Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 02

I kissed Rosie's breast softly, skimming her nipple with my tongue as lightly as I could. As I licked Rosie's nipple, it reddened and swelled. I wanted to suckle it, to feel its nurturing warmth succumb to desire.

"Mmm…," Rosie sighed.

Rosie stroked my shoulders with her fingertips. She was silently telling me she was awake now. I sucked her nipple tenderly lapping at it with my tongue. My fingers ran slowly down the line of her pelvis.

My tongue explored the underside of Rosie's firm small breast. I wanted to explore every part of her, that which I could touch and that which was beyond the reach of any man.

My tongue traced the curve of Rosie's waist. I felt her jump slightly as my lips pressed back along her pelvis.

"Ooh!" she cried quietly, "that feels so good."

Her pubic hair was matted flat and sticky from sex. I could smell her wonderful hot musk filling my nostrils like an aphrodisiac, calling to me to devour her cunt. The scent of her sex alone was enough to arouse me. I felt my rod stiffen. It was not the wood and steel of a very young man, but it was hard enough. I was showing my age after all. It was still hard enough and that was good enough for the kind of loving, gentle penetration I needed now.

I parted Rosie's legs and ran my tongue up and down the insides of her upper thigh carefully delaying my enjoyment of her cunt till later. The pungent aroma of her cunt tormented me so much that I could resist it no longer. I had to feast on her sex now; waiting another second would be too long.

I ran my tongue around her labia, taking care not to part the lips of pussy. Rosie started to moan with pleasure. I placed my hands under her arse and lifted her towards my hungry mouth. I put my tongue in that spot between her arse and her cunt then slowly dragged it along her slit opening her cunt-lips, pressing downwards, running over her clit, then doing it again in the other direction. She let out a small cry.

I wanted to eat her, to suck her into my mouth and possess her. I opened my mouth wide and pushed it down on her sex. My tongue licked, flicked, swirled and probed at her treasure. She screamed loudly when I pushed my tongue inside her sucking at her opening forcefully at the same time. I wanted to taste, to drink in the mixture of our beings, my saltiness mixed with her sweet nectar. I wanted her to feel my adoration of her sweet womanhood.

Pursing my lips into a pout, I pushed down on her clit sucking the button from its hooded sheath. My tongue flicked feverishly but delicately beating at her button like a humming bird's wing. I sucked harder, pulling at her pearl as I pushed back firmly at it with my tongue.

"Oh John! J-J-John…oh darling…sweetheart…my lover…I'm…," she whimpered.

I knew. I knew exactly. I felt the small tremors run through her body. Quickly I changed position and enclosed her opening with my lips. I raised her bottom with one hand and massaged her clit with the other, two fingers pressed on either side while a third rubbed her nub in an insistent rhythm. My tongue darted in and out of her opening probing her hot sex. Her hips bucked slightly as the spasms hit. I closed my mouth tight on her hole. I tasted the sweet creamy gush as it poured out of her. I sucked in her spray and swallowed every drop of her sweetness.

I kissed her cunt as I would kiss her lips, my tongue stroking, sliding in the pulsing soft darkness of her opening.

Moving up her body, I took Rosie in my arms and kissed her. Her breath was sweet and her mouth dry with sleep. She clasped me tightly as our mouths merged together in a kiss that talked of tenderness and love.

As we kissed our bodies found their own way. We had effortlessly dissolved and melted into our union. We were joined together in that deep loving place. This was no longer the mashing of cock against cunt, we were making love. The soft and gentle stroking caresses of our kisses were echoed in our caring congress.

There was no separateness anymore; just two bodies joined moving lightly together. We kissed again.

The words 'making love' reverberated in my mind. Were my feelings tricking me? Had my emotions stealthily crept up on me and ensnared me unknowingly? I did not have the luxury of the writer casting fiction in some narcissistic piece of self-indulgence, I thought. Writing fiction is easy. One can ascribe any or all of one's feelings to the characters. One can be villain, heroine, teacher, father or whore. It doesn't matter, one could write the characters in and write them out. This was no fiction, this was reality in the here and now and I was making love. I felt a pang of anxiety that subsided instantly as I bathed in the sweet refuge of the warmth of our union.

My arms enclosed Rosie in a tight embrace as we kissed again.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Yes, what?" I asked.

"It was just the answer to what you were thinking. I said yes. It's okay," she said. "Now don't stop, don't stop loving me now."

"You know?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied.

I pulled my body upwards so that my cock pushed deep and my pubis pressed hard down on hers. I could feel that the base of my cock was pulled tight against her clit. I made small movements pressing as deep inside her as I could go; my cock stretched massaging the nerves of her sex. I moved faster.

"Oh I can feel you, John. I can feel you cumming, my love. I'm so close, sweetheart. Cum with me now. Kiss me as we cum together. Don't stop kissing me," Rosie said talking quickly.

We kissed and clasped each other in all life's embrace, our souls joined as tightly as our flesh in a union of unrestrained desire and passion, of unleashed desires and ageless passions.

Our kiss stifled our cries as the intensity of pleasure took hold. I felt drained of longing. Our come surrounded us, engulfing us in joy. This was not the painful ecstasy of earlier but a release of elation and rapture.

Neither of us said a word. Speech was unnecessary. All that was meant had been said in silence and we both knew.

I softly kissed Rosie's forehead and looked smiling into her eyes smiling back at me.

"Er Rosie…," I said.

"Yes. What my love?" she asked.

"Oh nothing…just making sure my voice still worked," I said and burst out laughing.

"Oh! You silly…," she said.

Rosie joined me in uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"I really must get up soon," she said. "I'm frightened if I laugh like that again, my bladder might burst! I need the bathroom."

We kept on laughing. I eased myself to the side to let Rosie up then swung my legs over the side of the bed, sitting upright.

"I'm not sure if my legs are going to work," she said still laughing.

"Nope. Me neither," I said.

We both rose unsteadily from the bed.

"Let's see how this is done…walking I mean. I feel like bandy Mandy after that," Rosie said and chuckled.

"Look at the time, it's almost eight in the evening," I said. "Where did the day go?"

"Don't you remember?" she said raising her eyes heavenwards and grinning en route to the bathroom.

I picked up my heap of clothes from the chair and set off to seek out the second bathroom that Rosie must have used that morning. After dealing with biological necessity, I showered for the second time that day. I thought about all the chores and errands I should have done today. They will wait until tomorrow, I thought. There was a proposal for work that I needed to crunch out too. I would get done whatever I needed, I always did.

I looked in the mirror and inspected my greying stubble, more than a whole day's growth. It never made me look trendy, just slightly unkempt and dissolute. I dressed and made my way to find Rosie.

She was in the kitchen again. She was wearing an incandescent turquoise kaftan dress and had her hair pulled back in a band.

"Rosie, I don't mean to be a damp squib but I must go home soon," I said.

"Mmm will you miss me?" she asked with a smile. "Would you like a drink of something before you go?"

"Yes to both questions," I said. "How could I not miss you and do you have any gin? Gin and tonic would be very welcome."

"Is Bombay Sapphire okay?" she asked, reaching into a cupboard for a large blue bottle.

"Absolutely perfect," I replied.

Rosie took out a cut glass tumbler and ice from the freezer. She put the ice into the glass first. Deadly, I thought. Every time I do that I pour far too much gin. She did too. She poured her usual ample measure and a glass of white wine for herself.

"There you are," she said, "and look John, it's okay."

"Sorry Rosie. What do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh I'm not such a daft old bat as I look you know," she said with her customary warm smile. "I felt it too. I felt that twinge of anxiety you felt not too long ago. At the same time, I felt a wee bit scared myself. It was when we both realised that this was not just about fucking or mainstream hedonism anymore; that suddenly we were making love and that our feelings for each other may be more than just some random sexual indulgence. I doubt that our feelings were ever just that personally.

"So I was just saying it's okay to be and feel as we feel."

"You are a treasure, Rosie. I sense you must be a very good therapist," I said.

"I'm just a woman, John," she said. "One with all her faculties working too.

"The way I see it, life is like a voyage on an unknown sea. Of course, you might lock yourself in a cabin and hide under the blankets so as to be unaware of danger. But the danger might still be there, whether or not you are aware of it. You just don't see it coming. But then you don't see any of life's possibilities either."

She paused and took a long sip of wine.

"I'm listening, Rosie," I said, knowing that she had not finished speaking but was collecting her thoughts.

"Well, on the danger point, there's one stage worse than that and I see it in my work every day. And that's when you become aware of the danger and deny that it exists," she said. "When I said 'it's okay' I just meant exactly that, that I don't want to be a frightened ostrich and that I am open to all of life's possibilities. That I wanted to be open to the possibilities of you and me whatever they are, whether good or bad. But I must stop before I irritate you with my pedantic preaching."

"You don't irritate me in the least Rosie," I said. "I agree with you about being open to life's possibilities, and I'll try. But there are those twin horrors lurking about me and I'm talking about the guilt and blame brothers. Nothing was ever achieved by either I know. Nevertheless I've got the guilt bug, the guilt of marital infidelity, of unfaithfulness.

"In law, what I've done already in the past twenty four hours are grounds for divorce. I have never been unfaithful before, so guilt caught me unawares even though I don't have my head in the sand."

"John, you told me about your marriage when we first met, and based on what you've said I don't have too much faith in your marriage either. Is that what unfaithful means? That you are without faith in somebody or your state of being with them?" she said. "I'm involved so in a way I can't comment directly. But I accept that you may not have faith in your marriage, or even that it may not nurture or sustain you.

"As for the divorce stuff, the law is an ass as they say. It's an adversarial system, so someone has to carry the can when life does not work out as they had once expected," she said. "I'm a campaigner for no faults divorce too, for separation without blame. We seem to be a long way off from that small enlightenment in the twenty-first century. Blame feeds the vultures of anger and pays lawyer's bills. That's all it's good for in my books too," Rosie said then drew breath deeply.

"I'll stop in a moment but about that unfaithfulness. Just think about that for a moment. Which is worse committing 'marital infidelity' as you put it, or being unfaithful or untrue to yourself? That's a rhetorical question by the way. No answer needed," Rosie said and smiled.

"I'm sorry, John," Rosie said. "I'll stop and lighten up now and before you ask that next question, the answer is yes again."

Rosie laughed at my quizzical expression.

"But Rosie, what was the question?" I asked then laughed.

"Aw you know, the one about seeing each other again: Question number 3 on the dating hymn sheet," Rosie said with a smile.

"Rosie, I do like you," I said stopping abruptly.

"I'll change the subject, let's get practical now," I added. "What about exchanging phone numbers?"

I produced paper and pen from my pocket and wrote all my numbers along with my email address for good measure. We exchanged our slips of paper.

"Rosie thanks for talking about all that anxiety stuff. It's a help for me to just get it out in the open. Let's talk about that again. It really does help me.

"Now come here. I want to kiss you before I walk back to my lonely dwelling," I said, feigning a hurt look.

"I'll give you a call later if you'd like that," she said.

"Yes I would like that very much," I replied eagerly.

I held Rosie close for one more time. There was sorrow and reassurance mixed in our kiss farewell. I heard myself sigh with relief as she clasped me tight to her.

"Rosie," I said. "Do you really know? I mean know what I feel before I say it? Are we that attuned?"

"Yes, I feel that. I feel very close to you, John. You know that too, don't you?" she said.

"I know that you are a very special woman, Rosie, very special indeed," I said.

I held both her hands and looked into her strong blue eyes. She looked strong and vulnerable at the same time. To admit vulnerability is strength in itself, I thought.

"Goodnight, Rosie. Until later my love, until later," I said.

As I left, I looked into her eyes again and saw the trace of a small tear.

Walking down the lane, suddenly I felt sad, alone and empty. Perhaps before I met Rosie that was how I always felt. I know it was how I felt but like the ostrich I found the sand to be deep, blocking out even the sound of my own feelings.