You pull into your driveway and feel your heart pound as you see the familiar car parked there. She has been away a long time, too long. The excitement you feel as you hurry along the sidewalk to the front door is akin to that of a child on Christmas eve: eager anticipation, the surging expectation of need, and desire. She rises from the sofa as you enter and you stop, the door open behind you, unable to think of anything other than the goddess which stands waiting for you. She is wearing the black dress, the dress that always drives you mad with desire, for it clings to her perfect form, revealing enough flesh to promise more, hiding, yet, at the same time, flaunting her luxurious soft curves. The dress is long but slit at the leg and, noticing your gaze, she moves her leg through that slit, revealing to your eye the shapely flesh wrapped in long dark stockings below a delicate garter that promises endless pleasure if it were removed. Your eyes fall lower and note the high-heeled back shoes. You know she has also worn these just for you, for she hates high-heels with a passion. But you love the height it gives her, the way it arches her feet, the way it shapes her legs and stance. You love the idea of feeling those spikes against your flesh. Your lips part slightly as you relish the beautify of her face, the luxuriant curls of her long blond hair, the oval shape of her face, the endless sparkling facets of her green eyes. Her cheeks are rosy, partially from the blush she has used, and partially from the flush of standing here in front of you. She has one finger pressed against her lower lip as if in surprise or, maybe, anticipation at your reaction to seeing her. She lowers her hand slowly as you approach, and she smiles warmly in response to the expression on your face. You do not speak as you near her; words fail you, and they are unnecessary. Finally you stand before her, your chest pressing against hers, your face so close to hers you can feel her hot breath and hear the deep quick breaths of her anticipation. She moves her hips forward, pressing against your flesh, making you realize the result of your desire. Until now, the universe was her essence, her being. But as her hips softly move against yours you feel lust coursing through your own veins. As you continue to gaze, you meet her longing stare and are once again entranced by her beauty. You lower your head slowly, and she raises hers to meet your lips. You taste her sweet lips briefly and pull back to gaze on her once more. Her eyes soften, an unspoken plea to continue. Your hand takes hers as you lower your head once more. Your eyes close as your fingers weave themselves through hers. You clench your fist as your lips meet again, feeling the intimate contact between your fingers, between your lips and hers. Her lips part and you lightly suck her lower lip, then brush your lip around hers. She shudders at your touch, your contact. Her breathing increases in pace as you feel her breath on your cheek. With your eyes closed, all that exists is the kiss and her. You e tenderly with your tongue and feel her respond, caressing you in return. She has been drinking wine; it adds a sweet spice to her taste, her texture. You move your free hand to the small of her back and pull her closer to you. She responds by wrapping her arms around you, the palms of her hands roaming freely across your back. The kiss is eternal, consuming, renewing. The touch is exquisite beyond thought, almost beyond feeling. Again she shudders in your embrace; she wants you, needs you, as badly as you need her. Finally you pull back and smile down at her. She smiles back, anticipation and need filling her face. You reach down and sweep her off her feet and she laughs, the same way she has always laughed when you do everything right, when you do even more than she expected and when she loves you all the more for doing it. You do not feel her weight when she wraps her arms around you and nuzzles her head in your shoulder as you carry her into the bedroom. Your passion bears her weight for you, and that passion is a strong thing indeed. You set her down gently on the bed and she sighs, spreading her arms wide and arching her back as she revels in her sensuality. As you sit lightly on the bed, she raises herself up and wraps her arms around you again, pulling you into another deep, lingering, passionate kiss. Her hands move to your chest, pressing against you, clenching softly, and then she moves her hands inside your coat, pushing it off you at the shoulders from the inside. You oblige by lowering your arms behind you, letting the coat fall to the floor as you feel her hands run along your back. You break away from the kiss and smile at her as she fumbles with your tie; you are amused at the intense concentration and determination on her face as she works the knot free. You fell in love with that look so very long ago; she may not even realize that when she does it she is even more beautiful. You reach out and lightly grasp the side of her neck behind her hear, pulling her ther kiss as she casts away the tie. You feel a gentle tug on your shirt as she fumbles with the buttons. Your palm quivers in excitement as you feel the soft down at the nape of her neck and the flowing silken hairs on the back of your hand. As she releases the last button, you reach around behind her and fumble for the zipper hidden beneath soft folds of fabric. The cold metal feels foreign in her hot embrace, but you grasp the stud and pull it down as she runs her hot palms over your chest, causing each hair to register a solitary note of pleasure and excitement. Her hand brushes lightly across your erect nipple and she knows you well enough to know the effect her finger tracing around its base is having on you. At the farthest point in her circle, where her finger presses down on your nipple, your breath catches as you yield to the unique pleasure; then, just as quickly, it is gone, replaced with the milder sensations of her tracings. She pulls back and smiles as her own zipper reaches the end of its journey. With a graceful movement she slips off the bed to stand before you, her hands applying light pressure to the top of her dress. Her smile is a bit bashful now, and she looks down, not meeting your gaze. She is beautiful beyond all words, but she is always so self-conscious here. Here where she presents herself, her true self, to you. She pulls away her hand, a simple gesture with profound consequences. You stare in rapturous awe as the dress, in one flowing movement, falls to land at her feet. The curves modestly hidden before are now revealed. Her heaving bosom is a priceless treasure to behold. She stands before you in high-heels, stockings, and a black pair of lingerie panties; your desire, already burning hot, becomes an undeniable, tangible beast. She still does not meet your gaze, standing here like this. She cannot believe how beautiful she Is, how the sight of her makes you feel. "You are beautiful beyond words," you say to her in a low voice, each word carrying upon it the full weight and urgency of your desire. And now she meets your probing gaze, her lips pulling into a tight smile, her face saying "thank you" without a single word. You kick off your shoes quickly, and she watches you with an amused glance as you remove the socks. She always did say that the only thing sillier than a man with an erection was a man taking off his socks before sex. You even chuckle as you remember the quip. As you stand up, the loose shirt around you falls to the floor with the same effortless ease with which she had discarded her dress. As she climbs back onto the bed, your pants and boxers fall to the floor around your ankles. She lays before you on the bed, watching you, waiting for you. You ease yourself onto the bed, lying on your side beside her, propped up on your elbow to gaze into that angelic face. Her brow furrows slightly in longing and need. As you kiss her sweet red lips once again, you rest your hand lightly upon her breast, pressing ever so delicately with your fingers into the hot fleshy softness, marveling at its yielding fullness. As you kiss, you trace a line slowly, deliberately down her stomach. Her head arches back as you move lower, and you adjust your head to keep the contact with her lips, relishing her aggressive responses to your own advances. Your fingers meet the subtle line where her flesh ends and the soft delicate lace of her lingerie begins. You press your fingers slightly into her flesh, working them under the delicate fabric, then lifting slightly as you feel her soft public hair. Her breath is panting now, ripe with expectation, eager with anticipation. You lips, and trace the line softly with your finger, continuing your journey down her nubile body. As you dip lower you feel the moisture you expected and run your finger through it, pressing just enough to penetrate the outer lips, ever so briefly, before retreating. As your hand moves away, the signals of her body relay the disappointment that you did not linger longer, did not delve further. But the disappointment is replaced by a whimper as your moistened finger begins to trace around her nipple. The palm of your hand presses against her breast as your fingers clench delicately and release, moving in leisurely circles around the nipple. When the exquisite kiss ends, you kiss her cheek softly, then her throat as she arches her head. You taste the soft flesh of her chest with your tongue and follow that with a kiss on her breast. You linger a moment with her nipple between your lips, your tongue lightly tracing circles. Moving lower, you alternate between kisses and licks as you trace a line down her abdomen and stomach. You pull back to regard her pleasingly round hips and the delicate lacy lingerie that hides the object of your desire. As you grasp the fabric, she raises her hips to allow you to pull it free. In seconds it lies on the floor, but seconds are an eternity. As you crawl between her legs, she raises them and spreads them wide; you raise your head and smile at her, a devious and mischievous smile filled with the promise of what you are about to do. She gasps as she sees your expression and a trembling shudder of anticipation washes over her. You have been here before, and she knows you never make promises you canít keep. Playfully you run your tongue along the crack, from the bottom up, experiencing the taste which is uniquely her own. On your second pass, you press forward, letting the sides of her outer lips press against your tongue. She sighs softly at your touch; it is time. It has been time for far too long already. Gingerly you part her outer lips, exk folds hidden within. You run your tongue deliberately along her lips, pausing to play with her inner lips, letting your tongue run around them with a delicate firm pressure. You know this is driving her wild, and teasing her in the worst possible way. To provide so much stimulation, so close to the areas best able to appreciate -- this is just as excruciatingly arousing to her as your being so intimate with her, without satisfying that lust, is to you. How long has it been since you walked in the door? The door still hanging wide open, long forgotten in your passion. A second? A minute? An hour? A day? A month? A year? A lifetime? Maybe an eternity. All that matters is you and her; time is a concept easily lost in rapture. You push into her moist red hot vagina with your tongue, rolling it gently, letting the tip play against her throbbing walls. She moans loudly and lets her fingers run through your hair, her hips rising to meet your tongue, as if she could encourage you to go deeper than you already are. But deep will have to wait. You withdraw your tongue and move up slightly. Her clitoris is an exquisite rose newly emerged from the skin that surrounds it. You flick your tongue against it, a light pressure, at first, that will become harder as her pleasure grows. It is hard to keep up the pace youíve set, but she loves it when you go fast; because you love her, because you are incomplete without her, you persist. It is awkward to insert two fingers into her vagina at this time, but you know how very much she enjoys this oral stimulation while you thrust into her with your fingers, taking care to ensure the best possible contact with the roof of her vagina. She is so very close now; you know her signals. You pull back your tongue and suck her clitoris between your lips, sucking harder, coaxing it further into your mouth, letting your tongue revel in what it can reach, grinding your lips from side to side to give her the best possible sensations. A moment, an eternity later, she is shuddering violently, her hips bucking, her hands pulling your head into her, moaning as she climaxes. It is hard to keep the contact she requires, that she needs, but somehow you manage, somehow you manage to do it right yet again. She is basking in the afterglow as you crawl over her, the look on her face a mixtuitude that is profound in its intensity. She wraps her hand around the base of your neck as she pulls you in for a kiss, but just as you know her, she knows your needs as well. The kiss is brief, though passionate, the most intimate thank you she could give without words. While you are poised above her, she runs her hands across your broad shoulders before moving down and pressing against your chest. One hand lingers there, just above your heart, keeping this contact between you. Her other hand wraps itself around your throbbing cock, so long denied the attention it demands. Tugging lightly, she sends an electric thrill coursing through you. Your breathing stops at that first touch, and then she guides you to her. Your need is to plunge into her, to ravish her in your lust, to be not gentle or slow. But that need is sated by the slow and playful way she slips your cock through her pussy, letting the engorged head rub against her wet, warm folds. Briefly you penetrate her, enough for you to taste the tight warm hole, enough to feel it wrap itself around you. And then you allow her to guide you out again. This time, when she pulls you back in, she gazes into your eyes with a smile on her slightly parted lips as she removes her hand. Slowly you push in, allowing the flowing, fluid sensation to pleasure you until your hips meet hers. You pause for a moment, and in that pause she wraps her arms around you. Her hands roam across your back, as she lifts her legs up around your waist so that the tips of her shoes brush lightly across your buttocks. You begin to move in a steady rocking motion, closing your eyes to capture the pure essence of her touch. The feel of her is almost overwhelming, the way her nipples brush across your chest, the way her hands feel at the small of your back, the way her shoes bounce off your buttocks. But, more than anything else, there is the feeling of you inside of her, of you moving inside of her, of the gentle contractions and motions of her around you to your thrusts. Sometimes you can linger like this forever, but tonight it has been too long, your passion held in check for too long. She feels your quickening pace and drops her arms to clench your buttocks, digging in slightly with her long fingernails. She pulls you when you thrust, her thighs pushing against you as you retreat. You gasp as the first wave of climax begins. For one moment, one eternity, nothing exists but naked pleasure. When that moment ends, you thrust again and are rewarded with a second eternity, wave after wave of unbridled, uncontrollable pleasure, as you release your hot seed inside her quivering hole. And then it ends, and you laugh twice between gasps, unable to put into words how intense the experience has been. How completely perfect. She smiles warmly, for she knows. You linger within her for a moment, unwilling to give up this most intimate contact, though your once-stiff member shrinks rapidly inside her. When you roll off to the side, you lightly stroke her sweat-beaded skin, as you begin telling her all the reasons you fell in love with her and all the reasons you still love her today.