The sky was dotted with light cloud, the sunrise illuminated the clouds on the horizon with a silver-gilt glow that grew more intensely yellow and gold as I drove down the dual carriageway towards my client’s offices.
It’s the little things that often inspire me, and that sunrise, or more specifically the beauty of it really moved me. If I’d captured the image on camera you’d have sworn it had been filtered, processed and photoshopped to hell. It was that exquisite. It silhouetted a row of electricity pylons, striding across the ridgeline, but even their intrusive industrial forms couldn’t detract from the wonderful natural spectacle.
The nature of the light, its smooth yellow-white silky texture, reminded me of spring sunrises in the Mediterranean that only hold that colour for a few brief moments, before the intensity of the sun begins to warm the earth with a vigour that England only experiences occasionally. The light lasted longer than it would in the Med and the outside temperature was most definitely British, above freezing, but biting nonetheless.
Once moved, my mind was lodged in a field on a sunny Tuscan hillside and even now, at lunchtime, no amount of cold wind and increasingly cloudy skies will dislodge it.
Normally a “Drive” story would be about someone I had seen and a scenario I had built from observing them during my daily commute. Today is different, today it’s about me. And because it’s about me it’s about Suzanne too, because we are two halves of the same whole, indivisible.
To be warmed by the warm sun closer to the equator while lying next to Suze is something that I dearly wish I could make happen. Alas finances will not allow it at present so this little fantasy will have to suffice.
I want us to be staying in a secluded farmhouse, not shared with others, just the two of us. I want to spend a couple of weeks alone with Suze, except for occasional visits to the local village (which will of course be charming and picturesque) for provisions. It would be surrounded by olive trees and possible vines, ridiculously clichÃ©d but indulge me here. The cool nights would be spent by a wood-burning stove huddled under blankets. The days would be spent walking, talking, taking in he scenery and making love. Did I mention we’d be doing that under the blankets next to the log-burner at night too? I think you probably guessed :).
Anyway, I have this picture, a little scene of us on the hillside, nothing but the occasional highly stylish bird to disturb us. Yes even the birds have Armani feathers in my Italy and they fly to a Vivaldi soundtrack. Then there’s the picnic, the highlight being olives for me, sadly Suze doesn’t do olives but I make up for it eating far too many. I prefer Greek olives, but Italian are a close second, so I grit my teeth and put up with eating my second favourite olives in the entire world and doing my best to help the local vintners cash flow.
Suze is wearing a cotton summer dress, the sort that makes an already feminine woman like Suze jaw-droppingly, knee-tremblingly, breathtakingly sexy. You know what I mean,you turn away because you realise you’re staring, only to find your gaze drawn back like a galaxy to a black hole. When you’ve looked once, every moment that goes by makes it more difficult to look away because like a singularity she slowly draws you in and as part of you becomes part of her the attraction becomes stronger. And there’s an event horizon, that point beyond which even by expending an infinite amount of energy you could not escape from your fate of becoming one with her without annihilating yourself in a final burst of light1
Or is that just the way I feel about Suze.
Anyway, we’re savouring our wine as the sun makes its way from its zenith to the horizon and in a slow languorous way we begin to touch. It’s gentle, loving at first, the comfortable touches of two people with total trust in one another. When our hands stray to sensitive, sensual regions it’s with the surety of a couple who have seen, smelt, touched and tasted every millimetre of the other’s body. We have no secrets from each other but that doesn’t mean the thrill isn’t as intense as the first time. It’s just different, instead of the adrenalin of a first encounter the endorphins flow, fuelled by the memories of innumerable encounters over the years we have together.
In our own time we begin to expose our flesh to the warm air and golden sun. There’s a delightful thrill about unfastening your lovers clothes, for you and for them. The unbuttoning of a shirt, the unfastening of a clasp, sliding the waistband of a skirt, dress or even jeans over a woman’s hips. I know that a woman has wider hips for the very practical purpose of childbirth but at times like this you could almost imagine that they were that wide to ensure you get that wiggle as a woman slides out of her clothes. Yes, I know it’s actually the hard-wired into men, broader hips means a female more suited to childbirth, but knowing that doesn’t make shapely hips less attractive. Size zero, boy-like models, no thank you!
I’m naked now on my haunches, she’s sat beside me still wearing her bra and briefs. CFNM? Almost and not for long anyway, because with a well-practiced one-handed action I unclip her bra. There’s another little move, this one is one that mother nature didn’t build into woman, the bra wiggle as she shrugs it from her shoulders and uncovers her beautiful breasts.
She’s a little breathless, we don’t have this time at home, it never takes this long even in our most laid-back moments. We don’t rush sex, unless there’s a sudden danger of discovery, but this has gone on for hours, the slow build up to what we both want. I’m proud and she’s moist, I feel it as I slip the gusset of her briefs to one side and gently explore the pouting folds of her labia.
She takes me in her hand and slides the skin up and down my shaft, rubbing the end of my cock with her thumb, spreading the pre-cum around it. We’re both ready and while we could take even longer, postpone the moment, we both need it now.
She rolls onto her stomach and slides her knees under her stomach, head to one side, cheek resting on the grass, presenting her pussy to me. I pull her briefs to one side and rest the tip of my cock on her opening. I pause a moment, considering if this isn’t too normal, doggy? It isn’t, it’s what we both need, a deep hard fuck.
I slide in and stop only when I’m pressed against her buttocks, cock buried inside her. Like the foreplay I take it slow, but not that slow, I can feel she is cumming only a few moments after I enter her. She’s been ready for so long. I let that orgasm subside, not attempting to prolong it by angling for her G-Spot with my cock. Her moans tell me she’s not disappointed by this.
Then I build up the pace and stimulation, grasping her waist and thrusting ever harder, no complaints from her. I change my rhythm just slightly and the angle a fraction. I feel it building again, and with hers my orgasm approaches too. At first the whisper of iron wheels on rails miles away, but an express approaching that bursts forth in a roaring ejaculation. I growl and she wails as I pump my issue inside her. She slides forward and I slide on top of her, still inside her, pinning her to the ground. Ever so gently biting her neck.
1: Yes electromagnetic radiation can escape from a black hole just from inside the event horizon because photons are quantum in nature and can therefore exist both inside and outside the event horizon at the same time. I believe that was proven by Stephen Hawking in his paper “Quantum Phenomena, Gravity Wells and why Suzanne’s Boobs Are So Suckable” 1996. But hey you wanted to hear about boobies not the uncertainty principle, right?