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She is riding a crowded SkyTrain heading for Waterfront Station, lunchtime, on a gray Vancouver day. No seats, so she is standing, purse over her shoulder, hanging onto a bag at her feet with one hand and the overhead strap with the other.

Lurching to a stop, the doors open and another surge of passengers enters. He stands, unintentionally in front of her, grabbing the overhead rail, and surveys the masses over her head. As the train resumes its trip, jostling into motion, their eyes meet, accidentally. They are immediately mesmerized.

She is fascinated with the hazel-green flecks in his; he is captured by the deep, pure blue of hers. Barely blinking they hold each others gaze for long seconds before becoming simultaneously self-conscious. Both find they are unable to break the ocular grip. "Hi," he whispers, and she sees, peripherally, a tiny, but sincere smile, touch his lips.

She tries to respond several times before squeaking, "Hi." She sees confusion cross his face; he sees a vague fear. Captivated and held fast, both try unsuccessfully to say something.

Finally he sputters, confidentially, "I have a suite at the Hyatt."

"Oh?"

"Let me show you."

"Okay."

As they reach the next stop, Burrard Station, he lifts her bag from her hand, and, finally breaking the gaze, guides her with his other hand out of the train. She stares straight ahead as he cups her elbow and moves the two of them smoothly across the plaza into the hotel lobby, the touch of his hand branding her, even through her coat.

He sneaks sidelong glances at her the whole way, checking to see that she doesn't mystically vanish. She floats in an enchanted fog, aware only of his hand gripping her elbow, leading her – where? Astray?

"This way," he whispers, just to break their tense silence, and leads her to the elevator. They ascend to the twentieth floor silently, stealing glances at each other, and make their way in a mechanical, almost zombie-like wander, down the hall to his room.

She waits, dazed, entranced, as he fumbles with the key card. Swinging the door open, he ushers her inside, and follows her in, closing the door, without the slightest glance or notice of others moving down the hall. She puts down her bag down, and drops her handbag on the foyer table. Reaching around her shoulders, he feels a warm giddiness in observing the way she flips her blonde pony-tail free of her collar, as he removes her coat.

In a soft, tentative voice he asks, "Can I get you a drink." Looking at her expectantly, appreciatively, he adds, "Wine maybe?"

Her eyes key on his mouth. She likes the way his mouth curves into an uncertain smile. She likes his teeth. With a subtle nod, she replies, "That would be nice," then, clarifying, adds, "White, if you've got it - please." Not taking her eyes off him, as he turns – ignoring the opulent room and spectacular view – she observes his styled hair, slightly salt-and-pepper. "Well groomed," she thinks to herself. "I like that."

He shuffles to the bar, glancing repeatedly over his shoulder, as if checking to see that she's still there, he pours her wine. "Big, doey, innocent eyes." He rolls the description around his brain, while getting lost in them, as he delivers her drink. He feels a shock of electricity between them as their fingers touch. Handing her the glass, he doesn't even give her a chance to sip before pulling her in to kiss her full on the lips. She responds, dropping the glass onto a cushioned seat, unmindful of the splashing contents, and answering his kiss with an eagerly probing tongue, her arms wrapped around his shoulders to hold him tightly against her. They are amazed at the intensity of the sensations, of the energy generated between them and through them.

After holding the kiss for a long, long moment, they both, at the same time, reach for each others clothes, keeping their lips pushed hard together. Sensation and passion swirl through them, obscuring, for the moment, the rest of reality.

Divesting themselves of their raiment, awkwardly, yet oddly dance-like, they collapse toward the couch, but miss. Lips meshed, eyes locked, she pulls him on top of her. His erection is rampant, already twitching and leaking, at it pushes between her engorged labia, gathering, momentarily, her lubrication, before slicing into her. Throwing her legs over his back, she locks her ankles over the top of his buttocks, and with a thrust of her hips engulfs him. Checking himself he makes his strokes long and deliberate. Electricity sparks and flashes across the walls of her womb, bubbling up to crackle behind her eyes. The fuse of her orgasm hisses along her spine. On his fifth push she detonates. Screaming into his mouth she slams her hips up against him, trying to consume him. Riding a long, violent climax into his next thrust, she feels his cock go rigid. The feel of his seed splashing and scalding her innards nudges her orgasm beyond unbelievable. She stares, unblinking, lost in his fiery gaze, sharing his gasping breath. Their shared descent off the mutual climatic plateau is gradual.

After a long moment of stillness, the help each other up, without breaking their liplock, and in a frenzied stumble, press into the bedroom.

He flops onto the bed, on his back, pulling her on top of him. The kiss finally broken, she pulls back, and blinds him with an amorous smile, deftly pulling loose her hair elastic and shaking out a blonde cascade, before flicking the veil from her eyes. Then, shuffling down his body, dragging her lips down the centre line of his chest and belly, she grasps the head of his dick in her mouth. Eyes wide, still fully focused on his face, she gobbles his cockhead and begins to bob – up and down, deeper and deeper.

The strong stiffness of his erection, drawing its veined surface across her lips, excites her, inflaming her senses, discharging sparks within her head. And his firm knob, pushing up against her gag reflex, releases an energy surge that seems to stimulate her tonsils, sending currents of electricity shooting down her spine.

The warmth of her lips, gliding down his shaft, the insistent suction of her inner cheeks, produce a burning moistness, that pulls his arousal from the tips of his toes right through his body to blaze behind his eyes. Not sure he can survive, he pleads, inaudibly, "Don't – stop – don't – stop – please – don't – stop!"

The felatio lasts several minutes, until, gasping quietly, "No – please, I can't take any more!" he reaches down and pulls her up by her arms. Reluctantly letting him drop from her lips, giving one last flick of her tongue, she moves lithely back up, to straddle his body, her gaze not leaving his. Smoothly, as if it were nothing but a well-practiced dance step, she reaches between her legs, and guides his waggling woodie into her slick grotto. Settling slowly, she engulfs him in her warmth, but as their pubic hairs entangle, she experiences another blast of sensation, and begins a controlled, deliberate rise and fall, leaving only his plum within at the apogee, before dropping down to his pubis to feel him fully ensconced.

His hands fall to her hips, and, as a feeling of indescribable bliss fills him, he assists her in her measured strokes. They can rock and build longer this time, riding the growing wave of mutual arousal. She feels a bubbling – a simmering in the pit of her soul, like persistent echoes of her last climax – going on and on. Staring up at her, he is having difficulty keeping his inflamed passion in check. He wants to take it slowly – make it last – but the churning cauldron of his arousal, heating up unbearably, induces in her an excitement she can no longer contain.

Blinding lights flash between them, blotting out reality, as a tsunami of sensation rolls over them, engulfing their shared consciousness, joining them in a kind of preternatural singularity. Just them and their mutual orgasm – that's all! Everything holds still for a long moment – there is nothing but a great symbiotic joy, a cumulative pleasure hitherto unknown to either. As the rest of the world slowly seeps back into their awareness, their eyes, still firmly connected begin to regain their sparkle – each gradually losing the glaze of unbridled lust.

She marvels at the feeling of his gushing up into her womb, as she presses hard against his pelvis and holds herself onto him, gripping and pulsing, milking him. He pushes against her in an effort to climb inside. He can't believe the duration of his spurting, nor the quantity of his semen, now getting squeezed out, soaking his pubic beard.

Gasping and panting, they take time to regain their breath and composure. Glittering eye contact and smile aside, they have hardly exchanged a word. At last, she lazily slips off him onto the bed beside him.

He rises to his knees and grabbing her hips, pulls her to all fours. Still recovering from her wonderful orgasm – their wonderful orgasm – she mindlessly lets him arrange her body, floating through a post-orgasmic haze like the glittering smoke at the end of an especially spectacular fireworks display.

Positioning himself behind her, he lines up his still semi-hard prick, slick and dripping their shared fluids, with her puffy drenched slit. He can't believe he's becoming hard again. Pushing gently but firmly, he slides his stiffening member into her warm grasping sheath. As he begins to stroke, banking the fires glowing between them, she drops her head into her arms, pushing into the pillow. His rhythm begins to accelerate, his pace reflecting his need – their need.

Abruptly, she rolls out from under him, leaving his disengaged erection bouncing in the breeze. Looking back at him, over her shoulder, she whispers, apologetically, "I can't see your eyes."

"Yeah," he agrees. "I know what you mean! It's not right, is it? Not exactly right!"

Flopping down beside her, he turns onto his side facing her. They reach for one another at the same time, locking their eyes together once more. Unhurriedly, they bounce and shuffle, aligning their hips, until they tenderly thread his persistent erection into her waiting pussy. She holds still for a moment before crushing her lips against his. Moving ever so slightly, she feathers her lips off his mouth and up over his nose, circling each eye in turn, kissing his eyelids before dropping her own lips back onto his.

After a moment, he drops, his kiss away from hers, to suck briefly on her chin, then draw his lips, dragging his tongue, straight down her neck and into the valley between her breasts. Bending his back in order to stay fully inserted within her quim, he nuzzles her cleavage, still for a while, except for his tongue. Slowly sliding his mouth to the side, he latches onto her nipple. He thinks to himself, that he has never, in his life, seen or felt a more perfect tit. Humming as he sucks, he feels time slow down. Looking up through his lashes he finds her downturned stare. A contentment floods over him.

She feels his tongue against her nipple forge a direct connection to her brain's pleasure centre. His insistent licking and flicking is feeding a fire she is unable to control. Just before she explodes, he swiftly changes sides. The building intensity, retreats slightly before building within her once more. Just as she can barely stand it, he drops his torture, and pulls himself back to face her. She purses her lips to receive his proffered lip lock.

Firmly joined, face to face, she begins to practice her Kagel exercises – gripping and releasing his member – growing slowly, once again, to its full rigidity. He tries to stay still and just luxuriate in her vaginal caress, but can only hold for a moment before thrusting spasmodically, picking up from the tempo of her gripping. She begins to push and shove, meeting him with a repeated flesh-on-flesh smacking. The sensations rapidly rise to boiling as, grunting and panting together, they rush into the flashing discharge of another mutual orgasm.

This time the denouement is long and slow, with a silence broken only by their ragged gasps, slowly settling into deep, satisfied sighs. He stays in her, softening but filling her with his spongy bulk. The puffy walls of her vagina, still twitching and pulsing, stroke his shaft, prolonging his arousal.

Feeling him jerk within her yet again, she laughs, and rolls onto him, straddling his abdomen, and squeezing his turgid member fee for the moment. As she reaches down between her legs, to reinsert him, he stretches his arms under her hips and cups her buttocks. Giving each cheek a fondle he thinks, "Oh, god! What a perfect ass." Slowly, inexorably he pulls her up over is chest. Smiling down at him, she raises her hands to mold her own breasts, pinching and rolling her own nipples as she shuffles her knees up, eventually bookending his ears.

Holding her with his eyes he gives one last pull, settling her muff over his mouth. "Aaaahh!"

She giggles at his satisfied sigh, and squirms onto his probing tongue, giving her own sigh of satisfaction. Her hair swings, curtain-like, picking up the rhythm of her writhing hips.

He draws his tongue along her moistened furrow, gathering dew, and circles her clitoris. He marvels at her downy soft bush – naturally cropped, naturally shaped. Rubbing his nose through her hair, he pauses a moment before flicking his tongue across her clit. "She must be an angel," he surmises, "she's so perfect!" Humming into her he delights in her flavour. "Salty 'n sweet; fresh and delicious," – in spite of the residual evidence of their previous love.

She begins to moan and rock against his lips and tongue, squeezing and pinching her own boobs in a growing frenzy of arousal. Climbing closer and closer to climax, she feels herself beginning to lose control. Suddenly she backs off his tongue, pulling, and shuffling back down his chest. "I don't want to come without you," she purrs.

Lifting herself over his bobbing erection, she takes him in her hand and guides him into her hot and ready snatch. Slowly dropping herself onto his staff, she waits until she can feel their pubic hair tangling, then she rises gently to begin a slow cowgirl ride. He responds, his erection growing by degrees. He smiles as he raises his hips to meet her, reaching up with his hands to twiddle her nipples. A flash of intensity ignites in her chest, sending waves of arousal coursing through to the far reaches of her body. Her toes tingle, her fingers, feather-touching his glistening pecs, her nipples suddenly, impossibly rock-hard. Light begins to swim in front of her eyes as her breath comes in short gasps. Her body stars to waver, and she is afraid she is about to swoon. As an intense pleasure threatens to overwhelm her, she thinks, "I can't faint! I don't want to miss any of this!"

Watching her closely, feeling her body wobble, as her fingers dance about is breasts, he intuits her slipping consciousness. So, grabbing the sides of her chest, in one smooth movement, like a familiar gymnastic routine, he swings her aside, onto her back, to end up on top of her, still fully inside the pulsing warmth of her pussy.

Pausing, he fixes her eyes once more, wordlessly asking if she's okay. She answers with a languid smile. Ever so slowly, gently so as not to disturb the atmosphere that encompasses them, he pulls back into a long, slow, withdrawal. He stops just before his engorged glans, pull free – luxuriating in the subtle squeezing of her labia, before, lazily, seductively, smoothly pushing back into the welcoming grasp of her vaginal walls. He gently makes love to her – they gently make love to one another, for it is so incredibly mutual, more so than either has ever experienced. Resisting, for a time, the urge to accelerate, he saws himself inexorably in and out.

She drops his gaze for a bit to lather some attention on his breasts – licking and nibbling, barely sucking, before returning her gaze as the kindled arousal begins to roar between them. Like a firestorm within a forest fire, their ardour rises unimaginably – attaining unprecedented heights. When the orgasm hits, running them both down like a runaway freight train, the world pauses, in respect.

As she returns to earth, she marvels at having had four orgasms in one session. He, too, is in awe of his multi-orgasmic performance: never before has he stayed up and stayed going so well. And never had he ever come more than twice at one go. But the truly amazing thing, that neither can hardly believe is that they were – all four – simultaneous! "She's magic!" he concludes.

For a short time the rest of her life, indeed, the world outside the hotel room ceased to exist. She waited, basking in the warm embrace of a seemingly transcendental existence, bathing in his appreciative gaze, delighting in his carnal desire.

Gliding out of the charged haze of their shared orgasms, they lay there on the bed, facing one another. He drinks her in – her beautiful visage – admiring her captivating eyes, the shape of her nose, her succulent lips, the shape of her chin and her cheeks. He reaches again, just to touch her perfect tits, to feel the smoothness of her flawless tummy, mould the curves of her luscious hips.

All the while she's studying him study her. She loves his rugged face – his tender eyes, warm smile, soft shadow. Her hand responds to his touch, feathering up his trim waist, tracing across his sculpted chest, outlining his chiseled abs, then returning to circle his puffy nipples. She smiles at his now flaccid penis, still twitching sporadically.

Capturing her eyes once more he asks, softly, so as not to rend their invisible cocoon, "What now?"

"I have no idea," she replies, "I've never done anything like this before." She chuckles, her gaze not leaving his face. "I have never been in this situation – nor anything even remotely like it."

He shrugs in a believe-it-or-not sort of way, and admits, "Me neither."

Finally they separate, climbing off the bed on opposite sides. Quietly, he dons a hotel robe, and helps her gather her clothes. They make a couple of self-conscious attempts at conversation but settle for satisfied, warm, sensuous silence.

She gets dressed, and stands with her bag at his door, not sure of what to do.

He asks her to stay, just a bit longer, have dinner with him. She reluctantly declines. "I have responsibilities. The kids will be home from school in an hour or so."

He puts a hand around her shoulder, and leans down to kiss her forehead. She closes her eyes and is still for a moment. "It was wonderful!" she whispers.

"Incredible," he agrees, then adds, "Thank you."

She turns, opens the door and leaves, whispering, "Bye."

As she moves away, he says, "Hey..." She pauses, and turns. He can see the question in her fabulous eyes. He almost asks her her name, but that seems superfluous – futile. He'll be gone tomorrow – in another city – what would be the point? "Bye," he breathes, and watches her head to the elevator, closing the door softly as she vanishes.

She descends in a trance, crossing the ostentatious lobby in a cloud. The spell dissipates slowly. Eventually she comes to, standing on Burrard Street amid the crowds and the drizzle, staring blankly at the traffic. "Wow!" She shakes her head, scattering her turbulent confusion, and, feeling, rather surprisingly, far more lucky than guilty, she begins to walk the last few blocks to Waterfront Station.