Written by Pingu2012
31 Jul 2012
Not a word!
- 1 Comment
- 995 Views
6 minute read
You checked my profile, I checked yours. Just one short train ride and a million miles separate us, we both know it. We move in different worlds, both married, both loyal in all but body, both reaching out for contact, but would never meet without tentative first steps. You're younger than me, you like all kinds of music I cannot bear, you watch chick flicks, you get home for Big Brother. I love peace, stadium rock, foreign film and radio4. We are not a natural pairing, we are an unnatural match, we both know it, but we both want to try the unknown, to explore and expand our boundaries.
Before we met, we were both nervous, so constructed a safe set of rules for ourselves. We knew we were just too different to be a meeting of minds, that if we spoke that the bubble would burst, we would both fall to the floor. Rule 1 was 'not a word'. So was rule 2.
City hotels make natural meeting places - neutral territory, no partners, no kids stuff, no baggage, no reminders of all that we're risking for the sake of our personal growth. 4*, not swish, not shabby, huge and anonymous. A dozen illicit meetings a night, we blend into the background. I texted you the room number. I waited. I waited nervously. My legs barely worked when the door went - room service with an ice bucket, but whilst I was recovering it went again. The peephole framed you.
I swiftly opened the door - about to say hello, to introduce myself, to fluster and break rule 1 - not a word. As I checked myself, you put a finger to my lips. A beat later, I put a finger to yours. We stood there, right by the bathroom door, fingers on one anothers lips, in absolute silence, just staring into one anothers eyes. Subconscious communication flying back and forth - are we mad/is this right/well it feels right/what if.../what if... as they eyes drink one another in. Don't spoil it, keep it pure, we both knew our own rules - rules to protect us from one anothers lives and from the reality of our own lives. Rules to keep this crazy make-believe.
You break first - still with absolute trusting yet questioning eye contact you step closer. I am taller than you, not by much, but by enough that as you step closer into me, you lift your face up. We are nose to nose, breath to breath, our lips touch. We both want this, and we both know it. We kiss, at first tentatively as we feel eack other out, as we compromise and discover how one another likes to be kissed, how deeply, firmly, gently, teasingly. You push further into me as hands start to roam, finding our edges, finding our boundaries, finding our infinities, and not a word or wasted breath.
I push you gently backwards to the wall as your arms embrace my neck, and still kissing and now writing in anticipation we slide to the bathroom and start the shower. We are both tempted to jump in fully dressed, I can feel it in your powerful spontaneous nature, but sense prevails and as you stand before the mirror, I stand behind you and undress you button by button, clasp by lace. It frustrates you to be helpless, unable to reach me, but only able to watch yourself in the mirror as I disrobe you, cup your firm breasts from behind and pull you gently backwards into me. Your hands reach behind for my belt, my groin, but I kiss your neck to disarm you as you have to watch the beauty of your natural self in the mirror as the room becomes steamier.
This is all too much for you now, and you assert yourself, twist around, pull what's left of my shirt off, and strip me off fully. I imagine, hope and expect you will take me in your mouth, but you don't...you pull me into that shower and we spoon and writhe and fumble and fondle with water, with soap, with all the little bottles. We both know we are as clean as can be, shame washed away, guilt not yet coming through. You kneel and start the gentlest of blow-jobs, your eyes looking longingly for that deep connection again. Do I remind you of someone? I will never know. Is it even me you are fucking? In your mind you look like you are searching seeking for something, and perhaps I look the same as we share a mutual, intimate moment and I stiffen in your mouth, your makeup mostly washed away as the shower hits your face and creates rivers down your kneeling body.
It is bedtime, the moment just strikes. I lift you gently to your feet, kiss your eyes, and carry you softly to the huge bed. As I adjust the curtain a little, you choose to turn and wait on all fours - doggy style. Anonymity is easier this way maybe, I can be whoever you want me to be, not a word to shatter the illusion, not a word to burst our bubble. I stroke your pussy with my fingers and you push into my hand, but then you pull away again, you want more. I johnny up - so so tempting to just slip inside you, to feel the soft fullness of you in all your hot, moist glory, but we know it makes sense. I have lost my pace slightly, but as you push back hard against me, I find it again quickly! As we build up our rhythm, I turn you again towards the mirror - I want to see your face, and I want you to see it too. I want to see your eyes again, I want them to search my soul and hold me again as they did when we kissed. Our pace quickens, I can't hold on any longer as you keep driving yourself back into me. I slow back down as I soften, still inside you, glowing in the moment.
Our stolen time is up, we both feel the light through the curtain, we're both thrown back into the world. We both keep rule 1 as you place a finger on my lips again we search each others eyes to see if we can refind what we just lost, to celebrate what we just had. Our shyness somehow seems to come between us again, we kiss gently but both know the moment has gone. You close the bathroom door behind you, and re-emerge, dresses, ready for your day. You look fresh and beautiful again. Order restored, but you have a glow about you, you have a new confidence as you walk to the door. I feel the need to say something, but with full eye contact you shake your head gently, slowly, with a coy smile on those full lips, and leave. Not a word.
I know we were right not to talk, not to allow the world into our bubble, but feel a little blue that it is over. If I could have betrayed my heart, said a load of things in the spur of the moment I would, and may even have regretted them at me leisure. You are probably feeling the same - an intimacy of silence. My turn to freshen up in the room where we had such fun so recently - there is a small note in eyeliner on a towel - "same time next week?". Yes! Yes, and not a word...