When Worlds Collide

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

A freelance journalist is working in a small village in a fictitious world. He meets a beautiful woman and they fall in love. Their relationship turns both of their lives around.

 

When Worlds Collide

By:

Tristan Biggs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tristan Biggs: Freelance Reporter

Category: Human Interest.

 

CHAPTER 1

 

I was working on assignment in the small village of Cerlyn, and had been doing so for a few months on and off. The only real contact I had made was with a young fellow by the name of Argen.

 

One evening, during one of my visits to the village, I met with Argen at the local tavern for a few drinks after work.

 

“I am quite friendly with the folk that live in the large manor house to the North of the village. It’s owned by an elderly fellow and his daughter. I work for them from time to time. The other day, I was doing some work for them when the daughter – Sara – asked after you. I told her, and she expressed an interest in meeting you. She asked that you visit her some time. She’s there all the time.” he informed me.

 

I replied: “As a matter of fact, I am free the whole day tomorrow. Maybe I’ll go and visit her. Is this work related?”

 

“I don’t think so.” my colleague replied, “I think she just wants to meet you.”

 

“Well, I’ll go there tomorrow and find out.”

 

True to my word, the following day, I went to the manor house as Argen had directed. It was an elegant dwelling built against a rocky outcrop. The entrance was domed with pillars and an arched door.

 

It appeared as though the daughter had anticipated my arrival. As I walked across the lawn to the front entrance, she came out to meet me.

 

 

In the back of my mind, I had envisaged what this woman would look like, but when she appeared before me, I realised that my preconceptions could not have been more off the mark.

 

It was a warm afternoon. She wore a dark blue summer dress. Her hair was thick and, even though she was facing me, I could tell that her dark brunette tresses probably cascaded down to round about the middle of her back. Her eyes were dark brown. Her face was refined and her skin showed that she was probably of Southern origin.

 

She smiled and greeted me: “Hello. My name is Sara Freiling. You must be Tristan. Argen has told me all about you.” Her accent was foreign, but I could not distinguish its origin. I guessed that she was either from Denaheim or even Kathan.

 

“I hope it was a good report.” I jested.

 

She laughed. Her face lit up, and her laughter did things inside of me that I shall not forget in a long time.

 

“Oh yes it was. Would you like to join me?” she enquired, “I’m going to the forest to pick herbs.”

 

“Yes I would.” I replied – I feared a little too eagerly.

 

We walked for a couple of hours, stopping here and there so that she could collect herbs and berries. The former she placed in a muslin bag and the latter in a glass jar.

 

“What do you use these for?” I asked.

 

She responded: “My stepfather and I make herbal remedies which we sell at the local market. These ones, however, are for personal use. I am a homeopathic healer.”

 

Around about midday, we came to a stream that bubbled through the forest. We followed it for about thirty minutes until we arrived at a spring, which was the source. Here she took out a clear bottle, and filled it. Then she replaced the cork and sealed it.

 

“Would you like some water?” she asked, “You won’t find better water than this. It’s so fresh and soft.”

 

I stooped over, and drank directly from the spring. Sara was right, the water was delicious, and it quenched my thirst almost immediately.

 

We shared a small pack lunch she had brought with her. After eating, we sat and talked. It was almost as if we had known each other all our lives. We shared the same sense of humour, and even some of the same jokes.

 

Each moment that passed brought us closer together, both figuratively and literally. It was not long before I felt her warm, gentle hand in mine. Normally, I would have been reserved about such a sudden gesture, but as I looked into her eyes, and saw the secretive smile as it curled around her sensual mouth, my reticence faded.

 

She leaned over, and we kissed. Her lips tasted like the herbs she had been collecting, and her breath seemed to be scented with the freshness of the air around us.

 

She straddled me, and her skirt rode up her thighs. I could feel their milky texture against my skin as my shirt had become untucked. Her long hair fell like silk over my face, and I was entranced by those deep shining eyes that smiled down at me.

 

As if by some telepathy, we silently agreed that we would not allow our first interlude to go any further, despite the response from my eager loins, and her hand that had more than once strayed towards them.

 

It had been some time since I had last been with a woman. This coupled with the exquisiteness of the woman whose body my hands freely caressed, made it difficult for me to maintain any level of constraint. The softness of her skin, and the satin dress she wore fuelled my longing even more.

 

My only consolation was that this dilemma was not mine alone. I could feel her nipples harden. They protruded teasingly through the thin fabric of her dress. And, as I looked into her eyes, I could see that the longing that welled up inside of me was as a storm that raged in their depths.

 

But it was not mutual consent that brought our encounter to an end, but the natural passage of time. Both of us realised that, if we lingered any longer, we would not be able to make it home before nightfall.

 

We walked back to the manor house hand in hand. We said very little, not wanting to quell the fire that had been ignited inside of us on that magical rendezvous.

 

At the edge of the forest, we kissed once more as the last of the sun’s rays glimmered through the trees. By the way she clung to me, I could sense that she was as reluctant for the moment to end as I was.

 

We returned to her home in silence. But the chemistry that had begun between us was unmistakable.

 

“I sometimes go riding down at the beach in the evenings. If you like, we can meet there. My stepfather is returning from a trip, and while I do not see that he will have any objection to us seeing each other – out of respect – it might be better if our acquaintance were not so, how do you say, in his face.”

 

“Okay.” I replied, “Maybe I’ll see you there tomorrow evening. Whereabouts do you usually go?”

 

“My favourite is Jukka’s Cove.” she answered, “But not tomorrow. I need to be home when my stepfather returns. Out of concern you understand. Perhaps the day after.”

 

“Okay. That’ll be good.” I responded.

 

“Yes it will. So it will be farewell and not good-bye.” She said. Again we kissed, and again the reluctance to let go became almost unendurable.

 

As I drove away, I caught a glimpse of her standing in the driveway. Her arms were folded across her bosom. I could not help but believe that she was already missing me as much as I was her.

 

That night I struggled to sleep. The darkness of my hotel room seemed to be brighter, and I lay on my bed haunted by those liquid eyes that glistened like the spring water that bubbled in the deep pool where we had first kissed. It was as if the taste of that kiss still lingered.

 

The following day, I found it difficult to focus on my work. Often I would find my mind drifting back to that magical glade, and that enchanted moment when our hands touched, our lips met, our bodies entwined, and our hearts pounded as if in unison with one another. I longed for another encounter.

 

Two days later, I went to Jukka’s Cove. All the way there, I felt my heart pound in my chest. I tried to convince myself that I was no longer a teenager, and no stranger to the attraction between a man and a woman. But the longing for her touch made convincing hard enough, and eventually I decided to just let the feelings be what they were.

 

I had only just arrived at the beach when I saw her. Sara was riding a piebald gelding. By the way she held herself in the saddle, I could tell that she was a seasoned horse rider. She cantered with ease and grace, and I could see that she knew her mount as only an experienced rider would. Her body rocked back and forth in unison with the gelding’s pace, the hooves making very little sound in the soft beach sand.

 

It had been a while since I myself had been in the saddle, but I still felt the thrill of watching a seasoned horse-maiden at work. Indeed, once it is in your blood, the horseman’s ‘bug’ is almost impossible to shake off.

 

At sight of me, she slowed to a trot, and waved. Then she tethered her horse to a railing, and dismounted. As she came towards me, I could feel the excitement soar within. When she drew nearer, her smiling face told me that our feelings were mutual.

 

I was standing with my feet in the wet sand where the waves reached. She took off her shoes, and joined me. For a moment, we just gazed into each other’s eyes as if trying to recall the magic of our first meeting.

 

A wave came in that was larger than the others, and splashed cold sea water onto her heels. She laughed as I lifted her out of the water.

 

“Let’s sit down where we will stay dry.” Sara suggested. So we walked a short distance from the breaking waves hand in hand.

 

We sat facing the sea, and allowed ourselves to become mesmerised by the movement of the water, and the light from the setting sun. My arm strayed and rested on her shoulder, and she nestled her head upon mine.

 

We sat like that for quite some time, saying next to nothing. It was as if speech would somehow spoil the idyllic setting that stretched out before us.

 

Then she turned her face towards mine and said in a soft whisper: “Kiss me.”

 

Our lips met, and a current of energy soared between us. Her breath was scented with the sea air, and her mouth had a slight saltiness to it.

 

This time, our hands knew no restraint. She removed my shirt, and I felt her soft hands caress my chest and midriff. I took off her blouse, and ran my hands up and down her back.

 

As my desire for her began to rise, I unbuttoned her slacks and fondled her tight behind. She let out a giggle that told me that she was enjoying the attention as much as I was. As she leant over to kiss me, my eyes feasted on her firm breasts only partially hidden by her bra.

 

Her hand moved down to my loins, and I saw her smile slightly as her fingers felt my eagerness. She unzipped my shorts, releasing me from the restraint that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

 

As there was no-one else on the beach, we felt no reason to inhibit ourselves from letting the chemistry flow between us.

 

In a frenzy of hands and material, we removed the rest of each other’s clothing. The fading sunlight made her nakedness even more inviting. Her eyes were half-closed and a smile played around her tender mouth.

 

I gazed spellbound at her flawless body as she drew closer to me. But sight could not compare to the sensations that coursed through me as her tender skin touched me.

 

Her slender thighs enclosed me as they had the first time. The difference now was that there was no satin dress to hinder the contact.

 

As she felt my hardness between her legs, she groaned in pleasure. Her one hand strayed down to meet me, and its warmth enveloped me. My member jerked and leapt in response to her delicate touch.

 

Her fingers tantalised me, and she began stroking in a rhythm that took my breath away. As it caressed me, I knew that there was no way back now. This was a one way trip, and neither of us wanted the journey to end here.

 

My hand caressed her thigh, and I could feel the goose-bumps rise in response to my touch. Gradually I moved to her secret mound, and felt its tender softness. My fingers parted it, and those inviting inner lips accepted my attention with impatient readiness.

 

Her legs opened a little more. She took my finger, and inserted it into her, letting out a sigh that sounded like: “There!”, as I found myself lost in her moisture.

 

She rose up, and guided my erection into her secret world that seemed to welcome me as those enticing lips folded around me. I was almost breathless as she began to rise and fall in unison with my own movements.

 

I felt that I could linger in the soft, wondrous warmth that enclosed around me forever. Deeper and deeper I thrust myself into her eager mound, and the more frantic my movements, the more welcomed they were.

 

“Ahh!” she sighed, “It has been too long.” I could but groan in agreement. She giggled at my inability to respond, and rewarded me with a kiss, her fingernails tracing patterns down my back.

 

Her body melted against me as I felt her warmth engulf me. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be lost inside a woman’s body. But the sensation that consumed me now was more than a release of physical energy. It was as though our souls as well as our bodies had become intertwined.

 

I began to feel urgency in her movements, and guessed that she was reaching her own climax.

 

With a sigh that seemed to come from deep within her, her hips started to gyrate in rhythmic elation. Her embrace tightened, and I could feel the first pulse of her delight leap – leap, and then fade.

 

She began to relax, pressing herself against me as though wishing for us to be joined as one being. I kissed her above the collarbone as she threw her head back, her mouth wide open and the smile even more notable on her lips.

 

For a moment, we remained totally still as I shared in her ecstasy. I felt her convulse with me still inside her as wave upon wave of pleasure swept over her. She groaned, and every so often the word ‘Yes’ could be heard as barely a whisper.

 

I wished that the moment would never end. Part of me would have been satisfied with what we shared there and then. By the way she held me there between her thighs so that I could not withdraw from inside her, she confirmed that she shared my vain desire. As I gazed into her eyes, now half closed as she sounded the depths of her yearning, I knew that my heart, and my sex had found its home.

 

 

But alas, I am no superhuman. I felt my own need well up in my loins. My arms tightened around her as the first wave of energy rushed through me. My thrusts became more and more erratic.

 

Her hand strayed down to the base of my shaft, and held me still until the wave passed over. I knew that I could not hold myself in for much longer, but there was still part of me that wanted to remain in this state of rapture. But my member ached with its desire for release, and it was all I could do to stop it.

 

“I want to see you cum.” Sara whispered, her voice still heavy and thick with lust. She drew back until my swollen manhood left its haven. Then she lay back on her elbows, her superb head bent so that she could fulfil her wish.

 

I did not have to urge myself on any longer. With a great thrust, my throbbing organ spurted its milky load, almost landing in her navel. The last drop dribbled its way back into those secret folds, now coated with her own secretions.

 

We kissed as the waves of desire began to fade. For what seemed an age, we lay in each other’s arms, relishing the aftermath.

 

She whispered: “Thank-you my love. You have made me alive. It has been so long since anyone touched me so deeply.”

 

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. It is I who should thank you.” I insisted. She laughed softly, and kissed me.

 

“Did you know that we would end up like this?” I enquired. She looked into my eyes, and the sincerity in her expression dispelled any doubts or reservations I may have had. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to really trust anyone.”

 

“Do you trust me now?” she enquired, her look changing to one of compassion. The love that welled up in her eyes was unmistakable.

 

“Yes I do.” I replied, my heart almost in my throat. She frowned concernedly, and kissed my forehead as a mother would a child in distress. Again she straddled me, and I buried my head in her soft breasts. She cradled me there for a moment, then I lifted my head and kissed her as if in an attempt to make amends for my faux pas.

 

Even though the air had a distinct chill in it, I could see that her hair was hanging in sweat-laden tresses. As we kissed, I could taste more than the slight saltiness of the sea air on her full lips.

 

Although I was physically spent, I wanted such a tender moment to last forever. But alas, time was once again not on our side.

 

“My love,” she whispered, “I think we should get back. It’s getting late.”

 

She slowly stood up, and I marvelled at the splendour that had blessed me with her presence.

 

Not being one who holds to any conventional religion, I have always believed that the Creator has both male and female aspects. As I looked at those proud nipples surrounded by full-rounded breasts, and as I caressed the curve of her stomach with my gaze that came to rest at the succulent cleft between her wondrous thighs … I could almost believe that I had been visited by the female projection.

 

Aware of the attention that was being focussed upon her, Sara smiled. It was as though her whole body became even more enticing when a smile played with her face.

 

Slowly she dressed as though in a dance. I was so enthralled by her that I could only clothe myself once she had finished. And even then it was as though I had two left hands and ten thumbs. As she laughed her musical laughter, she had to inform me that my shirt buttons were mismatched.

 

We embraced, watching the ebb and flow of the ocean tide. I know it sounds corny and sentimental, but I envisaged the movement of the waves as a tangible symbol of how this loveliness personified that I held in my arms had turned my life around. My heart felt as though I was riding the crest of a wave – one that I did not wish to subside.

 

Reluctantly, I said: “The sun has almost set, and you’ve still got to ride back.”

 

“My stepfather is going away again in two days’ time.” She informed me, “He will be away for the rest of the week. If you can, maybe we should go somewhere together. And this time we won’t have time working against us.”

 

“I will be busy from tomorrow until Thursday, but I should be free after that.” I explained, “Maybe we can plan a long weekend together.”

 

“Oh, must you work?” she complained, then with a tone of resolve, she added: “Alright. We’ll plan for the weekend.”

 

“You do know that I’m going to have to meet your stepfather sometime.” I stated, “But I’ll let you know if my timetable changes.”

 

We kissed each other farewell, and she went back to where her horse had been tethered. She mounted, and I watched her until she disappeared over the dunes from where she had come.

 

I returned to the place where we had enjoyed those golden moments of intimacy, as if there was some vain hope that the sand would retain some of their precious memories. But alas, the waves soon washed away any trace.

 

 

 

As I drove back to the hotel, in my mind’s eye, I could still see two silhouettes wrapped in an embrace as the sun began to sink below the horizon. This same vision permeated my sleep, but this time it brought me a sense of peace that I hadn’t experienced for too long. It was as though, at last, everything was right in my world. The only piece that was missing, is that we were apart.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 2

 

The next three days went by far too slowly. Although we often spoke over the phone, nothing could satisfy my desire to have her in my arms once again. Just hearing her voice rekindled memories of our sweet encounter.

 

My waking hours were spent envisaging that beautiful face, made all the more beautiful by her absence. Time and time again – and to no avail – I tried to convince myself that I was no stranger to love, but the pounding in my chest every time her number came up on my cell-phone screen disagreed with me.

 

Thank the stars nothing untoward came up to alter our plans for the weekend. On Thursday evening, I phoned her.

 

“Hey my sweet,” She greeted.

 

“Hi Sara.” I replied because I had not come up with a term of endearment for her yet. None of the old ones would truly explain the esteem with which I held this angel incarnate. “I’m just phoning to confirm for the weekend. Things have gone according to plan for a change. So I’m free from tomorrow onwards.”

 

“That’s great news!” Sara exclaimed, “When will I see you?”

 

“I’ll come round in the afternoon.” I replied.

 

“Good. I can hardly wait.” She said almost in a whisper. Her voice became filled with yearning and desire that made its slight roughness sound even sexier.

 

My heart nearly exploded in my chest, and I nervously said: “I love you.”

 

There was a moment’s hesitation on the other side of the line. I was beginning to regret my proclamation, when her reply came loaded with emotion: “And I you”!

 

“See you tomorrow.” I confirmed, “Bye.”

 

“Till then, be good. Oh, and I hope you like hiking.”

 

I laughed and hung up. I almost shouted out in elation. My throat was tight, and there was a knot in my stomach. “What the hell! Get a grip on yourself man. It’s not like this is the first time …” I derided myself.

 

At last! Friday! I thought I had given up saying ‘T-G-I-F’ at boarding school, but when I woke up the following morning I found myself feeling like a schoolboy again. I packed a backpack with enough clothes in for the weekend.

 

At breakfast I informed the hotel proprietor that I was going to be away for the weekend.

 

I do not recall much of what happened the rest of the day. All I know is that three o’clock finally arrived, and I was on the road heading northwards out of town.

 

On the way I saw a small bush of yellow wild flowers. I stopped and picked a sprig. When I arrived, I gave them to Sara. She fell about my neck, burying her face in my shoulder. Her reaction made this simple gift appear as if I had just proposed to her!

 

Her embrace was so warm and gentle, I felt as though I was wrapped in a cocoon. I put my arms around her, and held her as though my very life depended on it.

 

“We should get going.” Sara suggested, “The place to which we’re heading is about twelve kilo’s from here. There’s a cottage there that my stepfather built as a private retreat. There’s no road, only a footpath. If we leave now, we should get there without having to rush.”

 

We set off at a leisurely pace. The weather was cool, and the air fresh. The trail took us through some of the most scenic parts of the forest, and in places overlapped the path we had walked when we first met.

 

As we strode down the path, we talked and laughed freely. Soon we were walking hand-in-hand. Her gentleness seemed to permeate through her palms. It felt so natural, even though we had essentially just become acquainted.

 

I was not a strong believer in ‘Love at First Sight’, but as I felt those delicate fingers curl around mine, I felt that I could quite easily be convinced that it exists.

 

We came to an old house, now in a state of ruin. What made it unique was that the garden was still kept in pristine condition. When she clarified the situation, I began to understand the mystery.

 

“This was where my parents lived.” She explained, “They died when I was a child. My uncle adopted my brother and I.

 

This was originally divided into two farms, and when my parents died, my uncle reunited the two and allowed the farm to revert back to its virgin state. The reason for that is because we wanted to harvest the herbs that grow naturally in this area. The site where my family originally lived has been made into a memorial in their honour. So the homestead has been allowed to return to nature – to a certain extent – but the gardens have been properly kept.”

 

She then showed me where her parents were laid to rest. She explained that her family had been instrumental in the promotion of herbal remedies in the country, especially the use of the natural herbs rather than those who had been artificially cultivated. Her father and his brother had started the venture before Sara was born. When Calvin Freiling and his wife died in a car accident, the farm went to his brother, Lucien, so that he could continue the venture.

 

As we rejoined the path, she turned to me, and we kissed.

 

Then she said: “There is a reason why I brought you here. You asked me if I knew that we would end up falling in love.”

 

I wanted to apologise, but she put her finger to my lips, and continued: “Argen told me that you were a freelance journalist, and that your speciality was human interest. I wondered if you would be interested in doing an article somewhere on our family and its business here. But my feelings for you got in the way, not to mention our making love on the beach.”

 

This time I was able to respond: “Sara, I knew right away that what I asked was wrong. And my answer is yes. I would very much like to do a story on your family’s history.”

 

“That’s wonderful.” She exclaimed, then with an impish smile on her face, she added: “Now come. Let’s make some history of our own.”

 

From behind, I put my arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. I whispered in her ear: “We’ll make it a best-seller!”

 

She leaned back against me, and in a soft voice, concurred: “You bet!” As she rested against me, the strap of her top slid off her shoulder, and I caught a glimpse of her cleavage.

 

“We’re not far from the cottage now.” She proclaimed aloud, smiling and pushing the strap back in place. “We’ll be there in about half an hour.”

 

A short time later, we came to the little stone cottage. It was made up of two rooms. The one was the living room, and the other the bathroom. The roof over the latter was flat, and a metal railing surrounded it.

 

Sara explained: “This was our refuge. Where dad and mother would come to be alone. Upstairs is where they used to meditate. The view from there is beautiful. Well, let’s go indoors. I brought some food down here earlier. Enough for the weekend. I hope you like wine.”

 

Inside, the cottage looked rustic but comfortable. There was a small coal heater and a worn-out sofa covered with a sheet. The floors were wooden, as were the rafters and the balustrade as well as the stairway up to the meditation platform.

 

We had a light meal accompanied by a light rosé wine. The sounds of nature were uninterrupted outside, and the lamps dotted around the room cast a soft light, adding a romantic feel to the setting.

 

We sat on the old sofa in each other’s arms and enjoyed the ambiance. I gazed at her face in the muted light, the glow of the coals reflecting in her dark eyes. I couldn’t help but smile. I felt as though I could sit there the whole night, and just drink in the beauty that was made even more gorgeous by the surroundings.

 

She smiled back at me. I took her in my arms, and we kissed. It was wonderful to know that we had all the time we needed, and there was no reason to rush. At last we could allow our love to flow freely, without hindrance or disturbance. As we explored each other’s lips, our breathing almost began to synchronise. Her arms around my neck, and her hands in my hair ensured that – for the moment – we would go no further.

 

As my hands caressed her dark flowing tresses, and I tasted the sweetness of her mouth, I had no other desire but to enjoy the moment.

 

When the time was right, my hand strayed down to her waist. I untucked her top, and lifted it so that I could explore her breasts. By now she had removed my shirt. Her arms still held my face to hers. I felt gooseflesh rise as our tummies touched.

 

She breathed out a sigh as I touched her. Our lips parted, and she threw her head back in a swoon of pleasure. Her nipples stood proud under her blouse in response to my touch, and she pressed her hips against my crotch.

 

I removed her blouse and jeans, and I could feel the softness of her skin as we embraced. Her one hand caressed my cheek as the other drew patterns of tingling bliss down my spine.

 

I kissed her cheek, and whispered sweet nothing in her ear. My hand held her in the small of her back. As she arched close to me, I felt the cleft of her spine, and I began to run my fingers up and down the crease.

 

“Uh-uh – that tickles.” She whispered. “Don’t do that.”

 

Obligingly I stopped, and my hand returned to where it had begun.

 

I took her in my arms, and began carrying her to the big four-poster on the other side of the living room from the sofa. She was light as a feather, and aided me by putting her arm around my neck.

 

She laughed, and said jokingly: “Be careful, lover. I don’t want you to injure yourself.”

 

“Hmm – Neither do I.” I retorted.

 

She wriggled out of my grasp, and took off my jockey shorts. Her hand traced patterns on my lower body that sent shivers running down my hips and inner thighs.

 

“Ooh!” she exclaimed as she saw my organ stand to attention. She took hold of it and began to slide back and forth along the hardened shaft. I felt my legs weaken as she pleasured me. My left hand caressed her breast. She took my right hand and guided it under her panties, her legs opening just enough for my fingers to find her eager womanhood.

 

She let out a soft laugh as she felt my erection swell and twitch involuntarily in response to her movements. I could feel her clitoris begin to protrude from its hiding place, and her thighs opened more to allow my finger inside of her.

 

I felt that my legs could no longer hold me, so I sat down on the side of the bed. She turned her back to me, and bent over to remove her pants. As she did, I caught a glimpse of those secret folds as they stuck out slightly from between her thighs.

 

I felt a knot in my stomach. My already swollen manhood throbbed with longing. I reached out to touch her, but she stood up before I could get there.

 

Naked, she turned towards me. She opened her thighs, and her hand found its way between them. In front of me she began to pleasure herself. Her hips gyrated in time to the movement of her fingers. Her other hand fondled her breasts, her fingers drawing circles over her erect nipples.

 

There was a look of satisfaction on her face when she saw my penis strain with longing. She blew me a sensual kiss, and gestured for me to take her.

 

I held her in my arms once more. Her body felt as though it would melt into mine as I kissed her still smiling lips. Her hips moved back and forth in their mystic rhythm. I turned her round, and sat her down on the bed, our lips still interlocked.

 

She sensed that I was on the verge, so she took me in hand, holding the base until the urge subsided. “Not yet, my love.” She exhorted. “We have all night.”

 

Slowly I regained control of myself. Gladly I accepted her plea, and calmed down.

 

“Thank you my sweet.” She whispered in my ear as she kissed me. I felt a deep satisfaction that this, our golden opportunity to be together for as long as we wished, had not come to an abrupt and unplanned end.

 

As I have said before, it had been a long time since I had been in a meaningful relationship, and apart from a few one-night stands, I had not been physical with a woman. Also, Sara was no mere woman. In my wildest, most erotic dreams, I could never have imagined that I would end up naked with such a find as the one whose arms held me that night. So it took every ounce of self-control to prevent me from going over the edge.

 

Now I was even more determined to make the best of it. My hand held her breast gently but firmly as she planted a kiss on my lips. It felt soft and pliable to my touch. Her breath came out in a slow sigh, and her hand held mine there. As she sighed, I caught a hint of herbs once more on her breath. There was the slight taste of wine on her lips.

 

My other hand pulled her hips until I could feel her against my midriff. She began to move against me as waves of longing raced through her. She groaned with delight at my touch, and ran her free hand through my hair.

 

She straddled me, and our sexes touched. She kept her hips as still as she could to restrict the friction between us. My hands caressed her back and her derrière. She cradled my head in her hands and planted small kisses on my forehead, cheeks and even the tip of my nose.

 

I looked up into her eyes, and saw the longing there. I knew full well that she too was delving into her deepest reserves to keep her desires in check. Further proof of this was the hint of moisture I felt even in the limitted contact we had down below.

 

She lay on her back, her dark hair cascading over her seductive body. All the while that smile played upon her sensual mouth. With her hand, she brushed her hair off to reveal her proud breasts, as she looked longingly at me.

 

My eyes feasted on the marvel that was stretched out before me. Her mouth opened as she enjoyed my undivided attention. I was determined not to touch – not yet. Not until I had taken in all that there was to behold.

 

It was more than her breasts, although words could barely describe their beauty. The nape of her throat, and the cleft of her collarbones; the curve of her shoulders. The fullness of her lips … So much to absorb.

 

I then turned my attention to her lower body. The bowl of her stomach; the curve of her hips; her navel - I’ve always had a soft spot for a sexy belly button; the slightest glimpse of her mound between her thighs …

 

I could tell, just by sight, that her skin was soft and silky. Even though my hands had touched her before, as I caressed her with my eyes, they relayed to me the fineness of its texture.

 

To my surprise, I found that I had all but forgotten my still swollen member. I was so enthralled with her loveliness that, for the moment, it was enough just to gaze at her.

 

In all my previous encounters, I was driven by my need for satisfaction. Hence, as is so often the case with men, I was more than a little single-minded in my approach to sex.

 

Sensing my enjoyment, she opened her legs, and began to pleasure herself in front of me. I looked on as she explored her own sex. She inserted her middle finger into her maidenhead, and began to move it in and out.

 

That broke my trance, and I was eager to join her in the rapture. My hands stroked the inside of her thigh, and soon found her clitoris. As she continued to stroke her inner walls, I drew small circles around the small head that protruded from its sheath.

 

She withdrew her own finger, and for a moment – really close-up – I saw her honeypot waiting for my attention. I stroked her moist lips and felt her hips rise up to meet my touch. My fingers parted them, and she began to groan in delight.

 

All this time I focussed on her. Call it obsession, but I had never paid a woman’s sexual parts much attention. Now I could see how they reacted to my touch. Her whole being seemed centred around the longing for fulfilment that welled up in her loins. Her hand guided mine to the places where she wanted to be touched. Her voice was all the more seductive as her yearning caused it to deepen and soften to a whisper.

 

Her inner lips darkened and swelled, pulling the tiny foreskin from her clit. The entrance to her womanhood opened as if to welcome me in. As she moved back and forth, I saw the muscles of her inner thighs tense and relax.

 

As I inserted my own finger, her eyes closed as she seemed to fall into a trance. Her one hand cupped and fondled her breast, while the other held my hand in place. Her sensual mouth opened as she whispered almost inaudibly: “Oh yes! That’s so good!”

 

I introduced a second finger, and her groans became cries of ecstasy. The increase in pressure against her inner walls made her need soar to new heights. I watched her face as she was lost in her own world.

 

I felt such a sense of tenderness that I have never felt before. Instead of my attention being turned towards my own need, I felt that giving her ultimate pleasure was my sole purpose. No longer was I focussed on the destination, because I now saw that this was a journey. One that needed to be engaged and could be savoured at every stage.

 

I kissed her navel, and then stroked it with my tongue. Her stomach muscles contracted suddenly, and she giggled with jollity and surprise. I then traced a line down to between her legs. Long before I found her honeypot, she began to groan in anticipation. When I began to massage her with my lips and tongue, her enjoyment came out in cries as well as whimpers.

 

Her hips began to rise and fall as she urged me on. She held my head in its place, and then clasped her breast. The only words I could hear were: “Don’t stop! Oh my God – don’t stop!”

 

Her thighs that had – at first – been pressed against my cheeks, were now spread as wide as they could go. Her cream-pie was revealed in its full splendour before me.

 

Her own emissions flowed freely over my tongue and onto the sheets. Having never tasted a woman like this before, I relished the new experience. Not that it was that notable, but what I could sense was a clean, almost sweet taste. Not at all like I had imagined.

 

“Come into me.” She invited breathlessly, “Please.”

 

I rose up on one arm, and held my throbbing organ in the other. She looked down at me, and said: “Yes.”

 

Her breathing became even more laboured as I strained closer and closer to her. She held the base of my erection and I entered her slowly, gently. I felt her moist opening welcome me inside of her. Her vulva closed around me as if sucking me into her body. It was as though her whole being wanted me there. The gentle pressure that enveloped me at that instant took my breath away. For a brief moment, I lay still and savoured the pleasure.

 

I felt as though I belonged there, lost in the mystic world that is womanhood, but the sensations that coursed through me like fire urged me onwards on this erotic journey.

 

As I began to move inside of her, her face shone with emotion. Her mouth opened as she groaned, her eyes half closed.

 

I put my hands under her buttocks and lifted her towards me. She held onto my arms as if trying to steady herself. As I drove deeper, she began to rise and fall in time to my thrusts. Soon we had established a rhythm that would surely catapult us into the very height of splendid intimacy.

 

Her thigh muscles began to tense and relax as the cadence intensified. As I thrust, I could feel their tender strength against my hips. Their milky warmth made the already exquisite experience even more concentrated. I shuddered inwardly at the splendour of these feelings that coursed, not only through my body, but to the very core of my being.

 

“I love you.” I whispered, my tongue swollen in my mouth. In response, she smiled her secret smile, and threw her head back as if the words had caressed her. When she looked at me again, I felt as though her eyes pierced my soul.

 

In response, she mouthed: “Love you too.”

 

More than once, her hand strayed down to fondle my balls, but I held it in mine. I didn’t want anything to interrupt her bliss.

 

I kissed her breasts and the cleft of her collarbone. Her head rocked back in delight.

 

Her back arched and her hips were raised. Her whole body became like a ship in a storm, rocking back and forth as each new wave of sexual energy passed over her.

 

She locked my hips against her with her legs as a wave of delectation engulfed her. Her cries became louder and more incoherent. Her hips leapt and gyrated uncontrollably as her hands stroked and caressed me feverishly.

 

Her erect nipples jutted proudly atop her heaving breasts. Inside her I could feel the tension and desire grow in leaps and bounds. She squeezed against me with her thighs, holding me in place and at times restricting my movements. The sensation of her thighs caressing me became almost unendurable as she began to reach her zenith.

 

With one long sighing cry, her orgasm seized her. Her neck arched and her head went back in a swoon of abandon.

 

She drew her knees up as her womanhood completely engulfed me.

 

In a long sigh, she exclaimed: “Aah! My God! …”

 

She lay back with a sigh of pleasure, and the convulsions that had wracked her body as her climax washed over her began to subside.

 

Her hair was drenched with sweat against the pillow, and her face glistened with perspiration. Her hand lazily stroked mine as I held her.

 

She relaxed as her breathing returned to normal. She motioned for me to stop my thrusting. In a soft voice, she said: “I know you haven’t cum yet. But I want to please you as you have me.”

 

Somewhat reluctantly, I withdrew, my member throbbing its protestations. But I also felt a sense of eager expectation wash over me. I knew that what awaited me was going to be mind-blowing to say the least.

 

She sat up, facing me and smiling secretively. Then she reached down and began to fondle me. This time it was my turn to squirm as I rose to her touch. She moved her hand down to my scrotum, and began to gently squeeze me. My balls drew upwards in response to her movements.

 

Her fingers caressed my glans, and I felt as though I was going to explode. I closed my eyes and basked in the heat that she was generating.

 

She smiled at me, saying: “Is this good?”

 

To which I replied: “Hell yes!”

 

She bent over, grasping my erection in her hand, and took its head into her mouth. The wet softness drove me to the brink of distraction. She caught a glimpse of the expression on my face, and smiled with my member still in her mouth.

 

It must be every man’s wet dream to have a woman go down on him in this manner. I felt as though mine had just come true – and then some! Her hand worked up and down my shaft, while her lips and tongue coated the tip with laves of delight. I could feel her breast and her hair as they brushed against my thigh.

 

In my giddy trance, the only coherent thought I could manage to hold was: “It doesn’t get better than this!”

 

Her tongue continued to leave trails of rapture as my member began to leap and tremble in response. I felt my climax drawing nearer as she continued her entrancing movements.

 

I had forgotten what it was like when a woman attends to a man’s desire in this manner. Now her hands and her tongue brought back those memories in ecstatic clarity.

 

She focussed her attention on the tip of my glans. The tip of her tongue slightly parted the small opening. The sensation was one of exquisite rapture on the very brink of pain. As she tasted the first hint of pre-cum, she stopped sucking, and licked it off the tip of my penis, her tongue making it throb with desire.

 

As my tension rose to fever pitch, she began using just her hands. She smiled as I sighed and groaned uncontrollably in response to her attentions. The softness of her fingers and the tenderness of her touch made this experience all the more poignant. Part of my being wanted to wait at the very verge of my climax.

 

But at that moment, I had reached the point of no return. I felt the pressure enfold my entire member, and then centre itself around the swollen tip. Even if I had mastered the art of self-control, I could not have prevented myself from cumming!

 

Her hands squeezed the length of my erection. I am but a man, and as I felt shivers run down my thighs and up to my chest area, with a shudder, my organ released its load. She turned her head slightly to avoid getting hit in the face, and giggled as some of it landed on her cheek, and more of it trickled down her cleavage.

 

My whole body relaxed and I felt a sense of peace and tranquillity that I had not felt in many a year. It even surpassed that which I had experienced on the beach after our previous encounter.

 

I lay back, drenched in a flood of contentment, as my breathing returned to normal. Sara nestled her head against my stomach as her hands rested on my chest. I felt her hair soft against my skin, and the gentle warmth of her breathing. I put my arms round her, and we rested like that for a while.

 

The softness of her skin and those tender breasts that caressed me as she breathed. Her gentleness that permeated every aspect of her. The tranquillity of her slow and sleepy movements, … all these I held as precious memories in my heart.

 

She came up and kissed me, whispering: “Thank-you my sweet. I haven’t felt so much at peace in a long time.”

 

Again I insisted: “I should be the one thanking you, Sara. You really are a most extraordinary woman. An angel, that’s what you are.”

 

Again she laughed and buried her head under my chin. “Ok – I’ll be your angel. But don’t expect me to behave like one all the time.”

 

I chuckled: “I wouldn’t think of it.”

 

I rolled her over, and held her in my arms, looking intently into her dark eyes. Some of the aftermath still lingered in her expression giving her a certain dreaminess. She held my gaze.

 

“Your face never seems to relax. I hope one day I’ll be able to help you get rid of your ghosts.” She said softly, tracing her fingers over my eyebrows.

 

“Let’s take things one step at a time.” I suggested.

 

She lifted her face closer to mine, and breathed: “I love you.”

 

I held her gaze, and replied: “And I you.” and then kissed her.

 

The sweetness of the moment filled me to my very core with a sense of wellbeing and affection that I had never experienced before. I just felt so at ease.

 

Exhausted, we lay on our stomachs next to each other and talked. It was not the content of our conversation that really mattered, but rather the sense of togetherness that accompanied it. Even those details that, under normal circumstances, would have been considered trivial became all the more significant in the aftermath of our magical encounter.

 

As each moment passed, I relaxed more and more in her company. Never before had I felt so comfortable, so safe with a woman as I did that night.

 

Too many of my previous relationships had left my heart battered and wounded. Many of the injuries still lingered. But as we joked and talked, I felt certain that some of the hurt was fading away.

 

I felt somewhat unsure of myself when I said: “You asked earlier why I find it hard to relax. I do appreciate your concern, but it’s still too soon for me to open up to you to that extent. Even though we have very strong feelings for each other, we’ve only just met. I remain hopeful that this is only the beginning, and I can’t tell you how excited I am when I think of the possible future. So let’s allow our love for each other to grow at its own pace.”

 

She rested her head against me, and smiled. “I’m not in any hurry. We’ll know when the time is right. Just don’t hide from me.” She replied.

 

“That I can promise you. No secrets.” I conceded.

 

“Now I think we should get some sleep.” Sara suggested. “Good night my sweet.”

 

“Sleep well angel.” I answered. We kissed. She turned over and put my arm over her breasts, holding it there with her hand. I nestled into the back of her neck.

 

“Hmm. Your beard tickles.” She said softly.

 

“Sorry.” I replied.

 

“Don’t be.” She stated, “It feels good. All of this feels so good.”

 

As we drifted off to sleep, I knew that she was correct. It felt almost too perfect. I felt as though this could all have been a dream, and that – when I awoke – it would all be gone. But the warm flesh that pressed against me, and the soft groans of the one who lay sleeping in my arms assured me that this was no erotic fantasy. I truly felt that this was just the beginning.

 

That night I had a dream. In my travels I had seen a painting that depicted the male/female aspect of the Creator. In my dream, I saw that painting again. Only this time, the two faces smiled approvingly at us as we slept in each other’s arms.

 

Was this more than just a subconscious effort to express my own feelings of contentment? Or was it a vision of the Divine sanctioning the relationship? In my sleeping state, my mind could not answer that question, but in my heart of hearts I knew the answer.

 

The dawn had only just lightened the sky when Sara awoke. In my sleepiness, I noticed that her body was no longer pressed against mine. I opened my eyes, and in my semi-wakefulness I saw her standing at the window. She had only covered her waist, leaving her top bare. The pale light shone on her naked breasts. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders.

 

Seeing her like this rekindled the fiery memories of the night before that had been stored within me as I slept. I imagined her as I had seen and felt her in the moonlight that had filtered into the room, casting enticing shadows and nuances over that exquisite body.

 

“You’re up early.” I stated sleepily, “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing my love.” Came the reply, “I’m an early riser, that’s all. Go back to sleep.”

 

“Uh-uh.” Said I, “I don’t want to miss a moment with you.”

 

“You’re sweet.” She laughed.

 

I went to the bathroom to wash myself. When I came out again, she was already dressed. She was standing on the small veranda outside the kitchen area of the cottage. I went out and joined her. Being barefoot, I was able to get quite close to her before she noticed me.

 

I put my arms around her waist and kissed her neck. She smiled, and leaned against me.

 

“Hmmm – Your hands feel good on me.” She sighed.

 

“Your body feels good to my hands.” I whispered in her ear.

 

She took my hands and slid them down to the bowl of her stomach. The thin fabric of her gown did little to hide the secret details below. I could feel her navel and the lower part of her abdomen where it meets the pubic area. My hands stole down between her thighs.

 

“Uh-uh,” she said, “Not now.” However I heard the slightest hint of reluctance in her tone of voice, and comforted myself with the belief that she didn’t want me to stop. Nonetheless, I moved back up to safer areas.

 

The trance was broken when she stated: “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

 

As my yearning subsided, I became aware of other more base needs, like my addiction to caffeine. Normally my eyes would hardly have opened when I would head for the coffee pot.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 3

 

As we enjoyed an early breakfast, we discussed our plans for the day ahead. It was decided that we would go to a park near the mansion, and spend the day there. So we busied ourselves preparing a picnic hamper to take with us.

 

When we were ready, we headed back down the path to the homestead. As the sun began to rise properly over the horizon, we stopped awhile and rested. Leaning up against a tree, I held her close to me. She leaned against me, and we kissed.

 

We reached one of the places on the path where we had walked when we first met. Although it had only been a few days, so much had happened between us since then, that it seemed a lifetime. Feeling somewhat symbolic, I took her in my arms, and kissed her again.

 

She smiled as we gazed into each other’s eyes. It was as though she knew what I was feeling at that moment.

 

“Are you always this romantic?” she quizzed.

 

I laughed. I had been called many things by many women before, but ‘romantic’ was never one of them. I replied: “Not normally. I guess I was just waiting for the right person.”

 

She kissed me again, but said nothing. I noticed the change in her expression. I reckoned that I had touched a nerve somewhere. Hand in hand we continued down the path without saying very much at all.

 

Sometime later we arrived back at the mansion.

 

We used my car as hers was still locked in the garage, and drove to the park. It was still early when we arrived, but Sara was friends with the gatekeeper, so she persuaded him to let us in.

 

The park was huge, and also very old, evidenced by the presence of a great number of enormous trees. Some of these giants – like the one at the bottom of the path that led from the main entrance into the heart of the park – were more than two hundred years old.

 

We walked hand in hand, enjoying the views and taking in the fresh air. Sara’s mood also seemed to have lightened again, and we laughed and joked as we walked.

 

“This is my favourite place in the park.” She said as we came to an open area where there was a pond. “My father used to bring my brother and I here when we were young. We would splash each other in the pond, and …”

 

Her voice drifted as the shadow of a memory passed over her face. She turned her face away from me, but by her stance I could see that she was wrestling with emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

 

“Shall we move on?” I suggested. Silently she nodded. I held her close to me as we left the place behind. She put her head on my shoulder seeking solace there. As we walked, I kissed the top of her head. A slight smile was her response as her arm tightened around my waist as a token of thanks.

 

We rested near a stone wall upon which I sat. She took my hands in hers and leaned forward. A smile played around her mouth again.

 

Her face came close to mine, and she asked in a whisper: “Could I be the right one for you?”

 

“I can’t say for certain yet.” I replied honestly, “But this just feels so right. Maybe I’m still getting over my fascination with you as a woman, but there’s a voice inside me that would like to answer: ‘Yes’. Maybe it’s too soon. I mean we’ve only just met you know.”

 

Her smile broadened. “Thank-you for your honesty.” She said, and planted the lightest of kisses on my lips: “I hope you will listen to that little voice inside of you.”

 

“I usually do.” I answered, “Eventually.” She laughed and, taking my hand in hers, led me further down the path.

 

After some time, we found a bench in front of a fountain. We decided we’d rest here.

 

At first our conversation was light and frivolous. But after some time, Sara began to speak at some length about her past.

 

Her parents had brought her up well. In fact she was her father’s ‘Princess’. He doted over her, and she lacked for nothing. Her mother was an exceptionally kind, gentle woman. Sara and her brother could never imagine that such an ideal existence could come to an end.

 

Then tragedy struck! Calvin and Freda Freiling were driving back from delivering a load of herbs to an outlet in the next village not fifteen kilometres from home. It had rained the night before, and some parts of the road were wet and slippery. As they came round a hairpin bend, a speeding car took the turn too wide towards them. The driver slammed on brakes, but the car skidded and slammed head on into the Freilings’ vehicle. Freda was killed outright, and Calvin died on the way to hospital.

 

The children were adopted by Calvin’s brother, Lucien and his wife Penny. Penny died of cancer when Sara was eighteen. She was nine when her parents were killed.

 

“Don’t get me wrong.” Sara explained, “My uncle is a good man like his brother. He tried very hard to bridge the gap. But he did so without trying to replace my dad.”

 

She continued her tale. Sara suffered as a teenager. She was very shy and somewhat withdrawn. As she matured, her relationships would not last long as most of her suitors were more interested in getting into her panties than any emotional attachment. And so, after one particularly abusive relationship, she returned home, determined to be done with love for good.

 

“So what changed when you met me?” I asked.

 

“I don’t know.” She replied, “I just felt straight away that you were not like the rest of them. I think it had something to do with the way you looked at me when we first met.”

 

“How so?” I enquired.

 

“Most of the men in my life have been more interested in my boobs, my ass, and my cunt than anythin


Submitted: August 18, 2015

© Copyright 2020 Tristan Biggs. All rights reserved.

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