Hannah looked at the canvas she had placed on the easel before her, the noisy bustle of fellow artists in the club failing to distract her as she cast a critical eye over what was still a work in progress. It had been started during her break at the family’s holiday home in Northern Spain; ‘Quinta Virgia’ the place that she and her late husband, Stephen Randall, had converted into a large family home that also had space to allow others to stay in what became holiday lets and the income used to defray some of the costs of keeping the property.
That she had also used it to pursue an unlikely, but tempestuous and intense, short-lived, affair with her housekeeper’s son was never to be spoken of. She had found the resolve to tell Manolo that she would not submit to him were they ever to meet at the house again.
She had then been dismayed by the news from her housekeeper, Helena, that her son was to marry a girl he had met during his continuing army service. With that news came the realization that not only would she not have to worry about his pursuit of her, were they to meet at Quinta Virgia, but that she had also been seduced by a lusty and deceitful charmer.
She had been taken out of her moments of introspection and she had pursued her art with renewed enthusiasm. But the news that she had been duped, or that she had succumbed to a man with whom she had loved, had pursued sex unlike anything she had known of with her Stephen, had brought her up short.
Perhaps that was why the painting before her was looked at with a more than critical eye, The brush strokes were more imprecise, hasty, even wild, and she now realized that it had begun at a time in her life when everything was still so unsettled; that too much emotion, and uncommonly pleasurable frictions with a much younger man, had affected her work.
“Not anymore,” she muttered and began to gather up her paints and brushes, and put them away in her artist’s box, a wheeled contraption that saved her too much lifting in and out of her car.
“Hannah!” she heard a familiar voice call out to her and turned to see Tony Marshall’s beaming smile. It was only too clear that he was pleased to see her.. No one knew, quite, what the man before her did to make a life for himself, but he was successful and confident and seemed thoroughly at ease in his dressed-down ways as he attended the art club. He had money to live well and still have time to pursue a hobby that someone in the group had told her earned Tony some money as a reward for his efforts. He lowered his voice as they drew close. “I have missed seeing you. The others are so intense we scarcely say anything to each other while we work. You’re different…”
Well!” was all she could find to say in reply, somewhat dismayed by his directness. “I have been away and now I’m glad to be back. It has been a struggle to get back my enthusiasm for painting…” She spoke of it as she pointed at the work in progress on the easel. “I can’t get this right at all.”
Without warning he took the brush that she held in one hand. “The horizon’s not quite right, Hannah…it should be here. Let me show you…”
His voice was considerate, not hectoring, and she watched the ease in his movements as he worked on her picture.
“Gosh! I never thought I would miss something so simple,” she confessed as Tony stepped away from the easel before taking the brush and filling in the space left by the few brush strokes that he had achieved, his deep voice heard in commenting upon her work but not critically. She also felt his closeness, his presence at her side making real the feeling she had been possessed by as she had caught him looking her way across the crowded hall from time to time over the two hours of the art club’s gathering. It was as if, she now thought, that he was watching over her or that any past interest, whenever they met, could now be made more real. She was ‘free’ now, after all, and now she could not help but think of what lay behind that look of his upon her.
“Your mind has been on other things but I hope that you are through those difficult times.”
His stilled gaze provoked an answer, but she wondered just what to say. He had been discreet, yet attentive, through the most difficult of times for her; moments when she had struggled to pick up the pieces of her life and sought to resume some normality of her day-to-day existence. The recent trip to Spain had only served to arouse a tumult of conflicting emotions, the impetuosity of taking a young lover and thinking of that time as a waymark to where she now wanted to be. Had he picked up on all, or some. of that in her withdrawn ways of it and yet remained discreetly silent?
“Yes, I’m through those times,” she chose to confess, beginning to gather up her painter’s things as they chatted. “I realized while I was away, and then in the days afterward, that I had to move on…”
Tony was discretion in offering a fleeting touch to her arm, a touch that provoked her to take a sharp intake of breath. “Will you let me be the one to help you with that? I’ve been like the shopper looking in at the window and liking what I see. It made me wonder if there was anyone else, since…?”
“No, or no one who would offer any future,” she answered only too truthfully and wished to change the subject. “It’s not something to talk of now…not here.
He stepped away as others sought to move past and jostled them as a flash of lightning, the rumble of thunder, and its echoing boom reached them along with the drumming beat of the sudden downpour. It broke the sudden sense of tension that had arisen between them. She resumed her task of gathering up her things.
“I took a chance in walking here with my artist’s trolley,” she muttered, distracted as much by the noise of the storm as by what he had just asked of her as the rain was heard battering the roof lights overhead. “Now listen to the weather.”
“It’s certainly bucketing down,” he agreed, and on looking across at her. “I could give you a lift home if that helps?”
“It would, thanks!” she laughed softly and held his gaze upon her. “We can talk some more.”
“Good. I wondered how it would happen, how I’d get the chance to do that. I’ll get my gear. I’ve not gotten as far as I hoped but there were other things on my mind…”
“Don’t say it, Tony,” she whispered even as she knew what had been left unsaid.
“I won’t, as you’ve heard almost all of it from me now.”
♥
How strange and also exciting she felt, so suddenly, to have the prospect of having a man in the house again and more than two years since her Stephen was alive and his presence felt in every room of their home.
The feeling now is different. It is one of expectation that has welled up in her belly out of nothing more than to have him beside her as they arrived at her home. It still felt so empty just as her life so often felt and that the distractions pursued in her holiday home, with her opportunistic Spanish lover, failed to erase. Now, she was with an older and ruggedly handsome man; with someone unmistakably engaged with her and with no ties to anyone else, just as she was, now, if her memories could be put to one side and she lived for the here and now.
“You know, I did wonder about what excuse I would have to find to do this, to be with you outside the limits of the art group. I realize now that I needn’t have worried…”
“I could have said no, ‘no thank you’,” she answered, with a pouted smile, and yet realizing the circumstances were only too prosaic. She too had wondered about whether it might happen between them; how she would be drawn into finding time to be with the man who now switched off the car’s engine and leaned forward to gaze up at the torrent of rain that pelted onto the car’s roof and drummed on it as the wind gusted.
“I’ll help you carry your stuff inside…”
“And we’ll both get wet!” she laughed in dismay that he should suggest it.
The way that she now felt had her believing that anything could happen; one thing could so easily lead to another. What had happened in Quinta Virgia, in her holiday home set on a wooded coastline and overlooking the Bay of Biscay, could stay there. But to succumb to Tony’s whiles, and here in only too familiar surroundings? That was something else, but she needed that ‘something’; the company of a man who would keep her grounded in a more common reality and one to be understood if, and whenever, their relationship became known.
“I’ll risk it. Now come on!”
Laughing out in dismay she dashed round to the back of his car and felt the rain beating down upon her as the artist’s trolley was removed, somehow. She was only too aware that her thin blouse was getting soaked, her hair slicked down, and that brushing a hand through it, or tugging at her blouse, made not the slightest difference to how she would appear to his gaze. And that wondering gaze was upon her as he took hold of the cart and lifted it from the ground, before following her in scurrying steps over the graveled drive, then the path, to the front door.
“Damn it! I should have got the keys out before we left the car!” she muttered, the porch canopy offering them little shelter.
“Let me!” he commanded and she watched as he reached out to unlock the door and she stumbled inside, her shoes squelching on the boarded floor. She kicked them off as she gazed back at him, Tony’s shirt clinging to his broad chest and strong arms, his skin glistening and his short greying hair slicked down. He gazed at her approvingly and she felt weak from what that look upon her suggested. She felt it too, the sudden and urgent ache of longing.
His gaze upon her now was only too approving and she saw the pout of his lips, both suggestive and desiring.
“You look wonderful, Hannah…wild and wonderful in your wet clothes!”
She heard it in his voice but was given no time to answer or to give voice to what she had seen of him. His arms went about her shoulders before one traced a path over her back as she was pulled against him, wet clothes on wet clothes; bodies shaped by clinging cotton that left nothing for them to imagine.
Wild open-mouthed kisses were pursued, and a moment’s hesitancy in her embrace soon eased away by the deep purpose of his kisses that were to silence any objections she might have for what was to be pursued between them. She became lost in the moment, clutched his body as Tony pressed his lips to the rounded swell of her breasts, shaped so enticingly by the wet fabric of her blouse, a thin brassiere to be seen, and his touches to them hardening her nipples. She looked down approvingly, stroked his head, and gave in to the quick rushes of pleasure that his claims upon her aroused.
“Tell me if I should stop…that I want too much and so soon.” He kissed her, cupping her face in his hands and gazing into her eyes.
“I will…in an hour or two!”
They fumble at their sodden clothes and hold each other’s admiring looks as they slop onto the floor and bodies are revealed to their gaze and questing touches. She wants to succumb to the impetuosity of the moment and shivers from the lack of finesse in his touches, his kisses to her buttocks as she leads the way up the narrow stairs, feels how ready she already is as he tugs aside her panties to caress her slicked heat with his fingers and sliding over her crack. She lingers at the top of the stairs as he sucks and kisses her buttocks, his hands smoothing caresses over her belly. She reaches out behind her to grab his head and to still these claims upon her. The thunder and lightning boom and flash, the rumble of sound long and without any real pattern. It is just as she now feels, a man she knows, and has always sensed his attraction to her, now claiming a body that he must have imagined was covered by her only to workaday artist’s clothes.
“We need to dry off!” she exclaims, exulting in his embrace as Tony draws her to him and silences anything more she wants to say with kisses. His penis presses against her belly and she grips it, rubbing the damp fabric of his briefs over its length. “My room’s in there!”
He ignores where she points and follows, his fingers unhooking her bra and his hands claiming the heavy tumble of her breasts. He hears her soft groan of surrender to his ways. “Every moment counts, every one of them.”
“Yes, so it seems,” she replies, squirming free of his hold on her and grabbing a towel off the rail, the rub of the cloth over her skin, over her rain-soaked hair that soon gives it a wild look, a bob-cut tangle of straw-blonde strands that she fingers out. She rubs the cloth over his head and can do no more, for he has knelt before her and tugged down her panties, trailed kisses over her belly and thighs before kissing his way up until he nuzzles kisses to her crack.
The towel falls onto his shoulders but he is oblivious to that as she grabs his head and guides his claims on her pussy, putting one leg on his shoulder to open the way. “I can’t stop you, so…so go on!”
His hands knead her buttocks as Tony draws her to his face, and trails long, slow slicks of his tongue over her pussy’s lips that have begun to swell and open the way to the probing flicker of his tongue. She has learned so much of these ways from her Spanish lover and will be able to reciprocate, to use her mouth and tongue on Tony; he’s a man with whom she can pursue a credible relationship and not the frenzied ruts with an opportunistic lover that belonged to another time and place and is never to be repeated.
“Take me, but not here!” she commands, tugging on his hair and coaxing him to stand up and be embraced. She shudders on feeling his state of arousal, and squirms in response to the press of his penis against the curve of her belly, then between her legs in slow caresses to her enervated skin. She feels so wet, her thighs slicked. Neither has given a hint of what was at work in them before now.
“I’ve wanted to be with you like this, for so long, but knew that the time had to be right for you.”
The backs of his hands slide over her tummy then move to caress her breasts, his touches arousing shivers of longing and the clamp of her hands to his buttocks as he draws her back into the hallway in slow shuffling steps, their kisses and caresses not slowing their progress. She shivers on feeling to brush of his chest hair over her nipples. The caress of his body against her is a slow and considered awakening of his need to know of her.
She is lifted against him and gasps at the discovery of his strength to do so, from feeling the brush of his penis over her pussy’s lips as he stumbles into the bedroom, with her in his arms, and his body embraced by her legs. Each step is accompanied by the insistent press of his penis against her skin; that erect flesh ending in the slicked, domed, tip, that provocatively presses against her opening.
“Let me see you!” she calls out, hoarsely, dismayed at what she has felt and now wants to see. The pensive craggy-faced man, with his undoubted artistic skills, is in pursuit of her in desiring ways that were so sublimely unexpected.
And there it is, his arcing prick with its glistening tip, domed and moist with pre-cum, his thoughts of going with her bringing him on beyond her controlling ways, even if she had them. She sits on the edge of her bed, this man before her, and she slides her caressing hands over it; squeezes on the wrinkled skin of his heavy sac and she trails her lips over the sides. Her tongue slicks over the hard veins that distort the skin until it swirls over the tip, Tony’s hands not easing her in these claims but prolonging them.
It’s all so wanton and brazen, so unrehearsed and unexpected.
His groans of approval spur her on and she slowly sucks, buries him in her mouth, and works his length unhindered by the hands she feels in her wet hair, the press of them that encourage her to take him deeper. She choked and pushed away, just enough, not to interrupt her taking of him in this way; in an act of foreplay, she would have reserved for other times when they had begun to know of each other’s preferences. But lust drives them both on.
Months of denial, and her readiness to move on from all that has gone before, make her actions more intense and purposeful.
“Stop, you darling woman!” he groans, “I don’t want to lose it in this way! Stop, Hannah…stop!”
“I won’t mind it!” she gasps in dismay as her actions have tipped him over the edge. Warm clammy cum spurts from his jerking penis and splatter on her face and chest as he tries to draw away from her. She feels wanton and in control; jerks him off and marvels at the strength in the erect flesh that she works with both hands. She meets his wondering stare and smiles. The woman in the art class, so refined and polite, has become someone else; wanton and passionate; good with her hands and mouth.
“You wonder…you passionate wonder!” he says, gripping her chin as she looks up at him. “Now it’s my turn.”
“Go on!” she cannot keep from calling out as Tony pushes her back onto the bed and goads her to open the way to his touches, fingers her slicked snatch as he bends over her to kiss and swirl his tongue in her mouth. Tony then trails kisses down her body, tugs and sucks on her nipples before gliding his moist lips over her tummy in slow-sucking kisses before she feels his breaths tease her pussy’s lips. She can’t keep from bucking her hips to meet these claims which he seems to enjoy. She judders as his tongue tip teases her clit, and flickers, as his lips seem to enfold her slicked warmth, his tongue then darting and circling before the claims change and she feels fingers enter her vagina and probe rhythmically as he sucks on one nipple then the other. She’s lost in a harmony of claims upon her body and mind that make her writhe underneath him, to claw at his body and to seek progress to where she wants him to be; to fully claim her. After years of loyalty to one man, of being a dutiful mother to her children, she has become someone else; a woman who has had two lovers and is determined to live on, passionately and differently.
“No more of that!” she yelps as fingers seem to fill her, as they move to mimic the act, gliding in and out of her body as pulses of wanton pleasure course through her body in drugging waves.
She will lose it if he goes on in his admiring and persuasive ways of it, a kiss or lustful look not so far away when he gazes up at her, the warm skin of her thighs brushing his face as his mouth resumes pleasuring her. He’s fucking her with his fingers and mouth and she sinks back onto the bed and submits to the shattering rushes of an orgasm, his grip on her thighs tightening and his mouth and tongue prolonging the raging rushes of surrender to his ways.
Her groans of pleasure are silenced by his kisses as Tony’s fingers finally leave her body. She can taste herself on his lips and reaches for him as she feels the domed head of his penis brush against her slit, slowly probing as if to seek entry. She lifts her hips from the bed even as Tony kneels between her thighs and pulls on her hips, slowly rocks his hips forward, and enters her body in a slow, unhindered, glide that stretches her before she bucks her hips to meet his long, searching and plumbing thrusts. Her gasps turn to halt breaths of dismay at the sensuality of what he does, his hands gripping her hips as Tony draws her onto him in time with each thrust.
“You’ve got me wanting you so badly!” he kisses, his lips sinking onto her jerking breasts that she holds to meet his kisses. She then clings to his neck to look down at what is being done to her.
“I can feel you…feel you so deep!” she groans as he slowly begins to plumb and stretch her, to fuck her body and she feels so full of him; languishes in the slow pleasure of his claims upon her and the responses of her body, how she tugs on him with clamping muscles that last brought pleasure to another man that was only too animalistic in its intent. Now, she feels as if Tony wants to make love to her. “Go on. Don’t stop…not now!”
“I have to. You feel much too good to end it so quickly!” he kisses, leaning in to do so and his hands gripping her breasts and drawing each to a point so that he can tug on her hard nipples. He kept dipping his hips, thrusting deep into her and withdrawing, his rhythm ragingly pleasurable and arousing responses that had her clinging to him as if to do so would make them become one.
She arches her back to better accept him as he grips her hips and trusts deeply into her. She feels so full of him as he takes her and yelps in surprise as Tony slowly slides out of her and flops back on the bed, shoves his feet into the covers, and moves away.
“I was getting so close!” she grumbles.
“And I want it for longer!”
She crouches over him and takes delight in what she sees arcing out from his belly. Brazenly, she straddles his hips, delighting in the leanness of his body so masculine with its greying chest hair and the spiral that drifts down to his groin and all that he brings to her. She grips that hard length of flesh and brushes its tip over her slit before she settles on it, feels it slide into her slicked heat in a purposeful thrust that makes her gasp. She pinches the skin of his chest and adjusts to the new sensations that his taking of her in this way now arouses.
She tamps down; he fills her until she feels him tapping her deepest sanctuary. They pant as the rhythm becomes frenetic and the sound of skins slapping against each other reaches them. She’s become lost in the maelstrom of emotions that giving herself to a man, yet again, has aroused in her. She doesn’t feel used but desired. Tony’s far from selfish and she feels it in everything that they seek from each other.
“Go on!” she yelped, feeling as if she had been speared as the head of his penis rubbed and probed, moving slowly before a deeper thrust followed. She had been claimed and felt uncommonly thrilled to be with this attentive but now greedy man. He was hitting the mark, her body spasming as her pussy’s walls conveyed the pleasure that he brought to the rest of her body and mind. Penetration was an exquisite feeling in itself but, with Tony, it felt exquisite and beyond compare.
“It’s been awhile,” he kissed and he met her wondering look, shared in slow kisses as they each read acceptance in the other’s eyes. “I’ve missed the heat and the touch of another, like this.”
She feels her belly begin to glow, the first cramps of another impending orgasm welling up inside of her. His grip on her hips is unrelenting and demanding as he guides her in their shared movements, his penis seeming to swell and her muscles beginning to ache as she too loses control as they move to a raging conclusion.
‘Hannah!” he yells and busks his hips to meet her downward slumps and the beguiling rhythm of her bucking hips, the tug on his prick insatiable as wad after wad of his sperm finally erupts from his penis with each stroke that she makes on him.
“Yes me too! How crazy to have found this with you!” she yelps in dismay yet leaning back on outstretched arms and having his prodding prick find her until she is drawn down to him. She languishes under his kisses and shivers in harmony as they realize what they have discovered and then pursue.
“Welcome to a new life,” he kisses and caresses her body, but now in admiring and attentive ways. His lust for her has been met, satisfied, and is now calmed. “One storm has passed…”
She hears the teasing way that Tony’s said it.
“And another may well have begun,” she answers on slipping out of his embrace. She stumbles off the bed, Tony’s hands failing to restrain her and she goes to the window. A steady rain is seen to fall, the low drift of cloud shrouding everything beyond her garden in a fine mist. His eyes are on her, she knows that, and it isn’t long before she is embraced, her fingers soon entwined with his as they caress her enervated skin. “We have done enough for a first time like this, Tony.”
He nods in agreement and does so as he presses kisses to her shoulders, then her throat; as he simply holds her and feels Hannah’s warmth, the clammy heat where she had so lustfully taken him. They can breathe in the faint mix of her perfume and sex that provokes him to hold Hannah for a few moments more.
“I’ll help you through to a more settled life if you’ll let me and want that?” Tony kisses her and she half-turns and meets his wondering gaze with a curious look in her eyes. “I’ve never been more certain of that, but I chose to wait until I saw a change in you. That time was seen today…”
“Yes, I feel that too!” she exclaims, turning in his embrace and putting her arms around his body as she pressed against him, gripped his buttocks, and felt his penis brush her belly. How lustful the man was but she had to exercise some control over what was happening. “A return to more settled ways is what I’ve wanted and needed. I want a lover and a friend…but give me some time after what we’ve just done.”
“What would you say if I chose to stay a while longer?”
“Nothing!” she laughs, pulling on his hips and stumbling in his embrace back to their bed. “I’ll show you!”
A gust of wind splatters the rain against the window and the room darkens. What else is there to do but to acknowledge how their lives had been turned over in demonstrative and passionate ways?
Their past lives would now inform the present and beyond.
♥
