I invite you to a quiet, cozy restaurant, relatively empty, and the night is falling tenderly. The old clumsy waiter lights up candles while you’re reading the menu, and I admire your looks — you know how to get in style, classically. You’re flirtatiously touching me with your toe, your eyes saying, “Drop it!”. You order lasagna, and I go with pasta — never conversely.

Another whiskered white suit leisurely floats out in the spotlight equipped with a bottle of Chianti. His smile is of a Joker’s, and his eyes treacherously touch your bare pinky back with a tiny mole in the lumbar curve. Joker’s eyes are right on. I see a momentary change in his behavior but don’t care — such old pricks are never anything but a shabby pack of cards.

The cherry-red wine reflects the candle lights and your bust to my luck, and the glasses are clinking gently — no more words applied. Instead, your dazzling teeth show up for a moment, hidden by ardent lips, leaving a red trace on the glass edges after you sipped a little, keeping on staring at me. Memories seize my limbs. Just another flashback of how you tasted me first before we wasted the exact red wine three or even four years back — the same taste, slightly tart, with a delicate flavor.

I imagine a familiar arousal swirls around your abdomen, gradually spreading from toes to bows. Here's me sitting in front of you and looking at you admiringly. No hustle, no hesitation, no limit. 

You are wearing a little black backless dress with a beautiful waterfall neckline, open lacy straps, black stockings, and no panties, right? I gently take your hand; you’re rubbing the glass leg, snatching my glimpse. As always, my palm is much warmer. 

Your fingers are so cold, so tender — I gently stroke them, squeeze them with pleasure, and warm them. I’m leaning closer, slightly lifting your palm, and kissing fingertips, one at a time.

We sit silently, drink wine, casually finish the main course, and wait for dessert. I’m telling you how this dress suits you — your tiny shoulders are so beautifully outlined, and one of the straps drops — you hesitate pulling it up. 

You praise my wit, as usual, but again, you never believe me and sweep away the lavish compliments I pay. Come on, I've never lied to you!! No way you escape me tonight — you knock me off my feet with your look.

Accidentally, I drop a napkin and notice your crotch between the widespread knees under the table. No panties there — I was right. God, I want to settle down here, lick your toes, bite your thighs, and sink in between your pinky petals. I notice the lacy edge of the stockings, which makes me horny. I lean closer, caress your leg a little… and feel your scent. I don't want to get up, but you ask me to — people are watching, for Christ's sake.

I look into your eyes, begging you not to torment me with your usual riddles. In response, you put both hands onto your knees, catching a waiter's dissolute glance. I wish there were nobody around. You're gently patting your knees, and your eyes touch mine again. Then, you ask me to lean closer — I feel a piece of silky lace in my hand and its warmth. The warmth of your magnificent body…

My bewilderment is your triumph; I take a deep breath. I am confused when leaving you pantyless and… defenseless and soon wholly defeated.

The plot never thickens: kissing in a lobby, patting in a cab, fucking at my apartment. However, this time, it does.

Once the cab lights disappeared in the evening haze, I found myself standing in front of the old shack with a door losing battle to a bark beetle. The place looks long abandoned. Is it a sort of temple? It's no surprise the door is locked. I was a little boozed up, so I tried to push on it with a shoulder — it finally gave way to us just after a few rounds of my humiliation. In a complete doom and gloom inside, I could hardly see you stripping. But I felt your lips, tender and impatient; I just couldn’t stop kissing you!! I never did…

Your tongue gets interlaced with mine, your lips are so delicate, and your hair smells so nice... You’re leaning towards me, and it’s damn worth each and every moment!!

I grip your hips, pull up your dress, and squeeze your firm buttocks like peaches — the scent of your juice, coupled with your fragrance, appears to dance graciously inside my brain. I squeeze your tits, enjoying their soft skin and shape. I vigorously massage your boobs so you could feel me under your skin. Your hair is messy, your cheeks are burning, and your lips are somewhat swollen outside. I’m fatigued already, but you aren’t even close — you’re ten years younger, babe...

I was afraid your little minx wouldn’t show up. Gosh, I was wrong!! You want me as much as I want you. I’m patting your thighs, your eyes are wide open — they’re just irresistible. I pick you up, and while you’re snuggling into my arms, I eliminate your bra latch with teeth. Your long pink nipples drastically cheered up, finally breaking the lacy shackles.

In the moonlight, I drop you down the smelly battered chair right in front of the window, almost seeing through your naked body. I could even savor the symmetry of areolas around each nipple.

Baby, you’re the wildest thing I have ever met in my entire life, and that’s why I never married you. But I know you still love me. You don’t fuck just to fuck. I’m exposing the groin against your head and running my fingers over your spine. I see your eyes twinkling and your lips poking out. "Come on, baby," I beg you, patience isn’t my virtue.

I knew it wouldn’t be long until you gave in. I move your head a little closer so that you don’t have a choice unless you sink into my balls. You make yourself comfortable in the chair, licking my genitals with your eyes closed. I grasp your ears, regulating the rhythm. You’re groaning like a real bitch.

My shaft goes back and forth right into your mouth, liberating your hidden desires. I feel the night's heat in you, and I love it!! You shudder slightly with the first push, like you’ve never done it before. You sit up straight in the chair, grasping my ass and taking it deeper with each new thrust. You swallow my balls, making rounds, giving each a thorough exam. I’m all shivering. You’re happy to examine my testicles and penis, penis and testicles. Some rough movements of your tongue tend to intensify my ending, but your tender lips make such a perfect compression around the tip that I don’t want to cum fast. Finally, I pull you closer by the hair and pour your throat with my liquid. Yeah, I’m done. Your turn, babe. 

I got into your vulva, slightly rubbing your blistering clit. You're all wet, and I’m caressing you inside with smooth moves. You are so vulnerable; my power over you overwhelms me. I caress you more intensely; your loud moans turn me on more and more. Your beautiful breasts claim their glory in my filthy grip. You stroke my cock, I gently squeeze your nipples, massaging the areolas. Then, I ran your hand down to the clit so you could feel that moist of yours. What a lovely view!! You’re so good. I hope this tension between us never ends for years, but it's somewhat delusional.

I turn your butt around on the chair, poking against me. You grab the chair back, your knees stand still on the chair, and I carefully remove your red heels off your feet, which, for some reason, are still on. Your legs are gorgeous, with a thick brown down over the velvet skin. I tenderly kiss your buttocks, grip your hips, and begin piercing you delicately. You tremble, producing some inaudible sounds, which I assumed you were pleading guilty that way.

I set the rhythm, and you fiercely put your hole onto my penis. I keep an extremely delicate demeanor, my moves are balanced, and I want your sensation now.

Again, I gently squeeze your C cups so heavy I could hardly hold them, enjoying some natural elasticity and warmth. Your moans were louder as I continued exploring your tight shell. I felt natural heat inside. The soft petals enveloped my penis, and gently stroked it. I couldn’t help your shivering, but I guess you were cumming.

I let you rest for a moment, resting inside of you. We continued standing on all fours. I hold you tighter now, trying to kiss your back as much as my long neck lets me…heh heh.

We lie beside each other on the stinky carpet, now exhausted. You're so graceful in your nudity, relaxed, and enjoying yourself, even though it’s pretty cold. I gently outline your eyebrows and nose with my fingertips, stroke your cheeks, and caress your lips, bursting with kisses. You squint from my touches, and I look with pleasure at your beautiful, lush breasts with some swollen nipples. Your light brown public hair mesmerizes me like it used to all past years.

I feel sorry for damaging you, your labia and vagina walls must be sore, but you've been pouring out another date with all your juice, and that's how we're used to it, too. I’ll remember you stripping in the moonlight, seeping through the old broken window. I’ll remember your blue eyes permanently closed, gazelle long legs, gorgeous gown… And your words never said I will remember, too.   

I glanced at my watch — almost 7 a.m. Tuesday morning. I was worried you would have to bring up the tiniest and the finest part of me in your stomach to our beloved hubby. Or you take pills? What d’you usually tell ‘im?

I've just noticed the splendor and elegance of the window frame, emphasizing the grandeur and elegance of the room. Four sculptured lotus flowers decorated each corner of the ceiling. It's obviously not a temple, but where else could one spot some real stained glass? I’m far from it, but it generally looks more gothic than Roman-style leaded glass. The walls are thin, and you see these lancet windows with arch tops in old Europe in multiple colors, usually black, brown, or red. Today, colors are faded, though. I don’t want our feelings going that way, too. I just can’t accept such a course of events.