Careful What You Ask For

I longed to feel him against me for just a bit longer and I was delighted when he suggested we dance naked for a little while. I put some slow, romantic soul music on the CD player and, after he had gently released me from my harness, we held each other and kissed as we swayed and glided across the room. I tingled to the feel of his manhood, warm, firm and alive, pushed up against the warm dampness of my groin and the lovely feeling in my bare breasts as I pushed them into his naked chest. And I delighted in his gentle, loving touch as it worked its spell on my head, my shoulder blades, my spine, my waste, my bottom and, most thrillingly of all, my thighs where my black silk stocking tops encircled them. I fondled his bottom and rubbed my feet in my black ballet shoes up and down his legs as we stood still and kissed whilst waiting for the next song to begin.

We washed each other again with lots of hugs and kisses and tickles and gropings and giggles as we enjoyed our nakedness together for the last time that weekend. I wanted to give him a last special treat before he went home, so while he dressed, I put on an especially favourite red tutu with ballet shoes in matching red, emphasised by pure, white tights. I explained to him that I had worn it when I won the ballet competition the day after I lost my virginity and that, as I had worn it when I had left girlhood behind and entered into womanhood, I had loved to wear it ever since at special times of transition in my life.

"I wanted to wear it for you now to say thank you for changing me and changing my life so wonderfully", I told him as I kissed him.

He had tears in his eyes as he lovingly stroked and caressed my face and replied.

"Thank you for saying such a beautiful thing to me in such a beautiful way," and he kissed me in his turn.

I stood up on the points of my ballet shoes to kiss him a final time as he left. A tiny part of me wanted to cling to him and make him stay. But the greater and better part of me knew that the bond between us was far greater and stronger now than the merely physical and material bonds with which we had begun. He joked about wearing his tutu when he came to his first ballet class with me on Tuesday evening. We arranged to wear leotard, tights and leather slippers, mine all white and his all black. I could hardly wait to see him. He left with a final kiss.

"Bye-bye Beautiful Ballet Girl - until Tuesday," he whispered, blowing me a kiss as I closed the door.

It was going to be hard tomorrow morning to concentrate on the finer legal points of international structured financing.

I slid into bed and my duvet felt lovely as it slid over my naked body. I yawned and, in a state of supreme contentment, stretched myself out wide and rubbed my breasts and groin against the smooth, warm cotton cover enfolding me in its gentle, soothing embrace. I was fast asleep within minutes.

**********

I was lying on our bed, naked and heavily pregnant with our twins. The curves of my body were softened by the curtain-filtered, warm sunlight bathing them, and by the folds of the see-through lace bed gown draped open around me. Steve was positioned at my feet, about to photograph me, and I could somehow see my image in the viewfinder in my mind. From my feet, nestled in the pure white satin of my ballet shoes, my legs made a slender, receding progress up to my pussy, which was now palely and demurely closed within the encircling garden of my dark pubic hair, and overshadowed by the great dome of my ripe, swollen belly. Behind it were the lesser mounts of my swollen, tender breasts, with nipples standing proud like sentinels on watch. My face was serene in spite of all the pain and aching and discomfort I felt in every part of me. I was sewing little pink ribbons onto a little pink ballet shoe for the girl we knew was soon to make her first appearance with her brother from within the dressing room of my womb, above which the other shoe rested, with its ribbons trailing down in pink streams over the pale, sun kissed slopes of my stomach.

I lie naked on our bed. My hair now long and grey streaked with white. But he still calls it my Crowning Glory every time he brushes it and ties it into a long plait, the way I had showed him all those years ago. My face now pinched and lined. But my eyes still burn with dark passion for him whenever he looks at me and speaks to me in that certain way. My breasts are now empty and sagging, but still alive to his touch. My still-slender stomach now veined and creased, but still a warm, soft and fragrant cradle for his head when he lies between my legs and dreams of our youth. My vagina no longer a ripe and juicy fruit, but I still delight in his loving, reverent touch as he anoints me in preparation for his entrance. No longer able to dance on my rheumatic legs and arthritic knees, and my feet and ankles no longer able to support me on my pointes.. But my feet and ankles still look gorgeous in my ballet shoes as he wraps and ties the ribbons around my ankles, and I still thrill to the feel of him stroking and kissing my feet and my ankles through the smooth sheen of pure white satin before he photographs me, and adds this latest incarnation of me to our treasure of memories.

He is the first man I dream about spending my life with. It will be hard to wait until we finally share our dreams, because I know with my whole being that when we do, it will be wonderful.

The end