(Sequel to ‘So Much More than a Memory’)
1
To any casual observer they made for an unlikely couple, she so much older than the man she was seen dancing with; their cares forsaken, and the two of them enjoying each other’s company.
‘It’s as well we decided to come here and celebrate,’ Alain smiled as he held Mélanie close to him, ‘or people would talk. The beautifully made woman with her young man.’
‘Let them,’ she retorted, loving his compliment, her smile radiant and her look upon him unwavering. ‘Fond’ was but one word to describe how she felt about her nephew, a young man who had taken her out of an only too ordered world and was her accomplished lover. It defied all logic that a clever and good-looking guy wanted her; that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. ‘I haven’t had so much fun for a long time…’
‘In public, anyway,’ he laughed captivatingly, his eyes never leaving her. His mouth was close to her lips. ‘I’m glad that I’ve been the one to make it happen again for you…’
The dancing, frolicking, crowd on the promenade, all around the bandstand, shielded them and she pressed her body to him, one hand on his hip. She felt his prick press against her belly.
‘Alain?’
‘Yes, I want you…love how the dress shapes you. There’s so much to enjoy with you. I can’t stop feeling the way I do…’
Mélanie gripped his hand a little tighter. She clutched his shirt with the other as they jigged and turned to the music, a folk dance, of sorts, known in this part of Normandy. The change in scene, from her home in Caen, was like going on holiday together, even though they had not travelled so far.
‘You’ll soon be gone from me…your studies are over. So, why should you stay here?’
‘Be still on that, Mel, please?’
‘It’s not so easy for me…’
They had kept their affair a close secret and they had succeeded in doing that for close on four months, a time that he had spent completing his degree and graduating. His folks, from Paris, would be pleased to have him living with them while he took up his new career.
Their celebration of dinner, and then to be swept up into the dancing and mingling with the crowds could not cover the tinge of sadness that their times together would soon be at an end, or severely curtailed. How was travelling to Caen to see her not give a hint that something else between them had played out and continued to do so?
Right now, he felt like the moth attracted to the flame. The woman’s body, that he held, and knew so well, had been hurt by abandonment. He’d done more than ease away the hurt and sense of loss. To his dismay, Mélanie took so much more from how it had become between them.
Jeez, how he loved her ways and working of him, but he had gently warned her that the emotional bond that they had stoked so feverishly, should not overwhelm or blind them to the reality. Yes, he would soon be out of her sight, but not gone from her mind. It cut that way for him too.
‘Love can be selfish…’ he said against her parted lips as they took in each other’s look.
An unrequited, and unspoken, infatuation for her had flared into a tempestuous affair, Melanie’s lodger, and nephew, becoming her lover and who slept in her bed, or she in his, smaller as it was. The pass door between his small apartment, in a wing of her house, was no longer a barrier to them meeting or living separate lives, albeit under the same roof, and the creak of the floorboards announcing that either he, or she, were intent on being there. The illicit nature of their relationship only inflamed the senses and aroused a surge of unquenchable desire.
‘I’ll get some rest after you’ve gone,’ she said on a wobbly smile, rising to whisper it again in his ear.
She felt rejuvenated by his passionate and demanding attention upon her, whenever his studies and exams allowed. Her voluptuous body was a provocation to him, so often to be seen in a cotton, sleeveless tank top along with billowy slacks, her auburn hair wild. Favoured glittery earrings would be seen swaying as she moved, and her painted toenails poking out from under the hem of her slacks, or jeans, or sandals when she dressed for work, a skirt revealing strong thighs and toned calves. At home she dressed for him; would often stand by his side as he worked, and she’d brought him a drink. She would feel his hand slip under her skirt or dress and cares her skin.
He would often turn on his seat and hold her to him, slide his hands over the backs of her thighs then round, and onto her belly; his fingers gently pricking onto her cleft before they pushed into her slowly and rhythmically.
She’d tear herself away. ‘Work now…we have all night for that!’ They did. She wondered how they managed to love so often, and in the hours available to them.
‘What are you thinking of now? You’ve drawn in on yourself…’
‘I was thinking of us…how it has become between us…how you’ve made me feel and how others in the family wouldn’t understand. I have trouble explaining it to myself sometimes…’
She pressed her cheek to his face and felt again the brush of his lips to her skin; the pricking of his tongue tip into her ear; his breaths and touches sending shivers of aberrant longing coursing through her body.
‘Take me away from here,’ she could not help but groan. ‘I need to share in a different dance with you…’
2
Her little Citroen runabout was insured for him to drive. It had been so since their affair had burned into life and then became a raging storm.
‘We’ll soon be home,’ he laughed softly, dismayed at Melanie’s behaviour.
‘Can we wait that long?’ she asked, bending closer to kiss his cheek, her hand sliding over his thigh and clamping on the swell in his trousers. ‘I…I don’t think you can…from what I feel.’
‘Don’t distract the driver,’ she saw him smile in the gloom, then as the oncoming headlights picked him out as Alain looked her way and stroked her thigh or slowly brushed the fabric of her dress over her skin. He glimpsed her brazenly pull up the hem and expose her knees and thighs. ‘Melanie…Melanie…’
‘I know, it’s not the behaviour of an aunt…’
She had parted her legs and taken his questing hand. It now pressed slowly the fabric of her panties, his fingers lightly pressing into her crack. She shuddered out of wanton longing from all that he again aroused in her and she so desperately sought of him.
‘We’ve gone way beyond that…in our relationship,’ he answered, his eyes not leaving the road and the traffic that whizzed by. Melanie was working him; her fingers brushing his hair, his ears and neck and offering soft caresses that wound his clock; made the swell of his erection uncomfortable in his trousers. He fingered it and shifted. To touch the soft skin of her thigh was to know of the moments of foreplay that always set them off. Melanie’s touch to the swell in his trousers soon matched by the slow caress to her crack, through the cotton of her panties, that she made easier by shifting in her seat. ‘You bring so much to me…’
‘And it’s your touch to them that I love…’ The heavy swell of her breasts were perfectly outlined, by the clamp of the seat belt, as he brushed the back of one hand over their tips. She had heard him tell her often enough that she was a woman, not some inexperienced girl. ‘You’d better stop what you’re doing…or I’ll have to find you…work on what you bring to me for real.’
‘Auntie!’ he laughed out in faux surprise, even as she pushed his fingers into her crack, clumsily eased away the fabric of Melanie’s panties and worked her. She made to grab his cock and her actions made him lose control for an instant. The car swerved. ‘We’re nearly home! Just wait with all that you do!’
‘Please wait, auntie…’ she kissed. She had unfastened her seat belt and in the gloom cast by the trees over her short driveway, Melanie shifted in her seat to kiss him until she had to tear away from his hungry kisses that sucked the air from her. Alain’s tongue had gone so deep, his hands moving over her legs, her hips and then clamping on her breasts; brushed again over her nipples that he would feel through the fabric. ‘Inside…come on!’ she gasped, ‘do all of that inside…wherever you want!’
Alain did so.
As soon as the door closed behind them he pushed Melanie against the wall of the almost darkened hallway, dimly lit by a street light and that shone its eerie orange glow through the pane of glass set above the door.
‘Here…I want you here,’ he said through his hungering kisses to her mouth, her throat, the front of her dress; his mouth closing over her breasts as he pulled up the hem of her dress and gripped her buttocks to bring her hard against him.
Melanie’s emotions ran wild, and she groped for him; heard the snorts of expectation as she tugged on his belt, Her hands were soon on him and pushed behind the waist band of his briefs and pulled his penis free. She worked him quickly; was consumed by longing and the wildness of his ways.
‘Alain…Alain!’ she gasped through their kisses and his touches on her thighs as he stood between them. He pushed his fingers against her cleft and fingered her and soon felt the moisture to be found there. ‘Go on…go on… yes…there!’
She felt his hands on her thighs as she was lifted; felt compelled to skip as he drew her up and she felt him press at her wet lips; reached between them to guide his entry and she gasped; shuddered as he filled her; as she rose and settled on him; felt Alain’s gorged prick plumb her and go deeper.
‘We fuck…love later!’ he gasped, as she was made to rise and fall; felt the scrape of the wall on her back and the fierce clamp of his hands on her buttocks as she rode him; met his snorted kisses of effort and pleasure.
‘Come on…you wonder…you slut! I want to fuck you so bad!!’
She gasped at his use of the word, but her wild concession made the word fit. The stumbled and bumped against the wall as they devastated remaining control. Neither wanted nor could delay their climaxes.
‘Viens…viens!’ she gasped, lifting her head to feel his kisses on her throat, then as his mouth on her lips as their tongues circled and probed; his penis searching so deep inside her body and her muscles straining to work him, until…
He carried her to the edge of stairs in faltering steps and sought to finish it there. She writhed and tugged. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pounded into her; behaved like a demented soul possessed by demons.
Her hips bucked up hard against him as he drove his penis in as far as she could take it; hit the end of its journey and withdrew, only for him to slam in again. They shared in a gasp and a scream, as his longing for her was finally expelled into her in tingling, spurting, rushes.
She toiled to pull him closer, aching to wrap her aching legs and arms around him as she claimed all that he brought to her and his body; wanted to crush him as she too quivered and shuddered.
‘Alain…you wonder…my lover…my devoted one!’
She knew not what she had called out to him, but she felt him bear his eight on his hands as he knelt over her; as she felt the edge of the stair’s steps dig into her back and buttocks. Their bed of passion was as unforgiving as his ways of finding and then filling her.
‘Forgive me…’
‘No…no…it was all that you felt for me…for what we have found, my darling Alain. What we found is between a man and a woman. Who we are does not matter…not to me.’
It had been for her a conclusive orgasm. What might follow, before he left her, a prolonged farewell. The ferocity of his taking of her, now, declared more than words would have ever expressed. He had become lost with her, in her; would be lost without her in these ways of it between them. For her, it was the ultimate orgasm, the surges of finding and spending had wracked her body and felt as if they would not stop. She had not known anything like it before.
Alain moved from her; eased down the skirt of her dress, but not before he had kissed her where she had taken him.
‘We share in everything, you wonder…you beautiful woman. You have been so generous in what you have done for me…and for so long.’
She tasted herself, in what they had shared, on his mouth.
‘Lie with me…love me again. Just don’t say anything about it. That is for later…’
3
‘Melanie…are you there?’ her sister, Yvette, was heard to call out. Her voice sounded shrill with frustration.
‘Yes, I am…so don’t shout, Yvette!’
Melanie pressed down on him and felt Alain’s breaths hot to the skin of her breasts; his kisses to her breastbone, as he clamped on them, making her shiver. How the young man delighted in her body and what she brought to him. He seemed to love her voluptuousness. He could not get enough of her.
‘Sorry…I can’t get hold of Alain. My calls go to voicemail!’
Melanie moved to get up and rest on her elbows; Alain’s penis still deep in her body. She felt as if she owned it at times like these.
‘He’s partying, I’m sure,. He’s…he’s saying goodbye to his friends…partying the hours away…if I know him.’ Her lips trembled as he lifted his head from the pillow and kissed her.
‘Yes, I suppose that’s so. Tell him, when you next see Alain, to call me. Jacques and I need to plan our trip over to you and to pick him, and all his stuff, up. We will also have time to see you again, sister…’
‘It’s been so long,’ Melanie agreed. ‘Yes, I will tell him. I will be sad to see him go. The place will not be the same without him…’
She left it at that.
Melanie put her iPhone on the bedside table and lay down again upon him.
‘There’s nothing left to say on this, is there…Alain, my secret love?’
♥
She, the fleshy and outgoing aunt, going on fifty-two, had been pegged by a young man and she had loved the acts played out between them like never before. She had basked in their body heat and had done so in the shared belief that it would end.
The house would be sold; she would live smaller and see what life still held in store for her.
Her love affair with Alain had set her world aflame. Life with him, whenever they met, would not be the same and the house where she had truly lived, and loved, with him a reminder of all that she had found and then lost.
It was, after all, and for people related in the ways that they were, how the world turned. The flames of passion would be quenched but not fully extinguished.
They had lived through too much for that to happen.
♥