Rhapsody

This story contains explicit depictions of a loving and caring relationship. If you find real love offensive, I suggest you seek your thrills elsewhere.

The story is dedicated to my love, 'my imp'.

*****

The curtains are drawn against the night. The log fire is burning cosily in a brick fireplace. The sofa is pulled up close to the fire, the room is not dark, but glows from the light of the fire and a few candles, sending flickering shadows into the corners of the room, creating a mood of mystery and romance. We have Bach playing in the background, the cd player loaded with our two favourite pieces. For me, the double violin concerto, for you the Brandenburg. Not intrusive, just soft enough to lend ambience to the room.

The sofa is old and welcoming, covered with soft throws in rust and green, my favourite autumn shades which blend with the shadows and lighting in the room. On the small mahogany table beside the sofa stands a goblet of brandy, partly consumed. A few warming mouthfuls, enough to relax not inebriate. Beside the goblet a pile of books - close inspection will show them to be poetry - Alice Meynell, Tennyson, Elizabeth Browning, and, of course, Shakespeare. I had been reading them whilst waiting for you.

I am sitting quietly, comfortably in one corner of the sofa, facing the fire, reading, occasionally lowering the book to gaze into the fire, my face showing nothing, the depth of my thoughts evident from the unfocussed set of my gaze. A sound breaks my reverie, and my head turns to the sound, my face lighting up with intense pleasure as you enter the room and cross to me. You are wearing a long dark blue nightdress, with deep side slits to your hips, and a stretch lace bodice, all held up with thin straps.

As you bend to lightly kiss me, my eyes roam over the whole of you, but always return to those eyes which sparkle at me. I smile softly as I lift your hand to my lips and after kissing your finger-tips pat the sofa beside me for you to sit with me. You seem to pour yourself onto the sofa, and between us we organise a comfortable position for us both. You are stretched full length, your hips nestled in my lap, and your head and shoulders cradled in my arm so that I can reach your lips with my own, and later, other parts of you with my other hand. For now, you are cradled in both arms, and I smile happily at your deep sigh of comfort and contentment as I hold you to me.

"Read to me, love, please."

Gently kissing your forehead, smiling down at you, "What would you like?".

"You choose, whatever you were just reading."

I lifted the book I had been reading, and lying it against you, used my free hand to turn the pages until I found what I was looking for, and in a low voice I began to read:

"I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,
I shun the thought that lurks in all delight -
The thought of thee - and in the blue Heaven's height,
And in the sweetest passage of a song.

O just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng
This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.

But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,

Must doff my will as raiment laid away, -
With the first dream that comes with the first sleep
I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart."

The sonnet had special meaning for me. I had read it to myself many times after we first met, before I had found the courage to tell you how I felt, before you and I had become 'us'. When I finally told you of this at one of those soft post loving times when confession is so easy, you had declared it henceforth, 'our poem'. You loved me to read it to you, and I did often.

"Does this please you my love?" I whispered, looking down to see your face watching me, knowing I was remembering, as were you.

"Yes love, this pleases me very much," is your soft response.

For a while we simply share this time together, allowing the flames and the music to wash over us, fill the room, with you lying completely relaxed in my arms, and me holding you gently to me, my head leaning back on the sofa, eyes closed. In the warmth of the room, I am conscious of your perfume, the strawberry shampoo in your hair, the soap from your recent bath, and other much more intimate scents and aromas. One of my hands is lightly making circles on the skin of your shoulder, but eventually my brain registers the fact that occasionally you make a small moan, and the tiniest of shivers runs through your body.

I lift my head, frowning and look into your face with concern. "Are you cold, child?" and then remembering the fire smile at the stupidity of the remark. "Are you getting too hot?"

You raise one hand to my cheek, stroking gently, whispering, "Love, I'm getting hot, but not because of the fire." And smile shyly at me.

Through the music-induced fog that is my brain, I realise what you are saying and shake my head, despairing of myself. I smile down at you, lowering my head to press my lips against yours. "We can't have that, can we?", and am suddenly overcome with a husky desire for you, my beautiful love. I want so much, to just crush you against me, ravish your mouth, your breasts, every inch of your glorious body, but I will not. I will not break the mood, it will be soft, quiet and very, very long, as long as we can both make it.

My arms tighten around you, pulling you against me, as I deepen our kiss. Your arms slide around me and I feel you tighten your hold on me. Bliss. Absolute bliss, to feel you wanting me this way.

Our lips take on a life of their own as they search and slide, then part to allow tongues to delve and probe. My heart surges at the feelings, wanting this moment never to end. Briefly I raise my head and draw my lips from yours, the tiniest of gaps, but even that gap brings a moan of frustration from you, as you look into my eyes to see what is wrong. I move my arm from your back and shoulders and bring it round to softly brush your hair from your face, snaking my fingers into your locks, returning your questioning gaze. "Keep your arms around me love, no matter what I do, just hold on to me, let me know how you feel, with your hands and your mouth."

With relief you smile, happier now that you know nothing is wrong, and that I am planning to please you. "Anything", you whisper back, and with one hand draw my head down to you to continue our exploration of each other's mouths. Gradually our kisses deepen, mouths open wider and wider, lips becoming moister, tongues searching, but both seeming to know instinctively when to slow, when the wanting becomes frenetic; both wanting this time to last as one of gentle but intense rousing and loving, not frantic coupling. It is too special to spoil.

I tentatively remove one arm from your back, and am pleased to feel your hold behind me tighten on my shirt, to stop your body falling away from me. My hand moves up to your shoulder, caressing the skin with feather touches, which make you moan into my mouth against my tongue, and I feel you shiver. I caress along your shoulder and up your neck, underneath your red mane and back down again - this time gathering the inconsequential strap of your nightdress and push it off your shoulder and on to your arm. Without releasing your mouth (as if I would want to, I am in heaven) I reach for your hand to briefly remove it from me so I can slip off the strap. This done, you replace your arm around me and my hand moves lightly up and down the soft flesh, eliciting more shudders.

With the strap released I can now move part of the bodice down and uncover the first of your breasts. As I do this, and my hand lightly gathers your breast into it, I feel your arms tighten around me for the first time as you push the breast into my hand, wanting more contact. Your body begins to squirm, not much, but enough for me to know I am having an effect. Our mouths continue to slowly dance with each other, occasionally breaking away to just drop light brief touches on each other's lips, a time to take deep breaths, to slow the sensations. Briefly during these breaks, our eyes meet and my heart races at the passion and arousal I see in yours.

My mind has been wrestling with a slight problem, that of removing your other strap, which currently is nestled between my arm holding your shoulders and my breasts. There is no other way. I break away from you and slightly lift your body from me. I hear your moan of frustration, see the look of consternation on your face. "It's OK love, I just need to get to the other strap." The relief on your face almost makes me laugh, but I will not, it would hurt you. You lift your body slightly and to the accompaniment of light kisses up and down your neck and shoulder, I slide the other strap off and lift your arm through. Now. Now we can continue.

You are about to move back to your position, when I feel you hesitate and look up at me. I know, I just know what you are asking, and I smile and nod at you, steeling myself for what is to come. Happily you sit yourself up, a vision with one succulent breast peeping above the bodice of your nightdress, the other fighting for escape. Soon. You reach for the buttons of my shirt, slowly releasing them and leaning to place soft kisses on my skin as the shirt is opened. You finish your task and push the two sides apart, sliding your hands up to my shoulders to ease it off. I quickly shrug off the offending garment and smile to hear your moans of delight at what you see. Your hands are trembling, your breathing becoming shallow and rapid as you reach for my bra, and moving your hands around behind me, release the clasp and slowly slide it off my arms and discard it on the floor.

As my breasts, and more importantly, my nipples are revealed, the desire in your face is quite open and brings a lump to my throat. You look up at me briefly and then place your mouth gently over one nipple, drawing it in, lightly brushing it with your tongue. Oh goddddd, I won't be able to stand too much of that. I allow you to suckle for a few moments more, and then gently draw your mouth away. Your eyes fly quickly to my face, "It's OK love, But I won't last too long if you do that. Later. Later."

With a slight sigh and a nod, your lower yourself back into my arms, smiling and shivering slightly as you feel my now revealed nipples pressing gently against your skin, just above your own breasts. My hand reaches for the bodice of your nightdress and now drags the whole piece down over your breasts, loving your gasp as the edge of the material is dragged over the nipple of your second breast.

Your arms begin to tighten around me again as you feel my free hand begin to play with and caress your breasts, both of them, back and forth, now caressing the sides and underneath with fingertip touches which make you shiver and then squeezing the nipple between a finger and thumb, which makes you moan and gasp through our kiss and lift your body towards me. As you gasp, your mouth opens even wider allowing me to probe your mouth even deeper with my tongue, scouring the inside of your mouth, slowly, continuously, until the point arises when you pull your head away, gasping from the continual onslaught on your senses.

"Lover, please, please......... I can't take much more. Please." Delighted with your restraint so far, I pull your mouth back to me, pretending to ignore you, but that was the signal I needed.

Now my hand grants your breasts a reprieve as I move it to glide down over your hip, your thigh, as far down your leg as I can reach. Back and forth, using my hand to caress the material over your soft skin, making you tingle and tremble even more. Your breathing is quite rapid, turning into those delightful gasps each time I caress the back of your knee. Reaching out as far as I can, I gather the material into my hand, bunching it up and sliding it slowly up your leg towards your waist. As more and more of your body is revealed, my breathing becomes more laboured. Calm. I must stay calm. This is not the time to get carried away, this is not about me, this time is about you. Your pleasure.

Finally, the skirt of the nightdress is now gathered at your waist, along with the bodice. I allow myself a brief break from your lips, your wonderful mouth, and turn my head to look at you. Soft sensuous hips, gently rising belly, flaming red bush just begging to be touched, to curl around my fingers, and then those long, long, sexy legs. A deep sigh escapes my lips at the beauty displayed before me. Turning my head back to you, you are watching me, panting slightly, but still hanging on to me, your fingers clutching at my skin. Your eyes are clouded with desire, the lids soft and drooping. As I reach out my hand, sliding it down over your belly, over your hips, up and down your thigh, I lower my head, not to your mouth to a nipple, sucking it softly into my mouth as if I was drawing on a straw.

Your back arches, pushing the breast into me and a long moan escapes from your now gaping mouth. Your head lolls back on my arm, and your hands resume their desperate clutching at me. As my mouth continues to gently, oh so gently ravage your breasts, moving back and forth between them, my hand now dips through your curls into your dripping centre, and as I slide one finger in to you, another moan is forced from you lips and I feel your legs tremble.

Wanting more, I remove my finger and lift your leg at the knee, opening you up to me. Your thigh is trembling almost uncontrollably, but you manage to keep it there. My finger returns to you, accompanied by another, and then another, as I begin a slow, rhythmic pumping in and out. By now, you are so wet, so open, I add the fourth finger and this time your moan becomes a wail. Your whole body is trembling, you are near, so very near. Your arms are pulling me closer to you, keeping your breast in my mouth - a state of affairs I am quite happy to maintain. My hand continues to glide in and out, and although I want so much to speed it up, I make myself keep this rhythm. Your body and your senses are dictating the speed of your climax and would appear to be prolonging the exquisite build up.

Between gasps you manage to utter, "Pleeeeeeeeeassssssseeeeeee", a long heartfelt desperate moan for release. Although I would be happy to sit here and fuck you for the rest of my life, I move my thumb to your hard, throbbing clit, at the same time sucking harder on your nipple. At the first touch your hips lift towards me, and a scream, a real scream is torn from your mouth. I touch once, twice more, gentle flicks, and you explode against me. As you lift your hips to me, and push your breasts against my mouth, I quickly withdraw my fingers, curl in my thumb and with a gentle push, my whole hand slides easily into your dripping, yearning, hungry centre. I do nothing more, as you push yourself back and forth against me, each thrust against my deeply embedded hand forcing a strangled cry from your lips. You surge against me, again and again and again, in fact, so long its as if you are never going to stop.

I continue to suck and tease your rock hard nipples, but leave my hand simply resting inside you, feeling the trembling and movements of your inner walls against my skin, as they finally slow and your hips drop back to my lap, your whole body slumping against me, my one arm holding you - exhausted, throbbing, panting. Gently, slowly removing my hand and lifting my mouth from your breasts, I gather you softly to me, gently pulling the skirt of your nightdress back over your hips and legs.

After a lengthening time, I frown in slight concern, and softly whisper, "My love...?". Your eyelids flutter but do not open, your panting is slowing slightly, but your chest is still rising and falling deeply. You lick your lips, gasping for breath and manage to utter, "I'm OK, just let me come back down."

In relief I re-arrange your position so that your head is now lying in the crook of one arm, the other holding you against me, and as your breathing slowly returns to near normal, you turn more on your side, into me and curl your legs up. I am content to hold you this way until you have recovered. The music is still playing, the fire is still warm and glowing, but I feely you shiver. Although I know you are not cold, I reach for the soft blanket kept on the back of the sofa and open it, laying it over you, cocooning you in it and my arms.

I close my eyes happily, but a short while later become aware of movement and jerk in surprise as I feel your hand on my breast. Then your mouth on the other as the nipple is gently sucked into your mouth and held there. I look down at you questioningly and those mischievous green eyes sparkle up at me, gazing at me in all innocence. "You did say later, love. This is later," and lowering your eyes, continue to suckle on my breast, curling yourself contentedly into my arms.

The end ............... or do I mean the beginning??

(The Sonnet: "Renouncement' by Alice Meynell circa 1893)