MONDAY, MAY 9, 2011
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 4 (to be cont'd)
He bent slightly to get closer and breathe her scent: fresh and warm at the same time, sophisticated … Dior ? Saint Laurent ? Chanel ? Despite the difficult walk through the woods and the snow to reach his place, she was fragrant, just slightly shiny with perspiration for the closeness to the fireplace. His nostrils flared sensuously and he suddenly stood and walked around the lounger, first to the left, then to the right to look at her under all angles and even went as far as crouching to be at the same level as the sleeping woman. Restless, breathing hard, a lump in his throat, he reached over with his fingertips to the immobile shape.
He couldn’t stop himself and slowly - careful not to awaken the Stranger - opened her shirt, undid the first three jewel-like tiny buttons and admired her cleavage, the soft curve of her small upper breasts. So defenceless, so ready to be held ...It took all of his will to get up and distance himself from the sleeping woman.
Yes - he thought - she’s a true lady from head to toes, and I’ll have her at any cost, but not as a thief ! I’ll make her beg to be owned by me...” He couldn’t take his eyes off her and his hands were irresistibly attracted to her naked décolleté, her thin collar-bones but again he stepped back, thinking (and maybe fooling himself) he was in control.
However, the growing bulge in his pants, and the tightness of his scrotum reminded him painfully that he was in control only up to a point.
He felt all of a sudden exhausted: the surprise of her arrival, the pressure of his immediate craving for her, the realization he needed her, the uncertainty on how she would react at his seduction moves…all this drained any ounce of his usual healthy energy. His last glance at the sleeping Stranger was filled with a mix of longing and resentment. He had never been uncertain of anything so far.
He turned abruptly to distance himself from her and climbed the left flight of the twin stately staircase to his bedroom; after getting into his florentine-tiled bathroom, he looked for a long time at his reflection in the mirror . Finally, and despite his resolve, he let his hand close around his erection, moving it slowly at first, in long strokes, wanting it to be HER hand and as his pace quickened, he reached almost immediately a shattering orgasm that left him shaken, empty and almost unable to shower and get into a pair of boxers before getting ready for what he foresaw to be a short, sleepless night.
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