A Sequel to ‘A Wild Card’
1
Fran couldn’t help but smile. She often thought that she would wake up from her dream and that she would recognise her real life once more. Only, she knew that she was not imagining any of this, nor the man who had transformed her life. A near neighbour had become her lover and she knew that he could not get enough of her, and she of him. She had lost some weight, felt even more comfortable in her clothes, exercised often as he was something of a fitness fanatic, and she ate sparingly, just as he did. Loving with him, in the ways that they did, had also set her thinking on where her affair with him would take her.
Mark had whisked her away for a week’s holiday and the weather was being uncommonly settled for the time of year. She sat on the rug, her legs drawn up under her billowy beach dress, the floral pattern easy on the eye and the dress shaping her fulsome figure. She was watching him skimming stones over the almost smooth surface of the sea, the wavelets lazily surging onto the sand and shingle foreshore.
‘Come and try it?’ he called out to her before turning to skim more pebbles, some efforts more successful than others. His strong legs poked out from baggy beach shorts, and his shirt hung loose. Her man tanned so easily, but she was pleased with the glow on her skin that only a few days here, on the Devon coast, had bestowed upon her.
‘I’ll just watch you!’
‘And you’ll never know how it goes unless you try…’
He set about his task, once more, and she reflected on what had been said .The small stones skipped until their momentum slowed and they disappeared under the surface.
She likened the sight of them to the exuberance felt at times in her life until some obstacle, or resistance, had brought them to a halt. One had been her marriage and divorce, some years ago. You took stock and then tried again.
Mark had asked her to marry him and put to an end the two of them living across the street from each other. The reasons for them continuing to do so still perplexed him. It was no secret that they had become lovers and had been so for some months now; that bridge evening at her home, and when he had made up the numbers as a ‘wild card’, the beginning of their affair. It had been a moment when they had realised that they could be more than near neighbours.
His attentive ways and unselfishness beguiled her, but she had yet to be persuaded on marrying him. She couldn’t find the words to explain the reasons behind her decision; perhaps at the core of her doubts was that she had been there before. The companionship, and pleasure, to be found and shared exceeded all her expectations and being older than Mark really didn’t figure in her reluctance to fully commit. The age difference was only seven years and of that he made no fuss of at all.
Mark’s loving of her and his devotion, for there was no other word to describe his ways towards her without being soppy, had given her a new lease on life. She had lost weight; his loving of her and sharing in his pursuit of an outdoor life, had brought that about. She had found her life to be perfect, or as close to that as she allowed or wished for that to be. A piece of paper, or names scrawled in a register, somewhere, would not improve on that.
A union of minds, bodies, and interest would see her and Mark through, surely? Why have a certificate to prove that you were a couple, or two people ‘into each other’, as the horrible phrase might have it?
She lay back on the rug and drew the hem of her dress over her thighs and felt the sun’s warmth on her skin. She heard the voices of others passing by, but not so close that she would have to sit up and be sure that she was not being intruded upon.
Mark was only too persuasive in his loving of her, and she only too responsive and willing in return.
‘I’m giving all of my loving to you,’ he would often say in the heat that they shared. How could a piece of paper make a difference to that, or confirm what was only too real for her, for them and for Mark in his loving ways when he sought it of her, which was often?
‘I’m with you in body, heart and mind. What more do I need from this?’
Fran felt her eyes flutter as she drifted into dreamy recollections of a surprise birthday treat that he had sprung on her; two nights in London and the theatre, art galleries and lunch on a river boat cruise. She never quite knew where she was with him, but he was certain of what he sought of her….
2
‘You’re spoiling me…again,’ she whispered, ‘with your attention on me.’
‘It’s no more than you deserve and that I want to bring to you…’
In the theatre, she had been obliged to still the touch of his hand to her thigh, the brush of her skirt’s fabric over her skin, as they sat in the darkened theatre waiting for the second half of the performance to begin. She had met a moment’s glance her way, behaviour that made her think that his interest was more on account of being with her, and what they could again discover, than what was being performed and for the audience’s entertainment.
His raw physicality still astonished and exhausted her; his possession of her, earlier in the evening, having her stifle cries of pleasure and complete abandon to his wishes to know of her; the ache in her body and to the insides of her thighs a legacy of his often-brutish claims that had her clinging to him. There had been moments of languor when she had sought to see how they were joined and to marvel at all that he brought to her. Their room overlooked a London park, the low rumble of traffic in the street far below no distraction from what they sought to discover in new, and luxurious, surroundings. She had known that they would pursue such times again and again and it had set her thinking whether she ought to truly live with him, if his voracious appetite could be sustained…by her.
Now, after a late supper they were again in their room, the lights dimmed and the air cool enough to make her shiver.
She reached behind her back to loosen the zip of her dress; felt Mark ease it over her body, then for it to fall to the floor; his nimble fingers unfastening her thin bra before she shrugged it off.
‘Go slow…slowly, you darling man,’ she asked on reaching up to hold him to her as Mark’s lips were on her skin and as he kissed her neck, throat and face. She chose to guide his touches slowly as he caressed her body and turning in his embrace, to have him clamp his hands to her breasts. ‘You’re always so far ahead of me…’
‘It’s because of the sight and touch of you…and now what you want from me, again.’ He said it as she reached behind her back and clamped on his prick, worked it slowly and as best as he allowed her. He took sharp intakes of breath as her claims upon him quickened. ‘Fran…Fran, go on!’
‘It’s me you want…not just the woman…isn’t it?’ Fran turned as she spoke; met his hooded stare for an instant; thought there to be a sudden narrowing of his eyes as the anger in him grew for what she had asked.
‘Only you…the woman…and for no other reason…love and companionship whenever it’s to be found. Don’t keep on doubting me and my motives.’
She helped him tug free his shirt and dragged it off him with trembling hands as she felt Mark snatch at his belt and thrust his clothes off. She needed no reminders of what her lover would bring to her, Mark’s state of arousal confounding her for its intensity; his penis arcing out from the mat of hair at his groin. He remained fit and slender for a man of his age; what she brought to him a voluptuous contrast.
‘That you want me…’ she gasped.
Their lips met; they embraced and kissed, their tongues stroking, probing, and sliding across, and into, each other’s mouths. Fran again felt her heart race; moaned in longing and apprehension for all that would again follow and that she would seek to moderate.
Mark again claimed her; she felt his mouth arouse the rush of longing as he buried his face to her breasts, kissed between them and she caressed his cheeks with their fleshy weight; the ache in her belly and the tingle in her breasts and nipples making her shudder. How quickly they had hardened; the tremble of longing coursing through her body, tightened the muscles in her throat as his ardent ways again aroused the quiver of expectation; to know of desire in her belly and where he would soon be. She felt his touches to the clammy heat between her thighs that she always felt; the gush of her arousal and that she was unable to control or to keep him from knowing of.
‘See what you do to me?’ she groaned, as she clamped her hands on him; squeezed on his sac in ways that she had learned that he loved her to do. With Mark she shared; had done so from that very first, and unforgettable, moment when she had sensed that he lusted after and then claimed her body.
Tonight, these moments with him, had to be special; like no other and without compromise; a waymark to all that the future and her hoped for acceptance of it would bring. She had already accepted the signs of that change in Marks ways with her. It remained to be seen if a life could be lived out with him and whether there could ever be any substance to it, apart from what she knew he would again bring to their bed.
When they separated, she felt his fingertips brush softly across her cheek; move to her forehead and to lightly sweep the loosened tumble of her hair to one side before Mark kissed her throat; moved to her jawline before kissing her neck and shoulders; did so as a slow act of homage before he again pressed his moist lips, and tip of his tongue, to the hollow of her throat.
‘Mark…Mark,’ she whispered appreciatively; his touches sending shivers through her body; his gentle sucking kisses to her earlobes. She felt a soft moan escape her lips; moved involuntarily, squirmed her hips against him and clamped her hands to his buttocks. She caressed the hollows to be found there and to bring him closer. ‘The bed…on the bed…’
He mumbled his agreement through their deepening kisses, pushing her back onto the crumpled covers and slid his hands over her thighs; caressed every dimple and fold as his kisses progressed from her feet to the silken smooth skin to the insides of her thighs, one leg then the other; his warming breaths making her squirm in anticipation of all that she knew could follow.
His lips and fingers found soft, moist flesh; his tongue flickered relentlessly over her skin there, and into her. He did so in probing, testing touches. Instinctively, she gripped his head and kept him to her and lifted her hips to meet these claims; felt him now reach up to clamp on her breasts, to draw up and after a moment’s delay to kiss her in his attempts to silence her moans of pleasure and release.
‘Say something…anything!’ she gasped.
‘No one Fran…there’s no one else Fran…think of no one but of us!’
‘No! Now come to me…come in me, again…Mark…please!’
He pushed her legs up and had her grip them as best as she could as Mark sat for a moment between them. She met his admiring look upon her body and all that was exposed to his gaze. His strong hands gripped her hips as he pressed the tip of his penis to her moist folds as he slowly, in rocking movements of his hips, entered her body.
‘I’m yours…you know I am!’
Fran shuddered and could not hold her legs back. She soon wrapped them around him and met the claims of his hands on her breasts, submitting to his kisses and the touch of his lips to her nipples, then to her face, all the while sharing in the gasps of breath and meeting the wondering look of his eyes. She shivered as her body was again engulfed and lifted by the tumbling waves of erotic sensations that he aroused in her.
She gasped out his name in dismay as the pounding rhythm within her ceased and he rolled off her; lay on his back and, coaxed into doing so, she mounted him; pinched his chest and looked down. She touched where they were again joined, and saw her parted, pink lips and the tangle of her hair rubbed by his fingers as she rocked and pushed down on his penis, her jerking movements answered by his sharp intakes of breath. He was embedded within her, his hands on her hip setting a new rhythm, the tempo and vitality unlike she had ever known or shared in with him.
‘You finish it…you finish it, darling…darling Fran!’ he groaned; pulling her down to kiss her in quick, snorted breaths.
‘I can’t my darling…I can’t!’
She gasped again as he left her; felt suddenly bereft at the loss of him within her body.
She was pushed back; gripped Mark’s wrist as he took hold of his prick and entered; set a rhythm that left her gasping for breath; the rush of sensations too much to withstand; their shared breaths hot on each other’s lips as she felt the leap of his flesh and heard the gasps of fulfilment; the clamp of his hands on her breasts as if he would tear them from her body. He bent to kiss them, to take as much of her flesh in his questing mouth and to lips over them in lingering moist caresses until he reached her nipples.
‘I love all that you do for me…bring to me…love you!’
‘Mark! Oh Mark! Don’t say that…not yet! (‘m just not ready to answer you!’
She felt the tears spring to her eyes as she climaxed; felt that her body would be broken by his energetic claims upon it as Mark increased the tempo of his trusts. He probed furiously and slammed into her until they gasped in disbelief with all that had again been found.
‘You wonder…you beautiful, passionate and desirable wonder!’
‘You make me feel that way!’
Mark slowed in his claims upon her body; slid his hands over her enervated skin and bent to kiss her nipples; sucked upon them gently before she drew him away and looked into his eyes and rose from the bed enough to put her arms about his neck and to kiss him and offer deepening kisses of gratitude and to acknowledge all that had again been shared.
Fran offered slow touches as Mark moved and lay down beside her, a satisfied smile on his lips and a wondering look upon her enervated skin.
‘I’ve left a mark of my own,’ he said softly; touched the rosy glow of the skin to her belly and thighs.
She knew it to be so and touched where he had done and felt his hand gently hold hers as, together, they offered slow caresses to her still enervated skin.
‘You’ll break me, darling…’ was all that she said on what they had again shared; moving to lie against him and to nestle in his arms. ‘You bring so much to me. You don’t have to love me as if for the last time. I’m nowhere near to deciding on what you keep asking of me…’
Fran felt him move to the edge of the bed and soon followed him into the bathroom. She shivered on recalling her behaviour, moments ago, and on now seeing the marks upon her skin that he had left and she on him.
She watched Mark hold his flaccid length and to take a pee; to do so unashamedly before her. It was something that he had not done before. As he washed his hands, Mark considerately turned his back on her so that she could get comfortable and to wipe away what she knew would leak from her; all that he had so lustfully expelled into her.
She saw him rub his hips, his belly and stroke his flaccid length before washing it too. She sensed that he must ache, but she saw on meeting his look in the mirror upon her that perhaps he remained uncertain of their passionate affair continuing; that it would burn itself out. He would see, surely, her disbelief that it was happening between them.
‘Come back to bed, you beautiful woman…’
She dis as he asked of her and soon lay down beside him once more. Mark drew the thin duvet over them, and she nestled close. She hoped that she would enjoy the night of sleeping beside him and to know that another day would dawn and see them be together. The heat of their passion would lessen. It might yet be followed by the sharing of the act in its slower and devoted ways.
She hoped for a future; knew that she could not count on it, or not for too long. She would live for the day, just as she had done since their affair had begun after having donner in that riverside restaurant in the centre of Oxford. She had lost herself with him only too quickly.
The grating noise of pebbles as someone walked over them reached her…
♥
Fran held a hand out to him as Mark drew near, his skin glistening from the water.
‘Was it cold?’
‘Fresh and bracing.’ He leant over her, and water soon dripped onto her face. Mark’s fingers brushed them away as he met her stilled look on him. He knelt beside her, his cool hands stroking her calves for an instant. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’ve been daydreaming and thinking while I watched you swimming. I can’t deny what you’ve done for me…the effect that it’s had on me. I love you…I seem to have lost the moment to tell you that.’
Mark pressed his fingertips to her lips to silence her.
‘So, you’ll marry me?’ he then said on a slow, lingering, kiss to her mouth. They tumbled back onto the rug, laughing through their kisses. ‘Is that a ‘yes’…you will marry me?’
‘Take me back to the cottage and I’ll prove it to you. You’ve made my dress all wet…I’ll have to change, so you’re half way there to loving me…’
‘That game of bridge really has a lot to answer for…’
‘Don’t I just know it. Now, show me…don’t tell me, Mark.’
♥