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Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 02

By: JonOwens



I awoke to sun streaming through cracks in the curtains in a dense emotional fog. I had slept the sleep of the comatose. Where was I? These were strange surroundings. The memories of the night before flooded back. I felt the warmth of the woman's body close to mine. She was curled up in the foetal position, her back pushed tight on my chest. It was Rosie. I would never forget that night. 

I pulled away gently so as not to disturb Rosie who seemed to be sleeping the sleep of angels, her breathing slow and steady. 

Where was the bathroom? I thought. I needed it badly. I lifted myself from the bed without making a sound. The cottage was arranged along a single hallway and the bathroom was adjacent to the bedroom. Like Rosie, it smelled of Chanel and expensive bath oils. 

I decided to take a quick shower. I was sure Rosie would not mind. I tested the temperature of the water before climbing into the cubicle. It was steaming hot. I wondered about the time, the position of the sun in the sky suggested it was later than I thought. I let the water pour down on me, closed my eyes and imagined standing in a tropical waterfall. 

In another part of the house, I could hear the sound of running water and a woman singing. Although a little out-of-tune and slightly off-key, the singing was as happy as the sun shining on your face on a warm summer's day. It was Rosie.

I was daydreaming happily when the noise of the bathroom door opening startled me. 

"Good morning, John," said Rosie cheerfully. "I thought I heard you in here so I brought some clean towels. 

"Come down to the kitchen and have breakfast when you're ready. And if you're not ready for breakfast, then I hope you're ready for me," she said jokingly. 

"Oh Rosie!" I exclaimed and laughed. "You're incorrigible!" 

"Huh! Incorrigible, eh? And you thought that I was just an old hen past her nesting date not so long ago!" she said, clucking like a hen for effect. 

"That's exactly what I mean by incorrigible too. Will you ever forgive my stupid notions about older women? I am really so very sorry," I said. 

"I know I got it completely wrong and you more than adequately demonstrated that to me last night," I apologised again and I meant every word. 

I was scrubbing myself in a totally deranged way so that I could not remember which part of me I had washed and which I had missed. The thought of making love to Rosie had caused my cock to stand to attention again. I was worse than distracted and as I floundered about in the shower. Rosie stood there with a broad grin across her face. 

"You do look as though you need help in there,' she said, 'but as I've already had one shower this morning I'll pass on that for now, wonderful though the opportunity might be." 

With those words she left the bathroom wearing her bath-towel sarong and a silly grin. I heard her singing her way down the hall. 

Her warm humour was infectious. I thought more about her work as a counsellor. She seemed like a natural healer. 

Wrapping a soft peach-coloured towel around my waist, I made my way down the hall towards the smell of burning toast and what sounded like a comedy programme playing on the radio. I stopped to listen to the radio for a moment. It was the 'News Quiz', a programme that usually went out at Saturday lunchtime. It could not be that late, I thought. I had slept soundly but surely not for that long. But then thinking back to the night before, it was very late before we even thought of sleep. The memories of the night brought back that tingling in my loins again. 

Rosie was cooking something at the hob in the kitchen. The kitchen ran across the far end of the house with French doors out to a beautiful wild country garden. The ceiling had been opened up to the sloping roof with old wooden oak beams crossed diagonally in the void. 

"What's cooking, ma'am?" I asked. "Whatever it is, it smells delicious." 

"I thought we'd have brunch seeing as it's so late," she said, beating gently at some eggs. "I'm making us some scrambled eggs and smoked salmon." 

"Mmm one of my favourites and I'm ravenously hungry too," I said salivating at the thought of food. "What's the time anyway?"

"I bet you are. After your virtuoso performance last night, you should be hungry," she replied, "and it's about ten to one.

"So how about a good morning kiss at least?" she asked. 

She put her head to one side and pouted. 

"I'm waiting," she said.

I took Rosie in my arms and drew her close. She was wearing a soft towelling bathrobe. I still sported my wraparound towel. Rosie smelled of fresh soap and skin cream. I raised her chin gently with my fingers and looked into those lively blue eyes. I bent to kiss her. Our lips met, not in the hunger and wanton passion of the previous night, but in a soft and loving caress. Our tongues softly glided and stroked the other. In the gentleness, one could feel the longing of two souls joined in a moment, then the growing awakening of desire. The feeling of my tongue gently invading the warm softness of Rosie's mouth took me to that other place. My cock rose quickly in the warm sensuousness of the moment. I know Rosie could feel it as she moved to press her stomach against me, pressing firmly onto my hardness. 

Our kiss ended and Rosie stayed in our embrace pressed tightly to me. She had closed her eyes and I leant to tenderly kiss her eyelids. I showered her face with the same small gentle kisses. 

"Mmm that's so wonderful. I don't want you to stop," she said, "but I fear you must or the eggs will burn!" 

"It's okay. Let's eat something. We can devour each other later," I joked. 

"I'd rather have you anytime," she said, "but we do need to eat for energy and I need lots of energy right now." 

Rosie finished cooking and we sat at the large rustic wooden table made out of old oak planks. Rosie's serving of our brunch was about as disorganised as my earlier performance in the shower. I could tell she was distracted and so was I. She recharged the toaster and I ate like a starving wolf. I felt incredibly hungry. 

Rosie looked on in amusement as I scoffed what must have been my fourth slice of toast.

"Isn't it amazing?" she said. "How healthy good sex makes us feel. 

"I feel like I'm glowing with wellbeing this morning. I feel happy, healthy and complete. I haven't had sex for years and last night I had the best sex of my entire life. It made me feel so good…like a whole person again."

She paused for thought.

"You know, I'm sorry to sound like the shrink-wrap I am, but Freud had it absolutely right. Living in some void of sexual repression does us no good at all. It makes us sick. If it doesn't drive us to do crazy things then it just makes us sick at heart. So what goes wrong?" she said. 

"Rosie, I'm with you on that one. It's what I believe too but all sorts of things go wrong," I said. 

"Either we live in aloneness like you, or else we get caught up in emotional double binds and twists and turns with our loved ones that just do us harm. We lose the plot, I suppose," I added.

"Have you lost the plot?" she asked. 

"Yes, me too," I replied. "I've got caught up in that world where money and material stuff controls what I do both in and out of my marriage. 

"And by the way, you weren't the only one to have the best sex of their lives last night. I did too." 

I caught Rosie's eye and returned her smile.

"Sex is a basic human need, as basic as food, drink and sleep," I said. "Denying it makes people crazy. It not only causes social disease, but makes for a lot of perverted and crazy people out there too. Freud was right on the mark in my view. 

"So you see we're both a pair of shrink-wraps leading lives that are opposed to what we believe, and there lies the rub!" I added.

"YES! And we'll have to do more about that very soon," Rosie said and chortled wickedly. 

I poured some hot dark coffee in a large porcelain mug and looked at Rosie looking back at me.

"We shall," I said and smiled. 

"Good," she said and smiled back. "Er John…there's something I want to ask. I mean, I don't want to emasculate you or anything like that and I really want you. But there are so many things I want to try." 

Rosie was blushing again.

"Go on," I replied. "It's okay Rosie, you won't offend me." 

"No, it's not that. I just want to do things I've never tried. Nothing awful you understand and definitely not the three P's," she replied. 

"The three P's?" I asked. 

"Yes, pain, pee and poo. I definitely wouldn't enjoy those!" she said and chuckled. 

"Oh Rosie! You are a case!" I said and laughed loudly.

"I really don't go in for those myself either," I added to leave her in no doubt.

"So what is it to be, my love?" I coaxed gently.

"Oh I want to make it up as I go," she said.

"Okay then be my guest," I replied. 

"John, come here. Round to where I'm sitting and stand in front of me," she said. 

I did as I was asked. I was still in my bath-towel. Thankfully it was a warm summer's day. Just standing close to Rosie made my cock rise in anticipation. 

Rosie stroked my cock lovingly through the towel. 

"I love it when you respond to me like that. Feeling your cock grow as you come close and I touch you there. It feels magical to me and makes me feel like the comely sorcerer," Rosie said.

"Mmm you must be a good witch then," I said looking down at her.

"Yes and a very bad one too. A good bad witch, that's me," she said.

She unhitched the bath towel that fell to the floor. My cock was waving in front of me, erect but free. 

Rosie gently ran her fingertips down the length of my cock. I grew harder with every touch. 

She fondled my balls softly and said, "Mmm… this is exactly what I want, John." 

"Mmm…," I grunted. 

She flicked her tongue at the head, just behind the glans. The pleasure was so intense I moaned and had to reach for the table to steady myself. I watched her lips part, then close around the head of my cock. As she sucked me in, her tongue swirled quickly around the tip. 

I moaned louder. 

"Oh Rosie…that feels so amazing. Suck me harder, darling. Suck my tip hard," I urged. 

She sucked harder pressing against my glans with her tongue. 

"Oh fuck! Oh Rosie! You're driving me wild!" I exclaimed. 

With that she dug her fingernails into my arse and pulled me towards her forcing my cock down her throat. As I felt her throat close around me, I was frightened she might gag or choke. But instead she was swallowing me, the muscles of her throat massaging my throbbing length. 

I was making a lot of noise; a real pandemonium and the sounds of my enjoyment seemed to spur Rosie on. 

Rosie released my cock and gasped for breath.

"God, I so love doing that to you," she said. "It really turns me on to hear you enjoy it so much." 

I was panting and could hardly speak. I managed, "Oh Rosie…Oh, my Rosie!"

"Oh come here!" she said taking me in her mouth once more. 

This time I felt her finger pressing against my anus. It was not an unpleasant sensation at all but I felt myself tense against the pressure. I needed Rosie so badly. Somehow I didn't want to spurt my semen into her mouth, not this time. I really wanted to fuck her again. 

"Oh Rosie, I must have you soon," I gasped.

She withdrew my cock slowly from her mouth wrapping it in both her hands squeezing.

"And that's exactly what I want, what I need, John," She said. "I need to you to take me, to ravish and despoil me. I want you to fuck me like a beast. 

"I don't want any finesse or loving foreplay. I just want you to bend me over the table and fuck me hard. And if you're worried about this old lady and lubrication, you should know I'm absolutely sopping wet already, so wet my juices are running down my legs. That's what you do to me," she said. 

I didn't need any more prompting or encouragement. I lifted Rosie from where she sat and took off her robe. I laid out her robe on the table so that she could rest against it and not the polished rough wood. Without words I turned her quickly around and bent her over on the table. I used one hand to bear my weight as I leant forward and the other to guide my cock towards the inflamed red wetness of Rosie's cunt. 

I hesitated and thought for a moment as the very tip of my cock caressed Rosie's labia. 

"Rosie," I said, "there's something I want too. I'm going to do exactly as you wish, but first I want to slide slowly into you and hold still for a few seconds. Your cunt feels so exquisite. I just want to savour the moment, to feel your delicious softness all around me before I fuck you."

"How could a girl refuse a request like that? Of course, my love, as I've already told you, you can have anything you want, anything at all," Rosie replied lovingly.

I bent down to kiss her back softly. As I did, I slid my cock slowly into her. 

She screamed out, "God, I want you so much!" 

She tightened the muscles of her cunt around my entire length. I was now pressed deeply inside her, my pubic hairs pushed against her arse.

I held still and let myself relish the wonder of her femininity. Being encased in her silken, nectar-soaked, velvet flesh felt better than anything on this earth. The warmth I felt here is beauty itself, I thought. I felt ripples of that same warmth run through my body as I languished in the moist caress of her cunt. I can't describe in words the wonder of those few moments. 

I leaned forward again and put my arms around Rosie steadying myself with my elbows. I held her breasts in my hands as slowly I started to move inside her. I kissed her shoulders as the force of my swaying hips increased. I slid my cock almost all of the way out of her cunt so that the very tip was resting on her opening. Then with a single thrust I pushed forward fast and hard.

With each forward thrust, Rosie gasped aloud.

"Oh John! Yes! Do me hard, John. Fuck me like I've never been fucked before!" she cried out. 

I increased the pace and changed the tempo of our fucking. At first, I plunged my whole length in and out of her softness. Then I pushed forward as hard as I could and moved rapidly in short hard fast thrusts always pushing as deep as I could. She screamed out with pleasure. 

"John, you're amazing. Please let go now, lover. Stop trying so hard and just fuck me like a wild man!" she exclaimed. 

"I could cum now, John, don't worry about me! I want to let go with you. I want to cum when you do!" she cried. 

I let go and fucked in a frenzy. I was totally out of control. My cock was smashing into and colliding with her cunt. I really did feel like a wild beast.

"Yes, darling, yes-s-s-s! Fuck me hard, John. Fuck me till I ache!" she urged. 

By this time I was fucking so frantically that memory fails me. The animal within was in control now. My cock pounded Rosie's soft cunt mercilessly. 

"John, you're making me cum. Fuck! Oh fuck!" Rosie cried. 

The effect of those words on me was instantaneous. I felt the cum rising hard inside me. 

Rosie was clawing at her robe and panting loudly. I could feel her body tense. I slammed my cock harder into her slick sex. Rosie's back arched and her muscles clenched my cock. She was starting to convulse as the spasms tore through her. I felt her cunt pulsing wildly, pumping suction, pulling me in. 

I fell forward and sunk my teeth into her shoulder. My hands grasped her breasts, squeezing her nipples hard between my fingers. 

"Oh fuck!" she screamed as the orgasm ripped through her. Her cry was deafening.

I felt the creamy honey flow out of her, running down my legs. My spine stiffened as the intensity surged through my body tearing at every part of me in its painful ecstasy. Every muscle in my body was on fire, burning red-hot lava filled my loins. My seeds force-fired pouring deep inside, colliding with her creamy nectar. I let out a long gurgling moan at full pitch. I had collapsed onto Rosie, trembling, shaking with pleasure at the limit of my endurance. I felt my balls shrinking, contracting, quivering as they poured out every last drop of my essence into the hot wet darkness of her feminine mystery. 

I held still taking my weight off Rosie, resting on my elbows. My gasping breath slowed to rapid deep panting. Rosie was breathing fast and deep too letting out the occasional whimper. 

My stiffness receded gently but I had no desire to pull out. I kissed Rosie softly on the shoulder again.

I heard her giggle. Good sex always seems to make women do that. They either giggle or they weep. Rosie was giggling.

"Are you okay, my love?" I asked gently. 

"Okay? I feel as though I've been impaled by a cave man and he's nailed me to this table," she said then laughed. 

I laughed too. 

"But, I didn't mean to…," I said and hesitated. 

"No, silly," she interrupted. "You were fantastic. It was amazing. But I am going to need to get up very soon." 

"Maybe it is my age," she added, "I really loved you taking me like that. It's just that this hard kitchen table is not as comfortable as my warm bed. I think I would prefer the bed or at least somewhere softer in future. 

"So if I ever get the urge for you to take me while I hang onto the kitchen taps like that woman in 'Fatal Attraction' then don't listen to me and take me to bed." 

"Or you'll boil my pet rabbit?" I asked. 

"Yes, or worse than that!" she said chuckling. 

"Okay, I'll just lift myself up and set you free," I said. 

I raised myself pulling free of Rosie. There was a slurping suction sound as my cock slid out of her. Our juices dribbled onto the floor. 

"Let me help you," I said turning Rosie over gently and lifting her shoulders. 

She slid shakily onto her feet with me supporting her. The creases of her robe were imprinted in her delicate skin rubbed red from the pressure of our union. 

We put our arms around each other and held each other close. She nuzzled against my chest.

"Mmm… take me to bed, John," she said. "Take me to bed and hold me close." 

"You want to do it again?" I said incredulously. It was more of a statement than a question.

"You must think I am a really horny old maid!" she exclaimed. 

"I just want to lay there with you holding me. I just want to feel you close," she said. 

I lifted Rosie's arm around my neck then scooped her up. I pushed the kitchen door open with my foot and carried her towards the bedroom where I lay her down gently on the soft pink sheets. 

I lay down next to Rosie pulling the cream floral quilt up over us. I put my arm around her and pulled her close so that her head rested on my shoulder and her body lay along my side. I turned and wrapped the other arm around her.

"Mmm you know exactly what I need," she said softly. 

I kissed her forehead. She turned further towards me and wound her leg around mine.

"Mmm," she said drowsily. 

In minutes, we were deep in post-coital sleep, oblivious to everything but each other. We clasped each other tight like young children hanging onto their mother for fear that she might lose them. 

I felt Rosie move and fidget and lifted myself to look at the glowing blue numbers of her bedside digital clock. It was six fifteen. We had slept for hours. 

I turned Rosie onto her back and propped myself up to look at her. She was lovely, I thought; imperfections, age and all. I could see in Rosie, a woman of all ages, the girl, the young woman and Rosie now. That was how she seemed to me, not old by any means, but a woman of all ages.

"Are you awake?" I asked gently.

"Mmm, very nearly but not quite," she said sleepily.

Her breathing was slow and steady, the sound of sleep. I couldn't resist the lure of her creamy skin. I kissed her collarbone and let my tongue move down her chest in a long soft caress. I inhaled her scent and for a moment rested my cheek weightlessly on her breast. I thought again about female beauty. I loved women, I mused. I loved the sight of women, their sound, taste, scent, the texture of their skin, their curves and their softness. Femininity, I thought, is not something to be spurned or rejected. How wrong some feminists had got that. The feminine was to be celebrated and cherished. It was the call of the goddess, of womanhood itself.


Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 02



I kissed Rosie's breast softly, skimming her nipple with my tongue as lightly as I could. As I licked Rosie's nipple, it reddened and swelled. I wanted to suckle it, to feel its nurturing warmth succumb to desire.

"Mmm…," Rosie sighed. 

Rosie stroked my shoulders with her fingertips. She was silently telling me she was awake now. I sucked her nipple tenderly lapping at it with my tongue. My fingers ran slowly down the line of her pelvis. 

My tongue explored the underside of Rosie's firm small breast. I wanted to explore every part of her, that which I could touch and that which was beyond the reach of any man. 

My tongue traced the curve of Rosie's waist. I felt her jump slightly as my lips pressed back along her pelvis.

"Ooh!" she cried quietly, "that feels so good." 

Her pubic hair was matted flat and sticky from sex. I could smell her wonderful hot musk filling my nostrils like an aphrodisiac, calling to me to devour her cunt. The scent of her sex alone was enough to arouse me. I felt my rod stiffen. It was not the wood and steel of a very young man, but it was hard enough. I was showing my age after all. It was still hard enough and that was good enough for the kind of loving, gentle penetration I needed now.

I parted Rosie's legs and ran my tongue up and down the insides of her upper thigh carefully delaying my enjoyment of her cunt till later. The pungent aroma of her cunt tormented me so much that I could resist it no longer. I had to feast on her sex now; waiting another second would be too long. 

I ran my tongue around her labia, taking care not to part the lips of pussy. Rosie started to moan with pleasure. I placed my hands under her arse and lifted her towards my hungry mouth. I put my tongue in that spot between her arse and her cunt then slowly dragged it along her slit opening her cunt-lips, pressing downwards, running over her clit, then doing it again in the other direction. She let out a small cry. 

I wanted to eat her, to suck her into my mouth and possess her. I opened my mouth wide and pushed it down on her sex. My tongue licked, flicked, swirled and probed at her treasure. She screamed loudly when I pushed my tongue inside her sucking at her opening forcefully at the same time. I wanted to taste, to drink in the mixture of our beings, my saltiness mixed with her sweet nectar. I wanted her to feel my adoration of her sweet womanhood. 

Pursing my lips into a pout, I pushed down on her clit sucking the button from its hooded sheath. My tongue flicked feverishly but delicately beating at her button like a humming bird's wing. I sucked harder, pulling at her pearl as I pushed back firmly at it with my tongue.

"Oh John! J-J-John…oh darling…sweetheart…my lover…I'm…," she whimpered. 

I knew. I knew exactly. I felt the small tremors run through her body. Quickly I changed position and enclosed her opening with my lips. I raised her bottom with one hand and massaged her clit with the other, two fingers pressed on either side while a third rubbed her nub in an insistent rhythm. My tongue darted in and out of her opening probing her hot sex. Her hips bucked slightly as the spasms hit. I closed my mouth tight on her hole. I tasted the sweet creamy gush as it poured out of her. I sucked in her spray and swallowed every drop of her sweetness. 

I kissed her cunt as I would kiss her lips, my tongue stroking, sliding in the pulsing soft darkness of her opening. 

Moving up her body, I took Rosie in my arms and kissed her. Her breath was sweet and her mouth dry with sleep. She clasped me tightly as our mouths merged together in a kiss that talked of tenderness and love. 

As we kissed our bodies found their own way. We had effortlessly dissolved and melted into our union. We were joined together in that deep loving place. This was no longer the mashing of cock against cunt, we were making love. The soft and gentle stroking caresses of our kisses were echoed in our caring congress. 

There was no separateness anymore; just two bodies joined moving lightly together. We kissed again. 

The words 'making love' reverberated in my mind. Were my feelings tricking me? Had my emotions stealthily crept up on me and ensnared me unknowingly? I did not have the luxury of the writer casting fiction in some narcissistic piece of self-indulgence, I thought. Writing fiction is easy. One can ascribe any or all of one's feelings to the characters. One can be villain, heroine, teacher, father or whore. It doesn't matter, one could write the characters in and write them out. This was no fiction, this was reality in the here and now and I was making love. I felt a pang of anxiety that subsided instantly as I bathed in the sweet refuge of the warmth of our union. 

My arms enclosed Rosie in a tight embrace as we kissed again. 

"Yes," she said quietly. 

"Yes, what?" I asked.

"It was just the answer to what you were thinking. I said yes. It's okay," she said. "Now don't stop, don't stop loving me now." 

"You know?" I asked. 

"Yes," she replied. 

I pulled my body upwards so that my cock pushed deep and my pubis pressed hard down on hers. I could feel that the base of my cock was pulled tight against her clit. I made small movements pressing as deep inside her as I could go; my cock stretched massaging the nerves of her sex. I moved faster. 

"Oh I can feel you, John. I can feel you cumming, my love. I'm so close, sweetheart. Cum with me now. Kiss me as we cum together. Don't stop kissing me," Rosie said talking quickly. 

We kissed and clasped each other in all life's embrace, our souls joined as tightly as our flesh in a union of unrestrained desire and passion, of unleashed desires and ageless passions. 

Our kiss stifled our cries as the intensity of pleasure took hold. I felt drained of longing. Our come surrounded us, engulfing us in joy. This was not the painful ecstasy of earlier but a release of elation and rapture.

Neither of us said a word. Speech was unnecessary. All that was meant had been said in silence and we both knew.

I softly kissed Rosie's forehead and looked smiling into her eyes smiling back at me. 

"Er Rosie…," I said.

"Yes. What my love?" she asked.

"Oh nothing…just making sure my voice still worked," I said and burst out laughing. 

"Oh! You silly…," she said. 

Rosie joined me in uncontrollable fits of laughter. 

"I really must get up soon," she said. "I'm frightened if I laugh like that again, my bladder might burst! I need the bathroom." 

We kept on laughing. I eased myself to the side to let Rosie up then swung my legs over the side of the bed, sitting upright. 

"I'm not sure if my legs are going to work," she said still laughing.

"Nope. Me neither," I said. 

We both rose unsteadily from the bed.

"Let's see how this is done…walking I mean. I feel like bandy Mandy after that," Rosie said and chuckled. 

"Look at the time, it's almost eight in the evening," I said. "Where did the day go?" 

"Don't you remember?" she said raising her eyes heavenwards and grinning en route to the bathroom. 

I picked up my heap of clothes from the chair and set off to seek out the second bathroom that Rosie must have used that morning. After dealing with biological necessity, I showered for the second time that day. I thought about all the chores and errands I should have done today. They will wait until tomorrow, I thought. There was a proposal for work that I needed to crunch out too. I would get done whatever I needed, I always did. 

I looked in the mirror and inspected my greying stubble, more than a whole day's growth. It never made me look trendy, just slightly unkempt and dissolute. I dressed and made my way to find Rosie. 

She was in the kitchen again. She was wearing an incandescent turquoise kaftan dress and had her hair pulled back in a band.

"Rosie, I don't mean to be a damp squib but I must go home soon," I said.

"Mmm will you miss me?" she asked with a smile. "Would you like a drink of something before you go?" 

"Yes to both questions," I said. "How could I not miss you and do you have any gin? Gin and tonic would be very welcome." 

"Is Bombay Sapphire okay?" she asked, reaching into a cupboard for a large blue bottle. 

"Absolutely perfect," I replied. 

Rosie took out a cut glass tumbler and ice from the freezer. She put the ice into the glass first. Deadly, I thought. Every time I do that I pour far too much gin. She did too. She poured her usual ample measure and a glass of white wine for herself. 

"There you are," she said, "and look John, it's okay." 

"Sorry Rosie. What do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh I'm not such a daft old bat as I look you know," she said with her customary warm smile. "I felt it too. I felt that twinge of anxiety you felt not too long ago. At the same time, I felt a wee bit scared myself. It was when we both realised that this was not just about fucking or mainstream hedonism anymore; that suddenly we were making love and that our feelings for each other may be more than just some random sexual indulgence. I doubt that our feelings were ever just that personally. 

"So I was just saying it's okay to be and feel as we feel." 

"You are a treasure, Rosie. I sense you must be a very good therapist," I said.

"I'm just a woman, John," she said. "One with all her faculties working too.

"The way I see it, life is like a voyage on an unknown sea. Of course, you might lock yourself in a cabin and hide under the blankets so as to be unaware of danger. But the danger might still be there, whether or not you are aware of it. You just don't see it coming. But then you don't see any of life's possibilities either." 

She paused and took a long sip of wine.

"I'm listening, Rosie," I said, knowing that she had not finished speaking but was collecting her thoughts.

"Well, on the danger point, there's one stage worse than that and I see it in my work every day. And that's when you become aware of the danger and deny that it exists," she said. "When I said 'it's okay' I just meant exactly that, that I don't want to be a frightened ostrich and that I am open to all of life's possibilities. That I wanted to be open to the possibilities of you and me whatever they are, whether good or bad. But I must stop before I irritate you with my pedantic preaching." 

"You don't irritate me in the least Rosie," I said. "I agree with you about being open to life's possibilities, and I'll try. But there are those twin horrors lurking about me and I'm talking about the guilt and blame brothers. Nothing was ever achieved by either I know. Nevertheless I've got the guilt bug, the guilt of marital infidelity, of unfaithfulness.

"In law, what I've done already in the past twenty four hours are grounds for divorce. I have never been unfaithful before, so guilt caught me unawares even though I don't have my head in the sand." 

"John, you told me about your marriage when we first met, and based on what you've said I don't have too much faith in your marriage either. Is that what unfaithful means? That you are without faith in somebody or your state of being with them?" she said. "I'm involved so in a way I can't comment directly. But I accept that you may not have faith in your marriage, or even that it may not nurture or sustain you.

"As for the divorce stuff, the law is an ass as they say. It's an adversarial system, so someone has to carry the can when life does not work out as they had once expected," she said. "I'm a campaigner for no faults divorce too, for separation without blame. We seem to be a long way off from that small enlightenment in the twenty-first century. Blame feeds the vultures of anger and pays lawyer's bills. That's all it's good for in my books too," Rosie said then drew breath deeply. 

"I'll stop in a moment but about that unfaithfulness. Just think about that for a moment. Which is worse committing 'marital infidelity' as you put it, or being unfaithful or untrue to yourself? That's a rhetorical question by the way. No answer needed," Rosie said and smiled. 

"I'm sorry, John," Rosie said. "I'll stop and lighten up now and before you ask that next question, the answer is yes again." 

Rosie laughed at my quizzical expression. 

"But Rosie, what was the question?" I asked then laughed. 

"Aw you know, the one about seeing each other again: Question number 3 on the dating hymn sheet," Rosie said with a smile. 

"Rosie, I do like you," I said stopping abruptly. 

"I'll change the subject, let's get practical now," I added. "What about exchanging phone numbers?" 

I produced paper and pen from my pocket and wrote all my numbers along with my email address for good measure. We exchanged our slips of paper. 

"Rosie thanks for talking about all that anxiety stuff. It's a help for me to just get it out in the open. Let's talk about that again. It really does help me. 

"Now come here. I want to kiss you before I walk back to my lonely dwelling," I said, feigning a hurt look. 

"I'll give you a call later if you'd like that," she said.

"Yes I would like that very much," I replied eagerly.

I held Rosie close for one more time. There was sorrow and reassurance mixed in our kiss farewell. I heard myself sigh with relief as she clasped me tight to her. 

"Rosie," I said. "Do you really know? I mean know what I feel before I say it? Are we that attuned?"

"Yes, I feel that. I feel very close to you, John. You know that too, don't you?" she said. 

"I know that you are a very special woman, Rosie, very special indeed," I said.

I held both her hands and looked into her strong blue eyes. She looked strong and vulnerable at the same time. To admit vulnerability is strength in itself, I thought.

"Goodnight, Rosie. Until later my love, until later," I said. 

As I left, I looked into her eyes again and saw the trace of a small tear. 

Walking down the lane, suddenly I felt sad, alone and empty. Perhaps before I met Rosie that was how I always felt. I know it was how I felt but like the ostrich I found the sand to be deep, blocking out even the sound of my own feelings.



Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 03



I had three telephone calls that night.

After I got back from Rosie's house, I felt flat and empty. It was like a mood swing. At Rosie's I had felt optimism, euphoria and no inhibitions. Was I sliding towards that romantic state of falling in love with her? I thought about that. 

The psychologist in me took over. The feelings that I had were well known symptoms of becoming manic. Falling in love and mania have a lot in common, I thought. Maybe I just had an exhilaration hangover, like an adrenalin come-down. 

You cranky shrink-wrap, I thought. What next? What would my textbook say? I picked up a big dusty volume that I had used to study at the Institute of Psychotherapy and flicked through it to find 'hypomania': The mild version of the manic condition- Diagnosis, treatment, general advice for sufferers.

I skipped through the general advice for sufferers, the first words leapt from the page. They read: 'First and foremost, be true to yourself.'

I heard Rosie's words from earlier sound inside my head. 

She had said, "Which is worse committing 'marital infidelity' as you put it, or being unfaithful or untrue to yourself?"

First and foremost, be true to yourself. My mind was whirring through rapid thoughts. (Rapid thoughts are another symptom of mania.) I knew I was fine. My stomach was gurgling like a geyser about to erupt. I needed to eat. I turned on the oven and got out another packet meal and poured myself a large glass of red wine. 

It was then that the phone rang for the first time. It was Jane.

The conversation started innocently enough. 

Then she asked, "How's the search for work going? Are you doing okay?"

I talked about my progress. I had made a lot of progress and my consulting work pipeline was bursting. It was as much as I could do to keep on top of all my prospective clients. 

The conversation took a sudden turn.

"And how's the girlfriend? Is she thriving too?" she asked.

"Girlfriend? What girlfriend?" I asked. 

"You know the one that sends you sexy emails like 'Where's my birthday present big boy? When are you going to give it to me?" she said angrily. 

"Where on earth did you get that from?" I asked.

"I was looking at your Broadnet e-mail account earlier just to get an idea of what you were up to. I came across it there, it was unsigned but from wichita@virgin.com," she said angrily. 

"And there's a whole chain of messages and a lot from you too," she said.

As she talked I turned on the computer and loaded my mail program. In the search box I typed the e-mail address, 'wichita@virgin.com.' 

Jane was ranting, spitting venom down the phone.

"So now I know why I'm not there. You're getting what you need elsewhere and you don't need me anymore, you cheating bastard!" she shouted. 

The computer listed all the emails from and to wichita@virgin.com and I highlighted one with the subject line 'It's my birthday!' That was obvious enough. I remembered. The notes were from Adrian, the male transport coordinator, at one of my government clients. He was inclined to go in for camp, off-the-wall humour. On this occasion, I had camped it up with him and sent him back some messages in the same vein. 

"Am I your wife or aren't I, you shit? No wonder, it's taking you so darned long to sort things out in the UK. It's because you are having a fuck fest!" she screamed. 

"Look, Jane. I think you ought to stop. Those notes were from a male colleague at a client. It's just English humour, I guess. It's sometimes more bizarre, wacky and less obvious than its American counterpart, just like Monty Python," I said. 

With both Americans and Britons, it's often a case of 'one strike and you're out,' one sniff of infidelity and it's over, I thought. I remembered reading about a recent Gallup Poll that found that Americans are more tolerant of polygamy and cloning, than they are of infidelity. 

"Don't give me those lies, you two-timing shit! Don't think I don't know what you are up to!" Jane ranted. 

"Okay, I am going to say it one more time. Those e-mail messages are just banter between two men who aren't fucking each other. The man who wrote them is called Adrian and if you're so suspicious, there's a cell phone number on one of his notes. Why don't you call him up with your preposterous allegations and ask if I'm having an affair with him? Then you can look as stupid as you sound right now," I said. "And another thing, why were you snooping through my e-mail accounts?"

"I knew you were up to something and I know I'm right too," she said.

"What I'm up to is working my nuts off to get work. You're completely wrong and you've got a problem. What's obvious to me now is that you're suspicious and you don't trust me. What's worse is that it shows what a bad state we are in," I said. "So what's the next step?" 

Most of what I was saying was true but only if I ignored the events of the last twenty-four hours. 

"I just don't know how we can resolve this. I just know there's someone else and that there has been for a very long time now, since you've been in England. I just know it," she said.

"So I'll ask again, what's the next step? How do you get your resolution?" I asked. "How do you resolve something that isn't real? I don't know the answer to that." 

"Oh you tricky bastard!" she shouted and with a resounding crash slammed down the phone. 

The oven was smoking. My instant meal packet was now a burnt offering, its contents close to charcoal. I turned off the oven and went back to the computer.

I had a large e-mail account and I had kept copy messages at my Internet Service Provider for backup. I went back to the Broadnet account, selected all the messages and chose 'delete'. The messages flickered then disappeared. I had a backup on an external hard disk drive in any event, keeping a third copy was belt and braces. 

After that I went through every single internet account I had including my bank account and changed the security passwords on all of them. I chose new passwords, just random groups of letters and numbers that no-one could guess by association. 

I really must eat, I thought. I made a cheese and ham sandwich and sat down to eat it as the phone rang once more. It was Jane again. 

"Look, I just went back to your e-mail account to check what I had read, to make absolutely sure and I can't get into it anymore," she said. 

"No, I deleted all those messages and changed the passwords too," I replied.

"Destroying the evidence, eh! So now you're trying to cover up what's going on, to hide it from me," she said.

"No, there's no hiding anything. If you want to know something just ask and I'll tell you. You've got a problem, Jane. This stuff is all coming from you and it makes me wonder," I said. "In England, there's this schoolboy saying about farting. It goes: 'He who smelt it, dealt it' and it means the person who made the bad stink smells it first. So before you go sounding off at me, I'd take a very long look at what's going on with you." 

"You're such a smart ass, a real clever dick!" she said. "So now I have to think about farting, is that it?"

"Jane, you're wearing me down with your mindless drivel. I'm going to put down the phone now and if the caller id shows up 'international' again tonight, I'm not going to answer it. I've had enough of this for tonight. I may have had enough full stop," I said. 

After I finished speaking all I could hear was the sound of Jane's angry staccato breathing. I pressed the 'end call' button and heaved a sigh of relief. 

I went through to the sitting room with its low-beamed ceilings and sank into my favourite armchair still holding the phone. Quickly I devoured my tasteless sandwich. I thought I'd play some music, some opera, something to take me to another place. I chose 'Le Nozze di Figaro' by Mozart. That would do it, I thought. 

It was then the phone rang for a third time that night. I squinted at the caller id. It was a local number that I'd seen earlier that night scribbled on a piece of paper. It was Rosie's number.

I answered the phone, "Is that the ghost of Christmas future?" 

"What are you talking about, you daft man?" Rosie said and giggled.

Just to hear those friendly tones again brought a smile to my face.

"Well, I've already had a visit from the ghosts of Christmas past and Christmas present tonight. So I thought you must be the ghost of Christmas to come," I said.

I went on to tell her all about the phone calls from Jane. 

"Phew! That's some anger. It sounds to me like she needs a therapist," Rosie said. 

"There are only two therapists I know. She's married to one of them and you're the other," I replied. "What's so unnerving is that in a way, she's right. All the details are wrong, but last night and today, I did cheat on her."

"It's convenient for me say her facts are wrong. But that's not the point, is it?" 

"Look, John, she took off on this course long before last night. She's not telepathic and you've got a problem facing you now that is not about this weekend, but about you and her together," she said. 

"Something I don't understand though is this phased move back to the UK thing," Rosie said. "If you were really committed to each other, you could have made the money work. You could have sold something; she could have got a job doing temporary work. You could have done some part-time therapy. There are so many ways that you could have got through this and done it together. So why do it this way and why do you have to take all the responsibility for making it work?" 

"It's complicated and I'll try and answer both questions," I said. "When we were living in the United States, Jane's UK visa ran out and she forgot to renew it. Maybe that was a Freudian slip of sorts. But it means that we have to apply for her visa all over again. The Government application requires that I prove that I am able to provide accommodation and support us both financially without recourse to State benefits. I have to show that I'm working and earning money. That's the first part and it's mainly about jumping through hoops of government bureaucracy. 

"The second part is more difficult. Jane is an attractive woman in many ways, but she is obsessive and probably has very low self-esteem. She would deny both of those by the way. 

"But like a lot of people with low self esteem, she's dependent in her outlook and doesn't take responsibility. When things go wrong she looks for someone to blame. It's like life is something that is done to her and she's its victim. Even sex is something that's performed by me and done to her. I've come to the conclusion that almost everything is like that for her. So if we hit any small problem, I carry the can for things going wrong and the responsibility for putting them right. That way she exonerates herself from both responsibility and blame. What that means is we do virtually nothing together and certainly don't face or deal with any difficulties as a couple."

Rosie listened quietly.

"Also I get the blame hurled at me just because she feels bad. She'll even dream up some nightmare fantasy to justify doing it. And that's what's happening now. Life isn't exactly as she wants it so I must be doing something wrong. That something wrong is my having an affair since I arrived in England. Its' not true, but her invention is a way of dealing with her own dreadful feelings of unease…of making herself feel better in a perverse way," I said. "Oh Rosie! I could go on and give you the full nine yards but it's just not fair on you." 

"But finish that thought, John," Rosie said, "and don't worry about me, my love. I'm a good listener, so good I do it professionally!" 

"Rosie, you are lovely," I said, "but I don't want you as my therapist. I want you as my lover, my friend and my soul-mate. It's difficult…"

"And John, I want the same of you too," she replied. "It's okay. Just finish your thoughts, I'll listen."

"Okay, I'll just do shorthand now," I said. "We both know the theory and we can fill in the gaps. 

"If one has a personality that doesn't take responsibility, one does blame. It's always someone else's fault. Blame and intimacy do not cohabit well at all. Blame and power go hand-in-hand. A powerful response is often a destructive response. It's like infantile omnipotence and that's very scary in an adult. Blame achieves nothing but its ultimate expression is destructiveness. If you add low self-esteem into the pot, then the destructiveness matters less since as one cannot care for oneself, it's difficult to care for or love others either. That's it…some of it, at least, in a nutshell and that's a little of what I'm wrestling with now."

"Blimey, I'm sorry for going on! That's just some of the edited highlights by the way!" I added.

"No worries, my love. I do understand," Rosie said. "Look do you want me to come round? All I need to do is to sling on a sweater, brush my teeth and hey presto, I could be there in minutes."

I looked at my watch. It was coming up to eleven o'clock. 

"When do you think you might be going to bed, Rosie?" I asked. "The reason I asked is that I probably need a little time just to process and despatch all these thoughts or they'll keep me awake all night." 

"Not for a couple of hours yet. We slept half the day and I don't feel ready for bed yet," she said.

"Me neither," I replied. "I would like to sleep with you. The emphasis is on the word sleep though. I don't think I could manage any more passion just for the moment. But I really would like to be with you tonight. You have soothed my troubled brow, as they say. May I call you when I feel human again? In the meantime, I think I may well go and take a good long soak in the bath."

"Of course, you may. Sleeping with you, just resting together, would be perfect. Then tomorrow morning, I want to make love to you and I mean make love to you this time," Rosie said. 

"Mmm I can't wait," I replied. 

We said our warm farewells then I wandered upstairs to run a hot steaming, foaming bath. I lay in the bath daydreaming mainly of Rosie. I basked in the better memories of the day. Just talking with Rosie had restored my sanity. I felt relaxed and calm. I would call her soon. I caught a view of myself in the mirror and remembered that I needed to scrape the stubble from my face. I shaved quickly taking care not to cut my throat with my safety razor. Many a morning after a hasty and clumsy start I had to delay getting ready to give my shaving wounds time to stop bleeding. 

I put on an oversize thick towelling bathrobe and wandered downstairs. Quickly I went round the farmhouse picking things up from the floor and slinging them into cupboards. I picked the phone up from the floor and dialled Rosie's number.

"I'll be there in five minutes. I'm ready to leave now," Rosie answered.

"Are you sure about walking down the lane alone at this time of night?" I asked. "I can come and pick you up if you want." 

"John, the last time we had a crime in this small hamlet was about ten years ago and that was a drunken brawl in the village pub as I remember. I'll be just fine and I'll see you very soon," she said. 

I put the front door on the latch and lit scented candles in the bedroom and the sitting room. 

"Knock, knock!" said Rosie, peering round the door. 

She was dressed for a walk on a cold summer's night. I was dressed ready for bed. 

"Come in, Rosie," I said and smiled. "It's so good to see you again. Do come through and can I get you a drink?" 

"It's great to see you too. Do you have any Scotch? I'd love one of those," Rosie said. 

"For whisky, I can offer you a choice. I have blended or single malt. There's Johnnie Walker Black Label as blended, or Springbank, Laphroaig or Macallan in the malts. What would you like?" I asked. 

"That's a very good choice. Please may I have a small Springbank, John," Rosie replied. 

As I poured, I noticed Rosie wander around the small ground floor surveying the place for character clues. She wandered back into the kitchen and I handed her a cut-glass tumbler.

"Would you like some water in it? I have some spring water in the fridge if you would like that," I said. 

"It's okay, I'll get it," Said Rosie. 

We smiled, as we both knew this was simply an excuse and opportunity for Rosie to check out the contents of my refrigerator. She took out the dark blue glass bottle of still mineral water and splashed a few drops in her glass. She put the bottle back looking up and down the fridge. Had I asked her next what she had seen, she would have probably been able to describe the entirety of its contents, just like Kim's game. 

"Come through to the sitting room," I said. "Let me take your glass." 

The chivalry was just a ploy. I put down the glasses side by side on a small wooden table by the battered dark brown leather couch. I took Rosie in my arms and held her very close. 

I bent to kiss Rosie and she raised her lips to meet mine. If kisses could only talk, this kiss might have spoken acceptance, relief, pleasure, appreciation, warmth, tenderness, kindness and love. It was a long loving kiss with small but potent traces of desire and passion. Our tongues met each other as if we had known each other for more than a lifetime. They danced one on the other, stroking, gliding, caressing in their gentle pleasure. The kiss was long and lingering, soothing and serene. Rosie understood the meaning and vocabulary of the kiss and she was bringing me calmness and tranquillity. We both knew that our kiss was a disguise of the moment; that underneath its tranquillity burnt the yearning of primeval desire and passions deep in our souls. It was bliss.

As I pulled gently away from our kiss, a storm of anxiety about Jane hit me like a plague of locusts. 

"Wow. I felt that! That whole burst of thoughts and tension in you just then," said Rosie. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?" 

"Yes, I'm okay Rosie. I'm very okay with you," I said. "How I feel is like James Bond's Martini, 'shaken but not stirred.' To be truthful, I feel a bit beaten up. 

"But I love being with you for who and what you are. What I really don't want to happen is to become one of those wet male puppy dog types, the sort that cheats because he says he wants love as his wife doesn't understand him. That's just pathetic." 

"I understand. I know how you feel too. It's okay, my love," she said. "Do you believe in synchronicity, by the way?" 

"We must go to bed soon is what I think," I said, "and my feelings about synchronicity are complicated. I suppose what I believe is that we seek to understand our world in terms of cause and effect. I don't believe that everything can be explained in those rational and scientific terms. The problem with synchronicity, of the idea of meaningful coincidence, is that it is susceptible to so much mystical jiggery-pokery on the one hand and ideas about fatalism and divinity on the other. Then there are difficulties about psychic perception, interpretation and the subjective correspondence of events. So that's my complicated answer. 

"So as I said just now, let's go to bed. And if synchronicity is what brings you and me together, then I'm full of contradictions and this is the most magical coincidence of all." 

I smiled at Rosie who was wearing one of those quizzical expressions on her face. 

"Oh I do like you so much, John. In the morning I shall show you how much. Take me to bed now," she said.

I kissed Rosie softly on the forehead and led her upstairs. I thought as we climbed the stairs about our knowing each other for so short a time. It was less than twenty-four hours since we had first let go in the joyous abandonment of our fucking.   

Rosie undressed as quickly as I had on the night before. I watched her as she shed her few clothes. If last night I thought she was old, then tonight I thought she was no age at all. I had lost any sense of the age difference between us. Rosie was twenty years older than Jane, my wife. In her feelings and her vitality it was as if Rosie was the much younger of the two women. Rosie had reached that point in her being where her inner child was running free; loving, caring and loved. She jumped into my king-sized bed and hugged the duvet to her. 




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 03



"Come here, quickly. I'm getting cold," she squeaked. 

I undid the cord of my bathrobe and in a sort of shrugging movement made it fall from my shoulders and drop to the floor. 

I climbed in next to Rosie and took her in my arms. I wanted to feel her body press its warmth against me along its entire length. 

I felt my consciousness ebbing away as exhaustion ran through me in waves. 

"Rosie, would you mind if I lay with my head on your breast for a while," I asked.

Rosie said nothing and moved to lie on her back then pulled me to her breast, enclosing and enfolding me in her arms like a suckling child. I felt at peace. We both lay in silence. Outside the only sound to be heard was the whispering of trees rustling in the wind. I could hear Rosie's breathing, slow and steady, as she drifted towards sleep. The gentle rhythm of her heartbeat, her sweet scent and the warmth of her soft skin took me to a place of rapture, comfort and safety, of the child resting innocently in its mother's womb. 

I slept heavily. Cockerels crowing noisily in the nearby farmyard woke me. My cock had its own ideas too. It was straining, stiff and rampant celebrating its morning glory. We had shifted positions during the night. Rosie was now laying with her head on my chest, her leg resting on top of mine. The skin of her face was as smooth as alabaster aged and shaped softly in the summer breeze. 

I smiled to myself about this romantic imagery. My loving thoughts collided with lust and desire. I wanted nothing more than to lose all restraint and take Rosie there and then. I wanted us to give ourselves up completely to uninhibited and wild fucking. 

Rosie must have sensed my wakefulness. I felt her hand move down over my stomach. Her fingers encircled my cock and squeezed it gently.

"Mmm Good morning, someone is ready for me it seems," Rosie said, opening her eyes. "One moment, I just need the bathroom for a minute." 

She raised herself up and straddled my thigh. She moved to get up leaning on the wall at an angle so that she dragged her cunt softly up my leg. I felt that the tender lips of her opening were already swollen and wet. 

"It feels like I'm not the only one who's ready. Do hurry up in that bathroom now," I said.

"Down tiger!" she said. "All in good time. Remember it's me making love to you this morning. I shall keep you on the edge of a precipice of anticipation until I know I'm driving you completely wild before I give myself to you."

"Mmm I do love the sound of that, but just you make sure I don't fall off that precipice!" I said smiling. 

"You won't fall anywhere, John. I promise," she said. "Well, nowhere hard and hurtful, at least."

With those words, she scuttled off to the bathroom carrying her embroidered textile overnight bag. 

I listened to the progress of bathroom noises: the flushing toilet, the bidet, the washbasin and the electric toothbrush. En suite bathrooms may be convenient but they offered little by way of privacy, I thought. 

Suddenly I felt panicky, very panicky. Loud and angry voices rang out in my head. I wasn't sure if it was the angry parent or the angry headmaster, whoever it was, it was the voices that came to haunt me in moments of guilt, confusion and uncertainty. The voices talked of the sanctity of marriage, of being there through thick and thin, of remaining faithful whatever the cost. They admonished me for my cheating, my uncertainty, my lack of conviction and my absence of courage. My own father's voice rang through telling me I was a good for nothing, a freak to be separated from other children. 'So they think you're a bright child, eh? Gifted, they said. Well, here's a gift from me,' I felt his fists collide with my skull. I felt lost and scared.

I sat up and put on my robe. As Rosie exited the bathroom, so I entered quickly. I splashed cold water on my face telling myself to calm down. I cleaned my teeth with the electric toothbrush pressing so hard I almost drilled through my tooth enamel. I took deep breaths urging, exhorting myself to calm down. 

I did not want to unnerve Rosie. She was like an oasis in the wilderness to me, a rose in the desert. In a semblance of calmness I returned to bed.

"Are you all right, my love?" she asked. "When I left a moment ago you seemed so aroused that you might blow up like Mount Vesuvius. Now you look as though you may have seen the ghost of Christmas past." 

"Rosie, just then I think I did see the ghost of Christmas past and every demon that has ever haunted me. It was…," I stumbled and left the sentence unfinished. 

"Come here, my darling man, and lay down next to me," Rosie said. "I am going to make love to you and now I think I may have to perform an exorcism too. I need to get rid of those demons. 

"I just need you to lay down on your back, close your eyes and just let all that bad stuff flow out. Let everything go. Close your eyes and just feel my touch, my kisses and my caresses. Just feel me loving you and listen to me."

Rosie's soft touch felt as though she was really drawing the pain and anguish from me. 

"Now before I get rude and downright dirty with you, John, I want you to know something about you and me. We have known each other for a very, very short time. In that brief time you have made me feel more whole, more complete and more desirable as a woman than I have felt in my entire life. I have had the most wonderful sex of my whole life too. I have experienced feelings that I never knew I had. I can at least imagine now what it might feel like to be loved and that is all because of you. Even if you left now, that would all still be part of me. No-one could ever steal that away," Rosie said. 

I opened my eyes to look at her. Tears rolled down her face. I reached up to pull her to me. I kissed her hungrily and wanted to ravish her, to ravish and protect her; to feel her strength, her gentle humanity and vulnerability all together. 

"Rosie, look. Please don't be upset but I don't think I can lay back and think of England while you give me pleasure just now. Another time perhaps. Right now I need to make love to you as much as I want you to make love to me," I said.

"Oh John. Yes, of course, my love," she replied.

I held her close in one arm. My other hand caressed her face, my lips kissing along the damp tracks of her tears. I showered her sweet face with soft butterfly kisses even her closed eyelids. My kisses traced the vein down her neck then my mouth closed over her ear, my tongue flicking softly. I felt her shiver with pleasure. My desires welled up inside me. Like Rosie, I felt whole again giving full rein to all of my feelings. I felt a complete man. 

Still holding her, I let my other hand explore the lines and contours of her body. My fingertips ran down her sides, tracing her waist, the concave line of her pelvis then her thigh. She parted her legs as my fingers ran gently along the insides of her thighs. Her hips strained upwards towards me longingly. I caressed the lips of her cunt. Our mouths met nibbling, pulling at each other's lips excitedly. Her hand reached for the back of my head pulling me to her tightly as we kissed; her tongue probing, pressing, hungrily lapping me up. 

Rosie's kiss was forceful, vital and longing. She thrust her hips upwards pushing against my fingers, inviting their invasion of her sex. Our mouths ground together, bruising lips, devouring, crying out silently our wanton longing. I pushed two fingers into her honey pot. She cried aloud into our kiss. My fingers plunged deep and she grasped them hard with the muscles of her cunt, drawing them inwards. My thumb found her clitoris and rotated, pressed, rubbed at the swollen button. 

Rosie gasped, "John, John…harder my love, do it a little harder." 

Releasing a hand from under her, I moved down and clamped my lips on her taut erect nipple sucking hard, starved, hungry and craving. The fingers of my free hand squeezed her other nipple. Her back arched, her legs tensed and her cunt tightened around my fingers as I bore down softly on her clit with my thumb.

She let out a deafening scream, no words, just the cry of the wild. I felt the tremors shudder through her body. Creamy white honey cum gushed out of her making a pool on the bed. Her body convulsed as if racked by a seizure. She moaned in animal abandon. 

I had to taste her, to drink her in, to devour her hot sweet cunt. I put both hands under her bottom and pulled her tight to my mouth feasting on her feminine beauty. My tongue stroked eagerly at her opening that was still pulsing, dribbling its nectar. 

She cried out, "No! No! No! No more! P-l-e-a-s-e! I can't! I can't! It's too much! I can't." 

My mouth closed over her cunt. My tongue teased and beat at her clit, licking then pressing the nerves of her sex. 

Her hands gripped at my shoulders, clawing and scratching in excited anticipation. Her legs clamped my head to her tightly, making sure I was going nowhere. My tongue thrashed at her tender pearl. I closed my lips around her clit and sucked hard.

This time she bucked wildly as the spasms took hold. Her screams rang in my ears. Her whole body shook uncontrollably as the climax tore through her, waves crashing through her, slamming her against the limits of desire. I kissed her opening as she sprayed her essence into my mouth. Slowly the storm of passion subsided to gentler swells of rippling pleasure. Her chest strained as she gasped for air. I kissed her soft cunt then lifted myself up to see her face. Her eyes sparkled brightly. 

"Come here," she said pulling me into a long loving kiss mingling saliva with her own juices.

"Fuck me, I think I just left the planet," she sighed, and then giggled. 

"That comes later," I joked, "and I intend to."

"You, darling man," she said. "I have never, ever, ever…I mean that was exquisite…ecstasy. You blew me right away…out of this world." 

I kissed Rosie again. 

"Oh Rosie…," I said.

"Yes, John. I feel the same way," Rosie replied.

"And how is that fair maiden?" I asked. 

"Like I could so easily come to love you, but please don't let that scare you away," she said. Below the surface of her words I heard a note of sadness. 

No reply was needed. I shared my feelings in a kiss that welled up in my soul. I know Rosie heard my unspoken answer. 

Rosie pushed me slowly onto my back, lying across me, her breasts pressed to my chest. I felt her tongue caressing my ear as her hand wrapped and embraced my stiffness.

She whispered, "now my sweet man, I'm going to take you to that place where you take me. I want to set every nerve in your body on edge so that each touch and caress drives you wild with longing. I'm going to overload all of your senses, touch, taste, sound, everything. When you can bear no more, I want you to fuck me senseless." 

Her lips and tongue moved to my neck, her hand fondled my balls softly. 

"Mmm," she said, "I love the way you taste and smell. I can barely wait to have you, but I will wait. I want you more aroused than you have ever been before. I want to drain you, to feel you spurt every last one of your seeds into the place where my womb would have been. I want to feel the jets of your cum as you pour out inside me. Afterwards I'll carry you inside me all day, smiling as I know you're there, planted deep in me."

"Mmm," I let out a soft moan as Rosie's soft mouth embraced my chest. I felt her tongue teasing my nipple as I had teased hers. The tips of her fingers ran slowly up the length of my cock so that it made small, excited jerks, jumping momentarily away from her caress. Rosie lapped insistently at my nipple then began to suck. As she sucked she enfolded my shaft in her tender grip turning her hand then squeezing. She sucked harder and stroked my cock slowly and deliberately. A wave of tingling pleasure ran up my spine. My cock strained as my heart tried to pump more blood into its saturated, bursting stiffness. My hands reached to caress Rosie's back running over her soft, smooth skin. 

She shifted to kneel between my legs, her tongue gliding down over my stomach. She scraped her fingernails slowly up my inner thighs then ran her fingertips around my pubic bone and along my pelvis. My nerve ends jumped, signalling their delight. My body ached for her. 

"Mmm there's a small drop of cum on the tip of your cock that I want," she said and moved towards my swollen purple glans. 

She kissed it with lips closed then swirled her tongue around the very tip licking up the small droplet. 

"You taste so good, such salty sweetness," she said.

Lifting my cock in one hand, she gently licked behind the glans, soft swirling touches with the tip of her tongue. My hips bucked involuntarily. 

She placed one hand under my leg and kissed her way upwards. She pressed down on my pubic bone with the palm of one hand as she sucked the tendon in my groin where my inner leg joined my body. She lifted my leg and ran her tongue backwards along that place between my balls and my arse. The intense pleasure sent small electric charges through me that caused me to cry out. 

"Oh Rosie! Fuck!" I cried. 

"Mmm so you like that, do you?" she replied. "Now it's my turn to feast on you. I'm going to devour you all and love every moment of it. I'm going to have you just like you have me. I'm going to lick, suck and eat your arse, your groin, your balls, your cock, everywhere. I'm going to possess you in the way I want you to possess me." 

She meant it. I was not prepared for this loving assault on my senses. 

She raised my legs, swirling around my groin and arse with her tongue. No-one had done that to me before and there was a time not long ago when I might have felt uncomfortable or embarrassed by it. Rosie and I had slipped past such inhibitions easily and I loved this new sensual freedom of acceptance and allowance. Her tongue in my arse and groin also drove me crazy. I had never known these pleasures before. 

"And I love talking dirty to you too, John," she said. "Mmm such a beautiful clean arse too. Feel my tongue lapping at your puckered little hole. I want to probe and tease you there like you do to me. I'm taxing my self-control to the limit here. I just can't wait to put your lovely big fat cock in my mouth. The very thought of it makes my mouth water and my juices flow.

"And one day soon, I want to suck you till you cum and squirt your semen into my mouth and down my throat. I'll swallow every drop of your hot sweet, salty sperm. I'd love to do that, I really would."

Rosie paused, pressing her soft wet tongue into my arse. I felt her push then slide all around my opening. She lifted my balls and ran her tongue over my groin. I was so aroused as to be close to cumming there and then. She squeezed the base of my cock in her fingers and that brought me back, back for more. 

She lifted my cock so it pointed skywards then rang her tongue slowly up and down its length. Her fingers stroked my groin where her tongue had coated me with saliva. 

"Fuck!" I cried. "Yes!" 

"Mmm," she said. "I want this all for me. Do you know just how slick and wet my cunt is for you? It's so very slick, wet and tight - a perfect fit for my lover, a sweet honey-soaked glove all for you. I can feel you throbbing. The soft skin of your hard cock feels like it may burst. You're as hard as an iron rod. I thought only very young men got hard-ons like yours. You can feel my cunt if you would like soon, just once. Slide two fingers in to feel just how ready I am for you to fuck me. You can only feel me once though as I want the anticipation to drive you wild with painful yearning, with lustful aching for me.

"And as I suck your cock, as I lick, caress and swallow you, I'm going to turn round and straddle you. You'll be able to see and smell my hot wet cunt. Like you can feel me in a moment, you can taste my cunt just once. But I want you to see and smell my sex knowing that it's on fire for you, that I want you so badly I'm burning up inside, craving for you to fuck me so much that it's painful. That's really how it is. I want you so much, it really hurts but I don't mind as it's such exquisite agony."   

"I'm going to take your hand now and let you feel me but first I must take you in my mouth," she said.

She moved so she knelt to one side of me and bent down to suck the head of my cock between her soft lips. She tenderly but tantalisingly slithered her tongue around my cock's head while she fondled my balls softly. I felt her hand take mine grasping my fingers; my index and middle fingers that she pressed into her wetness. As she sucked me, I felt her breathing change, quicken with excitement as my fingers slid deep into her vagina. I felt a shiver run through her as she gripped my fingers hard with the muscles of her sex. She wasn't the only one to feel the pain of longing. She gently took my hand pulling my fingers from her, sighing, and then moved to kneel between my legs so as to be out of reach. 

She had drenched my cock with her saliva. She moved downwards and took one of my large heavy balls into her mouth, tugging at it as she caressed my cock with her fingertips. The softness of her fingers touching my wet sensitive stiffness felt like the embrace of her lips in the warmest of kisses. She took my ball from her mouth and held it squeezing gently. Her breath was fast but even. She raised my rod to her lips. I could almost hear my own heartbeat racing away, pounding hard and fast. Rosie turned to look up at me to make sure that I saw her, watched her extending her tongue licking up and down the length of my shaft, moving her head but always looking at me as her tongue swirled up and round and down my manhood. 

"Mmm you taste so good. I'm going to turn and straddle you now so that you can enjoy the sight and scent of my hot, slick sex. As I said you can taste me just once. I want you to imagine that my cunt is an over-ripe, luscious and succulent fruit that you must eat today. I want you to devour me, to make me part of you," she said.

She turned still licking my rigid throbbing cock. As she moved she took me deep into her mouth, her tongue stroking, gliding over me. I moaned aloud. I was on the edge of the precipice clinging on, sinking fast in a sea of ecstasy. Rosie leaned forward so that her cunt was close to my face. I inhaled her intoxicating musky scent. I felt her enclosing my cock deep in her throat. I reached to grip her hips, to steady her as I lifted my mouth towards her treasure. My lips closed on her cunt in the most passionate deep kiss, my tongue pushing as deep as it could in her opening devouring her womanhood. I could hear her make a small humming moan as she sucked my cock in deep. The sound reverberated in her throat massaging my rod as she sucked harder. 

Rosie gasped for breath and moved downwards pulling away from me. She turned and took me into her mouth. My breathing was strained and laboured now. Rosie slid her lips and her tongue up and down my cock sucking, drawing me in, rolling her tongue constantly, forcing me to give myself up to her. She was replaying my kiss of a moment earlier, the same passion, devouring my manhood as I had lovingly devoured her sex. 

This was pure lust: excessive, powerful, craving and overwhelming. I needed to fuck Rosie very soon.

Gently I took Rosie's head in my hands and lifted her from me. I drew her towards me turning her over onto her back. I took her into my arms and pulled her body to mine. I kissed her with a passion that I had not known before. I lay on her and wanted to kiss every part of her all over again. But there was something that I desired more. My cock slid around her silky wetness searching out her opening. I found her treasure easily. Rosie thrust forward, taking me deep inside her in a single movement. Her legs clamped around me tightly. Her hips moved frenziedly as she fucked me fast.




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 03



"I can't help it, my love," she whimpered. "I want you so badly now. I can't hold on very long. I just have to let go I hurt so much. Help me, my darling. Help me, please." 

I started to move with her, finding her rhythm, fucking in time with her pace and tempo. I felt her pain of longing. I knew that ache of desire now. I kissed Rosie, our tongues met and mashed, our mouths cried silently for release. I couldn't stop kissing Rosie. I lifted my body so I could reach down between her legs and touch, caress and massage her clitoris. I wanted to set her free. With my one arm I clung to Rosie for all life pulling her close. My fingers charmed her pearl; rubbing, massaging in time with our fucking. Our mouths collided impatiently, urgently, bruising our sore lips. 

Taking control, I thrust harder, faster, pumping and pounding her slick sex. My rigid rod plunged through her gossamer softness. She dug her fingernails into my shoulders hard. I felt her body stiffen, the muscles of her vagina clenched my cock tightly, clinging, contracting as if to expel me from her. I pushed deeper inside her, my cock driving through her tight grip like hot steel through butter. Rosie cried out in our kiss, the kiss from which I refused to release her. Our kiss was ablaze with desire; I felt its red raw heat deep in my core, blistering, scorching, ready to consume me. 

Rosie thrashed and flailed beneath me, her legs clutching me to her. Suddenly she stiffened. Her chest heaved as she drew the air from me in our kiss. I pulled out of our kiss gasping for breath. Rosie was shaking, trembling. I plunged my cock into her depth slamming down on her pubis, fucking her frenziedly. Her body stilled, her breath stopped. 

She let out an ear-splitting scream. "Fuck!" she cried.

"Oh God! Oh my God! FUCK!" she yelled. 

She jerked, shook, convulsed as her climax overpowered her. The velvet soft walls of her cunt quivered and trembled as the passion erupted. I couldn't last much longer, the fire inside me burnt red-hot; its red-black molten lava surged upwards. 

Small torrents of creamy honey nectar gushed from her cunt pouring over my balls and down her soft white thighs. Rosie moaned loudly as she came over and over, exploding around my cock, showering me with her hot fluids; pulling, drawing, sucking me deeper. 

I reached between her legs and caressed her clit one more time, rubbing it firm and fast. 

"Oh God! Oh no! Oh fuck!" she cried as she threw her head back violently against the pillow.

"Let it go, Rosie. Let it all go, my sweetness," I gasped. "I'm going to…" 

I was unable to finish speaking. Rosie slammed her crotch against me, impaling herself on my cock, her hips jerking, thrashing under me, crying, whimpering and trembling as the climax took hold. 

I couldn't breathe as my muscles tightened; electric charges surged up through my body, the volcano rumbled, its black energy threatening to take me. I sunk my teeth into Rosie's shoulder as I lost control. I thrust my cock deep to its limit in her soft sex. Painful ecstasy seized my being as the flames burned through my soul; its lava seared my veins. I exploded, the hot river of fire shooting my seeds deep into my lover's cunt. My stomach muscles strained painfully as my balls pumped every last drop of my essence deep into Rosie's sex. 

Ecstasy merged with joy and elation as I sank, drowning in the soft femininity of my lover's passion. Tears of intense joy ran down my face. I had given my all, given myself up totally in our act of love. I was spent, drained and my muscles ached. Through tear-clouded eyes I looked at Rosie.

She was weeping. 

I took her in both my arms, kissing her hair, her face and her tears. 

"Oh Rosie," I said. "I could come to love you too." 

I knew I could love Rosie so easily, if I didn't already. I felt safe. Instinctively I knew our love would be free and not controlling, manipulative or destructive.

"Oh John…," said Rosie wiping her wet face on mine and taking me into the warmth of her embrace.

It was a perfect moment, one that I wished I could have bottled and let out in moments of anguish or sadness.

My inner child, the impish schoolboy, ran amok with glee. He couldn't resist it:

"Anyone for seconds?" I asked laughing.

"Oh you!" exclaimed Rosie slapping my back in mock annoyance giggling loudly. 

It was still early. I lay back and took Rosie into my arms. I listened to the peaceful mantra of her breathing. It was no matter that our hair was sticky and matted, our bodies soaked in cooling sweat and that the bed was damp from our bodily fluids. I felt happy, calm and peaceful. The morning sun shone through the cracks in the bedroom curtains. We slipped into a deep sleep as the weight of exhaustion and the glowing serenity of our mood took their gentle hold. 

I awoke with a start to the sound of a car backfiring in the lane. 

"What on earth was that?" asked Rosie. "It sounded like a bomb going off." 

"I think it was the noise of a car backfiring," I said. 

"It almost made me jump out of my skin! What time is it, John?" Rosie asked. 

"One moment," I said, stretching to grab the alarm clock that I had turned face downwards on the small bedside table. "It's just eight fifteen. We woke up before five this morning." 

I smiled. 

Rosie stretched and yawned. 

"Mmm I'm so glad we did," she said drowsily. 

I rolled over and laid my head on Rosie's stomach. She stroked my back between my shoulders softly. I leant to kiss her lightly on the stomach. I edged down a little and kissed her small blonde tuft of pubic hair. 

"Mmm that's nice. Would you like some breakfast? I noticed some bacon and eggs in your fridge. Would you like me to make you some?" she asked. 

"Breakfast sounds good but I may want you as the first course," I replied.

"You wicked, greedy man," Rosie said jokingly. "You're insatiable." 

"Yes, I am," I said then I ran my tongue slowly up the inside of her thigh. "But sadly I suffer from the handicap of age and I don't think I could manage an encore, much as I'd like to. Getting it up for a fifth time in thirty-six hours may be just too ambitious for a man of my years, I guess. But then there's nothing stopping me from doing this." 

I ran my tongue very slowly along the lips of her cunt then down the inside of her other thigh.

"Mmm you're such a bad man, such a lovely, bad man," she said, "and I adore it."

She sighed deeply. 

"You know apart from the sex act itself, I find this to be one of the most erotic things imaginable…I mean kissing, licking, tasting, sucking…eating your cunt. It drives me wild. I just love doing it so much. I really do. It gives me so much pleasure just feeling your response," I said.

I swirled my tongue around the folds of her cunt, around the outside of the lips. 

"You and me too, John," she said. "You have no idea what you do to me. You send me to seventh heaven wherever that is. That you enjoy me so much is wonderful too, it takes my pleasure to a whole new place."

Her lips were sticky with her juices mixed with my sperm. Her musky odours, reeking of our sex, were more powerful than ever. With a long slow swipe of my tongue I opened her cunt-lips and exposed her deep pink-red blood engorged sex, her small clit still jutting from its hood, still sensitised and ready. Her opening was dilated dribbling our creamy white cum. I lifted her legs over my shoulders so that I could see and reach all of her, her puckered pink rosebud, her leaking opening to her swollen red nub. It was like a banquet laid out before me. 

I teased her tight rosebud with the tip of my tongue. It twitched and quivered at my touch. As I lifted her, the cum trickled downwards forming a rivulet over her tight puckered hole. I lapped at it, licking up every last drop of her honey. Her cunt was soaked in our creamy secretions, she was still drenched and I wanted more. 

"Mmm you're so wet, Rosie, so very wet. I just can't get enough of you," I said. "Would you mind if I just gently rubbed my face on your sex? I want to feel, taste and smell you all around me, to bathe in the sweet scent of our cum, to cover myself in our juices." 

"Yes, my love. I'd love you to do that," she replied, "and what I want is then for you to come up here so I can kiss your face and taste what you taste. I want to lick you like a cat with its kitten, to clean every drop from you and swallow its sweetness." 

"Oh Rosie," I said.

I swirled my tongue around her sex inhaling deeply, my lips sucked softly at her clit, my tongue massaged and fondled her sweet pearl. I closed my eyes placing my hands under the cheeks of her bottom lifting her to me. My face moved slowly from side to side pressing gently against her sex. My forehead and eyes bathed in her loveliness. The aroma of her sex made me dizzy with desire. I felt her cunt on my cheek, her warmth and wetness was exquisite; her delicate tantalising softness overwhelmed my senses. My soul wanted to swim in her oceans and drown in the deep seas of her being. 

I felt mellow, transformed and peaceful. I lowered Rosie to the bed. Her hands lifted my head drawing me to her. I held her close in my arms. I let out a deep sigh of loving relief. I felt the gentleness, warmth and love of Rosie's kiss. She had felt that moment, that moment of surrender, of my soul yielding itself up to her tenderness. I closed my eyes and felt her kisses wash over my face. 

Rosie whispered, "John, you're so wonderful you know. I love making love to you like this. It's like there's no beginning and no end. I really love it."

"Rosie, I'm not sure there is any superlative that means better than wonderful, but if there was, you would be it. You're just amazing. And I know what you mean about making love too. It feels rare and precious. But I guess soon we have to get up and face the world again," I said.

"Okay, but let's have one last cuddle before we have to go and be grown up again. I want to wrap myself all around you," she said. 

I fell into her embrace. She wrapped me tightly in her arms. For good measure, she curled her legs around me too. I held her close. For a moment, I thought I could feel Rosie smiling, the warmth of her smile radiating from somewhere deep inside her. 

We stayed there wrapped around each other in the warmest embrace, neither of us stirring or wanting to let go until the sound of the post hitting the stone floor of the hallway below jolted us back into consciousness.

"I'll try and be the sensible one," I said. "I've got a spare bathrobe if you'd like it. It's too big on me so it will probably be about ten sizes too big for you, but you can turn up the sleeves and it should just about miss the floor.

"So how about I go and make a pot of fresh coffee?" 

I took another thick white towelling bathrobe from the closet and handed it to Rosie.

"Come down when you're ready or even if you're not," I said and smiled. 

Rosie struggled with the bathrobe that, had it not been for her arms in the sleeves, may have wrapped around her three times. That particular bathrobe had been a legacy from a time when I lived in the United States and weighed considerably more than I did now. 

She strutted up and down twirling the sleeves that were twice as long as her arms. 

"Got anything bigger?" she said laughing.

"I know what. I'll take that one and you wear mine. It's much smaller," I said.

"It's a deal," she said, still grinning. "I'll be down in about ten minutes. I'll just take a very quick shower if I may."

"Sure. See you in a while. I won't start cooking till you get there," I replied. 

We swapped robes and I went off to the kitchen. 

I started to prepare breakfast. Suddenly I realised that I was starving hungry. I put on a pot of fresh coffee, loaded bread into the toaster and laid out thick rashers of bacon and fresh juicy tomatoes sliced in half on the grill pan. I took out the eggs and peeled some mushrooms too. Normally I eat a bowl of bran and some fruit for breakfast. I was very hungry indeed. 

Rosie arrived with her hair wrapped in a towel shaped into a turban and sporting the oversize bathrobe. She smelt fresh and clean. I looked at her, her skin was clear and soft and her eyes shone bright blue. 

She pressed into me and asked, "So what you got for me, big boy?" 

She was imitating the tone of the email that had caused the problems between Jane and I. 

In the same tone, I replied, "You just wait and see, darling. Do you want it served on a plate or somewhere else?" I added and laughed. 

"I tell you what. You fry the eggs and I'll do the rest," I said. I hated frying eggs and was lousy at it for some reason I had never been able to fathom.

We set to work. I put some serving dishes into the oven to warm along with two plates.

"Let's put the eggs straight onto the plates. I'll put the rest of the food into dishes and we can help ourselves. I'll serve if you like, just take the plates through," I said.

"Okay boss," Rosie replied cheekily. 

We ate our breakfast in busy silence like a pair of famished gannets. 

"What are you up to today?" Rosie asked.

"Oh the usual chores," I said. "Cleaning, washing, shopping ironing. There's a proposal for work I must finish too, I have to get that out before six tonight. What about you?" 

"Much the same really. I have a lot of case notes to write up too. Tonight my daughter, Rachel, is coming over to spend some mother-daughter time together," she said and smiled. 

"Are you doing anything tomorrow, John, at around tea-time?" she asked. "Only my sister is coming over for tea and it might amuse you to meet her." 

"Well, I'll probably be finished by three or so, but why would your sister amuse me? Is she very funny?" I asked.

"Well, not intentionally funny, no. In fact, she's a real bitch. I'll draw you a thumbnail sketch if you like," Rosie said.

"Aw go on then. Let's hear it," I said. 

"Okay, here goes," she said taking a deep breath. "She's about eighteen months older than me but looks like twenty-five years younger. She would say in her own way that she's had some cosmetic renewal." 

Rosie grinned a particularly wicked grin.

"You mean plastic surgery…cosmetic surgery?" I asked.

"You've got it. Nips, tucks, folds and Botox too," she said. "She's very petite and looks just like a china doll, perfect in every way. Also she's a real prissy prig."

"It sounds like you and she are close," I said, and then laughed. 

"Close, never. In some families, there's sibling rivalry, with her it's sibling warfare," she said. "Okay, I'll go on. She has this affectation of being so proper and holier than thou. Her house is all doyleys, antimacassars, crucifixes and porcelain figurines. She has the Daily Telegraph delivered and always says Grace at mealtimes. All of which is true and without exaggeration by the way."

"I think I'm beginning to get the picture, go on," I said.

"Her real name is Daisy. Our Mum liked those sorts of Victorian flower names. Anyway, she changed her name by deed poll to Sophia that she pronounces So-fire. She's not stupid by any means; she's a dentist and has her own thriving dental practice in town. It previously belonged to her late husband, Fred, who was also a dentist. He paid for all the cosmetic surgery. He was a good, kind man but she killed him off, I suspect, ran him into an early grave. He died of a sudden heart attack about two years ago," she said. 

"I can see you two aren't alike to say the very least, but I sense there's more to this story," I said.

"Well, yes," Rosie said. "She does this Mrs Holy Propriety thing, she's even good friends with the local vicar! But actually she's a right little slut and she's fucked every single man I've ever been with, she makes a point of it.

"She even fucked my ex-husband, Craig, when we were together. We were having a drinks party on a warm Sunday afternoon and one of our guests had lost her bag. She had given it to Craig for safekeeping. I couldn't find Craig anywhere so I wandered round checking the bedrooms to see if I could find it. When I came to the last spare room, there was Craig humping Daisy-Sophia for all he was worth. Craig was a very big man, about six feet five and as broad as a beer barrel. Daisy is about five feet nothing and has a tiny build. It was such a comic sight. It reminded me of one of those cautionary tales from the Kama Sutra, the ones about not mating an elephant with a mouse.

"Oh and there's something else I remember about my sister. Just before he died, Fred paid for her to have what she calls 'vaginal rejuvenation'…a bloody 'designer vagina', can you believe that?" Rosie said. 

"A designer vagina!" I said. "You mean like a 'Cunt by Calvin Klein'?" 

We both laughed. 

"The medical term for it is vaginoplasty. It's cosmetic surgery of the vagina," Rosie said. "Basically, it made her cunt tighter. She did mention that she had her labia 'reshaped and resculpted' too, so now they look less like elephant's ears. Oops! Sorry! Miaow!" 

"She hasn't used her new cunt yet as far as I know, so she'll be keen to try it out…to take it for a test drive so to speak!" she added. 

We could not stop laughing and were beginning to get slightly hysterical. 

"She has a completely unbroken record. She really has fucked every man I have ever known. She'll fuck you too, John. You mark my word, she will," she said.

"And you want to hasten this eventuality," I said, "by inviting me to come and have tea with her! And why don't I get any choice as to whether I might fuck her? Surely not fucking your sister is an option too." 

"Of course, it's an option but only for reclusive gay monks," she said. "She has this way of getting what she wants. She's a devious, scheming little bitch. She'll find a way of compromising or ensnaring you somehow. Maybe she'll get you in the dentist's chair and offer you a tranquilliser. Then instead of valium, suppose she gave you something like rohypnol, that date rape drug. Amnesia sets in after about ten minutes and the loss of all inhibitions follows quickly afterwards. That would work."

"Rosie, do you seriously mean that she would go to such lengths just to have one of your men?" I said. 

"Yes, John. I'm totally serious and she would certainly go to very great lengths to get her own way. Many of my men friends from long ago shared your surprise and apparent disbelief, but one by one, they fell prey to her, like flies in a sticky spider's web. 

"It's what Daisy does and it's spiteful in a childish sort of way. She only ever fucks my men the once just so she can carve a notch in her bedpost or wherever. The saddest part is that she probably doesn't enjoy it if the truth was known. The men who have told me about her, haven't enjoyed her much either. She's too cold, clinical and calculating for most of them.

"I don't want to talk too much more about her. After she knows that you're around, meeting her would be inevitable. She would make a point of that. She's a very strong-willed woman," Rosie went on. "So here are my tips to survive the experience. Don't let her get too close to you or screw with your mind at all. When you fuck her, think of it as a pleasant act of masturbation, like a hands-free wank! The next two things are for both of us. Fuck her really hard; let that wild beast out for a ride so that she remembers what she has had. Finally after you've cum, just get up, get dressed, say goodbye and leave." 

"One last thing," Rosie said. "Don't feel bad, ashamed or guilty about fucking Daisy-Sophia. Don't let it get to you and me. She's just a trollop. Afterwards be sure to tell me about it so we can have a good laugh and move on. Daisy could never experience what I feel and have with you, John, never. She would never care for you as I do, nor would you feel for her what you feel for me. I just know that and I have all faith in you and me." 




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 03



As we talked, we had eaten breakfast, cleared the dishes and I had loaded the dishwasher. We moved around each other naturally and without any awkwardness. It was as if we had known each other a very long time; even our conversations had the feel of longstanding familiarity about them. 

"Come here, Rosie," I said grabbing hold of Rosie. I tugged on the cord of her bathrobe and put my arms around her naked body. I released my own robe so I could feel my skin next to hers. 

"You are a very special woman, you know and very special to me," I whispered in her ear. "I just love the way you are, even when you're being bitchy about your sister. I love everything about you." 

I bent to kiss her with renewed passion. 

"How I can stop myself taking you upstairs again and fucking you right now, I don't know," I said. It's an act of supreme will and masochism combined. But I know we must do the chores and all the other stuff. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me and how lovely I know you are. I'd use other words but I don't want to appear like some infatuated adolescent or lapping poodle, but I do feel so much for you, you know. 

"I feel the same, my sweet man," she said. "Exactly the same, and so much more too. Like you, I feel embarrassed to admit the strength of my feelings for you. Now hold me very tight and kiss me. I love losing myself in those long never-ending kisses. Kiss me, John."

We kissed passionately, our lips full of longing. It was a kiss that said I care, farewell and I don't want you to leave; it was a kiss full of love and yearning. It was also a kiss where my tongue penetrated the warmth and wetness of Rosie's mouth in the heat of sexual desire. I clung onto her for all life too, my embrace saying all those things that my kiss could not. 

Our kiss ended Rosie rested her head on my chest. 

"John, may we talk about our next time together, not tea tomorrow but after that," she said. "I have this strange work schedule but if you ever needed or wanted me, I want you to know I'll be there for you." 

Rosie spoke with such tenderness, it made me go weak at the knees. 

Rosie deliberated for a moment then said, "My weekly schedule goes like this: On Mondays, I usually work between nine and four. On Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, I start at about seven in the morning from home. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I also do two separate clinics in town in the evenings and don't generally finish until eight thirty or nine at night. Those are long days. On Thursday I finish at about six and on Friday I try not to work at all, but sometimes I might do a couple of hours in the morning.

"So here's my idea, why don't you come over on Friday night and stay through to Monday morning, I would love that," she said smiling warmly. "But perhaps sometime before then you might drop in or stay if you want. Just call me, my darling and I'll be there. I wrote my pager number on that piece of paper that I gave you if you need or want to send me a message while I'm working too." 

"Likewise I'm here for you anytime you want, Rosie, just call me whenever you want," I said, "and next weekend would be wonderful too. So that's a yes please!" 

"I'll just go and sling my clothes on and head back home," she said. 

She went upstairs and was down again in minutes carrying her overnight bag. 

"The village gossips will love the sight of me in this untidy state setting off from here with my bag this morning. It will set tongues a-wagging for days," she said chuckling.

"Who cares," I replied, "if only they could have so much fun."

"Goodbye, my love. Call me tonight," she said.

"Until later, Rosie," I replied and blew her a kiss. 

I stood in the yard in my bathrobe watching Rosie saunter down the lane. She was wearing a beaming smile that seemed to stretch from ear-to-ear. 

Closing the farmhouse door behind me, I sat in the old battered leather armchair collecting my thoughts and planning my work and domestic campaign. I showered, shaved and dressed in record time and with the same energy I attacked the day like a tornado. 

With one arm full of dirty clothes and the other wielding the vacuum cleaner, I set to work. The farmhouse rang with the clamour of the vacuum cleaner, the washer, the dryer and the dishwasher all whirring noisily together. I shopped, wrote the proposal, ate a healthy lunch of poached salmon and finished the chores by four that afternoon. 

I was exhausted, tired from strenuous physical activity and emotionally drained from the towering highs and the troubled lows of the past two days. I could not remember any time like it before. It felt like living at full throttle. I wandered through to the kitchen and looked at my motley selection of opened wine bottles. I picked up a bottle of particularly fine Italian Merlot, took a large wine glass from the cupboard and poured myself a very substantial measure. 

I picked up the CD case from the music I was playing last night, grabbed the remote control, and sat letting the melodies of 'the marriage of Figaro' wash over me. I picked up the phone that I had put on auto-answer so that it did not ring and noticed that I had three missed calls, all of them international. At the end of the first disc of Mozart, I rang the answering service. There were three messages, each much the same as the last and all from Jane. She sounded drunk, very drunk and slurred her words badly. The calls were full of drunken remorse and regret about her behaviour earlier on Saturday. Could I, would I ever be able to forgive her? She droned on about how very foolish she had been and on and on. I heaved a deep sigh, reset the phone to ring normally and went back to the kitchen to pour another glass of Merlot. I felt no sympathy for Jane, then I felt badly for feeling as I did, and that was very little. 

The wine and the music together made me feel soporific; my eyelids felt heavy and my limbs ached pleasantly from the night's exertions. I thought of making love to Rosie and felt my cock start to rise in the excited enjoyment of my recent memories. I slipped into sleep, a very deep sleep. 

I had a strange dream filled with tinny electronic music. It was at a fairground on one of those high-speed merry-go-rounds, the sort that makes your stomach churn and heave just to watch them. I was dressed like a gypsy, one of the fairground hands standing in the centre of this machine as the wheel accelerated faster and faster. I recognised two of the people in the cars as they flew past: One was Jane and the other Rosie. They didn't know me. I was just the fairground hand and they were both out of my reach separated from me by a wall of sound and speed. I started to drift in and out of consciousness. The tinny music grew louder. I knew the music. It was the sound my phone made. It was my phone.

Drowsily I reached out for the phone.

"Hello," I said sleepily. 

"Hi honey, it's me. Just calling to see how you are," It was Jane, who sounded as though she had been drinking again.

I looked at my watch. It was ten past nine and I had slept for hours. 

"Hi Jane, I'm fine, absolutely fine," I said. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Hey look, there's a couple of things I need to talk to you about…only I've been thinking about cars and this and that," she said.

"Go on then," I said, thinking that this sounded like an expensive introduction.

"Well, yesterday I went into San Francisco shopping and stuff. I bought some nice things and I'll tell you about those later," she said.

I bit my tongue. We were meant to be on an economy drive, saving our money to pay for the high costs of a transatlantic move back to England. The cost of housing in England had doubled between the time I left for the USA and the time I got back. It was not easy to think how to make the books balance and preserve our standard of living.

"Yeah, I guess I had been doing some sums about the cost of running that old Isuzu Trooper of mine. Last year, it cost about three thousand bucks in repairs and maintenance and now I'm getting only twelve or so miles to the gallon. It's downright wasteful," she said. 

I followed her accountant's line of logic but I could see little point in changing the gas-guzzling SUV for just a few months. 

"The price of gas here is three bucks, thirty five now and the Trooper has a twenty five gallon tank that I fill up at least once or twice a week," she said. 

"The cost of petrol here is double the cost there, Jane," I said, "but I don't know where you're going with this." 

"Well, I guess I'm going to be here for another six or nine months so I just looked at the cost of getting a low-depreciation car for that time. Something smart that wouldn't cost me anymore," she said.

"Anything in mind?" I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"Yeah. I thought I could get a new Beamer on finance that would cost about the same money to run including the repayments. The fuel economy is better by more than three hundred per cent too. According to the calculations of the guy at the BMW showrooms, I wouldn't lose that much on depreciation either," she said. "Those new Beamers are so sexy. I went for a test drive and I felt really hot behind the wheel." 

I thought for a moment, then made a standard management consultant's response, "Look, Jane, that's a bit of a fast ball. Could you jot down the numbers on a spreadsheet so we can both see what we're getting into here, then we can decide." 

Jane was a banker, a vice-president of a large community bank. I thought that if her logic was failing then the numbers might speak to her. 

"Sure, I will honey, but I already know the numbers will make sense, trust me, I just know," she said. 

"Okay, let's take a look and both be sure. Better that way than rushing into something and regretting it later," I said. I thought I sounded just like my mother when she was dead set against something. 

"So what else did you buy?" I asked.

"Well, after driving that Beamer, I felt really hot and turned on, sort of sexy and wired," she said. "So I just went and bought some clothes and stuff.

"First I went to that English lingerie shop that's opened downtown. It's called "agent provocateur' like it's for James Bond's sort of women, at least that's the image," she said. She has definitely been drinking I thought.

"It was just what I needed. Their stuff is slinky and sexy and maybe a tiny bit sleazy too. It was how I wanted to feel: really hot, sexy and desirable. I bought some silk and satin panties, skimpy little things and one pair with bows on the side that you just pull to undo. I got some garters and a garter belt; you say suspenders there. I bought some bras too; one is very low-cut so it holds up my tits but my nipples pop out over the top. That looks just too sexy for words. I bought some matching stockings too. I felt so excited buying this stuff that I got really wet, but that made me buy even more," she said. "I started rubbing myself in the changing rooms I was so turned on. I think the woman who was serving me knew what I had been doing too. She gave me one of those disapproving looks." 

"So what else did you buy?" I asked. 

"Well, next I went to Saks Fifth Avenue," she said. Just hearing the name of that store gave my credit cards rigor mortis. 

"I bought this lovely black silk dress, it fits really tight and it's gathered on the waist. It's so classy that I couldn't resist it. It's from a top designer too, Versace," she said, "and I bought a couple of Calvin Klein separates. 

"They had this Japanese fashion show there and I bought a very slinky-looking skirt like a kimono with a slit up the side, but it's a skirt really. I bought a pair of stilettos too. They were by Jimmy Choo and are really amazing. They make me kind of push forward so my breasts stick out." 

"Jane, you bought a Versace dress. What on earth…I mean, how much did that lot cost?" I said. 

"The whole lot came to around six thousand bucks. The dress cost about two and a half," she said. She had obviously expected an angry reply. 

"You spent six grand and two thousand five hundred dollars on a single dress! How did you pay for all of this stuff?" I asked.

"I used my cards, Amex mainly as it has the highest credit limit," she replied coolly. "And look I spend virtually nothing on myself, I scrimp and scrape so I can move there with you. I spend nothing at all on me!" she sounded angry, but it was mock anger meant to divert my ire. I was seething quietly. 

It was true that she did spend very little on herself until now, but the excess of a dress that cost over one thousand pounds shocked me. Was I becoming too small-minded, middle-class and provincial in my outlook? I liked to think not. 

"So what do you think, darling? Would you like to see me looking this hot for you? I bet you would. Maybe I won't wear panties under my dress; it would be a shame to spoil its sexy lines. I could put on that up-and-under bra too so my nipples jutted out through the silk. That would turn any man on," she said. 

"I bought one more small thing too that I'll tell you about now. I went to an adult store. It's called 'Good Vibrations'. I'd never been to a sex shop before. There were so many men standing around just looking, staring. They all took a very good, long slow look at me. I was the classiest woman in there by miles. 

"In Saks, after I'd bought my clothes, I changed into my new stockings, garters and bra, my stilettos and my sexy black silk clinging Versace dress. I looked like a million dollars and all these guys just couldn't fathom why I was in there on my own. They all stood around staring at me. It was awesome."

I hate that 'awesome' word that so many Americans use as a general-purpose superlative. Hearing it now made me cringe.

"I'm rubbing my wet pussy now, Johnny. Don't you wish you were here with me? I'm sitting in your office chair and the juice running out of me has made a small puddle on the seat," Jane said.

I hated being called Johnny too and Jane knew that very well. She was trying to goad me. I said nothing in response. 

"So what about this sex shop? Is there more to tell?" I asked.

"Oh yes. So I just strutted around this place looking very superior picking up the dildos and inspecting them. There were some big black ones that were just enormous, I mean gigantic," she said. "This really got the guys going, watching me finger those great big rubber dicks. I was wearing this pair of black-calf dress gloves so it looked like I didn't want to get my hands dirty. But the guys knew…they knew that underneath my classy exterior that I just wanted to be fucked by a big black cock like the plastic one I caressed in my fingers. Does that make you horny, Johnny? Are you stiff for me now, baby?"

I didn't reply. Jane was in full flow now, in more ways than one. 

Anyway, I found this big black dildo in a set. It was called 'the Dildobrator'," she said. 

At that point I had to move the mouthpiece of the phone away as I couldn't suppress my laughter. First today, it was 'Designer Vaginas', now I was hearing about the 'Dildobrator'. I stifled my laughter with my hand, letting out small chortles that Jane was bound to hear as my making noises of sexual arousal. 

"What's a Dildobrator? I haven't heard of one of those before. I know that the Rampant Rabbit is very popular as vibrators go, but that's about it," I said. 

I thought I sounded a little prurient. I was not prudish at all, far from it, but I did not share Jane's mood at present. Her exhibitionism in a sex San Francisco sex shop also struck me as dangerous, but that was part of its thrill for her.

"It's a big black dildo about ten inches long and very thick. Lots of women wouldn't like it. It would be too big and uncomfortable for them. Anyway, I can use it as a dildo manually or if I turn on the power, it pumps up and down like a massive cock fucking me. It has five speeds from gentle to hyper-thrust. It comes with a much smaller, more slender pink one that also has a pumping action and a vibration action. I can use that one on my clit like a vibe or if I'm feeling really naughty, I can put it in my ass at the same time as I have the big black brute pumping my pussy," she said in a breathy voice. 

"Jane, this feels out of character for you. Showing yourself off to men in a sex shop could be downright dangerous. Some of these guys might take a tease as an invitation," I said. "It feels like high-risk behaviour all round." 

"Well, after I read those e-mails of yours yesterday, I felt so pissed. I was furious about you fucking that Adrienne woman or whatever she's called. I wanted revenge at first, but then I thought 'fuck it!' Fuck him too! Just go get a life and please yourself, just like Johnny," she said.

"Oh, for God's sake, Jane. Those emails were from a man called Adrian, who I'm not fucking. We went there yesterday and it's not true. If you want to stay there in that particular paranoid fantasy, you can do it on your own and I'll put the phone down now," I said. 

But what if she had said Rosie, what then, John? A voice inside me said, gnawing at my guilt.

"Oh baby, don't be like that," said Jane sounding like a small child, "stay here and do it on the phone with me. Let's imagine we're fucking honey. Let's talk dirty to each other. Please honey, I need to cum. I feel so horny. I need to cum real bad, like it hurts" 

"Jane, look I do understand but first I need to talk to you. I don't want to sound like some angry parent but that is how I'm feeling right now. I don't want to treat you like a naughty child either," I said. "I think there is one hell of a lot you don't understand about men, men in general and me in particular. Going into a sex shop, acting like Princess Cock-tease wearing three thousand dollars worth of clothes and carrying the same amount is a very bad idea. You don't know the guys who were ogling you. You may have been flirting with rapists or worse. Doing what you did is not some clever game; you were playing with high stakes -- your emotional wellbeing, sanity, health and possibly your life are the chips you had on the table. I'm sure as you fingered the dildos some of the guys thought about you doing it to their cocks. Maybe they thought that you were some spoilt little rich girl; maybe they were angry, bitter, jealous and would have liked nothing better than to slam you up against the wall and give you something you'd never forget with their fists as well as their cocks. That environment is not like fooling around in some high-class city nightclub. You could come badly unstuck. Okay, that's the first part." 

I was angry, in full flight and not about to stop.

"Here's the second part: All men are frail in different ways," I said. "I'm no exception. There are some men who feel inadequate and if humiliated they might resort to violence. That's a type, but that's not me. There's stuff I definitely don't go for, like I don't like cheap emotional blackmail, manipulation and veiled threats. I get totally turned off sex if that happens. Like a lot of other men I don't function too well sexually if I'm made to feel unworthy, not trusted, inadequate or an object of ridicule. I can't get it up if someone is one minute shouting abuse, and the next minute cooing 'Johnny baby' at me. I don't relate well to people with whom I haven't got deep trust at a sexual level either." 

"Vibrators take batteries and operate with switches. I don't. I'm not some moneymaking machine that provides you with sexual amusement either," I said. "Where you and me are with each other now isn't a very healthy place, it's not respectful, supporting, responsible, accepting, loving or peaceful. It's certainly not that enjoyable either and I have real difficulties with that.




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 03



"You probably have an inkling of how I'm feeling right now and it's not in the mood to have imagined sex with you on the phone. I'm sorry since I don't wish to hurt you either and I wouldn't wish to put you down in any way, but it's just how I feel." 

I stopped speaking and there was silence. 

"Wow! God, I really love it when you're feisty and assertive like that," Jane said. "But Johnny, look…"

"And stop calling me 'Johnny', I hate it. It makes me sound like a six year old. You know I don't care for it, so why keep saying it? My name's John, can you manage that?" I asked. 

"Yes, my love, I can. I mean, yes, John," she said. 

"I understand about the phone sex, John, but will you do something for me now? Just listen while I fantasise because I need to get off and if I don't, I'm frightened about what I might do for excitement. I'm asking you to make it safe for me, John. Will you do that for me?"

"Sure okay, just so long as you know I don't feel aroused like you do right now," I said. 

"I understand, baby, all you have to do is listen till I cum. It makes it more real, more exciting for me knowing you're there. I might get very rude, but remember it's just fantasy and not real this time, okay?" she said. 

"Okay, sure," I agreed.

"I just need to relax now. I'm on my hands-free phone and I'm going to the bedroom," she said. "I want to feel like a slut, like a whore for you, a real dirty little bitch who will do anything men want, but then there are all sorts of things I want too.

"Like I want the men at work to look at me, knowing that I'm not wearing panties and imagine what my hot, juicy wet pussy is like. I want their cocks to get hard as they think about me. 

"I'm putting the dildo into my hot wet snatch now. Its girth must be eight or nine inches and it stretches me tight. When I finger myself I can get almost my whole hand in my pussy, like I can almost fist-fuck myself."

I thought about this. I was by no means small and Jane had always felt very large to me. I can remember one of my male friends talking about his partner unkindly. He had said that her cunt was so wide that 'fucking her felt like dangling a sausage through open barn doors.' It was a very cruel comment, but I understood what he meant. 

"There's this big black guy, Joe, who's a security guard at work. He's huge in every way and he has this awesome package, like this great hunk of prime steak down his pants. His cock looks massive, as big as my Dildobrator," she said. "Sometimes I think of what it must be like to feel that big hunk of black meat pounding my gash. I'm fucking myself now baby just thinking about it. This thing is pumping me on 'slow-thrust' and I'm rubbing my clitty too."

"Oh I'm there now," she said. I'm imagining Joe fucking me, pumping at my slit. He's huge and he's stretching me wide, almost tearing me he's so big. His big black biceps are the size of my thighs. He's like a powerful machine. I can see all his muscles working, rippling. His massive cock pounding, crashing in my hot wet pussy like some powerful piston, grinding, mashing me with its force.

"Would you like to watch me, baby? Watch Joe fucking your sweet little wife silly? Or would you join in? You could fuck my ass with your little winkle. The Dildobrator came with a tube of KY too; I could use its pink friend on my ass and pretend it's you. God that would be so hot: Joe's big black rod battering my pussy, and you fucking my ass at the same time. The walls of my cunt are thin so you could feel him pumping. Would that turn you on, honey or would you rather just watch Joe and me at it and rub your little tool?

"Or would you prefer it if I watched you fucking Adrienne? When I read those e-mails yesterday it was like I could see you with her. How would she talk? Would she say things in her pretty English voice like 'Oh Johnny, finger me, finger me, then put your pole in my little quimmy and give me a jolly good rogering'," Jane said imitating an English accent very badly. "Would she say stuff like that, eh?" 

I thought about protesting again but actually Jane's image of how English women might speak simply made me laugh. I stayed quiet hoping, knowing she would climax soon.

"I think you like American girls like me better, Johnny, don't you? We can be so slutty in bed," she said, gasping for breath. "A lady in the bedroom and a real slut in bed, that's what you like isn't it? Not someone all prim and proper like those English girls. Us American women really know how be dirty whores and you love it, don't you Johnny?" 

I stayed quiet. The questions didn't need answering; Jane was only fuelling her excitement. But I did think about what she said and my experience had been the opposite. English women tended to be better in bed. My knowledge was not encyclopaedic by any means but that had been my experience. Maybe American women used more bad language, harder-edged language. Jane said fuck like she was spitting out an epithet, like hurling a weapon of abuse. English women tended to understand themselves better, be more in touch with themselves and their bodies in a way, I thought. There was still that stream of puritanism in the United States, that Christian fervour that fed guilt and repression. The Bible belt ran deep across the country from Chicago southwards and I wondered if the smouldering sexuality that must lie burning beneath that veneer of religious self-righteousness might some day explode like an earthquake. 

"I've lubed my ass now, baby, and I'm going to slide this pink rubber dick inside it. Oh! Ow! That hurts a bit, but I'm sliding it in and turning it on. Fuck! Oh yes! That feels so good. I bet you'd love to fuck my tight little ass, wouldn't you Johnny? Well, here I am doing it for you. Oh God! It's all the way in, pumping. I can feel it pressing me harder against the big black cock pounding my cunny. Fuck! That's so hot! I'm rubbing my clit now, pulling at it with my fingers, tugging it, rubbing harder.

"What I need now is another man's cock to suck. A big fat cock pushing down my throat so far that I can hardly breathe, fucking my mouth and just using me. Oh God! Three fucking cocks inside me at once that's what I want. I want it real bad," she said, her breathing now fast and laboured. 

"Fuck me, Johnny. Fuck me hard. Fuck my pussy! Fuck my ass! Fuck my mouth! Do it baby! Shoot your cum everywhere. Fuck me! Don't make me beg. Just slam your meat in me, honey. Fuck me like a cheap little whore!" she cried. 

"I'm squeezing my nipple now with my fingers, the two cocks are fucking me full-power, and I'm rubbing my clitty with my other hand. I'm going to cum, baby. I'm nearly there. Fuck me! I'm cumming. Oh my God! Oh Fuck! Oh Fuck!" Jane cried. "Oh God, the cream is squirting out of me. I can't stop…can't stop now," Jane cried and then let out a blood-curdling scream then a series of small agonised moans. 

The phone went quiet for a moment. All I could hear was Jane's rapid breathing.

"Oh thank you, baby. I needed that so bad. I feel better now, much calmer. Thank you so much. Oh God," she said then laughed. "You ought to see the mess I'm in. There's white creamy cum running down my legs and it's all over my nice clean quilt. I'll have to change it." 

Jane was hung up on cleaning in an obsessive sort of way. I smiled that it was virtually the first thing she thought about after her orgasm. 

"That's okay. I did nothing. Are you okay now?" I said in the kindest tone I had used during this conversation.

"Yeah. I'm fine, just awesome. I ought to let you go now, it's getting late and I know you have to get up early for work. Goodnight / good afternoon, honey," she said. 

"Goodnight, Jane," I said quietly.

"Goodnight," she replied then rang off.

I did not need that call. I looked at my watch. It was coming up to ten thirty. I would ring Rosie in a while, but after that call I needed a drink, a very strong drink. I chose scotch and poured it high in the glass adding a lot of ice that displaced it to the brim. 

My insides churned like a washing machine on spin cycle. The neat scotch burned my throat as I gulped it back. 

I thought about the phone call and the woman to whom I was betrothed, Jane, my wife. Perhaps I had become accustomed to living here without her. Perhaps, I had changed in some fundamental way. 

I tried to imagine what it would be like to be around Jane at this moment and whether I would enjoy it: The money, the sex, her work and the emptiness in her soul. I thought about what she was interested in. She did music and the arts in a superficial sort of way so long as it satisfied the needs of an attention span lasting no longer than an average TV commercial. I suppose I realised that when we were together, I had filled the void, that I had provided a human interest story that was the backdrop to our lives and its main stage too. That sounded too arrogant for words and I abandoned the thought immediately. But my overwhelming feeling was one of emptiness. That's how it felt, how my marriage felt. It was like the lights being on in the house when nobody was at home. 

I thought of Rosie and wondered if I was making the classic rebound, of using this warm and wonderful woman as an emotional bolthole of some kind. My heart wouldn't let me believe that notion. I did truly care for Rosie. 

I tried to think what life had been like before I met Rosie, of whether I had felt the same nagging anxieties about my life that I felt now. I did not have to think back more than five days.

Some words I had read in a psychology text somewhere were trying to surface in my mind. They went something like 'Eros's arrow strikes beyond the soul's deepest wound'. I'm not sure if I really knew what it meant at the time or whether I do now. 

There was something about levels of consciousness, like I had been going on with my life unthinkingly, almost on autopilot. It was shallow and I did all those subsistence things I needed to do to survive. I had been dwelling on the surface of my emotions, just skimming along the top of my feelings, going down just far enough to feel like I was functioning competently. It was all I had needed to do in my work as well as in other areas of my life too. Maybe it was how I held it all together. Maybe it is how most of us hold it all together. 

What was it about Eros? Eros meant variously erotic love, the life force or love itself. This was not helping. There was philia and caritas, the notions of friendship and unselfish, altruistic love too. I was making this overcomplicated. 

Maybe this was all about Rosie, maybe in feeling as I did for her, I had stirred something much deeper in myself. Perhaps that was it: where love strikes is in the place beyond our deepest feelings and our deepest pain too. What did that mean? This was far too complex for me now and the whisky had started to have its effect, clouding my mind with its hazy glow. In any case, I was not sure how reliable my deep feelings were. I seem to remember feeling some deep shift in myself with every woman with whom I had ever been involved, including Jane. I suppose there was another problem for me too and that was that I did not know whether to trust my own deep feelings. Was that about being brought up in a love-less place? I do not know. I did trust my feelings to a point in making day-to-day judgements, but beyond that all was uncertainty. Perhaps uncertainty did not matter either, since there is no real certainty. But somewhere here was a big point and that was if I could not trust my own feelings then how could I be true to myself? At that point, I gave up. 

I would call Rosie. I picked up the phone and the scrap of paper that still rested beside my chair. 

"Hi Rosie," I said. Are you able to speak now or is Rachel still there?"

"John, I'm so happy to hear from you," Rosie said glowing warmth. "I have done little but think of you all day. Rachel left about ten minutes ago and I was just about to call you." 

Sweet Rosie, I thought. We gabbled for a while. She told me all about her daughter like a proud parent. I told her about my strange evening and the telephone conversation. 

"Blimey!" she said. "That sounds like some Hollywood porno flick! Are you okay?" 

Sweet Rosie, always considerate. I reassured her that I was fine.

As our conversation reached its natural and cordial ending, Rosie said, "Look John, I guess it's very simple really in a way. I don't want to hear the answer, but the question that you need to ask yourself is whether you really love, Jane, and whether she loves you. You also need to understand what that love means and what it stands for. It's not about obligation, duty, marital fidelity or nuptial bonds -- the fetters of wedlock or whatever you might like to call them, it's about being true to your feelings and true to yourself. That's what you need to think about and it's no small challenge whatever you feel. I know that, my sweet and loving man. I know it only too well." 

"You're the eighth wonder of the world. I…," I said. 

"I know you do, my love. I feel it too," she said. "Keep safe for me and I'll see you tomorrow at about four or so. Sleep tight and dream of me."

We said our goodnights and I put down the phone. 

In my heart, I was struggling. I felt completely lost. I needed to discover my own answers, to find the lost path of my life so I could begin to be true to myself. Deep down I knew those truths, but now they hid in thick emotional fog.



Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 04



Most of Monday was a washout in more ways than one.

Some might have called it a typical English late summer's day. The skies were dark grey and angry. Torrential rain came bucketing down so hard that it bounced as it hit the ground. Sharp biting winds drove the raindrops sideways like flying shards of icy glass that pierced the skin. 

The weather may have been reason enough to dislike that particular day but it got worse. 

I had two calls planned for the day with prospective clients, both of whom had been referred by people who knew of my reputation for bringing businesses back from the brink. That was not all that I did by any means, a lot of my work was about bringing about positive change in organisations, but it was the disaster stories that people always remembered. 

My first call of the day was with the founder and chief executive of a new technology business that was one step away from the corporate graveyard. The business had started promisingly enough and it had attracted major investment. But the enthusiasm of the investors had not been matched by the skills and experience of its management who had frittered away most of the money in a scattergun approach to product development and marketing. Now they were on the brink of disaster: No money, no sales, no skills and the bank hammering on the door threatening to foreclose. There was little I could do to help. They were in dire straits. I spent the morning talking to them about the few available options left; straightening out their act, cutting costs, negotiating with the creditors and the bank, appealing to investors and at least, putting together a plan to engage skilled management to bolster confidence. I gave freely of my time. There was no way they could afford to pay for it. I left at lunchtime and walked out into the rain feeling damp and despondent. I doubted that the business would survive the month. 

My early afternoon appointment was as bad for different reasons. It was with a business development director of a large software company. After a spurt of meteoric growth, they had got stuck and were going nowhere. This man talked in clichéd buzzwords and meaningless jargon. He thought we might uncover some good 'synergies'. He spoke about his 'catalysing a delayered customer-centric management culture', of systems that were based on 'partitioned, time-sliced, transactional processing'. I understood part of what he said; at least I thought I did. I asked when he had taken up office and when the growth slowdown occurred. Coincidentally expansion had hit the buffers seven or eight months after he had joined the business. He was responsible to the main executive for sales, marketing and product development. This was no coincidence at all. I was looking the problem in the face. I needed to end the dialogue fast. I was wasting my time here. I said that I felt that I was probably not the right man for the job, that the job was too big for me and that he would be better off talking to one of the bigger consulting firms that could parachute in a whole team of experts. What I was thinking is that a team might just about cut it if one of them gagged this man and held him down, while the others went out and cleaned up his mess. He said he understood and was courteous. He thanked me for my time and input, and suggested he might like to talk to me again in the future, to use me as a sounding board. I agreed. I looked at my watch. It was two forty five. I needed to be back at Rosie's by four fifteen and it was a seventy-mile cross-country drive. I would have to go like a bat out of hell to get there in time. 

The rain had stopped. The roads were drier and I drove like the wind and arrived at Rosie's doorstep on the stroke of four fifteen. She came to the door and greeted me like a long-lost lover who had been on extended trip overseas, not someone who had made love to her just over a day ago. I detected she was anxious, slightly on edge. I imagined it had something to do with her sister. 

"Come through and meet Daisy...I mean Sophia, do please remember to call her Sophia otherwise she will be angry with me," Rosie said. 

We walked into her comfortable sitting room. Everything about Rosie exuded warmth, I thought, even her home which like her was full of small curiosities.

A small neat woman rose from the couch and extended her hand. I could see that we were both checking each other out, making those intuitive character assessments that in my own experience proved frequently to be more reliable than what came later. First impressions really matter I thought. 

She was a very neat woman standing about five feet nothing and immaculately dressed, her jewellery was understated but expensive. On her wedding finger, she wore a diamond ring with a large but beautifully cut-stone. I guessed it weighed around a carat. She wore a fitted blue linen suit with a white silk blouse. As for her age, she did look about forty although I knew this already to be the product of cosmetic surgery and that actually she was over sixty-one. She was after all Rosie's older sister by some eighteen months and Rosie was sixty-one. Her hair was sandy brown with no traces of grey neatly cut into a fashionable bob. The skin of her face though unwrinkled seemed to be pulled tight, the result of clever plastic surgery. She was tanned too, from the tanning salon rather than the beach I suspected. Her movements were sleek, regal and she sashayed across the room swinging her hips like a much younger woman. Her smile revealed gleaming perfect white teeth. Her mouth smiled but her eyes did not. Her smile spoke of insincerity and put me on my guard.

"Oh John, I'm so pleased to meet you. I've heard so much about you," she said.

I knew that Rosie would not have said that much about me. These sisters were bonded by birth, not friendship.

We shook hands. Her handshake was firm although her hand itself was small and delicate. She was a dentist and I had difficulty in imagining her wielding the forceps to yank out a reluctant molar.

"It's a pleasure, Sophia," I said, smiling a very convincing polka player's smile deliberately wrinkling my eyes to look friendly. 

"I have never seen you in a shirt, tie and suit before, John," Rosie said. "You do look terribly smart, quite dapper in fact." 

Rosie was smiling calmly, one of those smiles that told me to relax. 

"No, I suspect that you are more used to seeing him with no clothes on at all," Sophia said, firing the starting pistol of sibling combat.

"Mmm I must say he looks wonderful naked too," said Rosie.

Fifteen - Love to Rosie, I thought.

Sophia looked straight at me and spoke in clipped tones, "John, I understand that you are a married man and I notice you wear a ring too. Is your wife aware of your romps with Rosie?"

So it was unarmed combat now. I decided to give as good as I got. I felt my face redden as I turned an indelicate shade of beetroot. 

"Sophia, that sounds like a rather censorious question, one designed to embarrass me rather than yield any information in which you might be interested," I replied indignantly. "In the same vein, I could ask you about your romps with Craig, Rosie's husband at the time. But I wouldn't do that as it seems pointless, futile in fact, rather like your question." 

I hit below the belt and I was prepared to go for the jugular rather than be bullied by this woman.

"Yes, but that was when Rosie's marriage was all but over, there were extenuating circumstances," she said defensively. 

"Okay, but your marriage wasn't over, was it? Was your husband at the time aware of your relations with Craig? I suspect not," I replied.

"No," Sophia replied weakly.

"And you were aware of the state of Rosie's marriage as you are aware of the state of my marriage presumably? Are you really in a position to make judgements?" I asked. 

"Hey, you two, let's call a truce. I've made tea, lots of delicious sandwiches and I bought cakes too. Let's make those a peace offering," Rosie said then winked at me. 

"I'm sorry," Sophia said. " I agree the tone of my question was aggressive and uncalled for. It's just that I don't want my little sister to be hurt," she added in a pathetic girlie tone. 

"Your sister can take perfectly good care of herself, thank you, Sophia," Rosie said firmly.

"Okay, a truce then? Sorry John. Sorry Rosie," said Sophia half-sounding like she meant it.

"A truce," I said. 

"Good," said Rosie. 

Sophia looked at me straight in the eyes and when she was sure she had my attention she slowly uncrossed her legs then crossed them again, raising her knee high in the air so I could see all the way up her skirt. I could not divert my eyes even though I felt I should. What I saw was Sophia's pink vagina, her new 'designer vagina' as Rosie had put it. It was shaved and her surgically resculpted labia were small and perfectly shaped. 

I looked away, then at Rosie who I thought had also seen the display put on for my benefit. Rosie was smirking as if to say 'see I told you that under all that false piety, she's a total slut!' 

I grinned back at Rosie. It was all I could do not to laugh. 

"Let's have tea. There's Earl Grey, Darjeeling or Lapsang Souchong as teas or if you would prefer it, John, I do have a very nice bottle of Chablis," Rosie said.

Sophia asked for Earl Grey and I chose the Chablis, I felt I needed a drink to survive this sisterly get-together. 

There was a splendid array of sandwiches, probably enough to feed six. I had missed lunch and felt hungry. 

"Now for sandwiches, there are all sorts. There's smoked salmon either with cream cheese or cucumber, or red salmon and cucumber too. There's ham and there are also some crusty baguettes with assorted cheeses: Brie, Camembert and Cheddar to name but three. There's some goat's cheese too if you would like that. There's all sorts of fruit so help yourselves," Rosie said. 

"Wow, that's some feast, Rosie! Thank you so much," I said.

"Yes, thank you," said the ice-maiden on heat. 

I sat down with a very full plate of sandwiches. Something hard dug in my leg. It was the mobile phone in my pocket. I took it out and put it down on Rosie's cherry-wood coffee table. Sophia watched my every move. 

"I'm sorry for my indiscretion earlier, John," Sophia said. "I hope you will forgive me." 

"Look Sophia, as far as I'm concerned it's already forgotten," I said.

Sophia looked at my phone then back at me. She had edged her skirt higher but held her knees tightly together. As soon as Rosie got up to pour drinks, she shifted slowly and parted her legs to afford me a generous view of her smooth pink cunt.

"Sophia, I think the Earl Grey is finished. Would you like me to make some more?" Rosie asked.

Yes please, if it's not too much trouble," Sophia replied. 

I surmised that Sophia merely wanted Rosie out of the room for a short while so that she could continue the show. I was right. 

Sophia pouted and raised a small piece of sandwich to her lips that she slowly sucked into her mouth. Afterwards she held up a finger and pretended to lick a crumb from it then deliberately parting her legs wide so that her skirt rode all the way up, she slowly ran her finger over her cunt putting her head back as she pulled the finger back again. 

"Mmm," she said. 

Even though I did not like Sophia at all, and she did not appeal to me as a person in any sexual way, her erotic display had made my cock harden. I knew there was more to come. Rosie came back into the room and Sophia returned to sitting upright, legs tightly crossed clasping her hands in her lap. She went from slut to vicar's tea party guest faster than a Ferrari does nought to sixty. 

"John," Sophia said. "Look, I was so rude to you earlier, I feel I ought to make it up to you in some way. When did you last have a dental check-up?" 

"Look Sophia, please stop apologising. It's forgotten now. Let's not go there again," I said, " and as for the dentists, it's been about eighteen months since I was last there. Dentists make me very nervous." You bet they do and this one did in particular, I thought.

"You should have a check-up every six months you know. Look, I have an idea. It's a peace offering. Why don't I give you a free check-up and any treatment you need I'll do at special family rates. How's that?" she said.

Rosie looked on bemused as Sophia picked up my mobile phone from the table and took her own from a smart Italian leather handbag. She quickly dialled a number on my phone, her phone rang then she cancelled the call.

"Now I have your number stored on my telephone. When I get home tonight I'll check on my calendar to see when I have a free appointment and I'll give you a call," Sophia said. 

I guessed the thoughts that went through the minds of me and Rosie at that moment were almost identical. So the mantrap is being set, I thought. Now she has my phone number and an opportunity to force some kind of submission from me in the dentist's chair, when I'm flat on my back, I imagine. 

"That's very kind, Sophia, but...," I said.

Sophia interjected, "It's fine. I want to do it. I mean I'd like to do that for you."

I bet you would, I thought.

Rosie spoke carefully steering the conversation away from anything controversial. We enjoyed an hour or so talking about the times when each of us had lived in the United States. We had all been married to Americans and I still was. 

Time passed by quickly in amicable chatter. There were no more tensions now. Sophia had claimed her prize. She had got what she came for; or at least she had moved a long way down the path of getting what she wanted. 

I got up to leave. 

"I'll come to the door with you, John. Back soon, Sophie," Rosie said. 

Rosie closed the sitting room tight.

"Come out round the back," she whispered, " that way we can talk without being overheard." 

"So what do you think of my knickerless tart of a sister?" Rosie asked. "Isn't she something else?" 

"You noticed then?" I asked laughing.

"How could one not notice?" she said. "So now I hope you can see that she's out to get your knickers off too." 

"She made that fairly obvious," I said. I went on to describe her antics when Rosie was out of the room.

"Oh no! She never did!" Rosie exclaimed. "Look John, I'm not a nympho even though you make me feel like one sometimes, but I may need you to come back later after she's gone.

"I think I may need you to get her out of my system...maybe it's not that, perhaps I just need to have you again...just for reassurance. It's just what that bitch does to me!" Rosie said. 

"Look, my love. There is absolutely no need to feel threatened, not by your sister. I don't even like her; in fact, I actually dislike her. There's a real difference there. Come close and I'll tell what you what it is," I said.

Rosie came close and put her arms around me. 

"So here's the picture Rosie. I don't like your sister, and I love you, does that help?" I asked. 

Rosie pulled away from me suddenly. I thought for a moment that I had upset her unknowingly. Then I saw her face. She had stopped smiling and now she was positively glowing. She made a small jump in the air then skipped around the patio. 

"He loves me! He loves me! I knew he would! I knew he did!" she was chanting the words over and over like a schoolgirl playground song. 

Then she grabbed hold of me, "and I love you too, now kiss me for God's sake before I burst out in tears, I feel so happy!" she almost sobbed the words. 

We kissed. It was if all our feelings in every moment of those last few days condensed themselves into that kiss. I pulled Rosie to me as tightly as I could. The heat of loving desire surged through every vein in my body. I relived every moment and every pleasure we had had together. Rosie's body felt electric, supple, vibrant and so alive. I felt her whole life's energy as she moved in our kiss, her mouth locked hungrily to mine. I felt the joining of our bodies and the joining of our souls. I felt all of Rosie's excitement: physical, emotional, sexual and sensual. I felt the same excitement reflecting back in me. Rosie's joy was childlike, innocent without being childish; her ability to feel like that made her more attractive than any woman I had ever known. Sexual arousal ripped through me like a typhoon. My excitement was at such a pitch I thought I might cum in my pants like a teenager out of control. As Rosie's body strained tightly against mine in our kiss, I could feel the intensity of her passion drawing me in closer; it was if I had been pulled into her, her wet heat drawing me inwards, possessing my all. 

We broke our kiss both gasping for breath. 

"God, I love you," she said, "and another thing..." Her face had broken into another of those wicked smiles. "...We both know she's going to jump you in the dentist's chair. There's no denying that. Do you remember when I wanted you to fuck me like a wild beast, like an untameable animal? Well, I want you to give her your best caveman impression, to fuck her so hard that she'll have difficulty sitting down afterwards. Just do it, cum in her redesigned, remodelled designer receptacle, then get up and leave. That's what I want and I guess I want it over so make your trip to the dentist soon. There won't be a second time. She just wants a trophy, so give it to her." 

"Oh and I am worried if I don't get back in there soon she will come looking for me," she said. "Come round tonight, my love. I'll give you a call when superbitch has left."

"I'd love to Rosie. I'll go home, bathe, change and see you later," I said then leant to give Rosie a farewell kiss. 

"Until later then," Rosie said waving as she went back into the house. "I won't tell Daisy what she's missing, that will only make her worse!" 

"Until later, my love," I said standing, smiling, watching Rosie as she disappeared indoors. 

I got back into my car, pulled out my mobile phone and programmed Sophia's number into my contact list. It was not that I wished to call her, simply that I wanted to know it was her if she called, so that I could decide whether or not to answer. 

I drove back to the farmhouse, hung up my suit, put away my shoes and threw the rest of my clothes in the laundry basket. I jumped under the shower feeling good about life. I reminded myself that I hadn't thought about Jane either and decided to pass over that too. Although I did think that at some levels there might be deep similarities between her and Sophia, nothing explicit, it just felt that way. I could not put my finger on exactly what I meant. It was something about the deep underlying insecurity of these two women, about their emotional castles being built on sand that could so quickly and easily be washed away by the tide. 

I decided to shave again, more for Rosie's sake than from necessity. I put on a clean casual shirt and fresh clothes. I felt bright, cheerful and optimistic. I was optimistic at heart but sometimes I let other people feed on and drain those energies from me. I was not invulnerable but I was strong; I admired those qualities in others and I should appreciate them more in myself, I thought. I knew I had many faults and weaknesses too, too many sometimes.

The sun shone weakly through heavy brooding clouds. I threw open a window and smelt the air washed clean by the rain. I took deep breaths and smiled at my immediate good fortune. I sat in my favourite battered armchair and watched the blue-grey storm clouds move slowly across the sky. I thought back through times and places that held the best memories for me: Of hills and dales, of snow-capped mountains sloping down to the ocean, of the bright hopefulness of new spring mornings. I thought about Rosie dancing excitedly around her yard earlier, whatever became of her and me that happy memory would stay with me to the grave. 




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 04



The sound of the phone broke into my indulgent daydream. I knew the number of this caller off by heart.

"Hi Rosie. Are you still all in one piece?" I asked.

"Yes, come quickly I need a hug, John. There's a nasty emotional taste in my mouth and it's not wearing any knickers!" she said.

I laughed aloud. 

"You are so funny, Rosie. I can be there in about ten minutes, can you hold on, my love?" I asked. 

"I'll try, but hurry so I don't lose my marbles. The way I feel right now, they might fall out all over the floor," Rosie said giggling. 

"As long as you put them away tidily in your toy box, nobody will mind," I said teasing her. "Look I'll just clean my teeth, lock up leave, then as you say, 'hey presto!' I'll be there." 

I made it to Rosie's in less than eight minutes. I didn't need any encouragement to go faster. Her front door was unlocked and I let myself in. 

"The big bad bogeyman is a-coming to get you and he's got his knickers on!" I called out so as not surprise or alarm her by just walking into a room. 

Rosie peered out from behind the kitchen door.

"I hope so," said Rosie, "and I hope that bogey-boy can keep away the big bad dentist bitch."

"He can do wonders with his chopper, missus," I said doing a very poor Paul Robeson impression. 

"I know he does. I know he does and that's just what I'm afraid of!" said Rosie. "I want his chopper all to myself so I'm coming to get him." 

Rosie threw her arms around me and said, "I'm so glad you're here. I feared that you might have to work tonight or do something else. I'm so happy I've got you here, my gorgeous man."

"Rosie, I'm happy to be here too. So how was superbitch, did she give you much more grief?" I asked.

"Probably no more than I gave her," she said and giggled. "We're so different I don't even know how we could be borne of the same parents." 

"Don't worry about that, I feel much the same about my brother. While he's possibly not quite as malevolent, he's not so kind either, nor that interesting," I said. "So tell me about Madame Sophia, just a high spot or something that made you laugh."

Let's get a drink, sit in the kitchen and chat for a while, then I want to take you to bed," Rosie said. "What would you like John?" 

"Mmm I'd like a gin and tonic, not a very strong one. I don't want to dull my senses so that it takes anything from my enjoyment of you later," I said smiling.

"One weak gin and one weak scotch coming up," she said. "I love the way we enjoy each other too...in every way. I love how we do that." 

Rosie poured and chatted," Well, Sophie thought you were great: 'Intelligent, charming and desirable' were her words. She said that she thought the way you stood up to her was a 'real turn-on'. You did very well, my love. I'm not sure how I would have coped if the tables were turned and that was your brother." 

"I was concerned that I may have been a little harsh. I did put the knife in and twist it," I said. 

"No matter," Rosie said. "You did brilliantly."

"The funniest thing was later when she was really getting on my nerves, I turned and asked why she wasn't wearing any panties," she said. "I almost wet myself laughing when I heard her answer but I managed to listen without so much as a smile crossing my face."

"Come on then, tell all, don't keep me in suspense," I said. 

"Well, she told me that after the plastic surgery, her vagina in general and, sometimes her clitoris in particular, were highly sensitised to anything touching them, including clothing," Rosie said. "She said that the sensation was somewhere between an irritation and an itch and that made it difficult to ignore."

"Do you believe that?" I asked.

Rosie said. "There may be some very small vestige of truth in what she is saying but I'm not sure. I just think she's a brazen hussy who wanted to put the goods on display today for your benefit. I bet she has an itch and can't wait for you to scratch it!" 

At that moment, the mobile phone in my pocket rang. I looked quickly at the caller display. It was Sophia.

"Rosie, it's her. Shall I take the call?" I asked.

"Goodness me, yes. Quickly now or you'll lose her," Rosie replied.

I pressed the answer button. 

"Sophia, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. I hope you and Rosie enjoyed your time together today," I said.

I put a finger to my lips and pressed the speaker button so that Rosie could hear the conversation. Rosie made a thumbs-up sign to show that she understood.

"We did. We don't see enough of each other which is silly really seeing as how we live so close," Sophia said. 

Rosie raised her eyes to the ceiling and clasped her hands together as if in prayer. 

"I really did enjoy meeting you, John and it's clear you make my sister very happy. I'm so happy for you both," Sophia said. "I might be a little jealous in a way. You're a charming and intelligent man, John. I'm sure lots of women find you attractive." 

Rosie pulled a face, a grimace.

"I'm not at all sure about that, Sophia. It's certainly not why you called, was there something else?" I said in a polite but cool business-like tone. 

"Yes, there was. I looked at my surgery calendar and I have a cancellation at the end of the day tomorrow, at five. Our last appointments are normally at 4:30, but I made an exception for this particular patient. Anyway she can't make it and I wondered if it was a convenient time for you to come in for your check-up," Sophia said. 

I looked at Rosie who was giving me the thumbs-up sign again and smiling. 

"That would be fine, Sophia. I know where you are and I'll see you at five," I said.

"Last thing, please don't be anxious. I'll make sure you're completely at your ease before any treatment. Who knows, you might even enjoy your visit to the dentist and be eager to come back for more," Sophia said. I had heard that double entendre and so had Rosie, who was holding up her fist and pointing two fingers like a gun. 

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Sophie. Thanks for the call and I'll see you tomorrow," I said.

"Bye for now, John," Sophia said.

"Bye, Sophie," I replied and pressed the 'end call' button. 

"Well, that's that," I said to Rosie and sighed. 

"It certainly is. I think she intends that you should scratch her itch soon so to speak," said Rosie and laughed. 

"Let's have a Sophia moratorium for now. She's getting far more attention than she deserves," I said.

"I agree," said Rosie. "No more talk about the bitch on heat. It's funny isn't it? It's like you and I know each other so well at one level and at another, there is so much we don't know.

"I know what, let's do this. Let's play true confessions. I'll tell you something about me, and then you do the same. Just one confession tonight as I can't wait to get you into bed!" Rosie said. "In the meantime, let's go to the sitting room. It's warmer and softer there somehow." 

Rosie led me through to the sitting room and I sat on the couch. She sat close in a deep armchair. 

"That's a deal," I said. "Are you going first?" 

"Yes, I will if you like. I'm happy to do that but it means I can nominate a theme for being the brave one. So I'm going to say that the theme is sex or relationships. It can be either or both as you like," she said, obviously enjoying this game.

"So I'm going to do sex," she said grinning.

"Aw you surprise me!" I said. 

"Here goes then," she said. "My confession is both happy and sad in a way. I have never had sex like we've enjoyed in my whole life. I was married to Craig for more than thirty years. Craig was the son of a rector and he was brought up on deep Christian guilt. He didn't believe in sex before marriage and I was his first sexual partner. Sex with Craig was abysmal. It was brief, perfunctory and unpleasant. It was always in the missionary position and there was very little foreplay. I'm not even sure that he knew what a clitoris was, but then that seemed to be a post-feminist discovery for many men. There was no oral sex, there was nothing, just 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am, goodnight' and I hated it. 

"Craig spent long times locked in his office surfing the internet. Frequently, as I discovered later, he was looking at porn. From downloads and other things I saw on his computer after he left, I suspected he was having phone sex on premium call-lines and that he visited prostitutes too. I know he screwed my sister at least once and maybe more than that. For the duration of my marriage to him and until last week, I had sex with no one else. 

"So you see when I tell you how wonderful it is to have sex with, to make love to you, it's no exaggeration. In fact, it's mind-blowingly beautiful and amazing to me. But that's just the start of my confession. There's a little more."

"Rosie, you are wonderful. I'll tell you some things too. Maybe I'll just let our confessions merge," I said. "In the course of my life I've had many sexual partners. I don't know how many, I've never kept count but I know it's upwards of twenty-five. You are by far the best lover I've had by a very long way. You really are. I have never had a lover who is anything like as good as you. So this is part question and part statement, if you have had only bad experiences with Craig, how did you learn to make love like you and me do now?"

"I'll go back a little in time then answer that question, and as I do I intend to undress you," she said. "I am also going to undress so that when we're finished talking we can both go and make up for lost time. There's an awful lot of lost time.

"Before Craig, I had a number of boyfriends with whom I had sex, but it was the sex of youth: fast, brash and risky. In many ways it was better than what followed. It was exciting sometimes, although I'm not sure if I came that often. I've actually cum more times in the past week than I have in my life, I suspect. It's embarrassing to me in a way especially since as a therapist I give out all manner of advice on sex and intimacy."

Rosie smiled, undid her blouse and dropped it on the deep pile carpet and walked towards me.

"Most of the time with Craig, I didn't work. It was only after our separation that I took up psychotherapy again," she said. "Every day in my practice I was confronted with problems that had something to do with sex. I felt such a fraud so I thought I had better catch up somehow. So I took myself off for some sex education. I read sex manuals, erotica, the works of Anais Nin, and all sorts of stuff on the internet so that I had some basic grasp of the theory. I started to masturbate; I even bought a vibrator that I used sometimes. I used to touch myself in ways I had never been touched before. That way I was able to imagine a little of what sex might be like."

Rosie stood in front of me unbuttoning my shirt. I reached behind her and unclipped her bra and fondled Rosie's breasts gently in my hands. 

"Mmm that feels so good and this is the end of my confession," she said. "I spent all those loveless years in a sexual and emotional vacuum with a man I didn't even like. Then I find you and wish that we'd met thirty years ago. I'm getting old and I know it. I guess I'm sexually literate as I've read so much. When I said you can have absolutely anything you want and that I'd give it all to you, I really meant it. I want to try so many things, everything. Everything we've done so far has been just wonderful. I was nervous about anal sex and I loved it. I've loved everything we have done and I want so much more." 

Rosie sat down next to me on the couch and reached down and felt my hard cock through my trousers, then started to unbuckle my belt. 

"That's about it really," she said. "Of course, coming from that place in my history, I'm a bit scared now and I guess you are too. I understand the fear and I won't let it overwhelm me. It's a bit like that dreadful book title, 'feel the fear and do it anyway'. You see I love you. I could say much more about how I feel about you but that I love you is enough as it's everything. Right now, I so badly want to fuck you and show you how much!"

"I love you too, Rosie," I said. "I must have you soon so I'm going to put my confession on hold for now."

"Oh God! I can barely wait," Rosie said. "Let's go to the bedroom now. This room is still saying 'Sophia was here' to me!" 

Rosie's skirt was half off and my trousers were falling down. Thankfully she had removed my shoes and socks too. We hurried to the bedroom. We both felt that same burning urgency, that welling up of tension crying for release. 

"Now given my inexperience, I may need you to let me have my way with you. I promise you'll enjoy it, just like my first small experiments," Rosie said, and then giggled. "I just want you to allow me to please you in my own way sometimes. I love the way you respond to me." 

I pulled Rosie onto the bed. I fumbled with her skirt lifting her and pushing it down. She put her hand inside my briefs pulling them off with my trousers. I grasped her to me tight and putting my thumb in the band of her small panties and quickly tugged them off. There was a feverish and insistent urgency to our passion. For me, it felt like the pressure of an earthquake, the accumulated strain of energy forcing its way outwards from the core. 

"Oh I want your cock so badly," Rosie gasped as she took hold of me. "God I love it, so stiff and strong yet the skin is so soft like velvet. It's the biggest cock I've ever had and I love how it feels inside me. Very soon I am going sit on you and fuck you. I want you to feel my cunt wrapped around you, adoring and loving you."

Rosie pushed me onto my back taking control of our lovemaking. I did not resist. Hers was a loving control and I felt safe. I thought how seldom I had allowed anyone to give to me as I gave to them. Giving that on the surface looks like an act of generosity is so often about control. Receiving and receiving lovingly, giving up control is often by far the greater act of generosity.

Rosie ran her tongue slowly around the crown of my cock then with the very tip of her tongue teased in that small v-shaped place behind its purple helmet. I moaned softly. 

"Rosie, I do so love you. You can have anything you want of me too, anything at all," I said. 

"Mmm Right now I have exactly what I want," she said. "I want all of you and I loved it just then as I felt you let go. It told me you trusted me. I can't tell you how good that feels, John.

"Now I'm going to kiss and caress your cock just like you do my cunt," she said. "I'm going to bathe and lather it with my spit and swirl my tongue all around it. I'm going to make it wet and slick, just like my cunt is now. 

"Mmm...I love the way you taste as much as you enjoy me that way," she said. "Oh I can feel your response to my lips and tongue now. I can feel you pumping more blood into your rod making it even more rigid, stiff and swollen, straining for me. I know that craving feeling well. I can feel it now, that yearning, the craving, the hunger for release. I can feel that smouldering ache in my cunt." 

The effects of Rosie's touch, her kisses, the soft wet movements of her tongue on my cock combined with her words were making me delirious. I moaned loudly. I let out the sounds of primal man, groans and unintelligible utterances, whimpering helplessly and grunting. I had lost control. 

Rosie closed her lips around my knob-end and sucked hard. 

I could not help but cry out, "Oh Fuck, Rosie. Fuck! Oh yes!"

I was afraid I might cum there and then. I felt Rosie's mouth slide down my stiffness. I fought hard with the intensity of the pleasure that welled up inside me. Hold on; hold on, I told myself. Think of something else. I made it back, past what I thought was the point of no return. 

I ran my fingers through Rosie's hair. 

"Rosie, soon," I said. 

I let out a loud sigh of relief as she raised herself from me. I pulled her upwards, sliding her over me. We kissed, urgently, devouring, hungrily. I nibbled at her lower lip, then plunged my tongue into her mouth, my tongue chasing hers, dancing crazed in lustful yearning. 

I saw her eyes flash in excited surprise. She moved, edged downwards, drawing up her knees. My desire raged screaming at me to extinguish the fire. I reached down behind her thighs pulling her upwards above me. Overbalancing, she grabbed the headboard resting on her arms. I had her where I wanted her. The lips of her cunt were open, red, distended, flushed, glistening with her nectar. I wanted to take her to the same wild place of excitement that I felt now, near the peak, clinging to the edge, barely holding on. I pulled her down on my mouth, my tongue pushing as deep as it could into her opening. She let out a loud cry. My tongue thrust in and out of her. Rosie ground her cunt against my mouth, grazing, bruising my lips. I moved to her clit flicking it gently with my tongue. She tensed moved upwards as I pursed my lips and sucked at her pearl. I sank two fingers into her cunt moving rhythmically as I sucked her clit a little harder. I felt her start to tremble. My lips were glued to her nub as my fingers moved faster. She screamed. I felt the waves of pleasure run through her as her breathing stilled and her body stiffened. The muscles of her cunt convulsed in wild spasms squeezing, clenching at my fingers. 

'Fuck! Oh Fuck! I can't stop...!" she cried. "Don't stop!"

I released the pressure on her clit, pressing my tongue gently along its underside, leaving my lips covering, caressing, and kissing the top of her button. My fingers slowed. I felt her tense again almost immediately. Her creamy nectar spurted over my chin and ran down my neck. She let out another scream as I closed my lips on her clit. 

Quickly, so as not to let her come down, I moved her down my body. She raised herself reached down for my cock and without any hesitation impaled herself on it in a single hard thrust, forcing down on it right to the hilt. I took her hips in my hands moving her backwards so that her clit was pressed down hard on the base of my shaft. I took her shoulders drew her towards me so that she had to support herself with her arms. Rosie started to fuck me wildly, thrashing, bucking and plunging me deep inside her.

"Oh God! You feel so big. I love fucking you like this," she moaned breathlessly.

Her pace was quickening, perspiration poured off her, her breath strained.

I raised myself up and took her nipple in my mouth, sucking it through my lips, pulling hard and gently stroking it with my tongue.

"Fuck! I'm cumming again!" she cried. "I keep cumming...I can't stop!" 

Releasing her nipple, I grabbed her hips with both hands, pulling her down hard as she thrust downwards, then driving my cock upwards as far as it would go, pushing her backwards so that my shaft pressed along the length of her cunt keeping contact with her clit. 

Her juices spurted over my cock, balls and ran down my legs. Her rhythm broke into jerks as she seemed to shudder and I felt the muscles of her cunt contract and pulse tightly around my cock. Her body convulsed as if in a fit. 

"Fuck!" she shouted as she scratched her fingers down my chest. 

I reached up and put my arms around her drawing her close and rolled her over onto her back in a single movement. I looked into her eyes that were wild with excitement. Rosie raised her legs and wrapped them round me. Staring back into her eyes, I unfurled her legs and lifted them onto my shoulders. I moved slowly inside her at first just to check that she was comfortable. 

"Oh yes, John!" she cried. "Fill me up, darling. Fuck me and show me I'm yours."

My pace quickened. Her words excited me beyond measure. I pumped deep and fast, pounding her softness.

"Fuck me hard, John! Take me. I want to feel possessed by you, John. Take me all. Take my cunt. It's all for you, my lover. I'm all yours!" she gasped.




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 04



"I can't stop cumming, John. You make me cum all the time. I just can't help myself," Rosie said. "Oh God! I'm going to cum again. I want to feel your seeds overflowing inside me. Fill me up, my darling. Fuck me hard." 

Whatever it was that had allowed me to keep going so long snapped very suddenly at that moment. The powerful, consuming pleasure exploded tearing through me in a rush that pulled at every nerve ending, sinew and muscle in my body. It was like being struck by lightning but without the shock; overtaken by painful euphoria racking my body, pleasure ablaze with blinding light. I know I cried out. Rosie had moved her legs from my shoulders wrapping them tightly around me holding me as I sobbed in her arms. My muscles ripped at my guts, straining my balls as I pumped my semen deep into Rosie. The powerful instincts of procreation took over driving me to plant my seeds deep, as deep as I could inside her. 

When my orgasm had subsided we lay still in each other's arms. I pulled the sheet and quilt up over us to keep us warm when our sweat began to cool. I did not withdraw from Rosie until my erection had receded completely. We must have stayed there holding each other tightly for fifteen minutes or more. Neither of us said a word. No words were necessary. 

I kissed Rosie's lank damp hair. We were both drenched in perspiration. Rosie stirred.

"John, I have this idea...well, it's more of a suggestion really," she said softly.

"Tell me, my love," I replied. 

"It's not a big thing...it's just that I think we should take a holiday together...go away somewhere, warm, dreamy and romantic, just to be with each other alone for a time...I just think...oh it's nothing really. I shouldn't say either and I'm frightened that I might be being selfish," Rosie said.

"The last thing you are is selfish, Rosie...the very last thing in the world. But say what you were going to say," I said.

"It feels wrong for me to talk about it in a way," she said, "and I hope you won't be offended, but I just have this feeling..."

"Oh Rosie, don't be silly, my love, just say. I couldn't possibly be offended," I replied.

"It's just that I have this bad feeling," she said. "It's about Jane. She seems like a loose cannon at present. I guess it's just based on what I hear from you. Well, a lot of my time as a therapist is spent dealing with human misery. I have this sense that something may go very wrong with her...like she goes off the rails completely or worse. I don't even know; it's just a nagging feeling I have. 

"I have a real sense of you too; a sense that if that happens you would care...like you wouldn't just behave like a bystander, that you may have to leave for a while. I know you would care."

"Come here you. I want to hold you as I speak to you," I said. "About the holiday, my answer is an enthusiastic and definite 'yes please'. So let's do that and plan our short escape soon!

"I know just what you mean about Jane and I'm sure that what you feel you've picked up from me. To me she feels like a major traffic accident just waiting to happen. I'm in kind of an unresolved place about her just now. I'll get there so bear with me, but right now I just don't know what to do for the best.

"So much has changed for me in the last week since meeting you too. I need some time to get my bearings, just to catch up in a way.

"You are such a kind woman, Rosie. I don't know how I had the good fortune to meet you. I tell you what though, if I lay here I'll go to sleep and since it's so early, I'll wake at some ridiculous time tomorrow like the middle of the night. So let's get up, take a shower and maybe just talk for a while...then you can hear my true confessions, the confessions of a totally screwed up psychologist."

"You will stay here with me tonight, John, won't you?" Rosie said, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course, I will Rosie," I said. "So as to be out of your way when you start work, I'll get up at six, throw my clothes on and leave. I would really like to stay with you tonight though."

"Good! I'm so glad. Let's go and shower," Rosie said and smiled warmly. "There are clean towels in the bathroom you used on Saturday. I was expecting visitors, you see."

"Visitors, really?" I asked.

"Just you, silly!" she said. 

"Oh okay," I said laughing. 

I went back to the sitting room, grabbed my clothes and wandered off to the bathroom where I engaged in tuneless singing. My problem with singing is that I could never remember more than one or two lines of songs and the fact that I simply could not sing. I was out-of-tune and off-key. To a passer-by, my singing would have sounded like the sound of someone strangling a cat, a tomcat maybe. But I was at least happy, so it may have given the impression that the tomcat was pleased to meet his end.

I showered, dried and dressed again for the third time on that particular Monday. I wandered back to the sitting room where I caught Rosie looking dreamily out of the window.

"A penny for your thoughts?" I said.

"Oh I was just daydreaming, of us and of you mainly...wondering where it might be fun to go on holiday together," Rosie said. Somehow I like the idea of Paris. It's such a romantic place with so much going on.

"Can I get you a drink? I can do wine and beer as well as scotch and gin as you like," 

"I think I'll have a scotch nevertheless," I said.

"Will Springbank do you?" she said.

"Perfect," I replied. "I love the idea of spending a week in Paris together too, Rosie."

"Well, that's a plan already," she said and smiled. "We'll have to decide when. It would be good to go before summer is out and it's already late July.

"Hold that thought, I'll just go and get the drinks," she said. "Water or ice with yours?" 

"Water please," I said. 

"Okay, I'll be right back," she said and with those words she darted towards the kitchen returning minutes later with a tray loaded with two large cut glasses, a bottle of 15 year old Springbank and a blue glass bottle of still mineral water. 

"I thought you might like to pour, John," she said. "Sometimes I can be a bit heavy-handed."

"Not that I'd noticed," I said laughing. 

We poured drinks and Rosie sat on the large couch. I sat on the soft Persian rug at her feet. 

"On dates for the holiday, I probably have more flexibility than you just now, Rosie," I said, "so why don't you give it some thought then we can book whatever we need to."

"I'll let you know before the week is out," she said. " I just need to check when there will be cover for me at the clinic." 

"Great. So is it my turn to confess now?" I said. "I hope I don't have to do contrition or penance afterwards!" 

"Oh you just might, you know," she said, " but don't worry, I'll make it fun for you." 

We both laughed.

"But it could just be a revelation rather than a confession in which case, I might not need to do either," I said. 

I drew breath very deeply and thought for a second. 

"Okay, her goes nothing," I said dolefully. "Jane is my third wife. I have been married twice before.

"My first wife was called Penny. Penny was a truly lovely woman whom I adored in every way. We had lived together for a couple of years before marriage and to me it seemed like a perfect match. Eighteen months into our marriage, Penny decided that she preferred Lassie to Pal as the dog food commercial goes. She felt that she preferred women sexually to men and that she was a lesbian. She had been having an affair with an eminent woman lawyer and decided that she would move out from me and in with her.

"I was devastated. On one level, I couldn't understand at all. I felt we had had the most wonderful sex life and that made it all the more difficult. I'm not going to go on too much about it now. I went through it over and over afterwards. Some people even threw nasty bigoted rubbish at me about being sexually inadequate. You wouldn't believe it really. It was her choice and her sexuality, nothing to do with me at all. It took me an age to come to terms with that one. 

"Nevertheless we salvaged our friendship from it all and to this day I remain great friends with Penny. She's living happily with another woman and has lived with the same woman now for the past twenty years at a guess. I was just twenty three when we married." 

I paused and looked at Rosie who had tears running down her cheeks. I leant forward and squeezed her hand. 

"It's okay, Rosie," I said. "It's just life and sometimes life is cruel and hard."

"Don't I just know it," she said. 

"Okay, I'll go on," I said. "I'll finish my revelations this time so hold on as this might be a long one.

"I had a fairly long period of being free and single after that. Like most of us, I'm a social person at heart, a normal functioning social sexual being. I had lots of women friends and lovers too but I grew tired of living alone. 

"Than I met Katherine or Kate as she preferred to be called. We had a long courtship. Everything felt okay. It was not a relationship that rocked the world by any means, but it felt safe. I had qualified as a therapist by this time too and I thought I knew and understood myself well. 

" I suppose in many ways we were more like good friends than lovers. I also think that I had little confidence in my ability to sustain an intimate relationship with anyone, and there lies the rub. I'll come to that later. 

"On the night after the day of our marriage, Kate moved into a separate bedroom saying that my snoring had become intolerable. There was only one problem with that and as I found out subsequently I don't often snore. After that things went from bad to worse. 

"Kate would like to have sex at ten on a Saturday morning. It was sex by appointment and no more than twice a week. Sunday morning was sometimes okay too. There was no intimacy at all. Our marriage was like a bad habit more than anything else. The sex wasn't very good either. If our sex lasted for more than twenty minutes, Kate would complain. It was just a joke, like a bad joke on me. 

"I tried to talk to her about it all. I talked about our difficulties with intimacy and she asked me what intimacy was! I remember writing a paper at the time for a psychology journal called 'What is intimacy?' The paper was a reaction to my difficulties with her. She didn't really get all this intimacy stuff.

"We went to counselling together and separately. It was a total dead duck. I mean there were no feelings there to work with. She had some particular difficulties with her late father, and a late husband. There was some very strange stuff going on for her, all locked away and churning inside.

"In the end, and it was the end, the counsellor said in her view that we should separate and each go our own way and that was exactly what we did.

"By this time, the counsellor had stopped seeing me and she just worked with Kate. The counsellor and I knew the inevitable conclusion already." 

I paused. I had gulped down all my whisky and reached for a refill. This time I poured a very heavy measure. 

"How am I doing ma'am?" I asked Rosie. "No, don't answer that yet. I'm doing a lot of skimming the surface here I know. Maybe at the end, I'll say more about that. But if I don't keep going now I'll not finish."

Rosie smiled kindly at me. 

"So that was Kate and then there was Jane," I said. I'm not going to say much more about her. You know a little already. There's so much I could say but here I am again in between a rock and a hard place. You are neither of those by the way, Rosie."

Rosie giggled and looked straight at me. Not once during my monologue had she diverted her eyes from me. 

"So here comes the brief summary and analysis as far as I understand it," I said. "I'm not sure how far that is really. 

"I'm a qualified therapist. I've done relationship and marriage counselling. I've even been published on the subject. But when it comes to close intimate relationships for me personally, I'm totally useless, complete crap you could say. I've been through hundreds of hours of training therapy. Every part of my past has been laid out before me and dissected in detail but still I get into such terrible messes in close relationships. 

"There's one important factor, like a missing piece of the jigsaw, that I know is missing too. It's the therapist's dream really. I had a totally loveless childhood. It was worse than that too. Some of it verged on brutal cruelty and abuse. It was probably the biggest reason why I took up therapy in the first place. During training I had to get all this out and look at it in the minutest detail. I got angry, raged and I wept going through all that stuff. I was so scared that I almost gave up the course but I didn't want it to beat me. I felt so much turmoil inside I was afraid I would have a breakdown, but there were good and supportive people at the Institute and I made it through intact. 

"I supposed all that we looked at was the stuff that was there, rather than the parts that were missing. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's more complicated, I don't know. 

"The emotional bonds of childhood are what form and shape our lives. If there's no point of reference for a person's emotional world, no emotional frame of reference, they have difficulty in understanding their own feelings, particularly their deep feelings. Perhaps they can pick the rest up on the way, but without that frame of reference, there's no guide to love, loving and being loved. And it doesn't stop there; they probably don't know where their emotional limits or boundaries sit either. It's like trying to follow a route map without a compass; you just keep getting lost.

"So perhaps that's me, no emotional frame of reference and intimate relationships by trial and error, only in my case, there are a lot of errors. 

"I don't even know if that's right. How could I? It's like how would you know what's missing if it's never been there, but I think I'm on the right track. I'll just have to try and follow my heart and be true to myself. Part of that journey may just be finding that truth and even knowing or hearing what my heart is saying.

"That's it. Revelation over for now! I'm done now, completely done in!"

I sighed loudly and gulped at my whisky. 

"Oh my! Wow!" Rosie said. "That says so much about you, you know." 

"What's that, Rosie?" I said, "that I'm a totally hopeless case." 

"No, in fact it's the opposite," she said. "I think you're the most amazing, bright, sensitive and aware man I've ever met. What's more I think you're honest and courageous too. Telling me all that took a lot of courage. And I love you. That's what I think." 

"Oh Rosie, you must be a really brilliant therapist," I said and chuckled. "You're a very loving, warm, bright and beautiful woman, you know." 

Rosie blushed. 

"Aw go on," she said, "and I believe that's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me. 

"Sometimes I wonder about me, therapy and love. I often wonder about my clients and if they had love, whether they would still come and see me. But some of the deeper problems I see are so complex. Thank God, I'm not a psychiatrist. It's only sometimes that I have to face real mental illness. Most times otherwise, it's just some profound emotional difficulty or disturbance. Often it's the legacy of some early life experience too. 

"It makes me think about what I really do. Is there a real knowledge or skill in what I'm doing or am I just the dispenser of care and concern that people don't get elsewhere? Of course, I take their money so what does that make me? Occasionally I do feel uneasy about that, like I'm some paid dispenser of loving care, like a prostitute of the soul."

"Stop that now," I said. "It's that you combine your enormous knowledge and skill with loving care that makes you a good therapist, Rosie. I know you are a good therapist, that's obvious to me. It's your work too. You need the contract of which payment is a part to symbolise that this is therapy and not surrogate friendship or as you put it, prostitution of the soul. If you had no skill, you would either be a charlatan or a loving friend. You're no charlatan and we know that for sure. Your professionalism sets you apart from being a loving friend too. 

"What's really great about you, Rosie, is that you see it as your purpose to liberate your clients back into the world with a far better chance of coping, of living fuller lives than they had before they came to see you. That's an amazing gift. I mean you have an amazing gift. What puts you apart from the hoard of blood-sucking, money grabbing therapists that are out there, and we both know they exist, is that you do have that purpose and that you don't encourage dependency or some false sense of your indispensability." 

"Ever thought of taking up therapy, John? Of being a therapist's therapist?" Rosie said and laughed. 

"No, I've got the badge and the licence," I said. "I like what I do. It brings together my business skills and I enjoy the practical side of that as well working with people...psychology skills too. I wouldn't work that well as a therapist, not really. I like work that is more driven by activity than contemplation, I guess. But that's just me. But I do know that you're a great therapist and it shines from you like a beacon in the darkness. That seems right for you too."

"You are a lovely man, you know," she said, "a manly man; a real proper chap and one with all his bits working. I do love that in you. And before you get rude, by bits I meant your enormous emotional resources, all of those parts of you. But I do love your rude bits too." 

I got up, took Rosie in my arms and hugged her. 

As I held her close, I said, "You're very special to me, Rosie, very special indeed." 

"And you to me, John," she said. "Let's go to bed soon. I want to hold you all night." 

That night, I enjoyed the most peaceful and untroubled sleep that I can remember. It may have been the unburdening of my soul or the copious amount of whisky I had drunk. Rosie and I did hold each other all night long. Even in sleep, Rosie had a way of exuding calm, warmth and loving-kindness. As my consciousness ebbed away, I felt the odd thought about Jane nag and niggle at me. Consciously I packed those thoughts away. They could wait until tomorrow.



Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 05



A note from the author

I want to say a very big 'thank you' to you all. I have been overwhelmed by your response to this story, my first humble attempt in writing fiction. I must have had over fifty emails and comments posted here now. None of them have been negative and some have offered excellent suggestions that I will include in future chapters. I have made the acquaintance of other writers too. It's been a very positive experience. 

When I first started writing this story, it was a work of pure fiction. There was no Rosie or John. Both were products of my own personality and imagination. As time went on, more and more autobiographical detail crept in and converged with this tale. As for John, the protagonist of my story, I do the same work as him and I am a qualified psychologist. Now I face similar difficulties to him too. I had hoped that psychology would equip me better for life's difficulties. It does, but emotional awareness brings with it the price of pain. 

There is not that much stroking material here; that can be found elsewhere. There is some loving sex. There is also a depth of emotional and psychological complexity that may not appeal to everyone. 

I need to slow up my rate of production now for a little while, but there are a good seven or more chapters left in me yet, and a few more stories too! I am going to take some time out in France and the United States soon, and then who knows I may even meet my "Rosie"! Maybe I'll just make my own dreams come true. The best dreams of all come from inside ourselves and not someone else, after all. That's one big lesson. Thank you all for your great support! 

Jon Owens

*

I awoke in the warm entanglement of Rosie's body. It was bliss.

The blue numbers of her digital clock glowed 5:10 AM. There were fifty more minutes in which I could wallow in the warmth of our embrace. 

Moments like this always tripped me up. I had succumbed to the seduction of romantic love and I knew it. Romantic love is not an enduring place, I thought. It is transient and illusory. Unless those involved have the desire, skills and commitment to take it on to some other place, it will soon fade and die. Sadness and disappointment will quickly fill the space it once occupied. Why did I have to think like this? Why could I not just enjoy the moment with all its affection and tenderness? Perhaps for me it was the triumph of experience over hope, to turn Samuel Johnson's quotation on its head. 

My thoughts would not let up. I knew all about this romantic love trap, the psychologist in me was not going to let go, not this time, not after all my other relationship disasters. But then anxiety and negative thoughts took me nowhere either. I decided that time would be the best mediator of truth, that time itself would reveal whatever I needed to know. With all my will, I decided to banish negative thoughts from my mind there and then, to consign them to the dustbin of my past. There was no point in going back to the past or forward in hopeful anticipation. The past provides valuable knowledge but it is an unreliable guide to the present and living in the future is a folly, the fastest track to going off the rails.

I succeeded in driving the thought monsters out of my head and accepted the moment for what it was: One of beauty and warmth. I drifted back to sleep. Minutes later I jumped out of my skin as something like the siren of a fire engine went off in the bedroom. My reaction was to leap from the bed and run for my life until I realised that the noise came from Rosie's alarm clock. Rosie was sitting upright groping sleepily for the knob to turn off this klaxon.

"Blimey Rosie. What a noise!" I said. "Have you nothing more gentle to wake up to, like Classic FM or something?" 

Rosie laughed.

"I must get myself a new alarm clock," Rosie agreed. "But I sleep very soundly and that never fails to wake me." 

"Doesn't the shock of all that noise put you into a bad mood for the day?" I asked. 

"No. I've got used to it now. But I do promise to buy a new clock next time I'm in town. I really promise now. I can't have you waking up alarmed and disgruntled," she said smiling. 

I pulled on my clothes quickly. I needed to leave soon to let Rosie prepare for her early morning appointments. 

Rosie gave me one of those wicked grins.

"You won't forget your dental appointment tonight, will you? Sophie will have great expectations, you know," she said smirking. 

"How could I forget?" I said. "I'm very tempted to postpone it but there's some merit in having it all done and dusted, I guess." 

"I don't think dusting will be in Sophie's mind, John," Rosie said. "Just remember to give the bitch something she won't forget. Show no mercy and make sure she can't sit down for a day or two."

I laughed. 

"I think that's your fantasy, Rosie. She might just love it," I said. 

"Like a good Boy Scout 'Do Your Best' but just try and make it not so good that she wants more," Rosie said. 

"It maybe that I just have to be rude, snub her in some way afterwards," I said.

"Yes, it might come to that I would guess," said Rosie. "Do you have any lubricant at home, like KY Jelly? You never know but you may need it." 

I laughed aloud. This was absurd. I felt extremely uncomfortable.

"I've never needed any myself. Are you suggesting that I bugger her? I think she's too small for that and anyway it could be messy," I said. 

"No silly. I just think she may have an issue with dryness…well, one never knows how that surgery may have affected her," said Rosie. "I have a small supply if you need any," she said. You wouldn't believe the problems people bring to me. So I keep all manner of things. I have condoms, KY and even appointment cards for the local family planning clinic in my consulting room here."

"You're beginning to sound like a sex therapist, Rosie, like the 'Masters and Johnson' of Cambridge," I said. "It's getting late now so I'll take a tube and dash." 

Rosie laughed then scuttled down the hall and came back with the small blue and white tube of lubricant. We kissed briefly as I made my way to the door.

"You be sure to give me a call tonight and let me know how you got on," she said. 

"Of course I will and I imagine it will be left leg over," I replied grinning inanely. 

Rosie stood waving as I made my way back down the lane. I glanced at my watch. It was six thirty five. 

Somehow my small farmhouse always seemed so empty after a visit to Rosie's house, mainly because it was. Most of my things were still back in my marital home in San Francisco. 

I decided to have breakfast: black coffee, fruit juice, a bowl of bran, a banana and a slice of toast. After I got back from the United States, I had to lose weight, a lot of weight. I had started to suffer from high blood pressure. My physician had been worried about the strain it might be placing on my heart and had prescribed a mixture of beta-blockers and diuretics as a protective measure. Great news for my heart perhaps, but impotence and loss of libido were the most common side effects of these drugs. I had a very bad dose of side effects. Jane had complained bitterly, and started to suspect my infidelity. I complained too to the physician who had prescribed Viagra that I had never once taken. I still had a supply of those small blue pills somewhere. I had thought that even though I did not need them now for clinical reasons anymore, that one day I might take one to see if it was performance-enhancing. But I lost weight, some forty pounds in all, and everything including my blood pressure returned to normal. Thank the gods for that, I thought. Now I stood at five eleven and weighed 175 pounds and felt a hundred times better than I did back then. 

I went and fumbled through my chest of drawers. I found the box of blue pills. I pulled them out and read the directions. 'Take one as directed one hour before sexual intercourse,' they read. These may come in useful, I thought. There was Sophia this afternoon and after the torrid sex with Rosie last night I had no idea how I could get it up for someone whom I did not even like. A voice inside told me that I was missing something. I took the tube of KY Jelly and placed it on top of the chest of drawers next to the box of Viagra. The voice told me to listen to my heart but I pretended not to hear it. 

I finished breakfast and thought about the day ahead. I had some work to do today, real fee-paying work. It wasn't my main line of trade, but the project was large enough to pay a whole month's bills. I liked to call it competitive research but industrial espionage was probably more honest. It involved my posing as a venture capitalist about to acquire a major share in a wireless telephone operator in a country within the former Soviet Union. My role-play was to approach major wireless technology suppliers to determine the costs of updating parts of the network of the business in which my private equity fund was about to invest. That was the story at least. What I was actually doing was gathering trade information for one of the major telecoms players in order to make recommendations as to how they might improve their competitiveness – on how they could win business from the opposition. I felt no moral compunctions about the work. All the companies that were operating in this sector were spying daily on each other. I cannot say I liked it, however. It felt like a zero sum game to me. I much preferred doing the innovative stuff of changing the game, the rules, or the business model to deliver something unique that people really valued. But the opportunities for value innovation were sadly few and far between. Most businesses engaged in the dogfights of bloody competition where they and their rivals fought over ever-shrinking profit pools. So that was my work for the day and it paid handsomely. 

I worked through until two thirty bashing through about fifteen international phone calls and making pages and pages of detailed technical notes. At two thirty five, the phone rang. 

"John McAllister," I answered formally. 

"Hi, it's me and I need to talk to you," it was Jane and the tone of her introduction sounded ominous. 

"You're up early this morning," I said deliberately keeping the conversation light. 

It was six thirty five in the morning in California.

"Look, this is serious," Jane said. "I've spoken to the woman…that woman…the one you've had an affair with and I know all about it."

"You've done what?" I said. "You had better tell me about it. Let's start with her name, shall we. What's her name?"

"Don't give me that, you know darned well what her name is," she snarled. 

"No, I don't, so you had better say," I replied feeling irked already by this conversation. 

"It's that woman…the one in the story you are writing," she snapped. 

"Really, there are a few women in that, which of them is real in your mind?" I asked.

I had been writing amateur erotic fiction. I had no idea whether or not it was any good but it kept me amused on some of the many lonely nights when I did not feel like going down the pub. 

"Oh you…!" she exclaimed. "You know full well who it is. It's Jo. Her name is Jo. You told me you were writing a story about her. And now I know all about her for real. I've spoken to her, so I know!"

This was too funny for words, but funny in a sad pathetic way. I had planned to publish my story on an erotic fiction website if they would accept it. I thought it would be fun to find out if anyone else liked what I wrote. I was forever hopeful. One night I had been writing this stuff and I had sat thinking about a pen name to use on the site, a sort of nickname. I do not know why I found this so difficult so I decided to pick two initials and then make up a person's name around them. I had picked JO. That had possibilities I thought. I could be Jack Osborne or John O'Donnell, for instance. Jane had called and asked me what I had been doing so I told her that I had been writing fiction that night and was searching for a pen name. I told her about the idea of picking two initials and deciding on JO. It seems that she had misheard or ignored that part of the conversation, then reinterpreted it in her own special way.

"But I don't think I know anyone called Jo," I said. "There's my friend Peter whose wife is called Jo. Surely you don't mean her, do you…that I had an affair with her?"

"No, not that Jo," she said. "She's called Jo Symmonds. I got her name out of your computer address book. It's updated automatically here."

"And who is she, this woman Jo Symmonds?" I asked. It was a genuine question.

"You met her when you first moved back there, when you took that holiday rental while you looked for somewhere to live," she said. "Jo told me that she met you in the pub there, that you were one of the customers and that she often talked to you."  

"Oh that Jo," I said. "You cannot be serious. She was a barmaid at the pub there. She was a very pleasant young woman as I remember, very interested in serious literature and the arts. Yes, I did meet her there and talk to her. She was about half my age. You cannot seriously be suggesting that I had a relationship with her. Is that really what you are saying?

"And I hate all this snooping; first it was my email accounts, now it's my address book and calling up women I know because you misheard something in a conversation we had. I really do hate this stuff Jane and I fail to see the point. What if that Jo Symmonds had been a client of mine? A client who gets a call from some American fruitcake asking if she had an affair with me? What then, eh?" 

I knew I was getting angry.

"So what did she say we did together other than talk?" I asked. "Because talk is all we did."

"You know what you and she did together," she said. "You know what having an affair means, don't you?"

"Are you saying I was having sex with her because I can assure you that I wasn't," I said. 

"She was reserved on the phone but I do know something was going on," Jane said. "She said that you wanted more than she did, that there was a misunderstanding, but then you sorted it all out, that you resolved the problem."

'Oh God!' I thought. 'Some women!' There was a night when I had had far too much to drink at that pub. I had pinched Jo's arse or groped her or something like that. I cannot remember exactly. It was just the behaviour of a man who had had far too much to drink. I got a mouthful from Jo, a real telling off, about my sexist behaviour. She had a good point so I apologised and we smoked the pipe of peace. She never spoke to me after that incident, no more than to say 'hello, how are you?' anyway.

"Look Jane, this is all in your mind," I said. "I did not have an affair with Jo and as I remember Jo had a very big burly boyfriend. She didn't appeal to me sexually and I would never have crossed swords with her boyfriend either. He would have made mincemeat out of me. 

"I do think that you may need help though, like psychiatric help. This has become quite a problem. It's been going on for over a year now."

"Look, you're always saying I should take responsibility," she spat the words. "Why don't you admit what you've been doing? Let's see you taking responsibility as well for once."

"What exactly do you want from all this, Jane?" I asked.

"I want the truth," she said. "I just want to know the truth." 

She was making me mad. There was a certain tortured ugliness to her behaviour. I wondered what was going on in Jane's mind. What provoked these insistent pathological jealousies that she would never let up. This one would go on the pile with all the others and they would get trotted out every two weeks or so. It felt so destructive. Was it self-destructive? Was I missing the point? Why did I have to fight this to defend my position? Was I crazy? Was her behaviour at some sub-conscious level about her wanting to leave, but not being able to go until she had totally destroyed what might have been there? Did she simply not want to leave the United States? Did she need to put in place some object of blame to make her exit? 

My reaction had been one of total disbelief the first time round. I could not believe what I had heard. I had remained faithful to her throughout our marriage until last week. I had tried everything from reassurance, being more loving and demonstrative, to trying to find the truth that sat beneath the accusations. There was no truth in those. My attempts to hold out love and compassion had been rebuffed with rancid anger and constant allegations of infidelity. I could not do this anymore. I just could not go on with Jane. We must have communicated once, I thought. Now there was no communication between us at all. There was nothing left. Life is too short to dwell in such perpetual unhappiness.

"Okay, I didn't have an affair with Jo," I said. "But where are you trying to get to with this stuff? Like what if I say 'it's a fair cop, I've been shagging Jo for the past year'. Do you win then? What do you gain, a better reason to be apart from me? I'll tell you what then, you win! I'll go and lead my life now and you leave me alone. You ground me down with this stuff last year. You've ground away at this for a year. You wrecked our holiday then because of some fictitious crap about my affairs. I should go and have an affair. I should have gone a year ago. You win! Now go." 

I didn't wait for any reply. I was seething. I had had enough. I wished I could have crashed down the receiver like you could on old technology telephones. Pressing a button was no such fun. Jane had succeeded in making me furious. 

This had been going on for an entire year. I had met Rosie about a week ago. While not wanting to make excuses for myself, I did know that if the state of my marriage had not been so dire beforehand, my behaviour in the past week would have been different. I told myself that I felt no guilt about Rosie, none at all. Was that the truth? I did not know. 

I sat quietly for a while then looked at my watch. It was four already and I was due to see Sophia at five. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water then went upstairs to the main bedroom. I popped a blue pill out of its foil wrapping and swallowed it. I was curious to discover how Viagra might affect me. 

It was at exactly that moment that I stopped in my tracks. It was if a voice inside me was trying to tell me something. 

"And what the hell do you think you are doing now?" said the voice. 

I was not hearing voices in any true sense. To the extent that I heard nothing I did not feel the need to talk back to myself either. I thought about meeting Sophia and her intentions. The voice was not going to give up. 

"Think about this then," the voice said. "Think how it would be if the roles were reversed, that it was your brother who was going to fuck Rosie at five today. How would you feel then? First how would you feel about your brother? Then how would you feel about Rosie? Would it build your trust with her?" 

Someone had pressed the light switch! At last, I see it now. I would feel devastated. I would probably want to kill my brother, maybe give him something that might damage his sex life for a very long time, like tearing his balls off with my bare hands. And what about Rosie? I would feel shattered, desolated and very hurt. It would be a tragic breach of our trust. 

"Well, even if that darned silly woman says she wants you to do something that will cause her pain, does that make it right to do it?" said the voice. "And is she really that stupid? Do you think she might be putting you to the test here, to find something out about you, about your trustworthiness? Well, are your brains hidden somewhere in your bollocks or are they where they should be?" 




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 05



How could I have been so stupid? I'm due at the dental clinic in just over thirty minutes; it's a bit late now, I thought. 

"So your brains really are in your bollocks," the voice said. "Are you a man or a mouse? Pick up the phone to Sophia and tell her that you want to cancel the dental appointment. Also tell her that you will not have sex with her, ever. Make that very clear so there's no doubt at all. Then call Rosie and tell her the same thing. Show her that she matters to you now. Show her that she can trust you." 

Bloody hell, I thought. Why didn't I think of that?

"You just did," said the voice. 

For the first time that afternoon I smiled then chuckled to myself about what had happened. 

I did exactly as my new inner voice had told me. Brains in my bollocks indeed! Sophia was curt and abrupt. Of course she denied any sexual intentions with a certain 'how dare you!' piety in her voice. I did not argue. It was better that she took offence. It made any further sexual advances from her more difficult to make, or did it? I had an uneasy feeling that I had not heard the last of Sophia. 

I remembered that I had taken Viagra almost an hour earlier. I felt hot and my cheeks flushed. Flushing was a common side effect of Viagra. The drug was kicking in. 

I thought about Rosie, about all of the past week, of Rosie the whole wonderful woman, and Rosie the sexual person. The thought of sex with Rosie held my attention as my cock sprung to life. 'Sprung' was the operative word, it stiffened like it was spring-loaded, and it was no ordinary hardness either. This was a throbbing erection, the like of which I had never known. I thought it might burst through my pants and hold me to ransom! I laughed aloud to myself. I remembered that it was one of Rosie's clinic nights. I would have to take myself in hand later, to masturbate, if this boner did not soften up. So that was what taking Viagra was like. 

I might just catch Rosie. It was the time that she might be between her therapy sessions and the clinic that she held in Cambridge. I picked up the phone and called her. She answered and I was relieved to hear her voice. I told her about Sophia, my stupidity and misgivings. I told her what I had done. What is more I assured her that I could never fuck her sister, never and I meant it. It was just a physical and emotional impossibility to me. 

"Oh God, John," she said. "You don't know how happy you've just made me. I've felt so bad today. I've hurt so much. It was like my heart and guts were being ripped out. I've felt so much pain inside about you and Sophia. I've cursed myself a thousand times about the silly bitch I've been. I got very angry with you too. I'm so sorry, I really am. I was encouraging you to do it. I thought it was inevitable, that she's fucked everyone else I've ever cared for so why not get it over with, get the hurt out of the way. I can't tell you what a brainless, insensitive, stupid woman I have been. Please can you forgive me, John, please?"

"Oh my Rosie, there's nothing to forgive. Nothing at all," I said. "It was me who was the bloody idiot. I don't know what I was thinking or even if I was thinking. I'm so sorry. How did we both get drawn into such madness? Jesus, no wonder I fuck up close relationships. I deserve no better, I really don't. Certainly I don't deserve you. But promise me one thing, that we won't become involved in some destructive collusion like this ever again. Please let's not do that."

"I promise, my lover, never again," she said. "I promise you that with all my being, I really do. Please believe me. Please give me another chance." 

Phrases like 'my lover' may have rankled me had they come from other than Rosie's lips. She often used terms of endearment like that to me. With Rosie, her words always rang true, of naked sincerity without affectation. Far from irritation, her words conveyed the deepest human warmth.

"Of course I believe you Rosie, with all my being too," I said. "Have the biggest hug from me that I can muster over the telephone. I guess you must get ready for the clinic now. I shouldn't hold you up." 

"There is no clinic tonight," she said. "Have you not seen the rain outside, or heard or watched the national news? We've had four inches or more of rain today and there's flooding everywhere. The clinic is under water, three inches deep so they told me. Thank God you and me are up here on the high ground in these boggy flatlands." 

I had heard the rain but it had failed to make any impression. I had not switched on television or radio either. I was surprised that Sophia had not mentioned it. I looked through my window at the dark skies and the small ponds in my driveway.

"No, I didn't know about the rain," I said. "Look, would you like to catch a bite to eat later? There's that pub up the road in Marsholme called the 'Olde Oak'. I know it serves really great food and it's up here on the high ground too and unlikely to be flooded. Would you like to do that? After today it would be great to see you. I would love to see you." 

"I would love nothing more than to spend an evening with you, John," she said. "I want to say thank you so much and show you my gratitude for what you did today. I really do. So that's a very definite 'yes please'." 

"Oh Rosie. Please stop," I said. "I was the mad hatter at this particular tea party and it's me who should be saying sorry to you. I'm so sorry. I am truly. Shall I pick you up at seven?" 

"Yes please," she said.

"You are lovely, Rosie," I replied. "I'll see you then."

We bade our fond farewells and I thanked my good fortune for Rosie and the triumph of common sense. 

What a day! I withdrew into the deep technicalities of wireless telephony and typed up all my notes from what had been a successful morning's work. Tomorrow I would model the results to see where the gaps were. Seven came in no time. I threw on an old casual jacket that was now about three sizes too large for me and jumped into my shining silver BMW tourer. I liked that car, it was solid, sure-footed and more than fast enough for me. With a top speed of just over 140 mph, I always drove it well within its limits. 

Rosie looked gorgeous, I thought. When she smiled, her natural exuberance radiated from her like sunlight, her eyes shining like icy blue crystal exuding warmth. Her skin was smooth and unblemished. The process of ageing had been kind to her. I inhaled the scent of her Chanel perfume. Rosie always smelt delicious and fresh, just edible. 

I reached down and squeezed Rosie's small hand as she looked intently at me. She leaned over to me and rested her cheek against my arm. 

"I do feel so safe being with you, John," she said. "It's not something I've ever felt before, but tonight I feel safe, peaceful and at one with you." 

Rosie softly ran her hand along the inside of my thigh. 

"Let's take the high road through the woodland," she said. "There's something I want to show you." 

She had moved to the far right side of the passenger seat, her hand stroked between my legs, caressing the bulge in my crotch. My cock responded like a hair trigger, stiffening and straining upwards against my pants. 

"Mmm," she said. "Slow down now. In about fifty yards, there's a track off to the left, go down there." 

I turned onto the track without speaking. It was difficult to concentrate on driving with Rosie fondling my cock. 

"Down another fifty yards, there's a clearing. Pull over into the clearing then stop the car, my love."

I pulled into the clearing and stopped, applying the hand brake. 

"Now turn off the engine and the lights, John," she said. 

I did both.

"Now push your seat back as far as it will go, then lower the seat back so you're almost in a prone position," she said. "I have something very special I want to show you. Something I want right now."

I lay back on the seat that had reached an almost horizontal position far back from the steering wheel. 

"I see no ships," I said. "The rain clouds have made the skies so black and dark up here I can see very little at all. It's seven fifteen on a summer's evening. Can you believe that? 

"Hush my love, wait and feel," Rosie said. "There's no need for you to see this time. Just lie back and relax. I can feel the tension in you. I felt it as soon as we met tonight. I'm just going to undo your trousers now and slip them down, your briefs too."

Rosie's movements were fast, nimble and deft. She swiftly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my trousers. 

"Now lift your bottom," she said. "I need to slip these things down." 

She slid down my trousers and briefs liberating my cock so it lay straining against my stomach, its length extending to just below my belly button. 

"Now, John I want you to do absolutely nothing. Just let go of all the tension now. Breathe deeply, my sweetheart. Let it all out in one big sigh now. I'm going to do something I've wanted to do to you for days. I'm going to push this seat back so I can kneel in the foot well. I'm going to touch you very softly at first just until you relax. Then I may need to turn you slightly towards me." 

I let out the deepest sigh. As Rosie spoke she ran her fingertips up my inner thighs then along my pelvis skilfully avoiding my rampant hardness and back again. It felt divine. I could hear the sound of my own breathing as Rosie licked a line slowly up along the top of my thigh. 

"Oh Rosie," I gasped. "You feel so wonderful."

"Not half as wonderful as you taste and smell, my darling John," she said. "Very soon, I'm going to take your cock into my mouth and suck it. You don't know how much I've wanted to do that. Sometimes when you've got hard in the middle of the night I've thought about doing it. Starting while you're asleep so you wake up with your cock in my mouth. But doing it here in the car up in the woods feels so deliciously wicked. I had the idea to do this as we left home tonight. 

"I want you to do absolutely nothing, my darling. Just feel what I'm doing, feel me loving you, just you John. I want to suck your cock until you come in my mouth. I want you to let go for me, just focus on the pleasure I want you to feel. 

"Know that what I'm doing is what I want more than anything in the world right now; to feel your semen pour down my throat will be ecstasy for me. I want to taste your sweet saltiness. I want you to come so much that I drain every last drop from your body, drinking it all in, swallowing you all. I want to push your cock down my throat, to enclose you as I do in my cunt. I want to feel your cock on my face, the soft skin of your hardness on my cheeks, my lips, my forehead, your tip on my eyelids. I want all of that, just like that day when you wanted to wipe your face on my dripping cunt, to wipe my cunt all over your face. God, how I loved you doing that. I can't tell you how much. It was heaven. I felt so loved. And that's what I want you to feel now." 

At that moment I wished I could feel the same way. Earlier that day I had decided to end my marriage to Jane. I felt tangled up in hell. I had not married on a whim. I did not want another divorce. I had so wanted for Jane and me to work. I really had. I felt hell inside as I cursed myself a thousand times. I started to sob and I sobbed loudly.

"Rosie, my love," I said. "I can't. I really can't. I'm so sorry." 

"Oh John, what's wrong, my darling?" she said.

"It's just me, I'm so sorry," I said. "It's just about Jane. I feel like such a tragic failure. I know I'm far from a failure in my heart but I feel so fucking hopeless, so useless in a way, like we have failed and I should have had the emotional resources to make things better…make things work somehow.

"Please just come here, Rosie. Take off your panties and come and lie on me. I want to hold you tight, to feel the reality of you, to kiss you and know you're not some dream from which I'm about to wake. Please come here, my love." 

"Oh John," she said quietly.

"Rosie, I'm so sorry. It's not such great foreplay to hear about my wife I know," I said. "It's just that I care, that I treasure us so much. I don't want to mess up with us when we have such a whole wonderful world of possibilities together. But I feel I'm so bad at relationships I'm just scared. I want you and me to be okay. Bugger it, I feel like such a whingeing wimp."

I held out my arms as Rosie moved to straddle me. She leant on both sides of the car seat supporting herself with her arms. My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness and I could see her looking back directly at me. I felt the naked skin of her legs touch mine as she took my cock in her hand. Slowly she slid down onto me, taking me deep, all the way into her in a single movement. I pulled her down onto me holding her close in my arms. I guided her downwards so that the base of my shaft was pressed tightly against her clitoris, so that she would feel each and every small movement. Rosie felt very aroused. She was very wet. I felt her tightening her muscles around me. Our pubic bones pressed hard on each other. Rosie ground down hard on me as I pressed back against her. 

"John, it's okay my love. Don't worry," she said sounding slightly breathless. "Just let me steer our emotional boat just now. I'll keep us on course. It's safe to trust me. I love you too. I won't let any harm come to us.

"Oh you feel so good," she said. "Hold on for me, lover. I still want you in my mouth. This way I get a bonus. I'm so aroused I know I'll come so quickly. Now kiss me." 

We kissed, our mouths locked together in yearning passion, pleading, begging for release. Rosie plunged her tongue into my mouth, moaning into our kiss. With the same insistence, she pumped my cock hard in short deep strokes keeping me deep inside the whole time, pressing her bud tight against my shaft. She moved faster and faster, driving herself down on me hard. I wanted to pull back underneath her so I could thrust up into her extending her strokes. I resisted letting Rosie keep control. She knew that by keeping her movements short and fast she could hold me on the edge without coming. Rosie was panting. She had lost her steady rhythm but her pace quickened. 

"Oh John! Oh fuck! I love you," she cried. "YES! Oh God help me! Fuck!" 

She rammed down on me hard. I felt her insides tighten, contract and quiver, her cunt clenching me tight, rippling inside. I pulled her down on me, impaling her, forcing myself into her deepest place. Her spasms were taking me closer. She crushed her lips against mine. I forced my tongue deep inside her mouth craving the same deep penetration there as I longed to enter each and every one of her openings. She pulled away from our kiss gasping for breath then thrashed her hips battering herself against me. She screamed aloud, her scream echoing loudly in the confined space of my car. 

Suddenly she stilled, not moving, her rasping breath quietening. 

"God, John! You're such an amazing lover," She said taking deep breaths.

"That time, Rosie, I did nothing, you are the amazing one," I replied.

"No, what's so amazing is that you let me do that and for me, that's just wonderful," she said. Now I'm going to have what I came here for." 

She pulled away from me gently, her cunt making a loud sucking sound as my cock fell out of her. She lifted one leg over me bearing her weight against the seat and slid quickly back into the foot well.

She held the base of my cock gently in all her ten fingers. Knowing how close I must be, she softly caressed the bulging purple helmet of my cock with her tongue swirling her tongue around it. The very tip of her tongue played in the V delta on the underside of my glans. My hands gripped the sides of the car seat tightly as the rush of pleasure coursed through me. 

Squeezing the base of my cock with one hand, she fondled my big heavy balls that ached to be emptied with the other then ran her tongue down the length of my rigid cock from its tip to my scrotum. 

Sensing that she would not have to wait long for her prize, I felt her hair falling on my stomach as she moved closer. Holding me in her open mouth so I could feel the warmth of her breath on me. I felt the muscles of my thighs and stomach tighten in anticipation. I knew I would not last long. 

Slowly she closed her mouth on the head of my cock, her tongue lapping, gyrating around it as she gently sucked the whole glans. I moaned aloud. 

Rosie withdrew my cock from her mouth and rubbed it against her cheek. Supporting my cock with one hand she moved her face around in a circular motion so that my cock touched each part of her. I looked down at her as she pressed the very tip of my penis against her eyelid. 

"Oh I've wanted to do this so much, my sweet lover," she said. "It's like a place in heaven for me to feel your beautiful manhood touch my face. I want to feel your soft and rigid strength everywhere on my body, to feel you take me in every way you can.

"Yes," she almost sighed that word.

With it, she took my rod into her mouth, closing around the top of my shaft. Slowly she began to work her mouth up and down my shaft, taking me deeper inside, further, with every stroke. Her tongue glided all over me as she moved her head around and from side to side to make sure I felt every part of her mouth. 

I heard no sounds, felt nothing other than the delicious awareness of being enclosed in Rosie's mouth. I want her to envelop me, to take me all, to swallow me whole. 

Rosie slid her lips and tongue holding just the tip of my cock in her mouth sucking harder then pushing down swallowing until I was engulfed deeply in her throat; her tongue stroking the underside of my cock as her movements became faster.

I felt my muscles tightening, contracting and drawing in my balls tight. 

Rosie's head bobbed up and down faster still as she sensed I was close. 

"Rosie, oh fuck, Rosie," I called out almost choking on my words. "I can't…I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I can't stop myself!" 

The spasms tore through my lower body, tearing at me in painful pleasure. I know I let out what must have sounded like a murderous cry just before the contractions tore up my guts. I felt my head jerk backwards colliding with car seat as the intensity of the climax seared through my body. 

Rosie held my cock tightly deep in her mouth as the semen spurted from me, sucking, swallowing every last drop. As the last seeds, spilled out of me, she pushed my trembling shaft all the way down her throat. Then she moved upwards, and tenderly held me there in her mouth, her tongue still bathing me in its moist softness until my erection began to soften and recede. Gently she took my cock from her mouth and laid it on my stomach. 

"Fucking hell, Rosie!" I exclaimed. "Did God just hit me over the head with a hammer? That was just incredible! You blew me away!" 

"Yes, I did blow you away," she said smiling. "In a manner of speaking that is exactly what I did." 

"Come here. I want to kiss you," I said. I drew her up to me and rolled over sideways. We kissed. My tongue lovingly explored her mouth as I shared in the taste of my semen. 

"Are we too dishevelled to go to the pub now?" I asked. 

"That place is so dark they'll never notice," said Rosie returning her seat to the upright position and sliding it forward. She pulled down the visor and slid back the mirror cover automatically switching on its light. 

She took a brush from her bag and combed her hair, then a tube of red lipstick applying it lightly.

I adjusted my seat then my clothing and followed suit with the mirror. I always had my hair cut very short these days and never needed to use a comb, a couple of scrapes with my fingers and my hair looked the same as it ever did. I took a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped away the traces of lipstick from my lips.




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 05



"Well, I'm ready and I'm very hungry," Rosie said. "To the pub!" 

"Yes, I'm good to go too, my love." I replied fastening my seat belt. 

During our small diversion I had failed to notice that it was still raining hard. We drove slowly through the puddles splashing our way towards Marsholme. 

Lights from the pub signalling that it was open for business shone up on an old cracked wooden sign that showed a hand-painted picture of an oak tree on a summer's day. 

I pulled into the car park where there was one other car. I thought it strange as usually this place was heaving with people. They must have been put off by the weather and flood warnings. 

Suddenly I thought. "Rosie, forgive me for saying but in the car back in the woods I saw you tidy up your hair and lipstick but I didn't see you put your panties back on," I said. 

"How observant of you," she replied. "I just popped them back into my handbag. I have one problem now and I think there might be a damp patch on the back of my dress down below. So when we go into the pub, I'll hang back in front of you so that no-one can see. If I remember they have small booths with curtains. Let's take one of those. I'll dry out in no time, then again maybe I won't." 

"Oh Rosie, you are a case!" I said laughing. 

I opened the pub door and a short neat man with a bristling moustache and a napkin and a corkscrew tucked into his belt made his way towards us. I drew Rosie close against me. 

"Will madam and sir be eating tonight? There are booths in the bar and tables free in the restaurant. In fact, every table is free. It's the bad weather you know," he said twiddling the waxed end of his moustache. 

We chose a booth in the furthest corner away from the bar and out of sight from everyone. Rosie sat in the corner and I sat next to her close to the old tapestry curtain. 

The waiter returned with wine lists and the menu. 

"I'll be a philistine and have red wine and fish I think," Rosie said. "You choose the wine John but I would prefer red. This place is so old-fashioned. Look there are no prices on my wine list or my menu but there are on yours. That's one in the eye for women's lib if I ever I saw one. Has no-one told them it's 2007?" 

"This looks really good," I said. They have a Pernands-Vergelesses. It's a very good red burgundy, not terribly heavy and rarely seen in British restaurants. I'll order that and I'm just going to have steak, a fillet with some salad. I always eat light these days. What would you like, Rosie?" 

"I'll take the salmon with new potatoes and French beans if I may, and your choice of wine sounds splendid," she said. 

The waiter sidled back to our table and took our order. 

"Would madam and sir wish that I close the curtains? It's so much more private for you young lovers," he said. 

We giggled and nodded our heads and he pulled the dusty old curtains closed. 

Rosie looked at me grinning. "I think he forgot to put in his contact lenses, young lovers indeed!" she said.

"Oh come on, Rosie," I said. "We're doing pretty well at the young lovers thing. That's the first time I have had sex in a car since I was about twenty two."

"Mmm, let me snuggle up to you," she said. "Perhaps I should have waited and had you here for my dessert." 

I rested my hand on Rosie's thigh. She clasped my hand and slipped it under her skirt pushing it upwards. 

"I think this is what you are looking for sir," as she spoke she edged forwards so that my hand fell into her dampness without any searching. 

"Yes I think it is madam," I said gently parting her lips with my fingers rubbing softly on her clitoris. 

She stiffened her back. 

"Mmm I'm enjoying sir's choice of hors d'oeuvres. A little sticky and warm perhaps, but such a wonderful small delicacy," Rosie said as she smiled happily. 

At that moment, the waiter popped his head through the curtain. I moved forward so I obscured his view of Rosie's lap. 

"I've brought the wine sir," said the simpering small man. "I decanted it. The temperature is just right. Would sir like to try it? Here's a bottle of still mineral water, bread too and some olives on the house." 

I looked down at Rosie who had both hands resting on the table. I straightened my body stretching upwards. 

"I think madam would like to try the wine," I said imitating the waiter's tone. 

As I spoke, I curled a finger and slipped it inside Rosie. 

"Oooh! Yes, I'd love to try…I mean try it," said Rosie stumbling over the words then giggling. 

"Lovely clean bouquet, a smoky edge with a touch of raspberry, no cork, light tannins and not too hot either…. I mean it's the right temperature exactly," she said giggling as I wiggled my finger inside her. "God yes! That is good! I haven't had one in there…I mean like that for ages." 

I couldn't contain myself. I was doing my best to suppress my laughter by feigning a coughing fit, but tears were already rolling down my cheeks. I wiggled my finger again. 

"Is sir all right? Shall I pour him some water?" the waiter asked looking concerned. 

"No, I'll be okay. I'll be just fine in a moment. I'll pour the water. It's an irritating cough I have…I mean it's just a small tickle," I said. 

At this point, Rosie joined in the hysterics. The waiter looked on perplexed.

"Very well then, good people," he said. "Bon appétit." 

He closed the curtains looking at us both quizzically. 

"You swine!" said Rosie slapping my arm as she giggled.

"Oh that was fun," I said. "I needed a good laugh." 

I slipped my hand out from under the table and sucked my wet finger. 

"Mmm that is good, I haven't had one in there for at least thirty minutes," I said and we laughed until we hurt.

"So tell me about Jane," she said. "You were very upset back there. What happened? But only tell me if you feel comfortable about it." 

"I feel completely comfortable with you, Rosie," I said. "I trust you implicitly and much more than that. I know you would never try to give advice, or control and manipulate me. So I'm totally okay with that. But are you really sure you want to hear this?" 

"Try me, I'm listening," she said then squeezed my hand lovingly. 

I took her hand and held it in mine for the duration of the account about Jo. 

A blonde waitress delivered the food to our table; perhaps the moustache was now off-shift. I guessed that she was of mid-European extraction possibly Czech, Slovak or Polish. She was warm and friendly but eyed Rosie and me up and down with a discomforting knowing smile. 

The food was delicious and my steak was cooked exactly right, a little more rare than medium rare. Rosie ate as though she had starved for a week.

"God, this food is wonderful," she said. "But about Jane, where does she want to go with all this?"

"That's the first question I asked myself, Rosie," I said. "I think when I said I had had enough, that this was one bridge too far, she was shocked. I am sure that she was shocked that I wanted no more of it.

"What she said is 'I just want the truth', so I asked what happened next if she heard the truth. It's tricky since the truth as she wants it is, of course, false.

"But if I confirmed the truth, her truth as she saw it, she said we could move on. Of course, in reality there's as much likelihood of that as the cow jumping over the moon, but that is what she said.

"I don't think that she has ever moved on through anything in her entire life and that's part of the problem too. She has more emotional baggage than the left luggage room at Heathrow airport, just so much baggage. I knew a lot of that was around when I first met her but I encouraged her to just keep on writing her story. To take control and move on to where she wanted to be."

"Sound advice, seldom taken," Rosie said. "What is so difficult to understand is how she pins so much importance on your chatting to a barmaid. After all Jo herself said there was nothing going on between you two, like you weren't sleeping together. So what's the grievance? Did you fancy Jo?"

"I had a meal with Jo once. That was probably the longest I ever spoke to her. Most times we spoke about arts and literature. We sent each other emails about our favourite poems too. 

"Her tastes and mine were different, but it made a change of talking about Cambridge United and their relegation to the conference league or whatever. She liked Jane Austen, the Brontës and Blackmore and stuff like that. At her time of life I probably would have preferred Herman Hesse, Mervyn Peake, Sartre, Kerouac and Orwell. We came from opposing points on the literary compass and that was what made her fun to talk to somehow. 

"She was pretty enough I suppose. Apparently she said to Jane that she thought I might have wanted a different sort of relationship with her but there was no basis for that. I did get really pissed one night, seriously drunk out of my head and I got a bit flirtatious. I think I may have groped her or pinched her arse or something like that, but it was just an act of a drunk with the barmaid, certainly no big come-on from me. Jo tore me off a very serious strip about my appalling sexist behaviour and I apologised, meaning it. I would not trust her or Jane to make any character judgements. But from that night on, Jo never really spoke to me again. 

"I met both Jo and her sister once down the pub. Their family history was enough to make a skunk run into the hills. With Jo it was almost as if she wore a flashing beacon on her head shouting 'Danger! Keep off!' There was no way I would have got into any emotional entanglement with her, none at all. There was just too much unresolved emotional debris floating on the surface, not stuff I would wish to crash into. 

"But I had lived in America where I had not even known the first name of my next-door neighbour. It was all so insular and alienating. I did get very excited by the friendliness of people back here at home, Jo included. 

"Fancy her? Well, she was blonde, pretty, busty and very buxom. She would have made a good wench in a Shakespearean play. But I did not fancy her at all. I am sure she might have made many a man very happy on a cold winter's night but she was just not my type. There were not enough connections there to excite any emotional or sexual chemistry.

"There was one thing that Jane said that sounded like so much clasping at straws to make the mud stick, if that's not one metaphor too many. She said that when she had asked Jo if she knew I was married that she was shocked, but that might just be more American melodrama. She alleged that Jo had told her that I said I was separated from my American partner. There are a couple of things wrong with that. First while the barmaid may be the new rural psychiatrist I don't believe that I would have discussed anything so personal or intimate with Jo. Generally I don't talk about my personal relationships with anyone. Second, it's not something that I might have said. I guess my very worst crime may have been to say that I was living separately here from my wife, like she was not here in England. Thank the gods! But that's about it.

"God, I have rambled on. What do you think, Doctor? Should I take hemlock or haloperidol? Would you like more food, coffee or another touch-up under the table?"

"First, give me a hug and I'll tell you," she said. 

I wrapped my arms around Rosie. Love and affection were often the best therapies; two more reasons not to be a therapist, I thought. I pulled her in close there in our small booth. Her touch and her warmth were like balm poured onto my troubled soul. The moment was as good as when we awoke this morning. I had trouble thinking about all that had gone on in a single day but it was not over yet. 

"God, I love you, John," Rosie said. "I love it when you hold me like this. I love it that you show me your feelings and that we laugh and weep together. I love it that you're open, tactile, funny, sexual and bright. I love it that you're strong and you're vulnerable too, that life has not made you crusty, hard and withered. I love it that you talk to me. I love it that you trust me. Oh I can't think of the words to tell you, there are too many, so don't analyse what I said. I just love how you are, who you are. I just love you as you are." 

"Even when I'm foul and disgusting and have shit stripes down my pants?" I said. 

"Yes, even when you are human, you silly man!" Rosie said clinging onto me tightly. "There aren't too many men like you around, you know." 

"Rosie, you have all those qualities you ascribe to me several times over," I said. "What's more you have a heart and soul as big as a continent. You're loving, warm, understanding and exceptionally kind too. You are just lovely."

"And I've got a damp pair of panties in my handbag," she said grinning. 

"You see, that's just what I like about you," I said. 

"Okay, on the serious stuff about Jane," she said. "She looks to have the full low self esteem behaviour set. I think it's more than that but let's say that's it. If you have very low self-esteem and care about yourself so little, you cannot possibly care about anyone else other than in a very needy way. You won't even notice if you hurt them. I doubt if Jane sees her accusing actions to be any more serious than some routine walk in the park. For her, it's just business as usual. 

"There's jealousy, possessiveness and obsessive behaviour fuelling her insecurity. Perhaps her coping mechanism is control, not a loving control but something that is diminishing and destructive of others. It might even be self-destructive. 

"I'm not sure about this search for the truth stuff. To steer away from psychobabble it sounds more like the basis of emotional blackmail of some kind. When she has 'something on you', she can cast you into her dark dungeon under lock and key with a ball and chain thrown in for good measure, maybe that's a short leash or a choke chain. These are metaphors, of course, and the dungeon may just be some dark place of emotional subordination. It just sounds like an excuse to justify all sorts of bad behaviour to me. 

"I'm guessing now with all this stuff. I feel very uncomfortable even talking about it. But there's something bizarre and very unnatural about the great lengths she goes to build the case for the prosecution. Like making this spurious link with JO and Jo based on the initials of a storywriter. That's just nuts! And then calling up a complete stranger to check them out because she suspects them for having had an affair with you. It's extraordinary behaviour. I guess there could be something of the attention-seeking drama queen in there too, maybe the drama queen and the martyr. It might be like 'Look at me! Look at me! Life has been so cruel!' but where does that get her? 

"There is psychopathic behaviour that is sustained or even nourished through the creation of dreadful difficulties. Really I couldn't hazard a guess about it and your guess is as good, if not better than mine.

"Enough of that though and this is where I overstep the mark as I'm bound to do. I'm concerned for your wellbeing, very concerned indeed. This is enormous emotional pressure on you, debilitating emotional pressure at that. You're coping very well but I'm concerned for your emotional and physical health too. Jane is not going to let up; she'll probably even turn up the pressure. Dealing with this stuff day-in and day-out will make you sick someday. It's the stuff that heart attacks and peptic ulcers are made of, it really is. What's worse, it just isn't good for anything. It's emotionally destructive of you. I can't see any fairytale endings either, where would you start? 

"There's something else that's very telling that you said. Even when something has been proved to be wrong, she stores whatever it is up and uses it over and over like some emotional battering ram. She never says sorry I got that wrong. She's not even grown up enough to do that. So I'm not going to tell you my conclusion as I think you've already worked that one out."

"Yes," I said. "There's just too much mess in there to sort out. One point though, when this started just about a year ago, I did try the other way, to be understanding, loving and considerate. I tried that for some time. Of course, I was always assertive and held my ground about the affairs nonsense but I really did try to put it behind us. Life would go reasonably well for a time then just when I thought we were making good progress, she would start all over again, dredging up the same old stuff plus whatever else she could throw in for good measure, usually four or five so-called 'difficulties' at a time. When I asked her about dragging up the same issues time and time again, she said that we had just swept the problems under the carpet.

"Over the year, I tried everything within my power to put us back on track, but nothing worked. Today I decided finally to bring my marriage to Jane to an end. That's one gigantic step. That's my decision.

"There's just one more very important thing then let's get off this subject… soon please," I said. "It's about you and me. You and me are not some rebound switchover. You're not someone who I'm using to make this transition. I just want you to know that and it's very important to me. I've never run two relationships so close together in my life. I'm not a serial monogamist either. I'm self-aware enough to understand my feelings and separate what belongs to whom. If I do start messing up, please just be gentle and talk to me about it because it won't be something that I mean or want to do. I just needed to say that just in case it went through your mind, Rosie. It troubled me and I did ask those questions of myself." 

Rosie smiled. 

"Yes, I knew you would think about that," she said. "I do at least know you that well already. Let's both be gentle and kind with each other. I, like you, am not above making a complete hash of things either. I would always hope we talk to each other like we do now." 

I touched Rosie's hand and felt that she was trembling, she clutched my hand back in a firm grip that said 'I will not let go'. I smiled at her saying the same thing back with my eyes. We leant forward to kiss each other. I rested my hand on the back of Rosie's neck. At that very moment, there was a rustling of the curtains that made us both jump with a start.

"Would you two young lovebirds like coffee?" said the man with the bristling moustache. 

Rosie's face turned deep scarlet with embarrassment. I tried to be cool. 

"Rosie?" I asked. 

"Yes please," she said. "I may have drunk too much wine." 

I ordered coffee for us both. There was something I remembered from earlier. 

"Rosie, there was something about your tasting the wine that I wanted to ask. It was a very funny moment, especially the 'I haven't had one in there for ages' bit. Your description of Pernands-Vergelesses was like something from a top-class sommelier. It was perfect: a touch of raspberries with a smoky edge, light on tannins. It was exact too. 

"My very first client when I decided to go and try to paddle my own canoe, to set up in business on my own account, was one of the best wine merchants in Britain. They had this amazing shop at the bottom of St James's Street in London that looked as though it had not changed since the seventeenth century. At first I had a hard time there especially as I mispronounced the names of several wines. They would rib me ruthlessly about my ignorance of wine. But I did learn a little of their trade as I have to in every job I do. While I worked there I was able to buy wine at concessionary prices, historical cost and that spoiled me for life: Gevrey Chambertin, Pernands-Vergelesses and Vosne Romanee at prices of a little over a pound. Anyway it was there I developed my expensive tastes and Pernands-Vergelesses became one of my favourites. I still take their newsletters and read about my favourite wines. I can't take it as seriously as they do, but I do think they are the best of the best when it comes to wine. 




Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 05



"After that I used to take myself off on short holidays in France visiting vineyard towns. So that's how I know a little about wine, but what about you?"

"Mine is not such a great story," she said. "I just like red wine, burgundy especially. I read about it in books, a bit like how I learned about sex in a way. But I do have this very good wine merchant. The people there are so knowledgeable and helpful. Funnily enough, they are based in St James's Street. You may know them." 

We laughed about something else we had found in common. 

"I'm sorry, John," Rosie said. "I want to go back to Jane for just a little while longer. I think you know far more than you let on. But if you were practising and you made a referral to a psychiatrist, what would be your diagnosis and recommendation?" 

"Oh hell! I feared you might ask me this," I said, "I'm going to struggle because I dislike doing this intensely. I have always believed that one's intimate relationships are not the place for psychological analysis and that doing diagnosis would be destructive. What I'm going to say is not going to be much in character for me. But I'll give it my best shot.

"In a way, I'm not too much of a fan of psychotropic medicine. In the same way, I feel uncomfortable about the ways in which mental illnesses are diagnosed frequently, with the whole way in which symptoms are bracketed together then labelled according to some very limited and broad diagnostic categories. 

"It's a mess but if I had to revert to conventional diagnostic categories…Oh I hate doing this. I'm finding it really difficult but I'll go on."

Rosie took my hand and squeezed it lovingly. 

"It's okay," she said. "Just take your time." Rosie really is the therapist's therapist, I thought.

"Thanks, Rosie," I said feeling my palms start to sweat. "I suppose my diagnosis would show what a nonsense diagnostics truly are.

"You see, I believe she presents with symptoms across a range of syndromes. There are aspects of Attention Deficit Disorder in there, ADD. There are also aspects of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, OCD. There is also this whole low self-esteem behaviour set that one might post to one or the other of those categories. The poor love is possibly depressed too. So she's a real mess. She's very neurotic to be sure.

"I think I would seek out a very special psychiatrist and a very special clinic: One where they think about a real whole person and not just a mental illness. There is too much of that stuff. Blast the so-called illness with drugs and watch while people fail to get better, then say that it's a chronic illness. I would struggle with that. 

"I would definitely recommend in-patient care to provide a caring structure during the treatment. My first recommendation would be to try some therapy without medication. Certainly I would not indulge her in lengthy reflective analytical therapies. That would take forever to get nowhere, I suspect. But something like Cognitive Behavioural Therapy might work, CBT. The great thing about CBT is that it causes one to confront and deal with one's irrational and negative thoughts. To show those thoughts for what they really are. Skilfully done CBT can be matched with loving kindness and consideration for the person being treated too.

"I suppose that if I got desperate and was forced to look at medication, but that would only be if all else failed, I might think about Ritalin and an antidepressant. But I would monitor the use of those very, very carefully. It's no accident that the people who make that stuff are forever in court defending their products against product liability claims, none at all. 

"So there you have it. How did I do Doctor Rosie?"

"Blimey, Professor!" she said. "You astound me and what's more I suspect you are spot on. Absolutely spot on. I'm sorry but there's more, I'm afraid.

"Let's say she did go through all that and that she got better. Let's say you were around to observe the process. It would be a long haul, but let's just say that it was possible. What would you say then about your marriage to her? Would you believe you would stay married to her?" 

"You swine, Rosie!" I said smiling. "You are really going to make me work, aren't you?"

"Yes, it's time," she said, "and remember I'll catch you if you stumble or fall. I'll make sure you won't get hurt here. I love you, John. Remember that too." 

God, this woman is so kind! I thought to myself. 

"The biggest battle might be to get her to accept that she needs help, that battle may be the hardest of all," I said. "But let's say that that particular battle was won. Let's go on from there. 

"This is going to be the hardest thing of all. My honest answer is that my marriage to Jane would no longer be possible, that it would have to end.

"Let's call what she suffers from an illness. Let's call the negative thoughts and other irrationalities, fantasies. You see a lot of the fantasies are built around me. I'm central to them and I sustain them. Do you get this?"

Rosie nodded.

"So in a way, what she has is an illness in which I play a central part," I said. "The fact that I'm also a therapist begs more than the odd question too. So she has built all these fantasies around me so staying with me would merely serve to perpetuate the illness, to bolster and support its symptoms, the fantasies. They are all about me.

"The best thing I could do is to let Jane go lovingly so that she can find herself. Just to let her go, to let her go now."

Rosie had started to sob. I found myself joining in. We clung to each other for grim death, tears streaming down our faces. 

"You're right, John," she said, "totally right. Now do you see why I think you're so special?" 

The waiter came and left, closing the curtains tightly. He did know the right time to withdraw.

"I love you, Rosie," I sobbed. 

"I love you, John," said Rosie. 

I had found my truth, or at least part of it.