It's been a while, but you don't forget, do you?

And it works. Well nearly always. By which I mean, the adrenaline rush, the endorphin release, flowed through my veins and for a while untethered me, released me from the ropes holding me down and I floated up among the clouds.  At least as high as the seventh floor. For it was on the seventh floor, that heaven proffered an angel.

Not my type, I might once have said. But I've long ago realised that type does not refer to hair colour, height, curves or brains.  Well, maybe brains, but even that was disproved at least once. So she was blond (this gentleman normally prefers brunettes). She was petite; a whole foot shorter than me and probably half my weight and I would normally go for curves and a height that didn't make me feel like Goliath. And under 25 and that is usually a warning that what would follow would be mechanically satisfying but emotionally empty.  In all these measures she failed to meet my preferences. But in everything else she was a perfect 10.

I knocked. Heels clattered. The door opened. Pretty as a picture, wrapped in a little black dress, the curve of her perfectly proportioned derriere just visible. A smile that gladdened a weary heart. A kiss that quickened a mournful beat.

Wine, conversation, kisses.  Warmth, turned to heat, turned to perspiration in the spring sunshine. From sofa to bed in my arms, abandoned clothes leaving their telltale trail.  Kisses, tongues, lips, brushed against perfumed, soft skin.  I could not keep away from her neck, her nipples, her thighs. My hand trailed between her legs and brushed the soft skin and moist lips there. She flinched slightly. My fingers returned to tease out the heat, to tempt forth the juices, to bring on the moans.  She gave in to my control and gave herself over to the mounting passion. Her ever quicker breathing, the wetness between her legs, the grip of her cunt around my fingers told their familiar story.  Going down she pulled at my hair and pushed my face into her now soaked pussy.  The combination of her scent and her moans had brought me close to release, even before she put that delicate hand around my shaft. But I resisted the release. In a moment she had me on my back, covered and defenseless as she slowly and expertly impaled herself upon my cock. With her hands upon my chest she slowly raised and lowered her hips, and with each stroke brought me to the point just before the point of no return only to stop, breathe, smile, and then move again.  This went on for an eternity of minutes, the rising ecstasy a treasure to savour each and every time.  Finally when I could last no longer she ground herself hard against me, taking me deep within her, until both our cries ceased. And there she stayed gently clenching and unclenching her cunt, keeping me hard inside her.  Forever. Or for as long as time allowed.

Sweet. Perfect. An ache massaged away. Warmer. Happier. Brighter.