He knocked on the door. She opened it and he stood there, framed by the lights of the hallway, and she knew the things she was going to get him to do to her, and that there were things he would ask her to do. She knew she’d do them, too, whatever they were. But best of all she knew that she didn’t have to wait any longer.
A drink in each hand, he stepped in through the doorway and leaned down to kiss her. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself get lost in the kiss. His warm soft lips met hers, slightly apart, the pressure of the kiss opened them more to allow his tongue to meet hers. She tasted him for the first time in years, and mixed with the touch and smell of him, all her best memories of him were with her, all at once. She heard the door close behind him when he kicked it, then she had to move back as he started to walk forwards, without stopping the kiss. She reached the table and couldn’t move any farther. She heard him put the drinks down behind her, then felt him take her in his arms and hold her to him. Making her his.
She felt his arms loosen, letting his hands encircle her waist. They held each other, kissing for a few moments, remembering, getting used to each other’s touch again. Then, quite suddenly his hands slid up her back to the top of her dress’s zip and pulled it down. Releasing her hands from his neck and stepping back from him, she allowed the dress to fall from her shoulders, down her body to the floor. She saw his eyes follow it, taking in her full, firm breasts, tight contoured stomach, past her thighs and legs to the crumpled heap of material around her ankles. Stepping out of the dress, she was wearing only her stockings and the “nice little knickers” he’s so fond of. So small, that they virtually disappeared as she turned slowly around so that he could take in a full view.
Their mouths met again, passionately and deeply. She could feel his tongue in her mouth as she met it with hers, enjoying his taste. He lifted her up and carried her to the wall and pinned her against it. His left hand moved from behind her waist to her right breast, and – despite the power of his kiss – gently held it, caressing it, encircling the nipple, in just the way he remembered she enjoyed best. Then his hand began its move down, past her ribs to the thin elastic of her knickers’ waistband. He twisted his finger in it, and pulled her even closer to him, tightening the fabric between her buttocks and thighs, forcing the moisture that had been there since he arrived to soak into the material.
Then his hand released the waistband and his fingers brushed over the outside of the small triangle of cloth at the front. He stroked, short and gentle, up and down the fabric, slowly becoming little circles that traced lower and lower. Brushing over her clitoris then farther down to trace the outline of her lips, his movements meant she had to move her feet apart more and more to allow his exploration. Eventually they must have been over two feet apart, allowing enough space between her thighs for all of his fingers to lightly stroke there. Then in one movement up, in and down to place his skin between her and her underwear. He stopped kissing and drew his head back, smiling that same smile again.
“You remembered!” He said.
“Well, you are the only person that’s shaved me, It’s hard to forget.” She answered. She had trimmed and moisturised just before dressing for dinner, and her skin was smooth, soft and hairless, save for a small patch. She shyly dropped her eyes and held herself up against his still fully clothed body as he started to reach with his fingers for her clitoris.
They had a delightful imbalance, her naked except for hold up stockings and very small knickers that he had his hand inside anyway, with her legs spread over half a meter apart, pinned to the wall by a man still in his dinner suit. He’d not even taken off his cummerbund yet, only his bowtie was hanging loosely around his neck, his first shirt stud undone.
She turned her face back up towards his and found their lips together. She sucked his bottom lip between hers and nibbled it as his fingers began a slow teasing rhythm along the length of her clitoris. He stretched down to stroke over her wet opening, to make his fingers slippery. She shivered as he used his thumb to draw back the hood and started to play small circles about the head with his wetted finger. Her breathing became deeper as she hugged his neck with her arms. Her legs weakened and she knew he was taking most of her weight on his right arm, between her and the wall. Quickly, faster even than she thought he would be able to take her there, she felt an orgasm building as he gently, slowly stroked between her thighs. She supposed it had been building since she saw him that morning, and certainly since dinner began, and when it happened it felt like a whole day bursting out over her.
She shook, her legs weakened beneath her, and into his mouth she yelled muffled things about him, but he remembered from years before she never was a quiet comer and he’d always made her shout louder than anyone else has.
He took his hand out of her knickers when she had stopped shaking, and put it behind her. As they carried on kissing, her sense of touch was still heightened, and she was very aware as he put his hand on her bottom that his index finger slipped between her cheeks, although on the thong of her underwear. The rest of his hand cupped her buttock, using it to pull her to him…