Jenn & James Ch. 01

Chapter 1: Words To Skin

The instant we were face-to-face only one thought entered my mind: devour. This would be done slowly. A process that would entail ripping off your clothes and kissing every inch of your body as it became exposed. The key word here was 'slow'. Or was it savour? Maybe torture? Oh hell, I'm sure it was all three and more! Seeing you now for the first time, it became crystal clear that this was my new life mission! However, we were in a parking lot – not exactly good outdoor, public etiquette.

Being an erotica writer, I received lots of interesting mail along with some not-so-interesting. But, on occasion someone's words would grab my attention and make me smile. Yours had.

It started out as just another amusing comment to one of my stories – a tad more intellectual than the rest but then again, that was an attraction in itself. I answered your note in my typical, enthusiastic fashion but for some reason was careful how I chose my words. There was a little voice inside my head cautiously flagging this one.

So it began. Over the next few weeks we corresponded playfully as writer-to-writer. It was innocent, revealing and sometimes blushingly honest. Before we knew it, a foundation of trust had been laid down—we were becoming friends and confidants. You made me laugh the day you summarized our relationship as girltalkfriends.

I can't really say at what point the words shifted from the safety of us telling stories - to the stories becoming fantasies about us. At first our messages skirted clarity of just who we were talking about, leaving the details open for interpretation. Then intimacy crept in - intimacy about us. You were creative and sensual, deep and dirty – I liked all your layers and delighted in peeling them off, slowly, one-by-one.

We wrote endlessly, using the Literotica site as our favourite channel for letter writing. It became a special place—our place. The messages were passionate, touching body with word, while our lives unfolded with stories of family, our hippie days, music and books. I loved getting lost in our world and couldn't wait to turn on my computer everyday —my connection to you.

It became inevitable — we needed to touch.

I bit my lip and walked over to you trying to conceal my smile. Finally, there I was standing in front of the man I knew so well but had never met. The two pictures you had sent me hadn't done justice to your water-blue eyes and schoolboy smile. I could hardly wait to kiss your mouth. As if you read my mind, you took me in your arms and we kissed for the first time. It was timid, unsure—we both held back a little, waiting for a reaction. Then you pulled away and looked at me with sheer delight in your eyes. Curious and wanting more, we were drawn back into another kiss – this one a little longer, a little deeper.

"This is nice, (another kiss) ...very nice." I could hardly make out your whispering words between kisses. You know those kisses – the hungry ones – the ones that slide into each other – sensually desperate. We finally pried our mouths and bodies apart and laughed at our teenage behaviour. Here we were, two 50 year olds standing in a parking lot, necking.

This felt wonderful - like the hundreds, no, thousands of words we had written to each other over the past 5 months. I'm sure we spoke between kisses but I can't quite remember what was said. I do recall not being able to stifle a continuous flow of soft moans escaping at will and not caring. My body melted into yours. Your lips tasted and felt exactly like our words had pictured them; honey-dipped and sensual.

"Maybe we should get going?" I said, having a temporary moment of lucidity. (kiss) "Is it a long drive?" (kiss)

"Yes. (kiss) That's a good idea...I mean...no...it's not too far – maybe 45 minutes... (kiss) ...or so."

It was pretty evident we were getting a little frazzled at how lost our kisses could make us feel. Lost in the moment. Lost in a parking lot. My body was actually shaking and I wondered if you were going to be okay driving. I sure wouldn't have trusted myself behind the wheel. Trying to focus on something other than your body was like asking me to pilot us to the moon while doing calculus.

I could hear the eagerness in your voice as you picked up my overnight bag. "Let's get going. I want to kiss you while we're standing in the ocean."

Arm-in-arm we walked to the car, afraid that if we let go one of us might disappear – the dream would end. My heart was racing as you opened my door. This was my first affair.

The conversation during the hour car ride was easy. It was more like filling in the blanks that our internet messages hadn't had time for. And you were funny! Now, hearing the inflections in your voice, I appreciated your humour and what amused you.

We made our way to the highway successfully and then it happened. You touched me. Your hand rested on my leg and my body reacted with something close to the intensity of an electric shock. I wasn't sure what to do. I hadn't been in this situation for close to two decades. Do I respond? Should I touch you or do I just relax and enjoy it? I was so new at this. I went with door number 3 and continued our conversation, watching your fingers drawing circles just above my knee. It was intoxicating. My concentration drifted from your words to your touch and then struggled back to your words again. All doubt was slowly being erased as my body responded and opened up to you. I smiled realizing I wanted to go through with this—and how!

Close to an hour later, we turned into our motel parking lot and were hit with a stunning view stolen right from a postcard.

"Wow! It's beautiful." I was mesmerized. This certainly wasn't the typical panorama a Canadian girl was used to seeing in mid March!

The apartments were sitting on top of a hill looking out onto crashing waves that curled along an endless beach. To the right there was a weather-beaten, wooden pier on stilts that ran out into the ocean. If you listened carefully you could hear occasional bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses coming from the restaurant at the end of the pier. On the left there was water, beach and cliffs as far as the eye could see. You left me alone to drink in the setting sun while you checked us in at the front desk. I didn't know what to do with myself. This was now way past a reality stage or maybe it was just too real. I was here and I was with you and we were going to make love in an apartment by the ocean for the entire weekend. And when in need, we might even come up for a breath of ocean air and a little nourishment. What a plan!

A few minutes later I felt your arms slip around my waist. I leaned back against your chest while we watched the rolling waves through tall, Dr. Seuss-like palm trees. The warmth of your body and the sound of the ocean helped centre me for the journey that was going to happen far too soon down that stone path to our apartment.

You had reserved a private unit at the end of the complex. I laughed to myself wondering if you had intentionally asked for this spot, anticipating embarrassing decibel levels of moaning and groaning. We stepped inside our apartment, dropped our bags and immediately gravitated. Finally, we were alone and not being watched by passing motorists in a parking lot or giggling motel desk clerks. There was only the sound of the surf...the sound of you breathing...the sound of my heart pounding.

My arms went around your neck and I inhaled as our lips parted. I wanted to remember this as our first kiss. It was soft and innocently exploring. Your hands ran up my back and pushed me gently into your body. Our heads rolled side-to-side while our tongues took turns teasing and taking the lead. You tasted so good.

Again, you whispered through our kisses. "Let's go lie down Jenn." Your tongue plunged into my mouth one more time and triggered visions of it sliding up the inside of my thigh. I felt weak.

Taking my hand you led me into the bedroom. I gasped silently – all I could see was the bed. It was humungous! It was a big, huge bed where people made love. I was frozen in my tracks staring at that damn bed. I finally peeled my attention away from it and snapped back to earth to see you lying there watching me. Your eyes were irresistibly inviting. I didn't hesitate a minute longer. Kicking off my shoes, I climbed into your arms surrendering to the weekend.

We kissed until it was almost dark outside. There were moments I felt faint and times when my body was craving to get closer to you than was humanly possible. We were one. We were sensually drunk and still had all our clothes on!

"Food, we need food," I said in my best Homer Simpson voice. Lunch had been the last meal eaten and that had been well over 9 hours ago. I laughed thinking how hunger was the last thing my body was craving at that moment in time but I loved the idea of prolonging the inevitable.

We strolled down the main street of the small ocean-side town, hand-in-hand, and found a cozy Italian restaurant. As soon as I sat down the First Date Rule popped into my head. Never, ever order spaghetti on your first date. I realized later, I could have been eating cardboard with hot sauce, garnished with sautéd lizard guts á la mode – I really don't remember tasting my food at all. It was wonderful just watching you talk while we shared our pasta dishes—the feeling between us was effortless. Every few minutes I would remember we'd soon be in bed together, skin touching skin, and a shiver would grip my body.

After coffee we decided to walk along the beach before heading back to our apartment. It was getting late and all the sun worshipers had packed up their belongings signaling the end of another sun-soaked day. I loved that you always reached for my hand when we walked together—you were very much an affectionate, romantic man.

My feet sank into the warm sand as I watched you absent-mindedly walk backwards into the ocean while you talked.

"James!" I was too late. A wave drenched the bottom of your pants. I held back a smirk and walked into the water to stand in front of you not caring that my clothes got wet too. With fingers entwined at our sides, my body pressed into yours and my tongue ran along your neck. "Mmm, salty. Do you taste like this all over?"

"Wanna find out?" you said with a mischievous look in your eyes as you walked backwards. The water was warm and there was still a strong heaviness to the sun as it melted over the horizon.

"Sure," I said hesitantly.

Not a second after the words had left my lips you let us fall into the water. We gently sank, locked in a kiss. Finally we surfaced, completely out of breath and in desperate need of air. What an inconvenience I thought. I could have done this mermaid kissing thing for eternity.

With my arms around your neck and the water's buoyancy it only took one, gentle bounce to hop up and wrap my legs around your waist. What a landing. Everything was in just the right place. Your tongue dove down and licked my throat, lapping up drops of water. Right on cue, my nipples made their debut trying to poke through the confining wet fabric of my top. I watched your tongue as it slid down over them and squeezed my legs tighter - drawing your thighs into me as close as our clothes would allow.

My wet lips nibbled your ear. "I want to feel you inside me," I whispered. Without another word you carried me out of the water and let my body gently slide down yours.

Once back in our apartment I led you straight into the bathroom. We were wet and sandy and in need of a warm shower.

"Get your gorgeous body in here," I said, pulling you into the stall – clothes and all. Before you could say a word I turned the faucet on full blast. The water was freezing and we both let out a yelp.

"Devil!" you hissed through a smile. You pulled me into your arms and we kissed. The rhythm of the water felt like a gentle tropical rain teasing my body. This was heaven. I unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it onto the bathroom floor. It was time to get naked. Smiling that crooked smile of yours, you pulled off my top, and pressed your bare chest against my breasts. It didn't take long before all our clothes were off and piled in a heap at our feet.

You lathered up your hands with a persimmon-scented soap and washed my body. With soft, unhurried strokes they moved from my back to my neck and worked their way down to my nipples. I gasped as your fingers slid between my thighs—your thumb lingering in deep places far too long. What a slow, gentle lover you were.

I don't think there's anything more sensual that a man washing a woman's hair. You told me to close my eyes and ran your fingers through my long, dark strands. Suds floated down my body like mountains of weightless whipping cream as your hands worked their magic—a second taste of heaven. I relaxed and leaned into you while my fingers traced the curve of your soft, firm butt. Just as my hands were getting into some delicious exploration you turned me around so I was once again standing under the steady stream of water.

Now it was my turn. I stood behind you letting my nipples lightly graze your back. Using my soapy palms, I slid them over your chest, up your shoulders and down your arms. You were over 6 feet tall and had an athletic body. It was smooth and strong – a reflection of your soccer playing days. I pushed you forward a little and dragged my fingernails up your back and down to your cheeks again. My hands drew circles over your muscular loins and then slowly moved to the front of your body - to your upper thighs. Still standing behind you, my fingertips worked their way up to your stomach and then down again, tracing the outer edge of your dark, curly hair. My body tingled all over with the thought of touching your cock. I resisted the temptation and turned you around letting the gentle spray of water rinse us both clean.

You stepped out of the shower and grabbed a huge, fluffy towel. Dripping wet, you wrapped me up and carried me to the bedroom. Night had fallen but the grounds danced with flames and shadows cast by the burning torches lit outside. Even in the distant darkness we could see the silver, frothy curl of the waves catching the light of the moon as they came crashing onto shore.

The thought of making love to you was overwhelming - a must. All doubt was erased, there was no turning back. I wanted you. I wanted to feel your words all over my body, inside me - hot and wet.

You lay me down on the bed and propped yourself up on your side, kissing my face, my hair, my eyes while your fingers outlined my nipples. Your fingertips felt so soft. We both indulged in a skin-on-skin feast, enjoying the play of touching each other along with the sensations we were causing. My body could almost physically feel your responses as you reacted to my touch. Sometimes smiling, sometimes moaning – the words were now being felt, the connection becoming complete.

Like a painter's brush, your tongue lightly danced over my nipples. Even your gentle breath captured their attention, transforming their pale pink softness to an excited, deep colour—erect and firm.

Your hand moved down my stomach and stopped just above my smooth, shaved lips. It took all the will power I had not to raise my hips into you so that your fingers would slide deep inside me. It would have been so easy. My legs spread with anticipation—your words now running feverishly through my head. I knew what you were capable of. I knew what you were going to do. You had taken me there so many times before in your letters.

Lying back, I let your touch envelop and control me. I could feel your eyes on me and loved that you were watching...like an artist smiling, pleased with his work. Your fingers delicately moved in tiny circles over my clit making my hips and stomach undulate.

"You're so responsive...." Your voice trailed off as if you had spoken to no one in particular.

Your hand left my clit and slid down to my moist opening. That's when I hit the ceiling. Half way between the two was a place so sensitive. Mercilessly, you teased - running over it, again and again. I let the rush consume me, pushing my hips up into your hand—my body telling you how much I wanted this.

At last, your fingers slid inside me. I wanted to take a bite out of my pillow but instead I settled for clawing at it and sank deeper into your touch. It was slow....so torturously slow. Your fingers entered me and my body screamed, remembering this forgotten high – this luscious, sweet gift. Then, just as slowly as you had slid them in, you pulled them out. My body wanted to follow them...demanding they come back! I could have endured their magic without end—your fingers speaking for you – so sensual, tender and giving. I heard myself let out a long, breathy moan, reacting to this first touch. Its newness had been forgotten. You were the only other man to touch me in 15 years.

Your voice broke my trance, whispering to me—encouraging me, "Let go Jenn...let it all go."

I was in glorious, sensual shock—gliding into a zone that was bordering on sensory overload. You took my hand into yours and placed my first two fingers in your mouth. The warmth and wetness of your tongue and the slow, gentle sucking from your mouth, almost made me turn away from your gaze. Our connection was raw—the purity of the moment overwhelming. Never had I felt more exposed.

Your fingers rhythmically continued to slide in and out of me. I was being consumed by delicious sensations from fingers and pussy; sliding and pushing, slippery and thick, wet and wanting.

"Don't stop doing that – ever..." I pleaded.

My body recoiled in shock as the tip of your tongue danced over my clit. I let out an "Oh gawwwwd," and breathed your name. My hips heaved, craving more of your mouth, more of your fingers, more of your tongue. I was drowning in your touch. Pinching my nipples hard, I was fighting for something to ground me. I felt a surge of fiery heat and sunk into the flame as I orgasmed—that feeling of being suspended—washed away in whiteness— swept under by sensation. Again, I called out your name.

So much and yet so little was happening at the same time. You shifted your position and moved your body on top of mine. I remember the soothing sound of the ocean in the background as our eyes locked. I remember wanting to freeze this moment, delighting in the precious seconds before your cock was going to take my breath away. I remember feeling a sense of total serenity—of my soul being touched. I remember feeling blissfully happy that I was lying there surrounded by everything your words had said to me. Your letters had made no false promises, had told no lies.

My legs spread as your cock pressed up against my wet lips. You were intuitively gentle, letting us savour every second as we connected - body and soul. You pushed your cock deep inside me – spreading me open, filling me. The circuit was now complete. We didn't move. This stillness was the most erotic moment of my life. We froze, ingraining the sensation to memory.

My pussy hungrily grabbed onto your cock, squeezing it, daring it to go further. I arched my back and moaned as you pulled out.

"It never felt like this before...never." I think I said that out loud. I was in a dream-like fantasy – an adult fairytale and sure as hell didn't want to find out if this was real or not. I wanted to stay right where I was - forever.

Your thighs pushed into mine again, setting a gentle rhythm, making each thrust seem even more sensual that the one before it. My hands went over my head, surrendering my body completely to you as your gorgeous cock slid in and out of me. Any feeling of you being a stranger—a lover I didn't know—was erased and replaced by unconditional trust and total submission.