Maryanne

Chapter 2

We got back on I-90 and went one exit and got off at Snoqualme Falls (you "Twin Peaks" fans will remember this place). We made our way to the Salish Lodge where we checked in: a man in his business suit and a woman in her sundress; both with our shopping bag luggage. We got a few looks from some of the other patrons but I figured if they figured that we weren't married and that we were having an affair -- let them eat their hearts out.

The room was made to order. It had the obligatory oversized king bed with pillows and quilts piled on high. Flowers we arranged on the table, and the bathroom was much larger than normal to accommodate the Jacuzzi which bordered on the partitions that opened back into the bedroom. Pervading it all was the constant thudding and roar of the falls.

Maryanne kicked off her sandals, pulled off her dress and threw herself on the bed. I got undressed somewhat more slowly, and threw myself at her feet, kissing and licking them. "Hmmmm," she cooed. "An appetizer before dinner? I'd much rather have a massage." Her wish was my command, and I was soon naked astride her body running my fingers along the striations of her muscles.

Maryanne is a nurse. She taught me a lot about anatomy, female anatomy in particular -- up close and very personal -- but anatomy in general. I know every muscle in the female human body and how to apply just the right pressure to it to make it feel just right.

I know enough to work towards the heart always. In a woman as tall as my 6 foot 2 inch wife, that starts a ways off at her toes. I flexed each one, and rotated it slowly in its socket giving it range of motion. I moved up the arch and instep moving my muscular fingers along the length of the foot, stripping the pooled blood away and invigorating her foot.

I used palms as well as fingers on her calves, gently kneading her tired muscles. As a nurse, Maryanne used to spend a lot of time on her feet, so she appreciated the attention I learned to give to her feet and legs. I was halfway through that task when I reached the first of her erogenous zones: the back of her knee. She just loves the way I run my fingers back and forth gently grating the sinews. She sighed with content and I felt the lightness in my heart in response.

I worked my way up the large muscles of her legs paying particular attention to the thighs. These I caressed with an almost-not-touching pressure that took me years to develop. Her breathing changed its rhythm and I knew she was at peace.

I spent at least a quarter of an hour worshipping her ass. Maryanne might have more in that area of her body than the typical super model, but that is just fine with me. I love that ass. It is her. Being the largest muscle on the body, I deemed it worthy of more than token attention.

It's one area of the anatomy which, although it is generally the same on male and female, is different on Maryanne and me. Hers is soft and inviting. Mine is hard from my daily run. Hers is built for gentle kneading, scratching, and rubbing under my hand. Mine is built to be spanked under hers.

I continued walking my fingers up her back, playing my fingertips in the notches of her spine. She loves having her lower back rubbed, and I think the stimulation tickles her adrenal glands. It's another of her erogenous zones. The other end of her back, her shoulders, is pure sensuality. Maryanne is a fairly active woman, and she has strong shoulders. I enjoy playing in her muscles there, and she simply melts under the way my fingers manipulate each muscle strand.

I pushed her hair up on top of her head,. lay down half on top of her, and placed my arm around her. She liked the way I nibbled on the back of her neck and I knew it. She might be the one in command, but sometimes I am the one who was in control. I pressed my erect penis into the soft flesh of her ass cheek and let it lay there enjoying the coolness of her body. She stretched and luxuriated, in the attention I gave her neck. Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, she giggled, "Mmmmm, I'm hungry. How about a little dinner?"

A "little dinner" took more than an hour to attain since neither of us were willing to break the embrace. I kept myself busy nuzzling her neck, tracing the contours of her ear with my tongue, and otherwise stroking her marvelous physique. We did get up eventually, but the shower was by no means hurried as we washed each other, and I attended to washing, drying, and brushing her hair. Over our years of marriage, I've managed to become her amateur hairdresser.

I was amazed as I watched her perform miracles with only the makeup contained in her purse, and how she managed to combine articles bought on our shopping spree to put together an outfit suitable for the restaurant. Not only was it suitable, but it was also very eye-catching. She might be in her 40's, but she keeps herself well, and really knows how to dress. I'd just as soon see her dressed as I would naked. She didn't have to read my mind to know what I was thinking. "Look at you!" she said pointing at my erection. "You can't go into the restaurant like that. Control yourself!" I laughed and promised that I would try.

We had one of those meals. It was a combination of the relatively early hour, making a reservation as soon as we checked in, and letting the staff know that it was our anniversary that got us the table with a view of the falls. The evening sun, reflected off the not-to-distant mountains, illuminated her face with a soft, warm light. She almost looked angelic. I could only look at her and wonder how I got to be so smart to ask her to marry me, and how I got to be so lucky to have her say yes. I still haven't figured out how I hung onto her, but trying to hang on to her, and all that I do to make it happen is so much fun, and so worthwhile. I was excited about being with her, but not at all in a sexual way.

The meal itself was a sensuous delight, as we enjoyed various dishes accented with a fine red wine. We declined dessert in favor of our own brand of fun. It wasn't until we got up that I had noticed that it had gotten dark (and at this latitude, that happens very late in the evening at this time of year), and that the restaurant had gotten crowded. Throughout the meal I was vaguely aware of the serving staff interrupting us with things like food and water. Otherwise, the rest of the room could have been a thousand miles away.

We walked back to the room and without even consulting one another, donned our running suits and sneakers, and walked out to see the falls. It was a cool night, and the mist from the falls made the air all that chillier. It gave me the perfect opportunity to stand behind Maryanne, wrap my arms around her, and press into her. I couldn't even see her face with her hood drawn up, but feeling her in my arms gave me all the warmth I needed.

I don't know how long we spent there, frozen in time, but there were no other people in the park when we left. We returned to the room to find the beds turned down, some soft classical music on the stereo, and another chilled bottle of champagne. I don't know how she arranged that.

"Start the tub." She commanded. I adjusted the water in the jacuzzi, and she added the scented salts she bought at one of the shops. She lit a couple of candles, and dimmed the light. She had me throw open the shutters to the main room, and had me start the fire in the fireplace (the staff had it ready at a touch of a match).

"Stand there," she said, pointing to the middle of the main room. "And be perfectly still." Being perfectly still was impossible as part of my body inflated automatically as she slowly peeled the running suit from my body. She's done this sort of thing before, and left me standing perfectly naked in front of her gaze. I am always aware of the difference in out clothed state, and it never fails to excited me.

She ran her hands up and down my body, feeling every part of it. We've played with bondage and pain. I've been tied down, and she has whipped me with a variety of floggers. This was more tortuous than that. No bonds, no pain. Just my steeled will to obey her command not to move, and her talented fingers gently probing my body.

She didn't stop until I had a steady stream of pre-come oozing in a continuous sticky strand towards the floor. And she managed it all without hardly touching my penis. There was one last act for her to perform. I maintained my posture as she slowly stripped out of her clothes before me. Her disrobing was a combination of sensuality, playfulness and comedy all mixed in a perfect blend. She shimmied sexily as she slipped from her running suit; she gave my rear end a playful slap with the soles of each of her Keds, as she peeled them from her feet; she gently dangled her delicate silky undergarments over my penis, allowing them to gently brush against my organ.

Then, without a word, she gently took my hand, and led me to the tub. The water was as hot as both of us could stand it, and we eased ourselves in. We toasted each other with the champagne and allowed our bodies to dissolve in the swirling water.

We didn't last long before we found ourselves in bed, naked (except for my unfettered wrist and ankle cuffs), under the silken covers, falling asleep in each other's arms.

I have no idea where I was, or what time it was when I tried to roll over and found out that I couldn't. Maryanne had gotten up in the middle of the night, and secured me to the bed. I felt the giving tension of the bungees holding me to the posts. "Oh, hi dear." Maryanne said, as she noticed I was awake. "Let me make a few more adjustments." I allowed her to reposition me and my bondage devices so I was spread eagle for her.

This time, it was her talented tongue that tortured my body. Don't let anyone ever tell you that men do not like their feet licked. In my case I have to be laying down, since it makes me so weak, I am certain that I would fall down. That's what this bondage game was all about -- making me weak. Maryanne would do things to excite me, and get the blood flowing, and then calm me down. The constant up and down was draining, and I loved it.

On her first trip up my body, she teasingly blew on my penis and gave just the slighted flick of the tip of her tongue to the head. Had I not had years of practice in ejaculation control, I would have lost it there. But she knew better, and she knew me better, and she could tell my state. She could bring me as close as she wanted, nearly push me over the edge, and then call me back. And I would obey, and want to do it again.

Some things were out of my control, however. I leaked pre-come liberally, and I could feel its sliminess as slid her body up mine, capturing my penis in her cleavage as she stopped to kiss and nibble on my nipples. I'm no better at resistance than she is when it comes to my neck. I was glad that the marks she left were low enough to be hidden by my shirt collar. I would have a hard time explaining why I was wearing a turtleneck in the middle of the summer.

On the trip back down, she spent some more time on my penis, taking it into her mouth, and gently rasping it with her teeth. This is where it took every ounce of my stamina not to come. I have, on occasion, had to give her a verbal warning, but those occasions are mainly in the past. She has learned how to read my subtle signs, and knows how to play me. Nonetheless, I think she enjoys seeing how far she can take me without letting me fall over the edge. This was the most draining portion for me. I had been up and down all evening, but this concept of up was a lot more extreme. There was now physical pain involved as I fought my natural tendencies.

I gave a shutter when she finally withdrew.

Next she positioned herself over me, and presented her clitoris for my worship. We had tried the 69 position in the past, but found that neither of us could concentrate on providing the other's pleasure while the other was being successful at providing us ours. So now we take the time to pleasure each other separately. Besides, I needed to be excused from physical stimulation for a while.

Performing oral sex on my wife is one of the most satisfying experiences for me. It's like a fine wine; it only gets better with time. Physically, I've developed a stronger tongue and can keep on the task indefinitely. However, the real treasure is in learning how to please her. I am not talking about technique only. I am talking about taping into her body and finding out exactly what will provide her with the most pleasure at that specific second. I've gotten so good at this, that Maryanne must tie me down, so she can pull herself off, and not allow me to drain her too fast.

Nonetheless, I love the way my wife tastes. It's just one more way for me to experience her. I can touch her, I can see her, I can hear her, and I can smell her. I have to complete the senses, and I love the feel of her positioned over my face.

Fortunately for me, Maryanne was in one of her slow moods tonight, taking her pleasure in small doses. I, on the other hand, appreciated savoring her just like the fine meal we had earlier in the evening. One does not wolf down fine food, and one does not hasten good sex. I can't tell how long I was at her "table;" time has little relevance when I am pleasing her.

She finally turned and mounted me. I enjoy being able to see her face and the rest of her body when we make love, and this is the perfect position for it. I read all of the signs: what I hear in how she breathes, what I feel in the tenseness of her body, and what I see in the way she holds herself; to know how well I am pleasing her, and how to adjust (to the limits of my bondaged position), my lovemaking for her benefit.

Maryanne and I have a unique gift, and that gift is that the greatest pleasure we have in life is pleasing the other. Once this pleasure becomes evident, it becomes like a runaway freight train. It cannot be stopped, it just picks up more and more speed until ultimate culmination. The more I please her, the more she gets turned on. The more she gets turned on, the more it pleases me, and the more I get turned on.

There is no telling how long intercourse will last for us, but one thing is almost certain. Orgasm for one of us causes orgasm in the other. This is not the simultaneous orgasm that so many novels talk about. This is a near simultaneous orgasm that each can enjoy doubly. We each enjoy our own, and we each enjoy the other's. I can't tell which I like more.

I awoke from the very sound, but all-to-short sleep at the buzzing of the alarm. Maryanne and I got dressed, packed up, and went for one last romantic breakfast. Maryanne dropped me off at the office. I was late. I was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. I removed the "Do not disturb" sign from my door. And I smiled smugly within at all the envious looks from my co-workers.