Love in the Middle Ages

LOVE IN THE MIDDLE AGES Page **1 **
by GERRYFERRET

It was Sunday evening. Martin did not want to do any work, but he knew that if he
wanted to meet the deadline for the newspaper article, he would have to put in some hours of
mental toil before he went to bed. Actually, he did not mind going to bed, but not for the purpose
of sleeping. He was tired, it is true, but he wanted to relax. He wanted the comfort of Frances’s
arms around him, drawing him close, holding him to her breast. He was still full of tension and
anxiety. It was a state he got into whenever there were many things to be done, all at the same
time, and he did not have the amount of time that he needed to finish things properly. He never
enjoyed doing things in a rush. He could, and at times he had to, but he never enjoyed rushing.
This Sunday evening, he really wanted to relax.
He looked at Frances as she rocked in her chair, slowly, rhythmically, almost to the tick
of the grandfather clock in the living room. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be humming
to herself. He strained his ears to see if he could catch the tune she was humming, but he
couldn’t. Then, as if she sensed what he was thinking, she opened her eyes, turned to him, smiled
and said, “Drink to me only with thine eyes… and, talking about drink, would you like another
one? It does not have to be strong, it could be something soft. Tell me, what would you like?”
“I know what I would like, but it wouldn’t be anything to drink…”. Before he could
continue, she asked, “Would you like something to eat? I have some chips, some cake…” .
“Yes, I would not mind some cake, actually. You always bake so well. As far as I can see,
you do everything well.”
“Well, I try to do my best, and I must say, I have never had many complaints. But still,
you know, you can’t please everybody – at least, not all the time. Anyhow, you have to keep
pushing on, you can’t afford to give up. One of these days, things will change.”
She got up and went to get Martin some of her fruit cake, one that he liked very much.
She brought with it some iced coffee, thinking that it would help to keep him alert as he settled
down later to do his work.
“You have a lot to do tonight?” Frances asked this knowing that he had been working
quite late the past few nights and she felt that he needed a break from all these late hours. “Are
you sure it wouldn’t be better if you were to take it easy for a change?” She said this hoping that
he would think of taking his mind off his work and that they would be able to have some
engaging romantic moments before sleep overtook them both.
“Well, yes and no, actually. I do have a lot to do otherwise it really is going to be too
much to have to do later this month. So, no, it wouldn’t be better to take it easy for a change.
However, at the moment, I feel rather out of sorts. I need to relax for a bit first. I am too keyed up
to really concentrate on what I have to do. And when it is like that, I make a lot of foolish
mistakes, and then have to spend time correcting them. Would you sit with me quietly for a little
while. I just want to be hugged and comforted for a short time.

Frances smiled to herself. He must have read her mind. Now she only had to get him firmly in
that mood before his work mindset returned to deny them this opportunity.
“Okay”, she said, “let’s go and sit on the verandah where it is cooler.”
The verandah of the bungalow extended along three sides of the house, which was one of
the old-time wooden houses. There was a settee on the eastern side of the house, from where you
could see the moon as it rose above the trees in the distance. Frances sat at one end of the settee,
her legs crossed, and with one arm on the arm rest. The other arm was along the top of the
settee. Martin sat, his legs also crossed, but with his hands resting on his upper knee. They talked
quietly for a few minutes. And then he said, “Fran, can I put my head in your lap?”
“Sure, if you want to”, she replied, “Then I can massage your head and help you to relax.
You really need a good rest.”
Martin did not argue, but instead, got down on his knees in front of her and rested his
head in the cradle of her lap. She took her hands and gently rubbed his head and massaged his
neck.
“Oh, that feels so good,” he said, “you would have made a marvellous nurse. I can feel
the tension draining away already.”
“Well, being a nurse involves much more than rubbing heads and massaging necks, but
you never can tell. I don’t know if I wanted to be a nurse though. I might have been too strict.”
Martin snuggled his head more deeply into Frances’s lap and put his arms around her
waist. As the tension in his body eased, his desire to touch her and caress her and feel her
respond to him slowly but surely increased. He wanted her to enjoy the closeness of their
moments together, to derive pleasure from their togetherness. She often told him that she loved
him, but in recent months it was not evident from their love making. Was she losing her passion
for him? He knew that she cared for him, but he wondered if she still felt the fluttering of her
heartbeat when he was close to her. Did she still daydream of him and wish he was there with
her, holding her hand, touching her, caressing her, kissing her? Did she really think she was
getting too old to have romantic feelings? He certainly didn’t think so. He always felt that
romantic feelings did not depend on age, but upon the personalities of the people concerned - the
way they interacted with each other, how they showed appreciation of each other’s efforts, and if
and how they put themselves out for each other, wanting to help and support, and not in any way
belittling or ignoring the other. Sometimes, just a look, a touch of fingers or hands, a single
everyday action done with sincerity can mean so much, can convey so much love that it makes
you wonder. Making love can sometimes raise you to heights of ecstasy, it can make you feel on
top of the world; but it can also be meaningless when it is done as an act of duty or compulsion
and not as an act of giving genuinely and sincerely. Is this what was happening in their
relationship? Was she just fulfilling her marital expectations and not really bonding with him –
surely not?

As Martin felt Frances’s hands gently massage his shoulders and his neck, he felt as close
to her as if they were indeed enjoying more intimate activity. But her touch was intimate,
seeming to pierce his skin and his flesh and penetrating into his soul. And with his head snuggled
in her lap, his face close to her Place of Secret Delights, that Moist Cavern of Sensual Bliss, he
was beginning to feel the sharp tingles of erotic excitement - he was getting aroused. Surely she
could sense his escalating desire as his arms more tightly enfolded her waist and hips.
Martin wanted her to have the enjoyment that he was experiencing, not just to be content.
He wanted her to feel on top of the world, too; to be excited and happy, but recently she seemed
to be just calm, delighted, satisfied. She had always been so ready to give so much, so ready to
help, so faithful and honest and true. Was there a change in her disposition? Was this, perhaps,
an indication of her change of life, that stage of maturity that women seemed to regard with great
apprehension. Could that be starting, already? He decided not to worry himself with these
negative thoughts for the time being and just relax, enjoy and take delight in the ministrations
that Frances was performing.

Frances, or Fran, as Martin often called her at times of endearment, was not unmindful of
her partner’s increasing arousement, which began to please her greatly. She was indeed looking
forward to a time of sexual communion with him, not just intercourse, the physical act of
inserting a penis into a vagina and the subsequent - and admittedly pleasurable - rhythmic
motions, but a truly harmonious unification of body, mind and spirit. For several weeks now,
their intimate encounters did not have the togetherness that had once been evident. Perhaps once
or twice they had seemed a little rushed, but he always managed to have his explosion of
satisfaction. She was glad about that for she felt that it was her duty to ensure that she gave him a
happy ending to his amorous excitements. To his credit, he did not immediately withdraw, turn
over and fall asleep but, somehow, their lovemaking left her feeling unfulfilled, and, to tell the
truth, cold, distant and unappreciated.

It had not always been like that, and she yearned for those earlier years in their marriage
when it was such a delight to be intimate with him, that each episode left her wanting more, as if
there could never be an end to the heights of ecstasy that she was often catapulted towards. Each
time she yearned for higher frequency of encounter and greater length of enactment. To put it
bluntly, she wanted it more often and lasting longer.

The thing that pleased her enormously was the afterglow, that period of time after she had
her first orgasm - she was never satisfied with only one, though some women complained that
they seldom had even that! Yes, the afterglow. Martin usually managed to delay his climax until
after she had reached her peak of excitement. When he didn’t, he was somehow able to retain a
certain degree of stiffness and could, by touching, feeling, kissing, tasting, using hands and
fingers and lips, even his nose and his toes from time to time, to cause her to reach love’s peak.
He would continue to hug and hold her as she trembled with abounding sensuality,
drawing her close to him so that his body felt and absorbed the shivers of her excitement. His
caressing hands and his ever-exploring fingers would traverse all the contours of her body,
visiting every mound or cavity, every nook and cranny that they reached and sending shockwaves
of voluptuousness throughout her being. His touch would remain with her as the ecstatic feeling
subsided, and he would utter such words of love, of adoration, of delight that, try as she might,
she could not fail to be moved to feelings of complete and utter abandonment to his every wish.

Yes, Frances thought, we would often have extended periods of silence, broken only by
sounds that devoted lovers make. Words would be unnecessary since the engagement of various
body parts, accompanied by sighs and moans, gasps and groans, would inflame the senses once
more, slowly but with certainty, inexorably moving us to a re-enactment of prior activities.
Repeated encounters need not follow the same pattern. Leadership roles can, and do, change.
Positions can, and do, vary. There is no need of monotony, for in amorous affairs, variety is the
spice of life. It is one ingredient that promotes sexual communion as partners seek to diversify, to
understand what and how and when and also where and why (and even why not)!

Yes, Frances missed the lovemaking of yesteryear. She felt very strongly that Martin had
become so obsessed with his journalistic efforts and his desire to be ‘better and more correct’
than his fellow journalists, that it had started affecting the remaining aspects of his life. Those
included his feelings for and towards her and consequently his lovemaking. He seemed unaware
of the effect on her. One reason could be the single-mindedness of his approach to his work,
another could be the fact that she did not show her lack of fulfillment since she ensured that he
was satisfied. Tonight, however, she felt differently, there was more than a burning desire to be
truly fulfilled and she felt that now she had an opportunity to try to recover some of what seemed
to have been lost. Martin had acknowledged his need for relaxation and his actions showed that
he was in need of a tonic. The both needed a tonic – SS Tonic, she would call it, sexual
satisfaction – and she was determined that they should take it at the first opportunity, which
would be...now!

Frances gently lifted Martin’s head from her lap. “Can you hold strain for a minute, love,
I need to go to the bathroom.” As she began to rise from the settee, she added, ‘I think I am going
to have a quick shower. It has been a bit of a hot and sticky day and I would like to freshen up’ ...
“for you”, she added silently. She got up and two steps into her trip to the bathroom she said.

“Say, why don’t you come and get one too, y’know, like we used to do before. That was always
special. However, if you’re too tired...” She paused and looked at him. “Boy, you really look
beat. Come, let me play nurse like you thought I might have been, and look after you tonight. Let
me see if I can revive your flagging spirits and put some energy into you. Afterwards, you might
feel better able to get back to your work.”

Martin did not disagree with Frances’s suggestion. Although he was a little slow in
getting to his feet, his eyes did begin to get a bit of a sparkle. Was he thinking about sharing the
bath with her, or was it the thought of her ‘looking after him’ which usually meant that he was
under her instruction, an obedient ‘patient’ being cared for by kindhearted ‘nurse’? If he became
rude or disobedient, that would bring out the ‘school teacher’ in her and he would be subject to
her discipline. He would be sure to get a good licking as well. Well, whatever was in store, he
would be ready to reciprocate. He would give every bit as much as he got. Life and marriage,
living and loving was not a one-way street, support and cooperation were necessary.

A perfect combination - water temperature, speed of water flow, setting of the showerhead, and a naked, slippery female body for him to glide his hands over. Wonderful! It always
excited him. From the first time when they were courting and he asked her whether he could rub
her back, and she consented...wow! At that time, they had been planning on going to the movies
and he was so anxious to give a good impression that he had arrived at her place some fifteen
minutes before the appointed time. She had been held up in traffic on her way home and was in a
bit of a rush to get ready so they would not be late. When she went to have her shower, he
mischievously asked, “Can I come and rub your back, it might speed things up?’ never expecting
to get the answer, “Yes”. Her surprising reply caused his heart to miss a beat and he wondered
how he could avoid getting wet. He decided he would remain outside the shower, being
protected by the shower curtain, stretch out his hand and offer a cursory rub of his sweetheart’s
upper back. As he took the proferred soap in his hand, Frances pulled the curtain right back with
a swish, grabbed his extended arm with both of hers and drew him fully under the spouting water
so that in the twinkling of an eye he was just as wet as she was.

“Oh, shit! Frances! What the hell are you doing! Now you got me all wet! We can’t go
anywhere like this.”

He started to fume. Frances said nothing. No words escaped her lips. All the lips did was
smile a mischievous smile. She took the soap which had fallen from Martin’s grasp and, looking
at him, she lathered her hands and slowly slid them, in turn, down her arms, across her chest,
taking her time to glide over its contours, circumnavigating each breast, passing longitudinally
over each nipple and equatorially across them both. She slowly covered the areolae, during which
time the nipples seemed to become more prominent. Martin’s eyes were transfixed. He seemed to
be in some kind of stupor for all he did was gaze.

“Come on, Sir Galahad, you did offer to rub my back didn’t you?” Handing him the soap,
she turned around to back him and spread her legs for stability on the shower tiles. With her heels
about eighteen inches apart, she bent forward and allowed her arms to hang vertically down. “Go
on, do what you wanted to do. Rub my back.”

For a moment, Martin hesitated. There was no way that he could go to the cinema in these
sopping clothes and there was no way he could hope to get a dry set of clothes in the time
available. So, practically, they wouldn’t be seeing any shows tonight. He looked at the pose
Frances had adopted so that he could rub her back and he had another tingle of excitement.
Seeing the two amply rounded cheeks of her bottom and the space between her legs – which he
had to admit began to send out an invitation to him, he decided how compensation could be
made for missing the movies.

“Now that you’ve got me all wet, I’ll have to take off these clothes or they’ll stick to me
and restrict my arm movement. What on earth possessed you to wet me up?”

“I’m not really sure. I suppose I just felt like it. It was a way, I guess, of easing some of
the tension of the day. I mean, I didn’t expect you to ask me if you could rub my back, so that
was a surprise and the idea just flashed into my mind to surprise you back and tell you ‘Yes’
partly to see what you would do.

“Why did you wet me up?”

“I guess you could say ‘The devil made me do it’! When I saw you stick your hand out
with the soap and tried to keep yourself from getting wet behind the curtain, I said to myself,
‘Frances, girl, let’s give Martin a complete surprise and a good soaking. Let’s see how he handles
this! It was more for amusement than anything else. Besides, after all the stress of work today
and especially getting through all that traffic, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for watching movies,
but I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“What are you in the mood for?” This was a sly question for Martin suspected the kind of
mood that she was in, given her earlier demonstration when she stood facing him and started to
soap her body.

“Well, I would actually prefer to spend the time relaxing here at home with you. I don’t
think I would really enjoy going to the cinema this evening but I know how keen you were to go
and, like I said, I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Just like a woman, knowing how to get her way without leaving any feasible options
open.”

“That’s not true! And it’s not fair to make such sweeping generalisations. I was planning
to go with you. It was your wanting to rub my back that changed every thing. And you said it
might speed things up. So let’s not waste time talking. Get on with your wish.”

Martin made a grumbling noise. Nevertheless, he took off his outer garments, now
well soaked, and clad only in his boxers, he lathered the soap on to the bath sponge and,
telling her to stand upright, he rubbed the back of her neck, her shoulders, upper back and both
arms. Next, moving to the waistline, he manoeuvred the sponge across the small of the back,
round the two ample cheeks that formed her bottom and then, in turn, down and around the
thighs and calves of both legs.

Martin then passed the sponge to Frances so that she could attend to those parts that she
had not yet bathed. He then, with the water running down her back used his hands in smooth
langorous movements to remove the soap from her body in the same order in which he had used
the sponge. Reaching her bottom, he ensured that the water trickled between the two imposing
cheeks and he very carefully used his hands to feel his way around. He was making doubly sure
that nothing soapy was left between. Certainly there was nothing soapy present, but he noted that
a certain cleft between Fran’s legs was not only wet but also slippery. His fingers moved back
and forth as if to remove the slipperiness but it seemed that he only made matters worse by so
doing.

The undergarment that Martin wore was not meant to be worn when wet and it was
beginning to cause him much discomfort. The discomfort was magnified because the material of
which it was made was not meant to be stretched, but this is what was happening. An enlarged
part of Martin’s body below his waistline was standing at right angles to his body and causing a
great deal of tension to be experienced by the inelastic fabric of the boxer shorts. Frances sensed
that help was needed and so she turned around to face Martin to see how she could bring some
relief to the situation.

She turned the water off. She slipped a finger of each hand inside the
waistband of the shorts and, easing the shorts over the swollen penis, she slid them down
Martin’s legs. All he had to do was to step out of them, which he did. He then looked at her and
she returned his gaze but did not say a word. He drew her gently to him, slicking the water from
her shoulders and arms. They embraced in a melting hug, one in which their bodies were pressed
close together. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest and she could feel his male
hardness twitching and touching her between her thighs. Pleasing sensations in her pubic area
began to escalate and her hand reached for the stiff organ rubbing against her leg. She took it and
with a gentle squeeze moved it back and forth along the outer lips of her wet and slippery
entrance. What delicious sensations assailed her with each movement up and down, up and
down! Martin could hardly control his sensational feelings, and was only able to gasp, “ Fran,
wait a minute, wait, wait!”

It could be that Frances had not heard, or it might have been that she was unable to
prevent the exquisite churning within her that dazzled her senses in an almost torturous
avalanche of feeling for she did not stop. Instead, she opened her mouth, not so much to speak
but to utter sounds of magic and groans of passion. She took Martin’s penis and almost shoved it
with great deftness into her wet and waiting vagina. Martin for his part could only embrace her
and move in unison with her. Her legs squeezed his legs so that he could, if he tried, move them
apart only with some difficulty. But, I ask you, what man whose legs are locked with those of a
woman in a sensuous embrace, would be seeking to displace them when in the tumultuous
ferment of sexual intercourse? Martin was not such a man and though he had, at first, been
seeking some respite from her swift and amorous ‘movementations’, he ‘declared his hand’ and
joined with her in what could be described as a deliciously delicate dance that left them both in a
climax of breathtaking bliss.

Like the first time they showered together, so many years ago, Frances was ahead of him,
and allowing the water to trickle down her body, soap in her hand. Unlike the first time, however,
Martin was appropriately dressed, or rather undressed, for this aqueous encounter. He took the
soap his wife proferred him and, in his customary, likeable manner, proceeded to cover her entire
body with lavender-scented lather, his hands moving slowly, almost like a langorous glide, along
the contours of her frame. While he gave adequate attention to the more public parts of her
anatomy, he showed a clear bias towards her breasts. For him, they were a handful which meant
that he could have complete control over them easily, just the right size in fact, and could, if a
fruitful description were to be made, be compared to large julie mangoes, not the small stringy
pa-wees that are so annoying when the “hair” gets between your teeth! When they are eaten,
those pa-wees could better be likened to another part of the female anatomy... Yes, those “juliemango” breasts, how he enjoyed feeling their texture when he cupped his hands to hold them, and the nipples–oh! It was always fascinating to see them enlarge.
In their rested state, they reminded him of the erasers that one used to see at the end of a lead pencil, almost cylindrical but
with the outermost end slightly curved. He would trail one or two fingers along the uppermost
surface of her breast and follow the ring of darker hue, that outlined the areola, and he would
know that her romantic interest was getting stronger when he noticed how the nipple would
expand and stiffen as if yearning for more attention.

He could never resist lowering his face to her bosom and, nuzzling the upper part of the breast with his nose,
then use the tip of his tongue to tickle and taste, to tantalize the entire nipple and then suck it into his mouth.
And how she would respond! When he used the tip of his tongue to flick swiftly backwards and forwards
across each nipple in turn, a squeal of delight, and a jump from her body would follow and he
could sense her trying her very best not to make a start every time his tongue did its tickling,
teasing, tantalizing tasting.

Yes, his tongue would play games with the nipples, first one then the other and sometimes he
would excite them both, one with the mouth and the other with the hand. Frances would
accentuate his pleasure by pushing her chest forward as if offering them in sacrifice to his mouth,
to be licked and lapped, and sucked and nibbled. Martin remembered how, as time went by and the breasts
developed in maturity, having been suckled by their two children, now grown and having their own children, the pertness of the
mango relaxed into the subtle shapeliness of the avocado pear. The firmness had given way to a
much softer tone. The response to the touch of his hands and fingers became more gradual yet
more exciting as his fingers could more readily make an impression on those lovely orbs. He
could jiggle them and hold them in such a way that the nipples could touch each other. He would
playfully set one breast against the other at one time, and then on another occasion, would make
them work in tandem so that he could put both nipples in his mouth simultaneously and move his
tongue across them alternatively. He loved to play breast games, he really did and Frances never
dissuaded him. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy what he did, except on occasion when he got
carried away his teeth would give a little nip which caused a sharp pain.

Sometimes Martin would just lie on the bed and watch her as she prepared herself for
sleep, or for love-making. After her shower, she would stand tall and erect and put her nightie on,
over her head. As she raised her arms and her bust lifted, the curves of her silhouette made an
artistic appeal to him. It made him want to touch her and enfold her in his arms and feel the
exciting energy that cause the goose-pimples on his body. He
pictured in his mind a cover he had seen on a LP record in which
two females, in some state of undress, seemed quite comfortable in
each other’s company. The title of the LP, “Music For Making
Love” made for various interpretations of the artwork, as it could be
suggestive in many ways. It could be that the person lying on the
bed was attracted by the upper frontal body of the woman who was
fixing her hair while sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. Isn’t
it easy to imagine the attractiveness of the female form, with soft
curves, undulations and pointedness in particular places. No wonder
women are used much more than men in advertisements! Just the shape and form of a woman
(mingled with other charming personal attributes) can appeal to the artistic mind, regardless of
gender. Women can appreciate the attractiveness of other women which can of course lead, in
time, to other deeper feelings. Martin wondered what kind of impact would be made if the cover
featured men, instead of women, in similar positions, and with the same title!

He didn’t wonder for too long, because the lady in front of him was beginning to have a
certain kind of impact on him, an impact he felt needed his whole attention, and hers as well.
Frances had turned her back to him with her feet encouragingly spread, generously more than
shoulder-width apart. She bent forward, allowing her arms to fall downwards at her sides. The
water from the shower landed in the middle of her spine and trickled past the small of her back
and between the cheeks of her posterior.

Martin would always tease her about this suggestive and highly arousing position, one in
which her sexual opening could just be seen below the rounded contours of her appealing
bottom. Its magnetism attracted him so strongly that it was all he could do not to advance upon
her and plunge his firm erect penis straight into that inviting body space. Over time, he had
learned to control himself. He had mastered the urgent inclinations, so often present in youthful
explorations, to enter such enticing entrances unceremoniously and not being able to draw out the
heavenly nectar awaiting the experienced artisan. Oh, the thrill that sparked the numerous nerve
endings of his solid shaft. The sight of Frances, whose legs formed something like an inverted
“V” with a centre of attraction just below the vertex of the alphabetic character, inflamed his
feelings and his approach to her was a determined one.

Placing both hands on her hips, he positioned himself directly behind her and made
smooth circular movements with his palms along her thighs as though massaging the ITB of her
upper legs. Frances straightened up and leaned forward so as to touch the wall in front of her, her
upper body inclined at about ten degrees to the vertical while her legs remained almost
perpendicular to the floor. Martin moved his left arm so his fingers could touch and manipulate
Frances’s bust. He dipped his knees slightly and , holding his now throbbing member, positioned
it between her legs, the head pushing through the shrubbery of pubic hair to reach her vulva and
inner lips. He moved it backwards and forwards, the trickle of water helping to accentuate the
feelings generated by his skillful probing. Frances started to move her hips, matching the
movement of the enlarging penis as it slid along the outside of the equally enlarging slit. She
took one hand from the wall and, finding the hand that held the instrument of delight, guided it,
not along the outside of the sensuous cavern, but inside her now slippery channel.

Martin, now greatly energized by the female hand on his wet, stiff, probing digit, began to thrust inward and
upward with greater rhythm. Frances matched him stroke for stroke: when he pushed forward,
she moved her hips forward, when he made his downstroke she followed suit, moving backwards
so that no contact was lost, it didn’t come out. But they were both no match for the excitement of
the encounter and the strength of their bodies. Before long, they had to pause, not only to catch
their breath but to ease the stresses on their not-quite-so-young bodies.

“Oh my goodness!”, Frances spluttered, “this isn’t good for this old body. I mean...” she
gasped, “this is a good feeling, a damn good feeling, but we can’t continue this way otherwise
we’ll pass out. Boy, you still know how to do a thing or two!”

“Girl, you still know how to turn on the engine and get my piston moving! But, you’re
right, our bodies can’t do it the way we used to do it once upon a time. We are going to have to
get horizontal so we have some support for these backs and hips.”

Martin and Frances lightly towelled each other and made their way to the bedroom. Once
there, they resumed their amorous activities not quite as before but in a mix of vertical and
horizontal attitudes. This came about when Frances, on entering their place of nightly rest,
flopped on her back on the bed with her legs hanging down to the floor. Martin, in a moment of
mock beastliness, let out an animal sounding growl and the words, “I’m hungry! I’m a big bad
wolf and I am going to eat you! Roar!” He pretended as though he was going to throw himself on
her.

Frances could hardly contain her laughter. Saying, “I didn’t know that wolves roared, she
made a somewhat feeble attempt to avoid the lunge that the bid bad wolf was seemingly about to
make and lifted both legs simultaneously in the air. As she did so, she once again revealed an
inviting pair of lips peeking out from a thin covering of curly brown hair. The effect on the big
bad wolf was immediate. He caught the airborne legs, held them for a moment while looking
down and between them at a glistening opening. Placing the legs on his shoulders, he lowered
himself to his knees at the side of the bed, and looking forward, he slowly moved his head
towards the junction of his lady’s legs. A low but gentle growl escaped his lips. “I think I really
will eat you, and right now too!”

His victim did not seem to mind one bit. In fact she seemed delighted at this outcome for she
moved her body towards the source of the growl and opened her legs even wider to received the
tongue and lips of the growler.

It was a slow and deliberate performance. The earlier activity in the bathroom had taken
away some of their energy and there was a need for reconstitution. Frances lying on her back
with her eyes closed rested her head on her folded arms placed so as to support her neck. She
seemed calm and comfortable, yet little twitches and slight shivers indicated that she was being
aroused and was satisfied by the tiny currents which seemed to flow all around her. Perhaps they
emanated from her centre of sexual attraction, perhaps from some other part of her body. It didn’t
matter, the main thing was that she was experiencing joyful tingles at a rate which kept her in a
continuous euphoric state. She really was enjoying the manipulation of her clitoris, her labia and
the inside of her vagina by finger, by fingers, by hand and by mouth and lips and tongue,
touching here, tasting there and kissing almost everywhere. She could not keep her body still.
Even though her movements were limited by the way Martin held her thighs and drew her bottom
close to him, the tingles of excitement caused some movement, infinitesimal in amplitude, yet
enormous in sensation. She could feel her muscles wanting to contract, wanting to relax. They
were like little earth tremors occurring rapidly, acting like preludes to the buildup of a massive
earthquake that would no doubt shudder and shake, causing convulsion and eruption and some
sort of pandemonium.

Yet Martin’s delicate probings and gentle rubbings with his fingers did not create such a
commotion. The glow and feeling as one or two, perhaps three, of his fingers entered her and
walked and danced inside her simply, but excruciatingly, intensified her pleasure in everincreasing waves of blissful ecstasy. Her feelings did not remain in any one spot, but from that
one spot, took many journeys across the length and breadth of her body. Her lungs gasped for air
as though she was at an elevation several thousand feet above sea level, her heart beat with the
apparent speed of a runaway train, as though seconds were really milli-seconds. Her brain and
mind pictured graphic images at the rate of hundreds of frames a second and not just 24 as
might be seen on a cinema screen. Her body seemed to loose all weight, so gravity had no effect
and thus she was able to float on Cloud 9 into Seventh heaven. She was on high as wave after
wave of pleasure astounded her. She opened her eyes and could not believe that Martin was in
her; she felt no weight, no movement outside of her, it was as if he was truly in her and they had
become one, a unity in harmony or harmony in unity. This was what togetherness felt like, when
two become one, completely united and fulfilled. It was not a question of one following the
other. They were simply but fully enjoined. He was with her and in her completely and when the
supreme moment of orgasmic pleasure came it was with an unparalleled sensation of
togetherness. Their entire body was electrified. They were transported to another dimension,
calmly but numbingly excited. It was like getting the complete feeling without having to do the
physical 'movementations', like enjoying the most sumptuous repast without the gain of a single
calorie.
Making love when you are older can be much more satisfying without the energetic motions of
youthful enthusiasm. Which is more fun, you might ask, the activities involved in getting there,
or the pleasures of having arrived there? Perhaps it is age-dependent. You won’t know until you
have been able to experience both, like Martin and Frances did.