Choral Evenings Pt. 03

'Thank goodness you understand, I was worried that it might be just me that sometimes feels like that.' I said with relief. 'But as I said, those feelings are but one of a number of levels of emotion - let's call those the 'Purely Physical' ones. Then there are those that I'll call the 'Purely Emotional' - and I know I have never had feelings as powerful as those I have for you.' I admitted, reaching across to squeeze her hand a little.

'Those feelings wash over me at all sorts of unexpected times; sometimes at work, or when I'm alone in my own house, at those times I want to drop everything I might be doing and rush around here - not necessarily for something sexual - though that's obviously sometimes true.' I added with a quirky grin. 'But most times it's just so that I can be in the same space with you.'

'Again I do know precisely the different kinds of feelings you're talking about darling.' Bethany responded. 'Mine fit into exactly the same sort of pattern. But for me there's at least one other sort - and that was what drove me after we got home from the ball, when I asked you to ask you to stand there while I masturbated. And those are the feelings I get when I look at you in a particular sort of way. I mean wearing the suit gave you a look that I think most women get turned on by; it's a look of purely masculine power and authority. It's a very sexy look.'

'Well I guess that compares with what I was going to say next anyway.' I answered. 'And that was to say that there are times when it's just the way you look that is a massive turn-on; I mean the way you looked at the Ball, or those times when I've seen you in nothing but those flimsy underthings - at those times you are the epitome, the very essence of feminine sexuality.'

'But then -' I continued - 'there are those times when we hold each other, maybe just exchanging a kiss or two - when neither of us either is expecting or really wanting to move on to the next stage of arousal - at those times there's a feeling of just the sheer joy of being with the woman who has so quickly become the single most important person in my life. And -' I added with obviously heartfelt sincerity. '- in many ways those are the most powerful of all the various kinds of feelings - at least for me they are.' I added.

'Oh yes - those are the very best ones for me too!' Bethany responded, leaning across to slowly brush her fingers down the side of my face. 'And I know you're going to think I might be making this up just to suit the moment - but I'm not!' she added passionately. 'One of my long-held fantasies has involved just that sort of thing - in my case it's lying in bed, while there's music playing somewhere, with a man I'm madly in love with. And I mean, both of us simply lying there - maybe touching, but not actually doing anything sexual.'

I thought for a moment before replying. 'Well we do have a perfect opportunity to see if it works for you, in real life I mean. Though trying to act-out fantasies is said to be one sure way of destroying them.' I warned. 'But we have both the time and the opportunity to do exactly that my darling. From what I saw, albeit briefly, there's a freshly made bed waiting upstairs, we have plenty of music to choose from, all we have to do is turn the volume up a bit and I'm sure we'd be able to hear from there.'

Bethany grinned, excitedly. 'We can do better than that darling, I'll just borrow the boys' portable CD player, we can take it into the bed-room with us. And even if I'm risking the destruction of my long-term fantasy, that's the best way I can think of for us to spend an hour or two. Don't you think so?'

Of course I did, and once I had eaten the magnificent breakfast she had cooked for me, and just for once leaving the kitchen clean-up until sometime later, that's exactly what we did.

Each of us quickly chose a couple of CDs from her wide-ranging collection and then, having taken the boys' player through to her bed-room, and then, even more quickly, we undressed. Bethany was just about to hop into bed when I stopped her. 'I'd really like you to let your hair down, please.' I said - and having given me an understanding smile, she did just that, and I watched with intensely loving amazement as that cascade of dark brown hair tumbled down over her shoulders.

So then I happily joined her and the pair of us slid down between the fresh coolness of the bed-sheets.

For a very long, long time, we did no more than lie there, side-by-side, merely inter-locking our fingers as we held each other's hand - then allowing the music of Bethany's first choice to wash over, in fact wash right through us - the opening strains of Mozart's clarinet concerto.

Although I was of course intensely conscious of having her lying beside me - very aware of those small parts of me that were in fact lightly pressing against her, aware of the warm softness of those parts, aware of the still faintly lingering perfume of the bath-oil - I was in fact drifting off somewhere else with her. And although our fingers sometimes tightened as a particularly magical or poignant section stirred us even more deeply, I knew that Bethany too was floating free of her normal self - allowing the beauty and wonder of the music to transport both of us to a new and quite different level of togetherness.

Time itself ceased to exist for us; the world we were inhabiting contained just the music and we two, plus of course, the newly found love that bound us, and the mutual joy of the music that had carried us there.

In that world there were no external pressures or demands on us, we were free to merely swathe ourselves in the sublimity of the rapture of being in such a place - and of being there, together.

It was as though each of us had happily melded, totally merged into the other - as though our hearts, minds, even our bodies, had fused in ways that even the most lovingly satisfying sexual union was incapable of providing.

It was an utterly blissful place - even the air we shared, seemed unlike the air that other's had to breathe.

However, I was of course aware of the various pieces that then played for us; Bruch's violin concerto wrenched me as much as it always did - then Dvorak's New World lifted me high again, and there were several of Bethany's choices that were familiar, but for which I could not give a name.

So we must have been lying there for than a couple of hours - all that time remaining virtually motionless, only the occasional movement of one or the other of us, as a muscle protested from being unused for so long.

But then, in the quiet space between one piece and another, I felt Bethany making a much more positive move. Then, as she lifted herself up beside me, I heard her whispering. 'Lay quite still my love, and please continue to keep your eyes closed. I am sure you have always conjured up an image of the most heart-breakingly beautiful woman to accompany this piece of music - so, if you prefer to, just imagine it is she who is taking care of you as you enjoy it my darling.'

Then, as what I have always thought is one of the most powerfully erotic pieces of music ever written - Rimsky Korsakov's 'Scheherazade' - began playing, I felt her push the sheet down off me, then she bent and kissed me, only lightly, her lips at first merely brushing mine.

Just as the opening strains of the single violin began sweetly playing, I felt Bethany's hair joining in with her continuing kisses, felt it trailing across my face - and then, as the orchestra joined the violin, felt her hands sliding slowly down over my chest.

Just as the music told the story of the young woman's ways of pleasing the sultan - each section recounting some mishap or small adventure - Bethany's kisses and caresses varied in both place and intensity. Sometimes meandering slowly and lightly, sometimes more quickly and waywardly, sometimes even pinching - but each in their own special way worked their strong magic on me. And of course the combination of her hands, her kisses, her hair - each of which was moving to the flow and rhythm of the music's accompaniment - both stirred, and re-energised me.

But although those caresses covered most of me, she waited until they had succeeded in bringing my cock up to full size, and only then allowed her fingers, her hair, and then her lips, to make actual contact with it.

At first, whilst gently holding it in one hand, she used the other to gather a handful of hair, then, doing it tantalisingly slowly - and again, totally in time with that section of the music - she began swirling it against and around the swollen cock-head.

Of course having teased and tormented me in that way, the contrast and sheer impact of the feel of the warm moistness of her lips when they eventually slipped down over it was ten times stronger than it always was - and I felt my hips automatically jerking upwards in response.

But somehow Bethany still managed to hold me there; hold me at a peak of arousal, yet not allow me to move up to the next level - where I would of course be unable to prevent myself from climaxing. Hold me there, yet - and while still following the progress of the music - continue to thrill me, sending an almost continuous stream of juddering quivers of excitement right through every single part of me.

By then I think I at least subconsciously knew exactly what she was thinking of doing, and when the music changed, and I felt Bethany lift herself bodily above me, I hoped I had been right. Hoped she was going to make love to me - to fuck me - but that she had been waiting so she could do so during the climactic section of the piece.

It was only when I felt the slick tightness of her pussy-lips slip down over my cock-head, then her pussy slowly engulfing me, that I knew I had been right, so held myself back from the natural urge to immediately thrust upwards to meet her downwardly pushing body.

Once we were fully locked together, she paused, waiting for the music to provide her the cue to begin moving herself up and down in time with it. And it was only when she both heard that, and then felt the unmistakable signs of the imminence of my climax, that she leaned forward, and as her pussy clenched even more tightly around my cock, her lips glued themselves to mine, her tongue thrusting almost as deep into my mouth as my cock was inside her.

Then - once the hectic section immediately before the end of the piece had passed - and as the orchestra and then the violin headed towards the close, that's precisely what she was able to do. And as we listened to the wistfully longing sounds of the violin straining towards its own final resolution, the velvet clutch of Bethany's skilful pussy slowly - almost tortuously slowly, but still providing me with the most indescribable ecstasy - determinedly urged my throbbingly straining cock on to its own.

Chapter 21

During the following weeks Bethany and I seemed to draw ever closer together, and as we were by then both hosting and in turn being invited to dinner parties and various other social gatherings, we were beginning to feel as though we had in fact been together for years, rather than just a relatively few short months.

One of the things that undoubtedly helped us to develop such closeness was the fact that her two sons also welcomed me into their already close-knit family unit, Jason actually inviting me along to watch their school's final cricket match of the season.

So when Bethany said she was arranging a day of work in the garden for the three of them, and asked if I'd mind also helping, I cheerfully accepted.

As many people in that region had also done, over the years that she had been living there, Bethany had transformed what she said had once been a typically British cottage garden into one much more dominated by native trees, shrubs and ground-covering vegetation. As she had explained to me; apart from providing more natural habitat for birds and other native wild-life, such gardens were also not only much less demanding of water, but were also far more low-maintenance in their general upkeep. And with both her work and two rapidly growing sons, she really hadn't needed an almost full-time gardening job on top of that.

But although for most of the year it was most definitely low-maintenance, as she had designed the plantings to provide interesting little walk-ways around and through it, to keep the whole design in place she did need to undertake some relatively heavy pruning at least once or twice a year. And that particular Sunday was scheduled to be one of those.

So having dragged out the paint and plaster splattered jeans and the long-sleeved work shirt that I had worn during my house's renovations, and after eating a good solid breakfast, I headed around to join her work-gang.

Bethany was equally sensibly garbed; wearing a long-sleeved denim shirt coupled with a pair of obviously equally well worn track-suit pants, and topped off with a large and undoubtedly battered straw hat. 'I don't think I'd win any glamour stakes today darling.' she said when she noticed me taking a good look at her outfit.

'You still look absolutely adorable - quite the little farm-girl.' I replied with a grin.

She had of course already got everything organised; a friend bringing around his trailer for us to pile the trimmings in - which he would then take off to the recycling centre some time the next day - gloves and saws and secateurs for each of us, and the promise of pies and sausage rolls from the local bakery waiting to just be warmed-up for our lunch.

So, having been given precise instructions as to what to cut - and what should be left alone - the four of us cheerfully set about our allotted tasks.

Although none of the individual jobs could have really been classified as being hard-work, all of the bending, stretching, crawling, climbing, chopping and sawing involved, plus the fact that the morning was quickly warming up meant that it wasn't that long before I felt the unmistakable sensation of perspiration running down myself. And when I caught sight of Bethany moving from one part of the garden to another, I saw that she too must have been perspiring quite heavily.

For some unaccountable reason I found that just the sight of the dark sweat stain down the back of her shirt, and the way the dampness made it cling to the shape of her, was immediately arousing. I found myself imagining her without it, without the equally body-hugging track-suit pants, imagined how her bra and panties would be sticking to her; the bra clearly outlining the shape of her 'boutique beauties', her panties doing much the same thing for her pussy. Even imagining I could actually already smell her; the musky earthiness of her hot and sweaty body. Then imagined I was already licking that salty nectar from each and every part of her.

Of course such imaginings - although brief - inevitably, but very speedily, produced what soon became a positively uncomfortable stiffness at the crotch of my quite inflexible jeans - then Bethany moved on, and the moment passed - but the thoughts I'd had certainly didn't, and even my physical discomfort took quite a while to do so.

But although most of the time each of us did work very hard, it was not done without laughter - the boys obviously testing me by trying out some of the more scatological jokes they'd heard at school, then breaking-up when they found I knew some even racier ones. Bethany came in for her share of the fun too, the boys getting me to agree to join them in camouflaging ourselves with some of the larger prunings, then creeping slowly towards her as she kneeled to remove the weedy growth that had invaded the edges of one of the neater sections of the garden. Even though by then I knew how focussed Bethany could be when working on some task or other, even I was surprised at just how close we were able to get, and when we all jumped out at her, the expression on her face was absolutely priceless.

So the morning passed most successfully and by the time we broke to eat, the trailer was becoming piled with the results of the combination of our efforts.

As the boys had to leave for some other activity after lunch, while Bethany prepared a salad to go with the other things, they headed up for their shower and to change into more presentable clothes. Then, with icy-cold beer and fruit juice to accompany it, and as we had all worked up a good appetite, we eagerly settled down to tuck into what she had so thoughtfully prepared for us.

Even though I had readily joined in with the cheerful banter that accompanied our meal, I found my thoughts constantly returning to those I'd had in the garden - thoughts of how very good it would be to be able to lick the salty residue from Bethany's usually milky-soft skin. Thoughts that kept my by then much neglected cock in an almost perpetual state of semi-engorgement.

Once they had gone we cleared away the remains of our lunch then, as I estimated there was less an hour's work left, we set about finishing. But of course by then the sun had grown even hotter and it wasn't very long before I realised that both Bethany and I had already worked up another sweat. That dark stain down the back of her shirt had reappeared and the thick denim was already clinging to the shape of her back.

The thoughts and imaginings that had continued to so arouse me of course immediately returned, though in an even stronger fashion - and as that time we were alone in what was a very well shielded garden, the idea that this time I might be able to do something about them was far too tempting for me to resist.

But somehow I waited until I had carried the very last load of trimmings to the trailer and then securely tied down everything we had piled into it - and on the way back was rewarded by catching Bethany in the act of stretching up to trim off some obviously still offending small branches. In that position the shirt not only clung that much more closely but so did even those nearly thread-bare track-suit pants - outlining the delightful roundness of her tightly trim arse.

As before, she was focussing so intently on pruning in precisely the right places that she obviously hadn't heard me approaching, so I was able to thoroughly startle her when I slid one arm around to cup one of her breasts and at the same time slip the other hand straight down beneath the waistband of her pants and do the same thing to one of her bottom-cheeks.

I buried my mouth in the curve of her neck and lightly bit her, then sucked on the flesh, at the same moment tightening my fingers around the even more disturbingly arousing parts of her that they were enfolding. 'I've been wanting to kiss and lick you for most of the day - there's something very sexy about your body already being so hot and sweaty, at one stage I even thought I could smell the earthiness of it clear across the garden.' I said when I stopped kissing and sucking her neck.

'Wouldn't you much rather wait until I've had a chance to have a quick shower my darling?' she asked.

'Most definitely not!' I immediately responded. 'It's the state of you that's been making me so extra horny.' I answered as I began to fumble with the buttons down the front of her shirt and also push down her track-suit pants.

'You mean right here?' she gasped.

'Right here, and right now!' I muttered throatily.

Perhaps it was hearing the note of determination in my voice - or perhaps Bethany also got caught up by the excitement of such a spontaneous display of my need for her - but after only a second or two's uncertainty she began helping me; unfastening her shirt and bra, while I tugged down both her pants and then her obviously already quite heavily dampened panties.

'What about you?' she gasped as I gently but firmly urged her downwards.