Romantic Evening Ch. 01

Opening the door into the living room of my townhome, I kicked off my shoes near the door and walked across the carpet, headed for the small fridge under the bar.

After the day I'd had... all I could think of was a nice, chilled glass of Blush Zin, lighting the candles on the corner ledge of the Jacuzzi, and stretching out for a long soak.

I bent forward, and pulled the wine from the shelf of the fridge. As I placed the bottle on the counter to open it, it was then that I saw the note, in your all too familiar handwriting.

I reached for the note, and read:

"When you open this, here is what I want you to do. As of this moment… I would like you to go and take a nice, long warm bath… and then come back here… wearing only a robe…

Love, Laars"

I quickly uncork the bottle, pour my wine, and after replacing the cork... I put the bottle back in the fridge and head for my room and my spa-like bathroom beyond. I put the glass of wine down on the shelf next to the candles. After just the barest touch of a match to the wicks of the candles, I then turn on the water, making sure that the temperature is just right.

Then I bend and switch the jets on, and begin to make quick work of getting out of my work clothes... for the thought of a nice long soak is having more appeal as the moments pass. Once naked, I step into the pulsing water, and ease my tired body into the churning water. Sprinkling a small amount of bath salts into the water, I take a sip of wine, letting a long sigh escape me as I settle back, feeling the jets begin to pound all my stress and tension away.

You hear the jets in my tub as you go about the living room, turning down the lights… lighting the candles… and turning on the music… soft, romantic music. Then, pouring yourself a glass of wine, you return to the sofa, and sit, waiting for me.

Some minutes later, I enter the living room wearing only my blue terrycloth robe, hair still wet, but looking beautifully innocent, my eyes are shining a soft Sapphire blue, perhaps in anticipation of your arrival. I startle, just a bit, as I notice the romantic mood in the living room.

And when I see you rise, I can't help but beam a smile. You extend your hand, and I take it and let you lead me to the couch, assisting me as I sit down.

You casually sit beside me, close, and lean over and kiss my cheek before picking up our glasses of wine and handing mine back to me. Then, looking straight into my eyes, you lift your glass in salutation.

“Skaal,” you say, and take a sip, all the while staring into my eyes, glistening in the candlelight.

I realize, as I watch you rise from my sofa, that I really love this mannerism of yours. Even though you've changed out of your work clothes and into your own robe, it never ceases to amaze or please me, that you always stand when I enter a room; save, of course, for our bedroom! I can't help but smile either at you, or for you.

I also love how gentle you are with me. As like now.... you extend your hand to me, and I watch as I slip my small one into your large, warm one, and let you lead me to the sofa and help me sit down.

As you sit close to me and then lean over to kiss my cheek, just those few loving gestures, all done in sequence, make me realize just how sweet and thoughtful and considerate a lover you are. You're ever and always the total gentleman.

I watch you, as if in a dream, as you then lean over and pick up our glasses.... turning and handing me one of them. Your fingers are long and lean, and caress the stem of the wineglass with such an effortless gentleness, that I am again surprised, when that part of me that you have claimed as yours gives a most unexpected grip within me, and my thoughts are quickly seized by remembered sensations as I once again feel those same lean fingers, mentally, push into me and spread me apart so your tongue can fill me.

I am so lost in remembered sensations, that I barely hear your softly spoken "Skaal". I try to quickly recover my wayward thoughts as I feel our gazes lock and hold.

"Do my eyes give me away? Can he read my wayward thoughts?"

These questions tumble round in my head, but I can only hope that my eyes didn't belie the fact that my mind had wandered.... and I was once more, back in bed, where last night, and then again this morning, I was mentally reliving the pressure of your fingers as they pushed in and out of me, leaving me wet and wanting for your talented tongue.

You noticed that I was thinking, lost in my own thoughts. You effortlessly pull me toward you, reclining back, so that I lay upon your chest as you wrap your arms around me. Your hands swiftly push my robe open, and each hand cups a breast, as I move to rest my head on your shoulder.

We sit in silence, listening to the music. Your hands gently caressing my breasts, feeling their softness, my nipples imprisoned between your fingers.

"It feels so right, so nice to be with you like this, watching your face as you feel me press and pinch your nipples between my fingers," you speak low and softly against my ear.

With swift speed, you then grab my nipples. As you hold each captive between your fingers and thumbs, you start to roll them, gently, pulling on them, more, then harder, lifting my breasts by my nipples, so you can kiss the soft skin beneath.

My mouth opens as I moan softly, and you let go of them, returning to the gentle caress with your whole hand. Then, balancing myself by placing my hand on your thigh, I lean over, pick up my wine glass, and offering you a sip first, I then sip and return the glass to the table.

Seeing that I have exposed your long and lean thigh as I sat up, when I move to lay back down, I begin softly stroking your leg.

I am rewarded for my efforts as I feel the tremor scurry in the wake of my fingers. In your haste to feel youself in and upon me, you lift me to you and then carry me to the carpet before the fire that you laid when you arrived.

As you move to lay me down upon the carpet, my trembling hands reach for the loosely tied belt of your robe.

Quick as a blink, I undo it and fling open your robe to expose your firm and raging beauty to my eyes. Hungrily I drink in the firmness and length of him.

The mushroom shape of your cockhead beckons and begs to be within my mouth. Slowly I lower my head to your lap and, opening my mouth, I sheath your cockhead between my lips.

I've caught you so off-guard, that all you can do is take a handful of my hair, and after weaving it between your fingers, you lean back, arching your back as a guttural groan escapes from your slightly parted lips.

Then you lightly place your hands against the back of my head; for you love to feel my head move up and down on you as my mouth feeds on you. You know that my tongue will soon curl around the rod-like shaft of you and snake out to take quick laps at your rapidly filling balls.

But, we seem to know, almost instinctively, that tonight's entree is somehow different. Feeling my head move under your hands, you raise them and make to move your right one within the loosened and gaping folds of my own robe.

Your palm closes softly around the weighty orb and I feel your fingers gently close around, then pull on the nipple. As you feel yourself filling and becoming increasingly harder, you quickly lift my head, kiss me, then with a mumbled,

"Sorry love," you hold me to you as you move us to a more prone position in front of the fire.

You have divested us of our robes, placing them between my back and the roughness of the carpet, as once again, you lead me to the center of our makeshift bed and help me to lie down. With our hands still together, you soon lay down next to me, and then place our linked hands over the part of me you have laid claim to as "yours".

With our gazes once again locked, you whisper low against my ear.

"Touch yourself for me. I want to watch."

You feel my fingers stir under yours as I move to do your bidding. Forcefully you tear your gaze from mine to focus on my fingers.

I watch as you move your long and lean fingers slowly across my belly, which moves in time with my suddenly ragged breathing. I move to open my legs wider, aching to feel your hard length and girth filling me, as we, at some point, will begin our slow rhythmic dance and our two bodies will join and blend to become one.

Unbeknownst to me, you've placed my bottle of Jojoba oil on the fireplace apron and now you lean over to pick it up. Straightening again, you whisper, low, against my ear.

"Easy love, just lay back and close your eyes."

The oil is warm from the fire, as you pour some into the palm of your hand and you can not pull your eyes away as I continue to touch myself.

I feel the warmth as you pour some of the oil on me, leaving long lines around my breasts, down my stomach and down each leg. My breathing slowly becomes increasingly ragged, as you take my free hand and roll me onto my side on the floor.

“Leave it there love, and close your eyes and just feel, and enjoy,” you tell me, as your hand moves to my breast and starts to rub the oil in, using a small circular motion.

The fire is warm, and yet, the warmth I feel is not from the flame, but the sensations you are generating in me. You love watching my face, as I go further and further into myself, feeling the sensual pleasures of being pleasured.

You feel my hand as I move to take hold of your erection. And, as I stroke your skin, I feel you slowly stroke me, and, as we continue in this erotic dance, from time to time I feel you as you take your hand to your mouth, and lick my nectar from your fingers, the nectar you are responsible for.

With your free hand, you continue down across my stomach. Slowly you move, first down the right leg, and then my left, rubbing the oil into every inch of my skin. When you lightly touch the inside of my thighs, I move to spread my legs wider still, inviting you in to my very center... but you chose to tease me instead.

Your hand moves to touch the outer parts of my labia, now engorged. You hear a slight whimper as you lightly touch me, but then you tease me further for you won't touch the beautiful petal of your inner labia, now visible and glistening in the light of the fire. I begin to stir under your hand, trying to feel you.

"Love? Turn over. I will touch you soon enough, but for now... this is for you. Just feel and enjoy as I touch you with the oil."

To be continued. . .