Fiona let me know how visual she was the first time we made love.
We fell into bed more or less inevitably shortly after we started dating. A few weeks of flirting led to a first date that ended at 4 am in Fiona’s kitchen. The night climaxed-even if we didn’t- with Fiona perched on a stool grinding her lap into my crotch, a fitted purple dress hanging off of her shoulders and my mouth on her breasts. A week later I took her to bed.
Each of us knew what was going to happen that Saturday night. Fiona traveled that week and I surprised her by waiting at the end of the airport’s arrival concourse on Friday night. We ended up at her house hungrily kissing and groping each other.
That we didn’t make love that night was more a tribute to the prophylactic power of traveling grime that it was to restraint.
The next night, dinner was largely an extended session of foreplay, not quite a Tom Jones scene, but full of oysters and harbor views followed by a short walk back to my house. I took Fiona in my arms before the door had even closed and almost immediately she was beside my high four-poster bed stripping off her cocktail dress. I lowered her onto the sheets and entered her for the first time. She was wet and welcoming.
We kept the lights on and stared into each other’s eyes, swimming in carnal pleasure as we found each other’s rhythm. As I type this almost 20 years later, my cock hardens and I see her hovering just under my eyes, pearls and breasts bouncing,
Fiona smiling at the wonder of two practiced lovers sampling each other for the first time but knowing exactly what to do. The image becomes more erotic to me each year that we are married. It is the symbol to me of the perfect mate that I improbably found and have now nurtured and honored through two decades of white-hot monogamy.
I shifted onto my knees in a few minutes, straightening my back for a better view of my cock moving in and out of her. Her eyes followed and we each gazed at our perfect passionate coupling.
Announcing her moment of discovery Fiona croaks, “You like to watch.”
I thrust harder. “And so do you.” Her hips buck and Fiona groans for the first time– our first time.
Yes. Visual.
Any doubts were erased a few weeks later when a late lunch stretched into an afternoon of loud acrobatic sex, most it spent with Fiona on her knees holding onto a bedpost while I pounded into her from behind. I sent her home that afternoon with a goodbye orgasm while we were seated in a wing chair. Fiona rode me, her legs draped over my thighs and eyes riveted to a full-length dressing mirror that reflected her impaled on my cock, writhing in pleasure. Yes. Very visual.
Our wedding trip was a long drive along the California coast punctuated by languid afternoons of sexual exploration. We fucked in front of a mirrored wardrobe in Mendocino and spent a delicious night completely alone in a Victorian inn near Point Arena. During our lovemaking that night, Fiona’s eyes stayed fastened to an overhead mirror as she watched my hips thrusting into her and her hands involuntarily clawing at the sheets. We each came explosively.
We spent our last night at a turn of the century Union Square hotel in San Francisco. The place was recently renovated and everything about our room was luxurious, from the rich upholstery to the mountain of pillows, to the expensive sheets. Before dinner, Fiona perched on the bed and flipped through the television channels, lingering over the adult channel menu screen.
“Only in San Francisco, “she said after a while.
“No, darling. Not just in San Francisco. It’s been a while since you stayed in a hotel.”
Dinner that night was sushi, a meal that has always been particularly sensuous for each of us. Twice during dinner Fiona mentioned the adult channel on the hotel television. We flirted, wrapped our lips around raw fish and got pleasantly drunk. As dinner wound down I stared directly at my wife and said, “Let’s have desert at the hotel. Strawberries, champagne and a movie.”
Fiona’s answer was sharp and equally direct: “Yes. Let’s go.”
Back at the hotel we didn’t wait for room service. While I phoned in the order, Fiona stripped and climbed into bed. We kissed and groped and held each other, waiting for the food to arrive. Nude and thoroughly aroused, Fiona hid in the bathroom while I signed the room service check.
We cracked the champagne and fed each other strawberries. In a few minutes Fiona told me in a level voice, “Pick a movie.”
I found something comparatively tame and went back to bed as the movie started. Fiona propped herself up on a pile of pillows and peered at the television. I peered at Fiona, who was then and who remains now the most desirable woman in the world to me. I was much more interested just then in her pretty parts than the parts of strangers.
I bit a fat strawberry in half and fed one piece to Fiona. Then another strawberry followed by a second bite. This time I took the uneaten half of the berry and traced Fiona’s curves with it. She sighed as I drew it across her breasts and then took her nipples in my mouth. I then slid down to Fiona’s lap and twirled the berry over her pussy before parking it in her navel, I lowered my mouth onto her vagina and entered her with my tongue.
With Fiona staring at the horny couple on the television I slowly and relentlessly ate her pussy. Flat on my stomach, I held her thighs apart and took my time. Fiona grunted and bucked. Unseen behind me, the television people were noisily fucking one another and joining Fiona in a chorus of desire. My wife groaned and shook with her first orgasm. I withdrew my tongue, retrieved the berry from her navel and returned to the head of the bed. I kissed Fiona deeply, feeding her the berry and slathering her lips with her own juices.
“Get on your knees,” I commanded. Instantly, Fiona went to the foot of the bed and offered herself to me, all the while staring at the thrashing television people. I knelt between her legs and slowly entered her wet pussy. My eyes then found the television screen and in a moment Fiona and I were fucking in rhythm with the television performers. They groaned. We groaned. He thrust. I thrust. Fiona gasped and barked, “Fuck me hard now! Please fuck meeee!”
I slammed into her pussy, holding her thighs tightly. On the screen the man was also astride his partner fucking her from behind. I thrust more urgently, grunting. Fiona moaned louder and I withdrew momentarily standing on the bed, adjusting the angle and re-straddling my wife, this time with my thighs outside of hers. I pierced her again, now slamming Fiona so hard that each stroke lifted her off of her knees.
The sound of raw rugged sex filled the hotel room as I delivered a dozen thrusts, each one harder than the one before. Fiona screamed, “Yes! There! Like that! Fuck meeeee!” We climax at the same time as our television friends.
I erupted into my wife, holding her by her shoulders, pulling her onto my dick, controlling her completely, delivering powerful thrusts. She convulsed, crying. Spent,
I dismounted Fiona and took her in my arms. We kissed deeply and drifted off to sleep while the television couple continued to thrash and moan.
We dozed, dreaming satisfied vivid dreams.