Just One Last Dance

"Happy Anniversary, Estelle." That's what you said as we looked at each other across the restaurant table. I dressed for you, especially. A new little black dress that I bought especially for tonight. My first little black dress, and it's a little more revealing than anything I usually wear, because I know you enjoy that.

Your eyes, your smile, your hands holding mine, everything says I was right, and I glow under your eyes, under our attention, and your love. Last week, I knew that was love. Now I know it was all an act, and my eyes sparkle with tears. Last week they didn't sparkle with tears. They sparkled with happiness, because you'd remembered, and I hoped you had when you'd said we were going out to dinner.

You sat in the seat I've been saving for you, and I've already ordered your drink. Laphroaig. Water, no ice, the way you like it, and you know I remembered. You know I ordered that drink especially for you, and you smile. You raise your glass, I raise mine, our glasses touch, delicately, and we both sip.

"I booked us into Il Casino," you say. "For seven thirty. Do you want to walk, or shall we catch a cab?"

"Let's walk," I say. It's not raining, we both have our winter coats, and it's not far. Fifteen minutes, twenty if we walk slowly, and there's nothing I enjoy more than walking with you, my hand on your arm, your arm around me, sheltering me, protecting me. Holding me.

"I'd like that," you smile, and I smile back, overjoyed. Elated. Ecstatic. This is love, and I love you so much. I love that you're with me. That you love me. That your smile for me reflects my smile for you. That you help me on with my coat, button it for me. That when we leave the restaurant, you've somehow arranged for a bunch of roses to be there for me, and you carry them back to our apartment.

It used to be my apartment, but after we met, after that first night, you moved in with me, and now we have a huge bed, a bed that fills the little bedroom. A bed that's perfect for making love on, and I know that's what you want, as soon as you take me into your arms. You take me into your arms, and I feel your arousal, pressing against me, huge and hard, and my own body responds in an instant.

"Happy Anniversary, Estelle," you say, and you produce a small box from your pocket. A small jewellery box, and my heart leaps, my eyes wide as I take it. Are you...? Is it..." Of course I'll say yes. I'm nineteen. I'm far too young, but I don't care. I love you, and I will. I'll say yes and I don't care what anyone thinks.

They're diamond earrings, beautiful, but they're not what I was expecting, and I know I was too eager. Too hopeful, and I hide my disappointment behind a smile, because they are beautiful.

"Wear them for me," you say, and I do, smiling.

"Thank you," I say.

After a couple of seconds where we look at each other, you slide your hand under my chin, tilt my head back further, lower your mouth to mine. My lips part, your lips meet mine, very gently, and we kiss almost as if it's for the first time.

Our lips touch, my mouth opens to yours, I taste you, and we kiss for an endless period of time, gently, delicately, my tongue gently explores your mouth which opened wide to me as soon as our lips touch, probing, tasting, your tongue flickering against mine my arms vine around your neck, my body presses up against yours, so masculine and hard, eager, and I know I want to give you something special as an anniversary present.

Something I've always been too hesitant and shy to do.

Tonight, after half a dozen glasses of wine, I'm no longer shy or hesitant. I'm eager, almost wanton, my hands fumbling at your clothes, undressing you slowly as your hands run over my body, and the little black dress I'm wearing lets your hands explore, underneath to cup my butt, and you like it when I wear G-string panties for you, and tonight I am.

Finding that out excites you. Inflames you, and you almost tear my dress of me, and you're so aroused when I'm left in nothing but those G-string panties. I finish undressing you, kneeling before you, taking you in my mouth, knowing you enjoy that as I move my mouth and tongue on you. As my hand cups your balls and holds them, my tongue caressing your length until I know you want more, and you help me stand.

I smiled as your move to turn me and guide to the bed.

"No," I breathe, "Lie down, on your back."

You move to our bed, to the center of the bed, and you like back, smiling, anticipating that I'll use my mouth on you, and I know you enjoy that. I know you'll enjoy this as I crawl onto the bed and kneel upright, beside you, leaning forward a little to take you in my hand, and stroke you. My heart's pounding as I smile down at you. I look at you, smiling as I kneel upright, and wriggle out of my little G-string panties.

A year ago, I'd never worn anything like this.

A year ago, I'd been a virgin, innocent, and the thought of exposing myself to a man, like this, had never crossed my mind. Now, I expose myself to you, heady with excitement as your eyes caress my nakedness. Heady with excitement in the anticipation of what I'm about to do. I smiled as I move onto my knees and forearms, and take you in my mouth again, sliding my lips down your length, down and down and down until you almost choke me, and I hold my mouth there.

I couldn't have done this a year ago. I wouldn't have known what to do a year ago, but you've taught me so much. You've brought me to ecstasy time and time again, and my body is yours to play. You've taught me to play your body too, and I enjoy this, bringing you pleasure with long slow movements of my mouth on you. I'm kneeling so your hand can't reach me, and I know you want to, and I smile now.

Smile as I draw my lips back, remove my mouth from you, and I want to see this. I want to see your face, and I turn. Before I can succumb to embarrassment, I turn towards you, and my lips find yours. I kiss you.

"Happy Anniversary," I breathe, and I kneel, I slide up and I swing one leg over you, looking down at you as I kneel above your face, and I have. I've shaved everything for you.

"Estelle." You notice, instantly, your hands on my butt hold me now. Hold me as I give you what you've wanted to do to me for as long as we've been together, but I never have. I've been too shy, and I'm still shy. Shy and embarrassed, because I don't see why you'd want to, but shyly, hesitantly, my face burning, watching that excitement and desire written across your face, I lower my sex towards your mouth.

Your hands urge me down onto your face, a gentle urging, your lips brush me, there, and I sink down, sitting on you. Your mouth seals itself to me, your tongue caresses me impossibly, probing inwards, and my eyes open wide. My mouth opens wider, and my hands clutch at your head as I lean forward, watching you. Your face. Feeling yuor mouth on my sex for the first time. Your tongue, probing.

"Ohhhhhh." My moan is a shiver in the night, and I'm so wet. So excited that I squirm on your face as you lap at me, and is it as good for you when I take you in my mouth? No wonder you enjoy that, and I want you in my mouth while you do this to me.

"Wait," I gasp. "Wait," and I ease myself up, smiling at that look on your face. Smiling as I straddle you, and lower myself onto you, exposing myself completely, only now I'm face to face with your cock, and I feel your breath on my inner thighs before your hands settle me down.

"Mmmmphhhhh." I moan around your cock, and both of us are moving. Both of us eager for more as I slide wetly across your face, your cock in my mouth.

"Ohhh... ohhhhhh." Your tongue finds my clitoris, and just like that, I climax, half sitting up, straddling your face, climaxing on your face as your tongue swirls across me there, and I'll never say no to this again. Not this, and I moan again and again until you lift me from you and turn me to lie on my back, and now you take me, and I revel in that taking, climaxing again as you force the swollen glans of your cockhead through my entrance, and we've been doing this for a year, but I'm still tight on you. So tight and hot and wet and slippery for you.

Clasping you tight as you surge up inside me.

Tight and wet, and you thrust yourself into me, slow and deep. So deep, and so good, until you possess me completely.

"I'm going to fuck you, Estelle," you growl, your voice hoarse with desire.

"Yes," I moan. "Yes..."

You do, you fuck me, and I cry out again and again as you work your cock into me, and I'm almost out of my mind with the sheer pleasure of your taking. The joy of surrender. The joy of love, of giving myself to you so completely, and I'm always amazed that this works. I'm so small, so delicate compared to you, but still you fuck me so hard, and my body takes what you give me.

Takes your cock as you bury yourself to the balls inside me, my channel clasping you in a vice-like grip as you thrust deep and high, feeling the tip of your cock lightly brushing my cervix as you push up hard into me. I'm moaning now, constantly, moaning as you ride me, as you make love to me, and I can see the ecstasy on your face as you fuck me. The ecstasy of love, and I give you my love, my body, my everything, responding to your movements, responding to your deep-thrusting penetration as you sheathe yourself inside me.

"Ohhhh." I can hear myself sobbing. "Ohhhh, so big, you're so big inside me." My hands clutch at you. "I love you... I love you." My sex spasms on your shaft, clasping you, squeezing you, and my feet beat against your hips, spurring you onwards, and it's as if the mare spurs her rider, wanting to be ridden harder, and I do, I want you to ride me to the end.

"Estelle," you groan, "you feel so fucking good." You're moving backwards and forwards inside me, pulling halfway out of me, forcefully thrusting all the way back, again and again, harder now.

"Uhhh... uhhh...uhhhh." I can hear myself, half-grunting, half-groaning, my body quivering as you fill me so powerfully, and when you slow, and your mouth possesses mine, I taste what I know is myself on your lips, on your tongue, and I'm ashamed, and excited at my own shame, and I know I'll do it again.

I want to do that again. Offer my sex to your mouth, and I know I'm not the demure and innocently sjy Chinese girl I was a year ago.

"Yes," I sob. "Yes... use me... use me..." I know you like it when I say that. "Use my cunt... fuck me..." You taught me to say those words, and now I'm like pavlov's dogs. I'm conditioned, and I use the words that I know will bring me the reward I seek.

"Yes," you grunt. "I'm going to use you... I'm going to use your tight little cunt with my cock."

In my excitement, my own words come effortlessly, without thought, fed my my desire, my excitement, and my love. "Use me .... I want you to use me ..... use me with your cock. ...... use me with your big cock."

"Take my cock... take my cock up your tight little cunt." You grunt those words, fucking me so hard now, your pelvis slapping audibly up against my butt and the backs of my thighs with each thrust, and I know I'm going to be bruised by the time you finish with me. I don't mind. It's Thursday night, you're leaving in the morning, and those bruises will have gone by Monday night, when you return.

"Yes," I moan, "Oh yes, give me your cock, give it to me hard ...... fuck me hard ...... fuck me.... Fuck my cunt .....use my cunt .....use me."

My voice sobs lasciviously around those words, tasting them, savouring them as I surrendered myself to you.

You're slamming your cock into me now, again and again, forcing me to open to you completely with each long hard drive. My knees are drawn back, brushing your ribs, my feet kicking up at the ceiling, behind your back, and I know what I look like. I've seen myself in the dresser mirror, you and me, on our bed, your cock plunging thickly into me, my feet riding our hips or kicking high, and you're pistoning your cock in and out, and I can feel you moving towards your climax.

"Yes," I moan, wanting that. Wanting you culmination, "Ohhh yes yes yes.... do it to me .... do me ...... I want it ... I want it ....Ohhhhh...... ohhh I want it inside me ..... use me ...use me. ..... I want you to use me."

"I'm using you," you groan, and you do. Hard.

"Finish in me," I sob. "Finish it inside me." My back arches as you move. In and out. Each movement bringing you closer to erupting inside me, and your cock seems to swellinside me, there's one last hard thrust, you ram yourself hard into me, and simultaneously your hold me tight, groaning, your cock pulsing and throbbing, and you empty yourself into me in a series of explosive bursts fill me with your cum.

My head shakes from side to side, my sex squeezes your cock and your pleasure is so intense you're groaning uncontrollably, your cum spurting out inside me. Deep inside me, and those spurts inside me are what I've been waiting for. I climax myself, moaning as my sex spasms on your cock-shaft, squeezing you, milking you, sucking you into me as I lie helpless beneath you.

Somehow, we separate lying side by side, both of us panting for breath, slippery with sweat, and afterwards, after we've both recovered our senses, we lie in each other's arms and talk. Except it was me that talked, sleepily. Talked of my dreams, of you and me, and you murmured responses, answers, words of love, and I glowed at those words, secure in your love, cocooned in happiness that we were together, that I'd found love, and that you loved me.

In the morning, we make love in the darkness before dawn. You're leaving early, while I'm still in bed. I listen to you in the bathroom, shaving, showering, and when you walk into our bedroom, you're wearing the bathrobe I bought for you a month ago.

"I'm off to that conference for the weekend, Estelle," you say. "I have to run."

Your voice is a soft whisper in my ear. Your lips brush my skin, and I smile sleepily, not opening my eyes, my happiness reassured by those little things you do. Pulling the duvet up and making sure I'm warm. That last brush of your lips. The rustle of your clothing, and I know that's your jacket, then your coat, then that soft click as you open the door to our apartment. The door shuts, the lock snicks, and you're gone.

I know you'll be back on Monday night, and that's okay. I need to study, there's a test on Monday, and I'll miss you, but I need to put the time in. Even if you were here, I'd have had to study, and with you here, I wouldn't have wanted to, because I treasure every weekend with you. I know you speak at those conferences, and most of them are over weekends, but still, I miss you so much.

I should come with you, one of these days. Maybe over the summer vacation, when I'll have more time? I'd love to go with you, see you speak. Listen to you. Spend that time with you, and my eyes close again, and I drift off to sleep, smiling and glowing from our love-making. Making love with you is ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated, intoxicating, ecstasy, and afterwards, I can remember how good it was, but the memory is never the same as the reality.

The sheer pleasure I experience in surrendering myself to you. The joy I find in your arms as you hold me, kiss me; caress me. That rising tide of anticipation and desire that you bring with your hands, your mouth, the arousal of your desire, rigid, rampant, ready to spear into me. Ready to take me, and you hold off, teasing me, tempting me, until at last I beg you, plead with you, until excitement leaves me almost in coherent.

How do you do that to me? I have no idea, but you do it every time, drawing a pleasure I never realized I could experience, so intense that it floods my mind, possesses me, fills me until all I can think of is you, and then you give me what I need so much, and the joy and pleasure of that first sheathing of your cock in me is enough to bring me to a climax, almost every time you take me. It's so good, and you hold me, you take me, you ride me through that first climax, and then you make love to me with your body.

Your body on mine, and you tell me what you want from me, words breathed in my ear, words spoken to me as you take me, your face looking down into mine, my thighs cradling you as you thrust yourself into me, again and again. Your words tell me what you're feeling, what you're experiencing, what you desire. Those words and your body draw my pleasure from me, a pleasure that I share with you, and my own moans and gasps and sobbed out words tell you what you're doing to me, tell you what I want, and more than anything, I want to give you pleasure. I want to satisfy you.

I want to give you my love, and I do, with every iota of my being.

If love was food, you'd be so full that you'd burst, but instead you continue to take me, and your taking becomes more powerful, more intense. Long deep thrusts that become harder as your cock moves within me, sweet spearing of your flesh within mine, your sword sheathed within me again and again, and I'm there for you, yours for you to enjoy, to take pleasure with, and your pleasure brings me mine, on and on.

You know me now. You know my body, you know how to bring me to that point of no return, and send me over the edge, my climax washing through me, but there's no surcease, and you bring me to another, and another, until at least you reach your own culmination, taking me hard, and your cock throbs, pulses, you groan, your body taut and straining as if your cock is seeking to pierce my heart. There's that flooding of wetness inside me, those hot spurts as you empty your semen into me, juddering against me, and then you're finished, and we lie there together.

I'm glowing from that climax. Those climaxes, really, because there was more than one. There were half a dozen, and afterwards, I love your weight on me. I love that you stay inside me, holding me, heavy on me, and I know this is love. It's love, and afterwards, after you ease yourself from within me, and lie beside me, still holding me, spooning me, your breath hot against the back of my head, I cup my sex with one hand as I drift off to sleep, keeping your emissions inside me, and I can't help thinking there'd be nothing I'd like more than to have your baby.

I know you love me. You're living here with me, and I wonder when you'll ask me to marry you. I know I'm only nineteen. Only in my first year at university, but you're thirty five. You're a man, not a boy, and I love you so much. I'd marry you in an instant. Tomorrow, if you asked me. I'd have your baby right now if you wanted me too, and I drift off to sleep thinking of you and me, a house, babies. Happiness.

You'll be back on Monday night, and I can't wait to see you.

My laptop's open when I wake up again, and I'm in the kitchen making coffee when I notice. I know you were using it last night, for a few minutes, when we were going to bed. You asked me if you could, and I said yes, and I logged you on, before I went to bed. I grab my coffee, and sit down to check my Facebook feed, but when I click, it's not my account. It's your gmail, and you must have left yourself logged on. I'm going to log you off, but something catches my eye.

It's the gmail account. It's not the one you use to send me email. I pull out my iphone and check.

It's your name, but the account you send me email from has your name, and a 04 at the end of it. This is just your name, and gmail dot com, and I'm curious now. I look at the folders, and it's all very organized. I smile, because that's so you, but I am puzzled. Why are you using another email account to email me. This one has folders for Utilities, for Personal Stuff, for Work, for your Family.