The snow swirled around the windows in huge flakes, like owl’s wings, blanketing the pine-needled driveway and piling on the window ledges. The mountain lodge was open plan; a vestibule paneled in dark wood led into a living space with a large alpaca rug on the polished floor and black leather sofas around it. A large open fire burned in the grate. The bedroom door was open. A king size bed with sheets of soft Egyptian cotton was turned down. The woman walked in bare feet from the bedroom across the floor, seated herself on the middle sofa and flicked a remote.

Lohengrin whispered from concealed speakers all around the room. She was dressed in blood-red silk, a kimono modestly buttoned to her throat. She was bare-legged, and her long sleek black hair fell to sexy singles waist in curtains. Her eyes, black as coal, closed. Her perfect, oval face slipped into repose. She had perfect, naturally formed, high riding breasts, their tips just showing under the taut silk. She was aroused, waiting, and began to breathe deeply.

The low, throaty growl of the powerful car died away in a crunch of gravel. The man sat for a moment, savoring the walnut veneer and leather, as the engine ticked into silence. He wore a dark single breasted suit, Italian loafers and shirt of heavy, cream silk. The door opened to his touch, the hallway bathed in firelight. The woman turned, fingers outstretched to meet him. He moved toward her like a panther, dark and sleek, brushing his lips across long, red-painted nails.

She reached behind her, fingernails grazing his crotch as he waited. She turned and lay back on the sofa, her arm resting behind her head in that most graceful of womanly poses, playing with the hair at the back of her neck, her eyes slits of desire. He smiled and reached out a hand, pulling her to her feet. He led her to the great bed, waiting. As she walked, she popped the kimono buttons, one by one so it hung in folds around her. As they walked through the door, the man whirled, took her perfect oval face in his hands and kissed her fiercely. Arms by her side, she waited for him to reach for her left breast, gently fingering and its nubbin hardening with desire.

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He lifted the other to his mouth, expertly sucking, rolling his tongue around. The neural pathway was at full speed, she was set, ready, her clitoris opening like a flower. They left their clothes, pulling them from each other like battlefield thieves and fell as if exhausted on the great bed. The man was erect, throbbing, his baton red-purple pointing skywards like a sentinel. She took it, her fingers slippery as she pressed lightly on his glands in smooth rhythmic strokes. Meantime his hands parted her engorged lips, dripping as he rolled her clitoris like a marble in oil.

She lay as if dead her eyes unblinking breathe coming in short, hoarse gasps. He lay astride her as she took him deep into her mouth, wickedly massaging with her tongue. He was thick and long in the back of her throat. She felt with an adult singles stiffen and released him. Wait, she whispered. The yawning chasm of her waiting vagina felt like home as he slid gratefully inside. She gyrated her hips like a dancer. She was tight and well-muscled, her walls holding him for just long enough, then allowing him to plunge like a prancing horse, his tip grazing her cervix.

She felt the climax in her toes, growing and moving upwards like a tidal wave, a tsunami of desire almost choking her with its ferocity and power. His teeth clenched and she felt his balls tighten for the briefest of seconds before the pumping lava overwhelmed her as her G spot gave up its secret and her legs splayed like a puppet before the force of his thrusts.

They lay for what seemed a long time. The man rose, kissed her tenderly on her forehead and walked to the cabinet. Ice tinkled in the glasses as later they lay together on the alpaca rug, gazing at the flames, the cherry wood fire burning low.

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 19th, 2011 at 3:57 pm and is filed under Adult Singles.

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