Click on the kiss to find more romance:
Listening with eyes closed to the jazz music playing in the background, she looks along the thick dark-blue carpets. She adjusts slowly to the dim light, taking in the elegant rosewood furniture in the room. She walks across the room to him. He looks up and smiles.
Her lips are very pink and her makeup is perfectly applied. She follows him around the wooden rail, up two steps, between the tables. Her short black dress matches the subdued decor, and her stockings make soft sounds as she walks. She feels the play of muscles in the backs of her legs.
The air is warm and perfumed. They walk under an arch and his hand reaches out to touch her fingertips, to guide her found this indoor folly. His fingers are warm. He stops and turns to her. Behind her head, framing her face, the thick green leaves of the vine from the arch.
"That dress looks lovely on you," he praises her. She looks down and sees that she is wearing the same short black dress, the same sheer black stockings. She looks at their bodies,standing together under the plants, their hips close together,chests moving gently as they breathe.
His other hand reaches out unhurriedly to touch her waist. As his hands worked their way up her body, hers traced a similar path down his back. She reached his waist, and he stood stock still as she grips him firmly.
No further words are exchanged. There is no need. They kiss softly, lips touching gently. Their heads move apart, their noses brush, and they kiss again. His tongue flicks out and wets her lips. She flings her head back, with a look full of desire in her eyes.
He kissed her as she tipped her head back to enjoy the sensations she was experiencing. Moving on, he kissed her neck,working his way downwards. In an instant her lips are pressed against his and her arms wrap themselves around him. He responds to her kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. He slides his hands round her waist, and then began to trace a line up her back with his fingers, before beckoning her in seductively.
"This way," he mutters and leads her to the dining table. Then she sat down, smiling up at him. She says nothing and he makes to walk away. She opens her book and reads it, but the words are meaningless, and this delights her........
.......And in her mind's eye stands to run her hands up the sides of his face, her fingers twining in his hair. She untucks his white shirt from his trousers. She undoes each and every one of the buttons of his shirt, running her hand through the thin hair on his chest. As she undid each button, she covered the newly revealed skin with kisses.
The skin of his chest is pale and tender, supple over the muscular frame beneath. She puts her mouth on one small nipple and sucks. Her eyes close. Her lips smile. When she reached his belly button, she dipped her tongue into it, laving gently to send a nervous shiver up his spine. Her fingers press against his sides. She thinks it would be nice if he touched her, felt her breasts through her dress, but he doesn't.
He stands ready and she takes him in her other hand to stroke and tease, wrapping her delicate fingers around it. She bends down and licks with her small pink tongue. Squeezing again and kissing. He flinched slightly and she broke away. She looked up at him, her gorgeous sparkling eyes still glinting, and smiled. A claiming smile, a loving smile, a look in her eyes, a glint of pleasure at the hardness clenched in her hand. As she kissed him again, she began to stroke. For a while he was unable to speak as he lost both his breath and his senses....
...And she senses the food is perfect. She takes a bite and holds it in her mouth, filled with the dark musky taste of flesh. She chews slowly, her eyes closed, sitting back on the soft seat of the chair. Had she been touching his body, kissing his hardness, she would have been composed and lonely. Sitting by herself at the table full of flavours she feels a rush of warmth deep in herself, and she spreads her knees apart and squirms on the seat. The chair presses against her through her dress. She swallows and sighs, and one hand falls into her lap.
"I love you," she breathes to herself,feeling her lips moving against each other, eager to kiss his lips. She kisses the lip of her glass, instead, and swirls a tender morsel in the sauce on her plate with her fork, raising it to her lips. Between her legs, her other hand has slipped under the fabric of her dress, and as her teeth bite into the carrot her fingers caress the smooth skin of her thighs.
"My thighs," she thinks, chewing the flavoursome bite, "my skin, my flesh." She spreads her legs further apart, puts down her fork, lies back on the chair. If she slid the little dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, that would be a gift for him perhaps.......
For a moment she might just sit there, silently. Then she could reach around her back and unclasp her bra. When she brought her hands back round to the front, her bra would fall forward, revealing her body to him. Would he stand motionless, drinking in the figure of beauty before him? Would he sigh and, unresisting, step forward, reaching up a hand to each breast, gently kneading them, squeezing the tips and rolling them between his fingers. He gasps, blinks and steps back.
She could be lying pale and lovely on a long rosewood couch. The whole time she stares into his eyes. Her face was contorted in pleasure, and in her eyes all he could see was love. She shudders with delicious envy as his mouth takes her dream like form, slowly, and his body rises and falls.....
"Oh," she mouths soundlessly, "oh you."
Her eyes are closed now. lost in joyous thoughts of love at this very table. He might bend down to kiss her softly on the lips. She would respond with pleasure, lifting her lips up to meet him in a long continuous kiss. He could be sitting next to her, making it easier to bend down and kiss the nape of her neck. Would he try to cover her entire collar bone with sanguine kisses?
Relinquishing that kiss eventually, she sits with her head flung back, almost touching the back of her neck. She lets out a long low sigh as milky white flesh, the hollow at the centre of her neck is absorbed into his warm red mouth. He reaches a hand down and places it on her bare leg, just between her knee and the hem of her dress. Gently he rubs it. Then he slides it upwards, against the hem of her skirt. She had imagined such a sensuous caress before, but another's touch heightened the sensations.
"Ah!" she breathes, a syllable left hanging in the air. She kissed him again, hearing a gasp, a groan and a cry from her own lips. Mouth open, every supposed friction was yet another nudge into insanity.
"Ahhh!" She lies back, her legs spread slightly and beckoned him to her. He fell forward against her and they stayed that way for a while, though they both wanted more.
It was time. He looked at her. Silently asking whether she was sure. In answer to his unspoken question, she pulled him closer and her eyes showed him her love. She held herself there one more second, one more minute, and it feels so good so good that she doesn't want to, to, now she is there and it feels so good she knows that now she can't help but speak at last:
"Now take me." she asked, begged, pleaded, requested and demanded insistently:"Take me from my reverie..."
Click on the kiss to find more romance:
An exercise in innuendo
When I meet you in your rooms in the chateau, I see that you are wearing that elegant gown, complete with a long flowing skirt. I have obtained a stylish tuxedo to walk you to the carriage parked in the courtyard. I lean forward to kiss you gently in the darkness -- not only your mouth, but your cheekbones, your eyelids -- in fact your entire face -- your neck and down to the bosom you display so proudly. It is just the beginning of a night of pleasure and our desires remain unfulfilled.
The carriage awaits and we reluctantly cease our play to climb aboard. You clamber in ahead of me, the door open to you, even as your portals are open to me now. I spin around reaching out lecherously for your softness. As you sit down, you turn to see me grinning wickedly at you. You too smile as you realise what I have been leading up to, raise the back of your skirt, and lower yourself towards the velvet seat of pleasure, whimpering softly as I guide myself inside with one hand. I penetrate your aura, the darkness of the carriage concealing our enjoyment.
I order the coachman to drive towards the little port town so far away and yet the source of so many proximate delights. The cobblestones and the poor suspension of our vehicle do all the work, as we bounce and bump down the hill, each dip bringing a new flash of tremulous delight to both of us. The coachman glances back at us, wondering at our strangely formal attire and flushed faces. Then with the nonchalance of a disinterested servant, he turns away to restrain and, paradoxically, encourage the horses down the steep hill away from the chateau.
Our excitement cannot be completely concealed, however. In unspoken agreement, our hands reach together for the curtains that cover the window and raise it just high enough to entice us both into the wonderful vista and darkened countryside before us. The roadway is slippery and wet, the coachman is stiff, and our steeds are excited. They hasten down the hill, champing at their bits and, only when the peak of the hill is past can we perk up to see a little lights appearing in the distance, illuminating our erotic undertaking.
The horses pull hard on their harnesses tugging the incredibly large, dark pole that connects their animalistic emotions to our own racing thoughts. We slip into the unresisting, carefully trimmed, yet dense black mossy undergrowth that surrounds the glistening wet banks of the river, as it slides towards the sea. The clouds burst in a storm, lightning causing you to tremble. The throb of nearby thunder seems to make the walls of the town convulse.
We quiver and jerk as the turning carriage wheels spurt viscous fluids across the wet courtyard of our destination. We slow to a creaking halt before the bright lights of our host, where further dalliance still awaits us. I wrap my arms around your waist and hold you close, nuzzling your neck and wondering at the confused vocabulary of your ecstatic response.
Despite our high state of excitement, we maintain resolve and walk arm in arm through the doors. I reach to help you with your jacket and slide a hand up under your blouse. Unseen I squeeze the soft undersides of your capricious ego, while under my tuxedo jacket, stretched across my lap, you gently massage my determination.
I give the maitre'd my name and he shows us to a corner table in the shadowy, candlelit dining room. I press gently against your side, indicating that you are to take the seat looking out onto the diners and settle at right angles to you, focusing on your face and the foliage behind you.
You smile secretively, glance at me and place your purse on the table, clicking it open with a sharp retort. The shadowy interior is darker still given its lining of black silk underwear that you brought with you especially for the occasion. I would love to have lifted up the white tablecloth and slid underneath, salivating over the damp contents unpackaged now from your discarded garments -- a rare and delicious antipasti.
I lean over and whisper in your ear, causing you, without hesitation, to raise your eyebrows, folding my hand in yours on your upper thighs, and placing my hand at the top of the garter. I trace the outline and knowing that further up there is no protection from any endeavour of mine to slip into the temptingly closeness between your legs. I might choose next to nibble a bread roll even as I have nibbled up and down the delicate edges of your sexuality. I pinch and massage the dough with my fingers, feeling the moist substance of the bread and the hardness of a pat of butter, like the hard, wet peak I so desire to sup on.
The melon arrives and soon my tongue is lapping at the juicy flesh. I penetrate the succulent fruit and scooping out the juice I crave. You are absorbed by the aroma of your soup, holding back the cries of pleasure gathering in the back of your throat, lest the entire crowd become aware of your gourmande ecstasy, but you cannot keep from shifting and squirming in your seat. Next, I slip my thumb, lubricated with the wetness of the starter into the tight handle of the condiment holder, while two fingers play in and out of the empty napkin ring, tormenting it as I would have pleasured you.
When the main course finally comes, you are reaching a peak, struggling to keep your low moans and growls from gaining full voice. For a brief moment, we are comparatively restrained, occasionally slipping a hand under the table to fondle. I have barely lowered my eyes from your quivering throat and stopped toying with you at the table when the waiter returns, laden with further pleasures.
We accept his offer of pepper (you somewhat breathlessly), and unusually he leaves the enormous bulging container within your reach. Almost before he turns his back you murmur "A response in kind" and lean forward, tugging at the phallic object. The hardwood container seems to grow even larger as it is exposed to your touch. You take it gently in your hands, looking at me mischievously as you fondle its natural warmth. You slide your tongue out of your mouth touching the slitted top a trifle unhygienically, suckling as you might have sucked the sensitive bulb of my flesh into your warm, wet mouth.
Now, I am shaking, even quivering, considering you licking your way back down the wooden shaft. My fantasy is exacerbated by the vision of you reaching to slide a luxuriant forkful of food into your mouth. You accommodate its pleasing warmth with a distinct pleasurable aura. You smile as you hear me next to you, groaning as I share the pleasure of your excited activity and the recollection of the back of your throat springs to my mind.
Swirling your fork around your plate, and nibbling gently, it isn't long before you are filling your mouth with the spreading streams of hot white sauce. You swallow desperately, trying to keep it from spilling out of your mouth and onto your lovely dress.
Tucking into your filleted sole, displayed lecherously before us, you look up at me, eyes glinting, giving me a spellbound image of wicked pleasure. Seeing the glistening hollandaise pearl at the corner of your mouth, my resistance is at last overcome. I lean over and kiss you, our tongues twisting and exchanging the fine flavours of each other -- our double entendres and innuendo giving way at last to the pleasures of the flesh.
Click on the kiss to find more romance: