Forbidden Rendezvous

There was no pretense this evening. No hesitant glances, no awkward silences, no wondering if it was too late. We both knew exactly what was going to happen. It had been an agonizingly long stretch since our last truly intimate encounter. At least, it felt that way. Jobs, the relentless demands of family, stressful travel, bouts of illness, and the sheer weight of everyday life had conspired to steal our moments of connection, reducing our intimacy to stolen glances, lingering touches, passionate kisses, and desperate hugs. But tonight, we’d taken control. We’d planned it, meticulously scheduled it, and prepared ourselves for the inevitable eruption of desire.

The evening began with a classic, sit-down dinner at “The Blue Heron,” a place known for its rich, slow-cooked meats and impeccable service. No drive-thrus for us; we savored every bite, every sip, every shared glance. My wife, Isabella, wore a stunning emerald green silk dress, expertly tailored to accentuate her curves. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin, highlighting her hourglass figure. She wore a delicate lace bra and matching garter stockings, the subtle sheen of the stockings catching the light as she moved. I, on the other hand, was dressed in a simple, yet sophisticated, open-collared linen shirt and charcoal gray slacks. The combination allowed her beauty to truly shine. Throughout the meal, our hands occasionally brushed, a silent acknowledgment of the building tension. We left the restaurant feeling both satiated and charged, the anticipation of what was to come thick in the air.

We drove to a secluded stretch of the Black River, just outside of town, where the trees leaned over the water, creating a sense of privacy and intimacy. Dusk was settling in, casting long shadows across the water and painting the sky in hues of purple and orange. As we pulled up, the air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine needles. It was the perfect setting for the carefully crafted rendezvous.

As we walked along the riverbank, holding hands, the initial awkwardness slowly dissipated, replaced by a palpable sense of excitement. The air crackled with unspoken desire. It wasn't long before our hands began to explore each other’s bodies, moving from casual touches to increasingly fervent caresses. The simple act of holding hands had morphed into something far more profound, a gateway to a night of intense pleasure. A shared glance, a playful tug, and then, without hesitation, we were both lost in the moment.

The first kiss was hesitant, a tentative exploration of lips and breath. But it quickly escalated into a deep, passionate encounter, a whirlwind of moans and gasps that left us breathless. Then, as the darkness deepened, our bodies intertwined, seeking refuge in each other’s warmth. We became teenagers again, driven by primal urges that defied reason and logic.

As we continued along the riverbank, the need for privacy intensified. We found a secluded alcove beneath a towering oak tree, its branches intertwined overhead, shielding us from the outside world. The air grew thick with the scent of sweat and arousal. The initial hand holding had turned into a full-blown exploration, our fingers tracing every curve and contour of each other's bodies. My hand found its way under her dress, feeling the soft silk against my palm. Simultaneously, her fingers danced along my thigh, expertly navigating the folds of my jeans.

She began to unbutton my pants, her fingers working deftly to undo the zipper. As the buttons fell away, my erection slowly emerged, a testament to the rising tide of desire. She gently stroked its head, her touch sending shivers down my spine. My own hands, emboldened by the heat of the moment, slid beneath her dress, finding their way to her opening, exploring its delicate folds. The sounds of our bodies meeting were intoxicating, a symphony of pleasure and passion.

The scent of arousal intensified as she pulled her panties down, revealing her pale, flawless skin. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability. “We need to go home,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. “Or we won’t make it.”

Reluctantly, we pulled ourselves together, a shared understanding passing between us. The drive home was filled with nervous glances and stifled sighs. The anticipation was almost unbearable. As we pulled into our driveway, my thoughts raced ahead to the waiting bedroom.

We entered the living room, my wife leading the way. As she passed through the doorway, I immediately pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her waist and leaning down to kiss her neck from behind. My hands swept upwards, tracing the curve of her spine and then descending to caress her breasts, my fingers working their way around her underwear. She arched her back into me, providing access to my eager member, the scent of her body filling my senses.

As we stood there, locked in a passionate embrace, I noticed the soft glow of candlelight emanating from the bedroom. My wife led me to the bed, where she lit three scented candles, casting a warm, inviting light across the room. As we slowly undressed, the anticipation reached fever pitch. The slow, deliberate movements, the shared glances, the silent communication - it all contributed to the mounting tension.

We lay down on our sides, facing each other, our bodies pressed close together. We began to rub our bodies, arms, shoulders, and backs, seeking pleasure in each other's touch. She stroked my erection, her fingers teasing and tantalizing. In turn, I used my fingers to circle her nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through her body.

As she shifted slightly, I positioned myself between her legs, my erection pressed against her thigh. She grabbed my hand, pulling me closer, and whispered, “Take your time. I want us to last as long as we can.” The words ignited a fresh wave of desire, fueling our passion.

In bed, we lay on our sides, our eyes locked in a silent conversation. We used our hands to caress each other’s bodies, exploring every inch of our skin. She stroked my erection, her touch sending waves of pleasure through me. I used my fingers to gently massage her nipples, eliciting soft moans of delight.

Lying her on her back, her head propped up on pillows, her legs open, I began to kiss her nipples while simultaneously rubbing the rose between her legs. The rhythm was intoxicating, a slow and steady dance of pleasure and anticipation. She responded with every fiber of her being, her breathing becoming more labored, her body arching in pleasure. Soft moans escaped her lips, each one more intense than the last.

As the pleasure intensified, her body began to twitch involuntarily, a clear sign that she was nearing the height of intimacy. She clung to me tightly, her fingers digging into my back, her legs wrapped around my waist. Her breathing became ragged and shallow, her eyes closed in ecstasy. The moans escalated into full-blown screams of pleasure, filling the room with their raw energy.

It felt wonderful to have satisfied her, to have unleashed the full force of her desire. As she relaxed again, I positioned myself between her legs, gently pulling her shaft towards her entrance. “Take your time,” she whispered, her voice still thick with pleasure. “I want you to finish in me.”

I started slowly, pushing all the way in, then pulling almost all the way out, feeling the surge of anticipation building within me. My wife and I locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between us. The heat was building, the desire overwhelming.

In due time, my pace quickened, and the strokes became shorter, more frantic. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. She could feel my excitement, her body responding with increasing intensity. Her breathing became more labored, her muscles tense. "Keep going my dear, keep going," she urged, her voice barely audible.

Finally, I could hold out no longer. I called out her name as the contents of my shaft flowed into her, a torrent of pleasure that surged through her body. My wife hung onto me as the final drops passed from me to her. The experience was both intense and overwhelming, leaving us both breathless and exhausted.

When we had finished, and our bodies were intertwined once more, my wife kissed my chest, her lips leaving a trail of warmth and passion. “We need to do these dates more often,” she whispered, her voice filled with longing. The thought of our next rendezvous already filled me with anticipation. As we drifted off to sleep, clinging to each other, we knew that this was just the beginning of our shared journey into pleasure.

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