Did My Heart Love Till Now?

Ass

Dear reader, after much deliberation I commit to posting the beginning of a story whose essence has preoccupied me for a long time. While strictly a work of fiction, there is much that has a strong basis in real experience. I have tried to keep the mood faithful to the experience, so that the excitement might be understated in comparison with other stories posted on Literotica. It suggests a continuation, but I haven’t yet decided if I will be able to continue. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

There are presently just two characters, both demonstrably over eighteen.

Did my heart love till now?

The roads were quiet that morning as I unhurriedly made the journey to the house of a very special friend. I was grateful for that because it meant my hands and feet were able to work almost on autopilot as I drove the familiar streets, allowing my thoughts to dwell on the upcoming visit and drift to our times together. On reaching the house I parked neatly in one of the spaces for visitors. I saw I was early so instead of announcing my arrival immediately I paused for a few minutes before calling at the door.

How many times had we shared in the last six years? Too many to count, yet not enough to satisfy my hunger. I was acutely and painfully aware that this day would probably be the last time, and I needed some minutes to compose myself, lock my emotions and the sad realisation away in separate compartments of my heart and mind. Above all I had to make sure that any visible signs of these negative feelings were wiped away when we came face to face.

* * * * * * * * * * *

1. Reminiscence

My mind regressed to our first meeting, I remember it so well …..

The afternoon of Good Friday 2009. I was approaching the mature age of sixty and I’d been having a bad year. The recent economic crash that affected the entire developed world had killed off my son in laws’ job and their marriage collapsed under the strain. My most valued office colleague had been head-hunted leaving me overloaded at work. Then I picked up an injury which curtailed my capacity for sport and my fitness level dropped.

But I apologise, dear reader, my racing thoughts as I write are causing me to get ahead of things. Let me go back further …..

I had been working in Cologne, Germany for the past fifteen years. I was happy with the work, most of the time at least, and it was well paid. I was very fortunate. The reason I was in Germany and not England was that our leaders’ economic measures had hit many careers hard, including my own as an engineering researcher for the government, and I had grasped the job opportunity as a lifeline against the almost certain redundancy that would come shortly. We had a daughter who would soon be going to study at university and who would need financial support — I saw no practical alternative. Unfortunately my wife could not settle outside of Britain and soon went back to our home in England to live, with the result that I was in a state of limbo, feeling unable to settle and build a new life of my own abroad yet having little future career and breadwinning prospects at home.

Over the next years we made many visits to each other but with each passing year our relationship as a couple became weaker and emotionally we drifted apart. In all honesty it was never a very passionate relationship and we remained man and wife partly because it was easier and to me it was less painful, and less frightening than splitting up. It also kept some stability for our daughter while she was still growing into adulthood. At another level I retained the deep-seated belief that marriage was important enough to me not to end it, though if I was honest with myself perhaps really I did not have the courage to do so.

I didn’t feel right about seeking and a girlfriend and trying form a relationship. In the circumstances it wouldn’t have been fair on her, nor on my family, and in any case I didn’t really want one. But of course loneliness, desire for female company and the natural need to satisfy my sexual needs prompted me to occasionally visit massage studios and other such “Houses of Tolerance”, though I never found the experience particularly satisfying. OK, it was physically satisfying at the time — the meeting with an attractive lady, the foreplay, becoming naked together, the contact, the caresses, orgasm ….. but afterward I looked on it as something forgettable, even regrettable. On the plus side it was easy to keep any such liaison compartmentalised in time and space, as well as emotionally. And of course there was no danger that it would impinge onto other aspects of my life, above all my marriage.

While looking for something better, I learned about tantra and tantric massage. It promised a classier experience, maybe one I would enjoy enough to want to repeat. It sounded interesting and mysterious, perhaps exciting. I learned that tantra has its own vocabulary. One does not use the words like cock/prick/… for penis, nor cunt/slit/… for vagina, the words I use. Instead güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri they are “lingam” and “yoni”, suggestive of something more worthy, even sacred, which to the tantric practitioner they are.

My first such experience was at Institute Tantra, and the massage was everything I was hoping. At the core was an unhurried exchange (intended to delay the climax), a holistic communion between giver and receiver, and elements that were not solely aimed at sexual gratification. It was not only intensively pleasurable but I went away feeling good about what I had experienced. It was not about sex as such, not at this institute anyway as I realised from before the start. More about communication of bodies and souls through the medium of sensitive touch, naked contact; the sharing of energy and the evoking of desires and emotions.

And so it happened on that particular Friday, I called that day to seek an appointment for a two hour massage. I wasn’t sure if I could, half expecting them to be closed for the holiday, but there was no problem. I didn’t know who I would see, I had visit a few times before and knew they normally assign a lady of their choice. It was fine to me as the institute was renowned for high quality — the ladies were warmly tactile, sensual, had sensitive hands and a comforting manner. They were real people, with their own individuality, but they followed an established routine so there would be no disappointments or embarrassing surprises.

I arrived a few minutes before the appointed hour of 3 pm and at first sight the place seemed deserted. I rang the bell and was met at the door by a lady slightly older than those I had seen previously. Barefoot and dressed conservatively in a cream cotton blouse and beige corduroy pants, she stood about 5’4″ and was slim without being skinny. She had medium length, dark chestnut hair which cascaded to her shoulders; her eyes were soft blue, warm and open as they made contact with mine. Though outwardly modest in her appearance, she possessed a compelling presence and communicated a calm empathy which produced an unmistakable magnetism. Her understated sexuality accentuated rather than detracted from this impression and at that moment I knew instinctively that she was someone I would be completely comfortable with. Had I been more sensitive toward my inner being I might have been aware that I was meeting the woman who might have been the special person for me.

Smiling warmly she faced me, standing close enough to invite contact be not so close as to invade my personal space, and introduced herself, “Hello Edward, I’m delighted to meet you! My name is Renate, I am your tantrica for this afternoon.”

“And it’s lovely to meet you too, Renate. I know I will enjoy this time very much.”

With that she smiled again, gently took my hands in hers and with a relaxed, open gaze looked me directly in the face, as if inviting an embrace. I instinctively held my arms out to return the invitation and a few moments we hugged gently. I felt the feminine softness through her blouse and yielded to the temptation to kiss her softly on each cheek. Reflecting upon it now, I think perhaps even then my heart was trying to tell me something.

She led me down the hallway and into the prepared massage room, pausing on the way to show me the luxurious bathroom. I had noticed how quiet it was and I asked, “Are you on your own today? It looks as if there is nobody else.”

“That’s right, on Good Friday there is not much demand. In fact you are the only booking so far today and I was asked me to come in just for you.”

Light-heartedly, I said that I felt very privileged, and would do my best to refrain from any improper behaviour!

She gave me a thick soft towel and a lunghi (sarong) to wrap around myself after my shower. “No need to rush, Edward. Take your time to relax, get dry and take in the atmosphere of the massage room. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

While undressing I saw how perfectly the room was arranged — a comfortable chair, soft lighting, scented candles, in the middle of the room a futon covered in a soft black wrap, the large fluffy plum-coloured towel over it and deep pillow with a smaller towel over it the same colour, a warm water bath with bottles of what must have been massage oils, various items to stroke and stimulate during the massage.

I always appreciate a warm shower before massage, even if I am already clean and fresh enough for most things, the relaxing, calming effect helps me compose and ready myself. In a way I think of it as preparing me for the occasion. Once dried I wrapped the lunghi around my middle, pulled it semi-taut and tucked the overlapping end underneath to make it like a long skirt. This was another nice touch as the light, soft cotton felt so sensuous as it glided on my skin while I moved. I returned to the massage room and took in the atmosphere and waited, not forgetting to turn off my mobile phone.

After another minute or so Renate entered güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri and locked the door. “Just to make sure we are not disturbed,” she remarked with an amused smile. She had changed out of her everyday attire and was now clad in her own lunghi, wearing it as a light, loose-fitting dress halter-tied behind her neck. She looked divine in the delicate flame-red garment which flowed over her body. I could see the two round dark circles of her nipples as they pushed out against the thin material and it was clear she was naked underneath. I felt the first stirring of arousal as my cock pressed onto the lunghi, and I sensed some pre-cum seeping onto the cotton.

As she walked up to me she took my hand and led me to the mat so we were standing face to face about two feet apart.

“Dear Edward, are you comfortable as we stand like this?”

“Yes Renate, facing you here I am very comfortable.”

She gave the tantra greeting of bringing her hands together as if in prayer and bowed her head. Wanting to share the spirit, I did the same.

“Wonderful, we will do a little ritual to prepare us for the massage. Please close your eyes and listen to your breathing, and my breathing ….. good, and let us breathe slowly in and out together.”

After a few moments of shared calm she placed her right hand on my chest so the heel of her palm was just at my left nipple, then took my right hand and placed it on her breast in mirror fashion. It felt as if she had placed a spell on me and that lines of magnetic force were running through me and binding me to her. A part of my brain was urging me to stroke her breast and finger her nipple through the material, but the effect of the spell was stronger. In any case, this moment of calm and trust between us had a sacred quality and was something to be honoured, something I wanted to honour.

“Edward, this time is for you. It is a time to shut out the cares of the world, the hurts and fears, the frustrations and worries. There is nothing to be afraid of, nothing to achieve. Let go of all that is causing you pain, all that is blocking the experience of happiness. Thank you Edward, for allowing this woman to touch your body.”

It felt right to reply, “Thank you Renate. I invite you to touch my body, please touch any part of it and in any way you wish.”

Even with my eyes still closed I felt her smile and that whisper “Thank you.” She stepped a little closer.

“Your body is the temple of your soul, which it bigger than all else that is yours, bigger than your thoughts, bigger that your ideas, bigger than all parts of your body.”

“Your body is the temple of your mind, which is the source of your most beautiful ideas” as she placed a hand on my forehead.

“Your body is the temple of your heart, which is the source of your love” as she moved her hand to my heart.

“Your body is the temple of your sex, which produces the strongest desires and the force to create new life” as she moved her hand to my genitals.

Did her hand linger this time? She gently pressed her palm against my cock, at the same time touching my ball sac with her fingertips. I was still wearing the lunghi and I felt my cock expand and stiffen. A wave of excitement ran though me as I felt the contact with the soft cotton. I was certain Renate recognised my stirring.

She put her hands to my waist, pulling gently on the lunghi to release where it was tucked in. Instead of letting it fall she gradually drew it down as she slowly circled me until I was standing completely nude, all the while letting it caress my skin through every inch of its travel.

We were now standing face to face, so close as almost touching. Her hands went behind her neck and with a quick movement untied the knot and let her garment drop, leaving her as naked as I was. I could help but stare, open-mouthed no doubt at her toned body, the trim legs and hips, the flat stomach suggesting regular exercise. Naturally my eyes could not avoid being drawn to her pubic triangle, shaven but for a small strip above cut very short. As she looked into my eyes my heart seemed to pause a moment. There was an instant frozen in time when I was face to face with and angel. A moment longer and I would have been overcome by emotion and taken her in my arms and kissed every inch of her body.

“Edward, come and sit.”

She took my hand and led me to a sitting position on the mat. She sat behind with her legs splayed out and spooning me with her body. She held me against her and leaned me back so more of my weight was supported by her body. Her breast was deliciously soft but her nipples were hard as they pressed against me. For the first time during the massage I felt awkward I instinctively and tensed my muscles to avoid putting too much weight on her.

“Is this OK for you, Renate? It must be uncomfortable for you if I lean back.”

“Dear Edward, you can lean onto me. Let yourself relax onto my body …. Yes, like that, feel me support you, feel güvenilir bahis şirketleri my skin on your skin, my breasts against your back as I hold you.”

Renate placed her hands on my chest and gently hugged me, swaying side to side. The tantric massages I had before were caring and sensitive, but this was at another level. Wherever she touched part of my body she did so as if it was something she treasured. She ran her hands lightly over my chest, making circles and letting the palms run over my nipples, themselves now becoming stiff. Now and again she played them, teasing and nipping them with her fingertips. I didn’t want this magic to end but I began to worry about a premature orgasm when I felt and saw how my cock was stiffening more and more. She must have sensed my arousal because she leant further forward and moved a hand to my cock and brushed lightly along its length with her fingertips. I was beginning to lose control …..

“Oh Renate, you’re making me cum too soon ….”

“Shhhh, Edward. No, you won’t come yet. As I stroke your lingam I feel your sexual energy transmit to me. If your state of arousal gets too high I’ll help you contain the energy and save it for later. Tantra is all about building it up but holding it in check, letting the tension subside, then building again until the right moment ….”

She moved her hand way from the danger area and with flowing movements stroked my chest but avoiding my nipples, her hands pressing as they travelled down on either side then lightly as they moved back up. The changed dynamic of her touch dissipated the tension and I became flaccid again, much to my relief.

She put her head close to mine and whispered “I’m going to do a slow soft massage on your head and face now.”

For the next minutes she stroked my head and face, following my contours with her fingers. With strong movements she teased my scalp, then with soft cresses lingered over and behind my ears, my neck and throat, my forehead, eyebrows, cheeks and finally my lips, outlining every part.

“I’m going to do the body massage now, starting with massage your arms and legs. Are you warm enough like this or would you like me to place your lunghi over you?”

I thought about that, feeling comfortably warm and decided I preferred to be naked, as she was. It was a wonderful feeling to be totally exposed to her view and available to her touch, realising I was happy that she could do to me anything she chose.

“I’d prefer to be completely nude, Renate. I want you to see and have access to all of me.”

Before I completely lost myself in my imaginings she moved from under me and laid me on my back with my legs slightly apart. She sat facing me and with her leg resting against my hip. She started with my right hand, using her palms on my hand, then my arm. Her touch was magical, it relaxed and drew out the tensions. Again and again I felt little ripples of energy coursing through me. A lovely touch was that she sat so close, and when she massaged my arm she placed my hand on her breast. It was as though it was more than a massage and we were lovers …. in my mind I imagined we were. On occasion I gave in a little to the temptation to let my hand caress her as she worked. Although she said nothing and not resist, from the way she looked at me I thought it wasn’t really intended. However she did give me a knowing smile as if she had caught me out but would let me off. I gave an embarrassed smile in return.

When she moved to work my legs still she placed my feet side by side with the soles on her belly and worked up from my ankles On each upward stroke she leaned forward, her supple body allowing her to reach all the way to where they join at my crotch. Her touch became lighter as her hands approached my pelvis and lingered momentarily. Her stroking gradually worked round from outer to inner, becoming more arousing as it did. I started to become excited as her fingers reached between the tops of my inner thighs, as she made no attempt to avoid them brushing lightly against my ball sac. I was having more naughty thoughts about touching her …

Then she spoke “Time to turn over to lie on your front. Take it slowly and gently.”

I appreciated the need for that advice. I was physically so relaxed that turning myself over was not as easy it normally is. My limbs had hardly enough strength to lever myself up from the mat and I needed to move my feet very deliberately to keep my equilibrium, even in such a nearly supine position. After a few moments I was face down, and Renate placed another cushion so I could rest my head comfortably.

She massaged with sensitive, fluid movements running her hands in parallel down the length of my body, shoulders, the outside of my back, hips, buttocks, thighs, knees, shins, ankles and feet. She worked from outside to middle so that after a dozen strokes her hand was coursing down my spine and between my cheeks, slowing right down to linger as her fingertips explored my dark cleft and pausing at the puckered skin of my rosebud whose centre is my secret opening, my anus. Several times she probed between my cheeks, bit by bit going a little deeper towards my hole until I felt her finger directly at the approach, promising a delicious, and a deliciously sexy naughty penetration through my sphincter to enter inside.

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