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Emma

We chatted over a coffee about her work and her hobbies. She inquired about my passions, about what it was that I was looking for in a secondary partner. I found her seriously attractive. Her blue eyes, short blond hair, and her beautiful features would have been enough to get any man's pulse racing. She flirted with me, told me she loved my dimples. We hugged and parted ways, deciding to meet up again in a few weeks. She lived in Connecticut with her partner, and I in Boston with mine. A long-distance open relationship it would be, but I was sure it would be worth it.

A few weeks later, I drove to her home on a Saturday morning to spend the weekend with her. She greeted me at the door with a hug and set me up in her guest bedroom. I met her partner and his child (from another woman) at lunch. We conversed over the the dynamics of open relationships, about how they broke with societal norms, and how they could strengthen existing relationships. She picked up her guitar after dinner and sang some of her own compositions. What a lovely voice she had!

The partner and his child went out fishing shortly afterwards. She asked if I was in the mind for board games to spend the time. Sure! She broke out her Scrabble board and we played. As she sat across the table from me, pondering over her letters, I watched her intently, admiringly. I asked if I could massage her feet. She looked up from her tiles.

"Are you good with massages?" she asked

"So I have been told," I replied.

She offered me her legs. I took her shoes off and proceeded to gently massage her feet, one after another, starting with her toes and working my way up towards her ankles. I varied my pressure, checked her response to gauge her level of comfort, and massaged the length and width of the bridges of her feet. Then I massaged the balls of her feet, the arch, and the heels. She seemed to enjoy it. In all this time, I wordlessly admired the sheer beauty of her feet and her legs. They were quite exquisite

I was also placing my tiles in turn, not making any effort to score points at this point in time, being completely lost in my desire for her. Just as I was about to finish with the massage, I picked up one foot and sucked on the big toe.

She exclaimed with a gasp and we exchanged glances. She leaned back in her chair, pushing her foot towards me. I went to work, sucking longingly on her toes. I kissed the bridge of her feet, let my tongue wander through the crevices between her toes, and all over the arch of her feet.

The game had shifted momentum at this point. Her attention diverted, she started to place her words carelessly. A stroke of luck gave me the opportunity to place the word "GAZE" on a Triple Word Score square. She didn't seem to notice. I put her feet down, got up from my chair, walked over to her, took her face in my hands, looked deeply into those beautiful eyes of hers, and I kissed her deeply. She put her arms around my neck, pulled me closer, and kissed me back with unbridled intensity.

I reached down, put my arms around her legs and her back and lifted her off the chair. She clung to me as I walked her over to the bedroom. I placed her on the bed and we kissed. She rolled me over on to my back and kissed my neck, my cheeks, my eyes, my forehead. Then, all of a sudden, she stopped and lifted herself off of me. A little jolted out of my reverie, I opened my eyes and looked at her inquiringly.

"This is happening too quickly," she said

"Oh! OK!," I responded sitting up, trying to adjust to this sudden, unexpected turn of events.

"I think we should take it a little slower"

"If that's what you're comfortable with, sure!" I said

"I am sorry!"

"No need to apologize. I don't want to rush you into anything you're not comfortable with"

"Are you serious? Do you mean that?" she asked, almost incredulously.

"Yeah!", I replied, a little annoyed. "I am not going to force myself on you. I never do that! Not with anyone!"

She looked a little relieved. I got up from the bed. She composed herself again and we walked out.

I admit I was a little nonplussed at this turn of events. I tried not to show it. But my expressive face may have betrayed me. She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. She kissed me and told me not to think about it too much. I murmured my assent, having decided inward to go with the flow, and see what eventuated.

Shortly afterwards, the father and daughter returned from their fishing trip. They brought home their catch, which made it to a sumptuous dinner table. At dinner, the little girl regaled us with her stories from a recent trip abroad with her school mates. All the while, Emma sat next to me, holding my hand, never letting go.

We went out for a drive afterwards. I told her the stories of my adventures, recounting my hike across the Grand Canyon, for example, and my other hiking and backpacking and camping trips in various parts of the world. She listened with fascinated attention. When we returned home, she showed me to my bedroom, gave me a quick hug and a kiss and retired to her bedroom.

I lay awake under the sheets for a while, turning over the events of the day in my head. There was no doubt in my mind that I liked this woman; I liked her a lot. I loved the way her smile lit up her face, how her blue eyes twinkled when she smiled. I loved her voice, the way she spoke, the way her face recorded her emotions: from concern, to interest, to surprise, and to joy and sheer delight.

I could tell that she was interested in me, too. But I told myself it would be better to let her move at her own pace. I wanted to see more of her for sure. There would be, had to be, other visits, meetings after this. I really didn't want to eliminate that possibility by acting rashly.

I decided to pull out my book and read myself to sleep. The Third Crusade as narrated by Dan Jones makes for excellent reading. I was finishing up reading about the inconclusive exploits of Richard the Lionheart when the door opened. I hadn't noticed it but by this time, it was almost midnight and the house was silent.

She wore a cotton top that flowed down to her knees and she crept under the sheets next to me. We embraced. The warmth of her body and the sweetness of her perfume aroused my senses.

"Were you about to sleep?", she asked

"Nah! I was immersed in this book," I showed her

"The Crusaders, wow! I don't know many guys who are into medieval history"

"Well, you know one more now"

"You really are quite the nerd, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged!", I replied

She rolled on top of me, took off my T-shirt, and kissed my chest. I pulled her towards me and we kissed. We were totally getting into it when the door opened and she reflexively pulled the sheets over both of us. It was the man. He asked her for something and she told him where he could find it. The door closed behind him

She asked me if I wanted to see her tattoos.

"Of course!", I said

She took off her T-shirt, unclasped her bra, and showed me the tendrils of a rose drawn expertly across her breasts. The rose in question opened out in its fullness near her navel. I pulled her down and sucked on her breasts, with my tongue rolling in circles around her nipples. I leaned forward and kissed the petals of her rose and kissed her navel.

"I want to make love to you," I declared

"Tell me more!", she replied. "What do you want to do to me?"

"I want to taste you. Will you sit on my face?"

Without a word, she straddled my face.

"No! The other way. I want to look into your eyes"

She reversed herself. This time, I pulled her down to my mouth. She clasped my hands by her sides. I kissed her under her panties, relishing her warm fuzzy essence. I licked and kissed the insides of her thighs. She threw her head back and sighed. Then she quickly got up, pulled her panties off of her, and sat on my face again. I felt her trimmed pubic hairs on my lips. The next moment, I lost myself in a frenzy of licking and kissing and making love to her wet pussy. My passion aroused her, another sigh broke from her lips as I gazed up at her writhing form.

But I could see she was trying to stifle her cries. There was a child asleep in the house. At the same time, she held the back of my head in her hands, and pulled me deeper into her. I didn't stop for a second. I devoured her with all the passion and desire that had been burning deep inside me. I didn't stop. I didn't want to stop.

"Ohhh!"

Another stifled scream and then she bucked on my face like a wild animal. Her legs convulsed around my ears and she came in a glorious climax. There were several large explosions, which slowly dwindled in intensity, till she finally rolled off of me and reached for the Kleenex next to the bed.

"I think you'll need more than that," I suggested naughtily

"No kidding! That was seriously good," she admitted

We slept together that night. We didn't do "it", first because she was too tired from her day and spent from the climax and second, because she was afraid she'd wake up the house if we did it. We kissed at the doorway and I waved goodbye to her the next day. We promised to meet up again, and this time, we'd spend at least a day by ourselves.

But as it turned out, I never saw her again. We spoke over the phone a few more times, but the next meeting simply never materialized. There was one time when she fell sick just the day before she was to drive out to Boston to see me. She sent me a picture of her sad face and I wished I could hold her in my arms, kiss her beautiful eyes, and tell her it would be alright. In person. In any case, that was that.

I still think about her. It has been a few years now. I remember her voice, her smile, her eyes. I am sure I have a picture of her somewhere on my laptop, just don't know where. Life has moved on. But I am glad to have spent those memorable moments with her.