Chapter 4

Nobody raced down the hill, except Bruno and Baja, and they weren’t racing each other, but the sun was going down quickly, and the smoke from the chimneys was rising; John would have had the Housekeeper light the fires and arrange a late lunch; Broth, cheese, ham, pickles and home-made bread with a couple of bottles of English Beer; what we call Real Ale. I’d no idea whether Tanya had savoured any of this stuff but she was about to have the ‘experience-of-a-lifetime’.

Sure enough, it was all there in the Study, on a small table, pulled-central to the fire, between two Wing Chairs, complete with pewter tankards, and he’d arranged a pot of coffee, in-behind, with cake and biscuits.

Sometimes there’s more communication in silence than with words and we’d reached that stage in surprisingly quick-time: we’d had our lunch and were sipping coffee when Tanya broke the silence; “You probably think I really am a whore; all I’ve spoken about is sex and how I’ve opened my body to revolting men. Do you?”

“No… no, I don’t. I might question your judgement and your taste but I know what love can do to a man and can imagine what it’ll do to a woman: it’s not always logical, but I feel for you and see it scarring you for the rest of your life. To coin a phrase; and I’m serious here, ‘Can you handle it?’”

“I don’t know.”

“We do need to know, right?”

“Sure.”

“Well, you know, you’ve eaten all the fucking biscuits and there’s not an ounce of fat on you!”

“Hahahaha; ohhhh: you’re just awful; absolutely terrible!”, at this she burst into an odd combination of uncontrollable laughter and tears; but they were tears of joy coupled with heaving sobs punctuated by giggles, chuckles and strenuous endeavours to control her emotions; so much so I worried she might choke and there’d be some explaining to do!

Nonetheless, I’d never made love with my boots on; I’d almost died that way, but had never ‘lived that way’ until Tanya came onto me that afternoon. She stopped, erm, can’t really describe, in a word, what she had been doing, but you get the idea, and, after placing her arms on the sides of her chair, she slid-onto her knees and duck-walked-over to rest between my legs.

At first, her eyes focused on mine: then she leaned forward, laid her arms along my thighs, turned her head, placed her ear on my lap and stroked my growing erection with her cheek; I saw, again, the tears form and, this time, roll over the bridge of her nose to drip onto my breeches; just letting the scene sit: watching; waiting; at-the-ready.

Soon, two things crossed my mind: first, she’d gone to sleep; and, second, I’d died and gone to heaven but, mercifully, both were wrong: then, Tanya stirred, rolled her head so her lips were on my crotch, which she mouthed over my tweeds. Things inside were getting tight but it was vital to hold-station, and then, this amazing woman, found my extra-large zipper, with a leather toggle attached to make it easier to undo in the cold, bit into it and slid it open.

At this point, she looked very pleased with herself, reminding me of a trainee-gun-dog returning with its first ‘Kill’; both she, and I, were proud of her initiative, with me saying, ‘Good-girl’, intended, and received, without any patronisation: she responded by nuzzling the contents and stimulating more expansion.

Whereupon my own endeavours kicked-in; desirous of leaving her arms along my thighs, I undid my belt, made a small adjustment to my underpants, from where my trouser-snake sprang to freedom seeking a pipe in which to hide; it was soon lured into a dark-cave-like orifice: Tanya had won.

The rest is less-than academic: but, suffice it to say, the experience was warm, wet, soft, sensuous and there was evidence of a strong vacuum being pulled around my dick as it slipped further into her throat until my groin meshed with her lips. My job was to experience; Tanya had made that clear by implication; ‘her role was to give: mine to receive’; what remained unstated was her hope that I’d deliver: this happened when, as Samuel Pepys might have put it, ‘an enormous ejaculation spiked my soul, rocked my body, exploded my brain and emptied my scrotum when an eruption of significant proportions squirted down her throat’, but she’d kept some in her mouth, from where, to the delight of her and me, she rose to meet my lips, pass it over and share it.

The kiss that followed ran a close second to this act because it was long and firm and passionate; it was tender and it was done in the name of love.

“I asked you to make love with me.”

“It’s happening.”

At that, Scene 1 came to an end; so, I banked the fire and started to undress her; eyes-on-eyes, she stood passively while each garment was stripped away; on each removal I kissed her; first, her eyes, her lips, neck, then, when she cupped her breasts, nibbled her nipples as she caught them between forefinger-and-thumb, rolling them around, causing them to fill, swell, colour-up and extend. Her pussy was bare; well-shaved, stubble-free, the labia were fleshy; firm but swollen and secreting juice; my tongue lapped it away. Tanya was standing with her legs slightly ajar; her breathing was steady and there were faint marks, front and back, showing where she’d been flogged.