Everyone turns to notice as you walk into the conference, energy alight. You are handsome with olive skin, dark hair and trimmed beard. Standing at the front in a group of people, I notice, as well. My core shifts and awakens.
The facilitator calls us to take our seats, so we can begin. For the next three days we will explore immersive shadow work, and I will present for two hours each day. Exploring the shadow is grueling work, and facilitating is doubly so, as I help others to process and integrate.
There are moments when I see you in process and wonder why you're here. You shine with an inner light, have a smile for each person you engage, and generally make everyone comfortable. At the break, you approach me to ask a question, and I realize that your first language is Spanish. We laugh and stumble through a strange combination of my rudimentary Spanish and your somewhat better English. The next lecture is beginning, and we agree to continue our conversation at lunch.
I watch you return to your seat, and I wonder, "Who are you?"
Later at lunch, you tell me about your drug addiction early in life, your twenty-three years of sobriety, and your continued quest for learning and self-improvement. I am enthralled with your story, and with your beauty. You move with grace and ease, fully present in your body, dark eyes penetrating with attention. Your full, sensual lips draw my gaze as I struggle to catch your words. You stop talking, and I lift my eyes to yours - electric. We both feel the rush down our bodies. We finish lunch in silence, feeling each other through the inches between us.
The conference continues, and you and I find a way to be in the room together; working, appreciating, holding each other without touching. Each night I fall into bed exhausted but fulfilled. I am grateful to have met you, but touching you seems a far thing. I am 54, old enough to have been your young mother. But I wonder.
The last day finishes at 3:00 pm. Many people are flying out that night. As usual, I have my room for three days following the conference. It gives me time to relax, integrate, make notes for future work, and soak up some sun. I say my last farewells and make my way to the elevator.
The elevator door opens and you step in behind me. I push the button to my floor and the door glides closed. We are alone. You face me and step into my space, your ever-present smile subdued to just a turning up at the corners. Your boldness rocks me and I lean back against the wall. You lean closer, your hands moving to the rail on either side of my waist. Your legs straddle mine. We aren't touching, but I feel you everywhere. Our gazes locked, I shift my thighs and your pupils expand. Your heat surrounds me and I lean to the crook of your neck, close my eyes and breathe you in. The elevator door glides open.
I look into your eyes again, you step back, and with our first touch, you take my hand and lead me out of the elevator. We stroll side by side to my room. I hand you my key, you open the door and step through, holding the door in welcome, as I pass. I hear the locks set in place as I move into the room.
Everything is slowed, deliberate: our breath, your hands on my waist, your lips under my ear, lingering. We are still, awash in the spell that surrounds us. You move your hands further around to unbutton my blouse and I feel your hardness press into my bottom. My heart is beating a slow, bass, throb that I feel in my fingertips, nipples, clit, vagina. I'm slick with heat that belongs to you. Your breath lifts the curls at my neck, tickling, raising goose bumps. You start light, sucking kisses down my neck, softly nipping the crook as you remove my blouse.
Your hands trace lightly over my shoulder blades, down my ribs to my hips, then back up, your thumbs sliding up my spine. You deftly unhook my lacy silver bra and lean against me as you slide it forward off my arms. My breasts are engulfed in your beautiful hands as you massage them: pulling, lifting, pressing, squeezing. I moan and lay my head back on your shoulder, eyes closed, losing myself in the oxytocin flood. You are in no hurry, enjoying the feel of my pendent flesh in your hands. You lightly brush my peaked nipples, strumming, and my knees go weak. I reach up around to hook your neck, holding myself, holding you, pulling us closer.
Your sucking lips on my earlobe promises sweeter things to come. Lick-sucking my neck, you roll my nipples between your fingers, slowly, methodically. Sublime currents run into my core with each twist. Dripping into my panties, we can both smell my desire. I press back into your erection and it flexes strongly against the friction. You are so ready for me. I lift your hands off my breasts, kissing your palms, then turn in your arms.
Our gazes connect just before I lean in for our first kiss. Your sensual lips open for me, our tongues meet, and I am transformed. I am pure sensation, energy enmeshed with you, swirling, breathing your breath, your saliva quenching me. I find my hands under your shirt, exploring your manly body, strumming my fingertips over your hard nipples, lightly running my nails under your pecs, leaving a trail of goosebumps as my nails slide down to your waistband. Your breath catches as my nails run across your lower belly. You moan when I reach the plain under your navel.
I press my hands back up and help you pull your shirt off. I look my fill, and feel so lucky to be able to touch you. You have a perfect, manly form. Dark hair covers your chest and belly, and I step forward to feel you against me. Our mouths collide, arms wrapping a snug embrace. Unraveling, blending, amalgamating into new mass.
I become aware and shift to undo your belt and pants, more anxious to see and feel all of you. You reach to the side zip on my skirt and let it down. My skirt and panties fall to the floor as your pants hit your ankles. Breathless with the sight of you, I step out of my skirt. Then kneel down in my stockings and heels and remove your shoes and socks, letting you step out of your pants.
On my knees, I have a close view of your dripping, lightly-veined manhood, tight against your belly, foreskin just covering the corona. Your heavy balls tighten under my gaze, and when I lean in to kiss them, they rise to meet my lips. Mmm, my mouth waters, and I'm overwhelmed with the desire to consume your musk, fill my throat with your scent. I look up, watching you watching me, my soft lips and tongue sucking, licking, nipping your skin. The breath you've been holding escapes in a long sigh, and you close your eyes and roll your head back. You lace your fingers in my curls and palm my head, holding me close. I open my mouth to massage your handsome orchis, first one, then the other, taking them in and rolling, closing my lips and tickling with the tip of my tongue, lightly sucking, pulling my mouth off and watching them bounce back, beginning again.
As I lick and suck the crease of your groin, I notice your clear, passion fluid rolling down your rigid cock. I smile in anticipation as my flat tongue laps it from root to tip, memorizing every vein, ridge and fold. Your knees buckle. Swallowing your slick, I place my hands on your thighs and guide you to sit on the bed. On my knees between your thighs, I blow cool air onto your wet balls and watch them lift, then begin to lightly scratch them with my nails, gently pulling them down when they retreat. You moan and lay back, giving me free access to please you. Cupping your dancing sack in my warm palm, I rise to engulf your red, slick crown. I feel your moan on my lips and tongue as I open my throat and push deeper. Holding you there, swallowing around you as my saliva builds, your crown held in my flexing ring, squeezing your balls a bit. I pull back and take a deep breath, breathing out as I begin a slow swallow and retreat, building the cadence until I feel you swell, then lifting off. Keeping you on edge, your precum is filling my throat. I sit back, letting you unwind as I kiss your inner thighs, massage your calves.
You move and pull me to stand, and turn me to lay on the bed, legs dangling over the side. You kneel and push my knees open and back, reverently watching my petals bloom. You inhale my scent and lean to lap me from opening to clit, drinking my wet, taking me in. I palm your jaw, your handsome face made more so by the ecstasy I see there. You open your lips and take my clit in a sucking kiss. I am lost. Drunk with sensation, I have conscious flashes of fingers stroking my ridge from opening to clit; licking bites on thighs; each labia stretched in sucking pulls, then all engulfed, lightly clamped between teeth and teased with the tip of a soft tongue; clit tickled in a sucking tease of lips and tongue; fingers penetrating, pressing my gspot; gutteral moaning, writhing, gushing orgasm; your voice calling me back as you pet me inside.
I am limp, still returning, as you lift me further onto the bed, moving between my legs. I wrap my calves around the backs of your thighs as you kiss me, sharing. You are whispering in Spanish, and I understand every 6th word; labios, sabor, corazon, senos, luz, cielo. I suck and lick my wet from your mouth and beard as you enter me. Ohh, your crown presses into my most sensitive spot and I am rising again. It's almost too much, as you rock into me, our velvet skin gliding together, your balls so tight against me, massaging the sides of my opening. Your cock swells impossibly more, and we both cry out in blinding, mutual orgasm.
Many minutes later, holding, kissing, breathing each other, we turn to lie on our sides, you still gripped inside me. We smile, petting each other, basking, cooling our heated skin.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
That was seven months ago. We have made love, fucked, spanked, massaged, sucked and tasted every inch of each other since. I have seen you drip through your pants at your favorite restaurant after stroking your steel rod over your clothes, describing out loud how I am going to lick your dark hole and fuck it with my tongue. You have made me shake with anticipation when forbidding me to move, touch you, touch myself. Always bathing in the river of Us, our recombined energy, this new being we've become.
In your house this morning, I admire you as you prepare tea for me. Handsome, lit from within, sweet smile telling me about the house you are building "at home".
You have asked me to come with you when you visit, and you are talking more about this. I have met your friends, and you know mine. We walk holding hands or with your hand on my lower back. You always open doors, walk on the street side, and pay for our excursions. You introduced me to your mother by surprise video chat. We are still careful around each other. My heart fell months back, but you have plans away from here and there are places I need to go. And there's always work calling. Will we still fit in six months, one year, three years, twenty years? I wonder.
I accept the warm mug and your soft kiss, shifting back from my reverie. I listen to your infectious excitement and give my opinion, when asked. We are here for now, and that's enough.
