do we call him “Tutor?”
“His name is Professor Scotsdale.”
“Professor is his first name?” her father had teased.
“I think his first name is Andrew. But look, whatever you do, don’t for goodness sake call him Andy because he doesn’t like that”, she replied crossly.
“Andrew Scotsdale” her mother had said. “What a nice name for an American. Sounds quite Scottish. Even English.”
A few days later Megan took Andrew to her quiet home in a tree lined country lane.He saw a solid brick and tile house with a double garage to one side, which had a paved area in front where Megan parked her small car. She had already told him there were five bedrooms, three full bathrooms, and a shower room with adjacent loo, all on the upper floor.
‘So this is where she lived and played as a small child, and grew into womanhood before she entered my life’ he thought.
Megan’s tummy was turning somersaults as the door opened and her parents emerged into the cold December sunshine.
“Mum and Dad this is Professor Scotsdale, one of my tutors. Professor, this is my Mother and this is my Father.”
Andrew made a tiny old fashioned bow to her mother, and extended his hand to her father. They both greeted him in soft Scottish accents.
“Ma’am ah’m truly honored to meet you. Sir, ah’m glad to meet cha, or I guess I should say ‘how do you do? Please call me Andrew; I see Miss MacLean is being kinda formal and correct like.”
They led him to their large and spacious living room which was furnished with easy chairs, low tables and a settee. Books lined one of the walls and a glass fronted cabinet displayed fine crystal glassware on another. Pictures by Monet were hung, and family photographs sat in their silver frames on the cabinets and shelves.
Megan's father broke the ice, asking how Andrew liked England, how long he had been here and where he was now living. Megan was sitting anxiously on the arm of her easy chair, fidgeting with the piping along its edge.
Her mother called for Megan's help from the kitchen where she was preparing coffee. “Darling he seems quite pleasant. Nice looking too. Daddy and I have been talking about Christmas and the New Year. We can’t just tip him out in the snow after Christmas dinner and drinks. Would you like us to invite him to stay overnight? As many nights as you wish. It’s your decision. In any case, to be here for the New Year he will have to stay over, won’t he?
Think it over and tell me later in the pub. Now then, just carry this tray of coffee through and ask your friend if he would like a cup.”
After the coffee arrived conversation began to flow and Megan relaxed.
Soon all were at ease and ‘Mr. MacLean’ was Lachlan and Mrs. MacLean, ‘Katherine (please, call me Kate’.)
In the early evening they walked in the cold crisp air to their local pub, just a short mile away in the centre of the village. The night sky was studded with twinkling stars as if the Heavens were celebrating the Holy Season. Beneath their feet as they walked, the frozen coating of snow crunched and crackled causing each man to take the arm of his lady to lend her support.
A wooden, painted sign lit from a wall lamp swung in the breeze. Andrew noticed the picture of a buxom female with dark hair, wearing a crown directly above the ornate wording “Queen Anne’s Arms.”
Inside, the heat of a smouldering open log fire at one end of the large bar warmed the room, the aroma of wood smoke mingling enticingly with the smell of beer and food. Customers stood informally in twos and threes at the polished wooden bar top, with others sitting at small tables. There was a quiet hum of friendly conversation punctuated by laughter. Behind the bar bottles of spirits and liqueurs waited a customer’s pleasure, and highly polished glasses glinted in the soft lights.
Kate knew from the sparkle in her daughter’s eyes, the laughter in her voice and the bloom in her cheeks that this ‘Professor’ was someone special in her life. Megan seemed so happy and proud of him. Lately she had been tired and slightly stressed as her Finals approached, but now Megan was relaxed and content, ‘sparkling’ her Mother thought. And this ‘Professor’ was very attentive towards her.
How much of this Megan herself realised, her Mother wasn’t sure, but without doubt this slow spoken American had made a deep impression on her daughter. Kate smiled inside “I think his name is Andrew!!!” And then what a giveaway “Please don’t call him Andy he doesn’t like that.” She knew her daughter; she was pleased for her, but hoped that her head wouldn’t be turned too far until she had graduated.
They ate at a table in the bar, Lachlan ordering steak and kidney pie and recommending it to Andrew. Kate and Megan both ordered lemon sole with shrimp sauce. Pints of good English beer were quaffed by the men, house wine was ordered by the demi-carafe (and very drinkable it was too, Andrew thought) with Lachlan and himself on red and the girls drinking white.
They walked slowly back home in the darkness, the men in deep conversation.
“Megan, have you thought about Christmas and the New Year?”
“Well I haven’t asked Andrew yet, Dad’s hogged him all evening” she laughed, “but when could he stay?”
“Mmmm – how important is he in your life, Megan?”
“Mum don’t you go matchmaking. He’s my tutor and I quite like him but there’s nothing like that between us.”
Kate mentally threw her arms in the air 'quite like him'. It was obvious to her that her daughter was close to falling in love.
“Very well Megan, why not ask him for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day for him to spend two nights in the guest room. Then he might come on 30th December and stay over. Then of course New Year’s Eve and the night of 1st January. That should see the men’s hangovers behind them. Three nights do you think? Or is that too much?
Megan had hugged her mother’s arm tightly. “Oh Mum you are the best. I love you, you know that don’t you. I'll ask him. But don’t be disappointed if he says ‘no’ will you. I mean perhaps other friends might invite him.”
Once again Kate had smiled in the darkness. “Not a hope” she thought to herself.
They called for a taxi to return Andrew to his lodgings on campus.
Her parents tactfully said their goodbyes in the living room where Kate had firmly taken her husband’s arm and prevented him from walking their guest to the front door. Megan was left to see him out, with her Mother equally firmly closing the living room door behind them.
They stood close. Megan, alone with him at last, was suddenly nervous and unsure. She held out her hand “Andrew I’ve had a marvellous evening. It’s been so lovely. Thank you for coming. It’s been the best I’ve had since I came to St Anne’s.”
Andrew took her hand, respecting her nervous wish to have a formal goodnight. He wasn’t going to take any risk in pushing her too hard or too quickly.
As the taxi arrived and Andrew began to graciously say good-bye, Megan interrupted, “Andrew, I hope you don’t think it forward of me, but Mum and Dad asked if you would like to stay over on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas night.”She stuttered as she realised she had just asked him to stay overnight in her home with her; a shiver of excitement ran down her spine.Looking up at him she quickly followed with, “They also offered for you to stay from the 30th of December ‘till the 2nd of January.That way you won’t be rushed and we can enjoy the holidays more.”
His smile had mischief written all over it as he quietly asked, “Oh? Only your parents want me… but not you?”
Lost in the nervous confusion of asking and half expecting a refusal of her Mum’s offer Megan hadn’t been listening to his response.She suddenly understood Andrew had said something unexpected and she had totally missed it.“What did you say, Andrew?”
“I asked you if only your parents want me to stay over on those nights, or if you share in their desires also?”
‘Oh god,’ Megan thought as the simple fear of the unknown path he was making her walk made her throat dry and her heart begin to throb.“I … I want you to stay over also Andrew, having you as our … my guest would please me too.”
Taking her hand he raised it to his lips and kissed the top of her hand twice.“Then, I accept and will count the minutes until I see you again.In the words of ‘The Bard,’ “Parting is such sweet sorrow.””
She looked up into his dark eyes and it was at that moment she knew. This wonderful man was more than special to her.Andrew turned and virtually skipped to the waiting taxi while Megan stood outside and watched it disappear, lost in her own delicious thoughts.
Her parents liked him they said. He was good company. His diffidence and hesitancy with people in general had melted in the warmth of the welcome he received. Her father thought him a ‘nice chap, good fellow’ and was glad his daughter had made a College friend. Her mother knew her daughter’s feelings better than Megan appeared to know them herself, and certainly much, much better than her Lachlan. It was just as well sometimes that men could be so blind.
Christmas Eve arrived and Andrew had been welcomed, shown his room and the facilities. He unpacked and went down to the living room. He saw the garlands stretching across the ceiling; the sparkling reds, greens and golds of decorative ribbons running around picture frames and bookcases. The Christmas tree was not large, but tastefully decorated with lights and hanging baubles. Hanging from the ceiling was a bunch of mistletoe.
Andrew spotted the sprigs of grey-green leaves and pearl-like berries tied in a small bundle to a beam that separated the hallway from the living room.Now, after Lachlan introduced his mother and father, Mrs. Grace and Mr. Hector MacLean, Andrew noticed Megan standing unwittingly beneath the green leaves of opportunity.
Andrew turned quickly and faced Megan who gave out a little cry as he whirled to face her.“Yes Andrew, what is it?”she asked in a startled voice.
Quoting from one of his favorite comedies ‘Scrooged’ he pointed to the beam over her head and whispered, “It’s a law you know, a Federal law in the States, now I have to kiss you.”
Megan looked up at the mistletoe hanging above her head then at Andrew as she heard him say he would have to kiss her.She felt goosebumps and a frisson down her spine. She didn’t know why her mouth and throat were dry. All she could do was nod her head.Yet, he still asked her, “Megan, may I kiss you.”Again her head nodded.He bent forward and she closed her eyes as his lips touched hers.He covered her whole mouth for a long moment, felt the soft acceptance and tasted the sweetness of her. It was longer than the chaste kiss one would give a close family member, but not quite so long as to be considered improper or impolite.
As the kiss ended he moved back and Megan was sure fireworks had gone off all around her.Opening her eyes she looked up into Andrew’s face; he had the dumbest grin she had ever seen and a slight redness on his cheeks.
Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.She turned to see her mum standing just a few metres away looking at the two of them, her eyes bright with mirth.Kate had watched Andrew claim his right to kiss Megan under the mistletoe.He had even asked permission - as any true gentleman would.Kate could see in her daughter’s eyes after the kiss that Megan had given her heart to the gentle man standing in front of her.Kate’s own heart jumped for joy as she watched the revelation dawn in Megan’s face.
Megan looked away from Andrew at her mum, quickly pointing up at the beam she mumbled, “Mistletoe…”Kate made an amused and disbelieving grimace and shrugged her shoulders, then smiled at her daughter.
Megan felt the blush move up her body and suddenly her face and ears were red, her whole body flushed with heat.She looked over at her dad and grandparents.All three of them were looking her way with a knowing smile on each face.Trying once again to explain herself she pointed up at the beam and said, “It’s the mistletoe dad.”
Lachlan picked up a car rug, spreading it over his mother’s legs then looked at Megan nodded and replied, “Yes darling that is mistletoe, as well you know, now help your poor old mum to serve tea, please.”
Megan said, “Excuse me,” to Andrew and followed her mum into the kitchen while Andrew joined everyone else in the living room, his own blush only slightly less evident than Megan’s. He sat in one of the chairs offered by his host and joined the conversation.
Later that night they walked to the midnight service at the village Church, The Church of St Peter and St Paul. It was old; Megan told Andrew building had commenced in 1310. Local people filled the pews and listened with respect to their Vicar, then sang the hymns of reverence, praise and thankfulness with uninhibited gusto. The Church was blessed with a good organ, a hand-me-down from a richer church which had its organ replaced with a new one in the 1880’s. The music, which resonated majestically, seemed to be absorbed by the ancient stones, then given back enriched by the encounter.
As they sat following one of the hymns, taking advantage of the brief murmurs and the rustle of the congregation being seated, Kate pointed to the large stone font, now covered with an ancient oak lid, and whispered to Andrew “that’s where Megan was Christened.”For a split second he seemed outside his body, looking down on a young couple with a baby wrapped close in her woolen family shawl in the arms of the Vicar. The cool cross was made on her forehead and the baby smiled and opened her eyes.Blue eyes.Megan’s eyes. Looking at him across the years. He shivered and squeezed his eyes tightly then shook his head, vaguely disoriented for a moment. “I will marry her one day in this Church”, echoed in his head, just like the music echoed from the stone walls.
Following the New Year, Megan and Andrew's private dinner was at a restaurant favoured by Megan’s parents. They lingered over coffee and while they talked Megan's fingers began toying nervously over her napkin which lay discarded on the table. Andrew's hands slowly moved closer and closer to hers. Her fingers stilled, his hand touched hers and a magical feeling flowed from one to the other. His fingers held hers. Their eyes met and an unspoken message passed between them.
In the taxi going home she turned her face to him. He bent towards her and they kissed. Nothing more needed to be said.
When Andrew tried to phone her the next day, Megan wouldn’t take his calls. Her parents had uncomfortably made excuses, ‘she was out’, and she had gone to see ‘friends.’ It became evident to Andrew that Megan would not speak to him.
When they met at College for the new semester she handed him a letter and ran before he could speak.
He went to his rooms filled with a dreadful foreboding. Megan's letter explained that her dreams for a career were still with her. She could not abandon them.She cared deeply for him, but she could not compromise her studies, her qualifications, or her career. She begged him to forgive her, asking him to give her space until after her final exams.
Andrew told her later he had been unsure what to do, because truth be told he hadn’t ever been much of a ladies man in high school and college.He had been involved with two women over the last seven years, both relationships lasting for about eighteen months.So this turn of events confused and confounded him.He thought over his options and in the end wrote a note, attaching it to her last test or written papers, as she would insist he call it.All it said was; “Megan, I will wait, give you space until you are ready. Then I’ll have my ‘wicked way’ with you.Fondest Regards, Andrew
He didn’t expect an answer and none was forthcoming.
For the next four months she studied with increased intensity. During May and June, over a two-week period she sat her written and oral exams; she wrote and polished her thesis and had it professionally typed and bound for submission to the Examining Board.Some weeks later the College Secretary posted the results on the College notice board. Megan joined the melee of students anxiously scanning the lists, some yelling in delight, others quietly fighting back tears.She couldn’t see her name. Then, unbelievably there it was in black and white; Bachelor of Arts : MacLean, Megan, awarded First Class Honours Degree. She turned around. Andrew, her Andrew, was there, looking at her, his face seemed hidden by his huge grin of pleasure for her.
“Andrew” she called and ran to him, her arms wide, tears in her eyes. He wrapped her in a bear hug embrace. “I did it, Andrew. I DID it!” She was almost shouting with delirious excitement.
“Sure you did – I didn’t doubt you for a second. You know that a First Class Honours Degree is the same as graduating Summa Cum Laude in the United States and that is no small accomplishment.You did so well and I’m so proud of you.Now then, we are going to celebrate and no excuses from you, Miss Megan MacLean.”
Andrew booked adjoining rooms at the Royal Carlton Hotel in London and magically acquired two tickets for "Cats." He said it had been highly recommended by his good friend, Peter Such, an eminent lawyer in the northeast States who had taken his wife and enjoyed it enormously.
After the show they hailed a taxi and travelled from the Soho district back to their hotel.They sat chattering, exchanging favourite images of the music as they rode, their conversation adding to the magic of the performance. Andrew escorted Megan to her room and entered, helping her off with her coat.
“I’m just going to freshen up” she said and as the bathroom door closed, he quickly slipped back the catch to her communicating door.
“I’ll be right back I have to get the champagne, don’t you run away, girl” he called loudly.
She washed her hands, touched up her lipstick and, as she returned to her room, the communicating door opened and Andrew walked in with a bottle of champagne and glasses. Her heart skipped a beat and she was aware of goosebumps as she realised that he had made their two rooms, one.
She stood before him, butterflies in her tummy, tingles in her intimate body, knowing that the time had come. He filled their glasses and they stood close, clinking them in a toast.
“To MISS Megan MacLean, a brilliant student, a wonderful woman. I pay you homage.”
She sipped, got bubbles up her nose and spluttered.As she apologised Andrew took her glass and put it down then turned to her. He put his hands on the outside of her shoulders and drew her to him. His head bent down and she closed her eyes. They kissed.Soft and gentle at first, just tasting her. Teasing and caressing her lips with his, he slowly took in all the sweetness she offered.
He moved back from her “Meg—oh Meg I love you, so very, very much.”
“I know you do, silly,” she said and reached to his lips, brushing them with her fingertips, tracing his jaw, stroking his face. “Andrew, I love you.”
His fingers caressed her spine as they kissed. Then down, down over the tightness of her bum. Megan began to shiver, to tremble in his arms, an almost forgotten heat filling her lower tummy, tingling between her legs, an unbidden wetness preparing her for what would come. Andrew's fingers were trembling as he fumbled at the zip of her dress but somehow he managed. Slowly he eased it from her shoulders allowing it to slip, slide, and glide down and over her hips to puddle at her feet.
She felt his hands stop and rest on her hips; they gently started moving, kneading the muscles lightly, gently massaging as he let the heat of his hands penetrate her skin while he stroked her almost naked bottom. Pulling her into his hard body, he moved his hands up her back until he found the strap, his frantic fingers trying to release her bra.
She reached back to unsnap it, then it was trapped between them until Andrew pulled it free.
As her fingers scrabbled at the buttons of his shirt Andrew impatiently tore it out of his trousers and threw it to one side. Then, oh god, then she felt his firm manly chest against the tightness, the aching tightness of her breasts.
Andrew’s voice was gasping in her ear “Meg. Oh Meg. Oh god I want you Meg.”
Her fingers were clutching at his head as he eased away from her. She tried to hold him close in her desperate need until she felt his hand between their bodies, fondling, squeezing gently on her breasts; a thumb flicking at a hard thrusting nipple.
Her lips were crushed against his and, as he touched her nakedness, Andrew felt her lips tremble and heard the sensual sound of her whimpering need.
“Mmm -ahh – ahhh – nnnnnn”, then her willing surrender as she gasped “Yes. Andrew. Yes. Yes, I want you.”
Still kissing Megan he tenderly laid her on her bed. His hands sought her breasts, and while he scratched on her nipples she mewled like a kitten. His fingers moved down her tummy; it tickled and she tensed then kissed him hard as she felt his fingers slide into her panties, discovering her secret self.
Megan wasn’t aware of him undressing until she felt the heat of his naked cock pressed hard against her thigh. She lifted her hips as he tugged her panties down, then she kicked them free.
Looking down as Megan lay, eyes closed, exposed and vulnerable in her naked beauty, Andrew trembled at the knowledge she was giving herself to him. Megan’s body was as perfect as her mind and heart.
He parted her cleft, his fingers sliding along her feminine mystery which unfolded in her gift of love. The very tip of his finger found her weeping centre. She moaned as he pressed for entry.
He heard her whisper “Andrew, please, please. It’s been a long time. Please be gentle.”
He pressed with his finger and she relaxed, the tight opening submissive to his demand.
Megan felt him nudge her knees apart and she opened to him. He knelt between her legs and she reached down to feel him, to feel his hardness, to feel the cock that would possess and claim her for its own. Andrew felt her grip his cock in her slim, woman’s fingers and slide its end up and down her folds. She held it to her and her fingers tried to pull him closer. He knew Megan was ready.
She felt the blunt hardness of him press for entry; she tensed then held her breath and let her body relax for him. There was discomfort as she gave way to Andrew’s insistent pressure and then, oh then, the exquisite pleasure as he pressed his swollen knob inside her for the first time.
He pressed forward just a little, allowing her to gently stretch around his now throbbing cock, withdrew, then pressed again; Megan adjusted her hips to his thrusts, allowing him total possession.
He was in. She was finally his. He was finally hers. Their intimate hairs nestled together as he stilled and hovered above her, delirious in the feeling of her warm inside heat, surrounding him, gripping him.
Megan knew the fullness of his penetration. She adjusted to the rhythm of his hips and felt the rapid build up of her nerves as they demanded release from awful tension. She was in a cloud. Whiteness surrounded her. Her clitoris swelled and rubbed against Andrew’s hard thrusts. Lightning ripped the clouds apart as his hot liquid filled her at the very moment she cried out, lifting to him, calling his name again and again…
After, when their heaving chests had calmed, when her intense throbbing had eased, she leaned over him, her nipple grazing his lips as she said, “So you finally had your wicked way with me then!”
“Nahhh” he said. “You tricked me into it.”
They both laughed, gently holding each other in love.
Continued in Part Two
Co-authored – Susan England and Writingdragon
The authors would welcome comments and criticisms at either of their email addresses,namely authors acknowledge the words used in the song "Leaving on a Jet Plane" written byJohn Denver and performed by Peter, Paul andMary.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/leaving.aspx">Leaving - Part One</a>