Author: Naughty Gaffer  brndtag at mcn.net
Title: Tonight
Keywords: M/F, romantic
Summary: Melinda has been planning a special evening, ending in strip backgammon and…
"Tonight, huh?" Jessica asked, her dark eyes flashing.  She poured Melinda a cup of coffee and looked at her, silently demanding an answer.
"Tonight," Melinda confirmed, biting her lip.  She stirred the coffee absently and turned to stare out the window.  The view from ten floors up was great -- or it would have been great if she had seen it.  She saw light green eyes, wavy hair, a walrus mustache.
"Girlfriend, I expect a full report on Monday," said Jessica.  "What you wore, how he took it off, everything."
Melinda laughed.  "You'll get it out of me one way or another," she answered.  "Maybe I'll give you a call in the morning.  Late in the morning, if things work out right."
"I hope they do.  But nobody's gotten Matt James yet." Jessica went back to her office and Melinda went to hers.  A major deal was in the folder on her desk; she managed to make a couple of phone calls and set up meetings for Monday, but she couldn't really think about business.  "I must have it bad," she said to herself, her feet on the desk and her chair tilted back dangerously.  "A five-thousand dollar commission and I'm thinking about Matt instead of business! I sure hope he's worth it." She threw her head back and suddenly the chair flew out from under her! There was a tremendous crash as she landed on the carpet and the chair hit the opposite wall.
Jessica and a couple of others came flying in.  Wayne ran behind the desk to her.  "Melinda! Are you all right?" he asked as he helped her to sit up.  She managed to bring her knees together quickly and keep at least a shred of her dignity.
"I'm fine, Wayne," she said.  Then a thought crossed her mind.  "Actually, I think I hit my head.  It's starting to hurt and my neck's a little stiff."
"Should I take you down to the clinic?" asked Jessica.
"No, no," Melinda answered, tipping Jessica a wink.  "Too much paperwork. I think I'll just go home.  If I lie down, maybe take a hot bath, I think I'll be okay."
Jessica and Wayne helped her to her feet and she put the chair back behind the desk.  "Now shoo, everybody," she said.  "Let me just put my stuff away.  I'll be okay." 
Jessica stayed after the others had left.  She picked up a few papers that had been knocked to the floor in all the flurry.  "Lie down?" she said.  "Take a bath?  Oh, yes, Melinda, I think lying down is exactly what you need."
"Jessica, I'm serious.  I've got to finish cleaning my apartment and set up dinner and get as sexy as I can.  I need an excuse to duck out early." Melinda locked the files in her cabinet and looked around.  "Everything here will keep.  I'm out of here!" she said.
"Go for it, girlfriend!" Jessica said with a smile.  "I'll cover for you if anything comes up." She kissed Melinda's cheek quickly and walked her to the elevator.
Melinda smiled to herself as she rode the elevator downstairs and hailed a cab.  She stopped for a few things she still needed and walked up the four flights of steps to her apartment.  "I don't know whether to jump up and down or run away," she said to herself.
Matt James, she said to herself as she put the groceries away and changed into a running suit.  She vacuumed and dusted, humming softly.  "Matt James," she said out loud as she slipped out of her clothes and started the tub filling with bubbles and a little scent.  The aroma would linger through the evening; would it bring her luck? 
"What is it about that guy?" Melinda asked herself out loud as she settled into the bubbles.  "He's been with the company for four years and nobody, but nobody, has dated him more than twice!  Everybody's tried.  Tara in Accounting, Jo Marie in Securities, Barb in Legal -- they're all beautiful, they're all smart! Why is he still dating me?" They had been going out for three months, sometimes twice a week, and gossip had already moved them into each other's apartments six times and split them up twice.  Only Jessica knew the whole story -- unless Matt had been talking.  Only Jessica knew that Matt had kissed Melinda a few weeks before for the first time, had never really tried to get into Melinda's bed.  
"Do you love the boy?" Jessica had asked her one day.  They were catching their breath after three sets of tennis; Jessica had been nothing but a brown blur across the net.
"Yes, I think I do," Melinda had said.  "Is that an awful thing to say? I think I do?"
"If you wait until you're sure, honey, he'll be gone.  Love is always a guess."
"You ought to know.  You've had enough boyfriends."
"Yeah, well, I'm looking around.  I like the looking.  So, does Matt love you?"
"Darned if I know.  He gets all pouty if I turn down a date, but he isn't doing much.  I mean, we go places and we do things, but he gets out of the house as fast as he can when he brings me home.  I've never seen more of his place then the living room and the kitchen."
"He's kind of a secret guy.  Maybe all the other girls just tried to get too close, too fast.  Ran him off."
"Maybe so.  But I'm going to get him.  And soon."
A week later they had finally kissed.  That was three weeks now and Melinda had waited long enough.  Just last Monday, she had finally found the courage to ask Matt to come for dinner at her place instead of going out.  "I want to make you a real dinner," she'd said.  She hadn't mentioned the rest of her agenda to him, but Jessica had guessed.
"You're going to scalp Matt, aren't you?" she had said as soon as Melinda told her about the date.
"I'm going to try!" Melinda had answered.  Jessica had been after her ever since, cheering her on and demanding "a full report."
Half an hour of hot water and bubbles were just what Melinda needed to buck up her courage.  She got out of the tub reluctantly and dried herself carefully.  A little scent, then into her bathrobe.  Matt wasn't due until six-thirty and he was very punctual.  Melinda liked that; she was like that herself.  It showed he was considerate.
She was just putting the lasagna into the oven when the phone rang.  "Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?" Matt's light tenor set her heart fluttering a little harder than it already was.  "Should I just bring a pizza and take care of you?"
"I'm fine, Matt.  How did you know what happened?"
"Wayne called me.  He said you looked pretty shook up." 
"I was a little shook up, but I'm over it." She didn't say that the fall had nothing to do with it or that she wasn't really over it.  "I'll be ready for you at six-thirty."  Or whenever you want, she didn't say either.  
"See you soon, then," he said.  Melinda hung up and got salad makings out of the refrigerator.  "I'll get dressed as soon as I've got this done," she said to herself.  "Can't get oil and vinegar on my seduction suit!" Quickly she tossed the salad and put it back in the refrigerator.  Then she went to her bedroom closet and looked around.
There was the slightly sheer blue silk blouse.  She took it off the hanger and looked at it.  Yes, the buttons would be easy to open.  Then the black silk slacks and the black shoes -- they were almost like slippers.  Easy to get off her feet when she was ready.  God, taking off shoes seemed to mess up a seduction mood!   She laid the clothes on the bed and opened her dresser.
The camisole was a delicate pink, a lot like the shade of her skin.  The pink tulip shorts matched.  There would be very thin lines under her clothes if Matt looked for them, as she hoped he would, but she would almost give the impression of being bare underneath.  "That's pretty good," Melinda said to herself as she looked in the mirror.  "Matt James, if you're guessing what's under here, you'll have to take it off and find out!" she said to herself.  Even touching wouldn't tell him, she knew; the silk would slide over the under layers and her skin like there was nothing.
There was one last thing to see to before Matt arrived.  Melinda had searched for weeks and paid a lot more to get an apartment with a real fireplace.  Now she laid the paper and wood carefully and placed the matches on the hearth.  She hoped Matt would suggest the fire and light it.  "No man alive," she said, "at least no straight man alive, can resist a cool evening, a warm fire, and a hot woman!"
Six-thirty showed on Melinda's mantle clock just as the street door buzzed.  "Is that you, Matt?" she asked.
"It's a burglar," came the familiar tenor.  "Would you mind going out for a while so I can get to work?" Melinda smiled and buzzed the lock.  She opened the door and stood on the landing as she listened to his light step coming up the stairs.  He was taking them two at a time, as he always did.  "God, he moves like a gazelle," she thought as he bounded up.  "I bet he could take those steps four at a time if he wanted to.  And never trip!" She put her hands out as he stepped onto her landing.
"Hi, darling," he said, taking her hands and then brushing her cheek with his lips.  She had been hoping for better, but the night was young.  Very young.  "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Don't I look okay?" she asked.
Matt stepped back.  Melinda was pleased to hear just a slight intake of breath as he looked her over.  "Yes, you look awfully okay," he answered her.  She saw a slight squint in his eye and he missed her smile - he was trying to see what she was wearing underneath! But he obviously couldn't tell yet.
"Come on in," Melinda said, drawing him by one hand.  "It's kind of chilly out here." She took his topcoat and hung it in her hall closet.  Matt was wearing a dark green turtleneck and dark brown slacks over brown loafers.  The turtleneck looked like it had been sprayed on.  The knit fabric outlined and emphasized Matt's body instead of concealing it.  Melinda took Matt into the kitchen.  "Would you cut some French bread for us?" she said.  "If I slip it in now, it'll make perfect garlic bread when the lasagna's done." 
"Your wish is my command," Matt answered.
"Be careful," Melinda murmured.  "I may hold you to that." He looked a little puzzled.  She didn't explain.  "I just need to mix the garlic butter," she said.  Her face was toward the small glass bowl, but her eyes were peeping out from under the long lashes.  Matt's slender chest was all muscle and nicely defined.  Melinda had seen lots of skinny men with no shape to their muscles and lots of big men who had turned out to be just chunky.  Matt was the exception: he seemed a bit small under a coat and tie, but his muscles were beautifully shaped and smooth.  Sharp lines separated each muscle group.  Melinda paused and stroked Matt's upper arm for a moment.  "You know, you could have posed for my anatomy class," she said.  "Here's your deltoid, here's your triceps group, here are your biceps."
"You remember a lot," Matt answered.  He seemed comfortable enough with her hand on his arm; she didn't want to press further.  Yet.
"I thought I would be a doctor," Melinda replied.  Matt had heard some of this.  "But I changed my mind.  It's great for Jeopardy, though.  I can get all the anatomy questions."
"Everyone needs a talent," Matt said.  "But yours is stock analysis."
"Everyone needs a hobby, too," Melinda answered.  "See, I could tell you were left-handed even if I didn't know you."
"How can you do that?" Matt asked.
"Give me your hands and I'll show you how." Matt extended his hands and Melinda took his wrists.  She turned the palms up.  "See, you've got a few calluses.  So you do some manual work."
"I help my dad around his house.  He's always fixing something," he said.
"That's right.  Now, look at your left wrist and hand.  See how big they are?" She took a breath and then she put her hand on top of his.  "They're a lot bigger than your right hand and wrist.  That happens when you use one hand more than the other.  Look at mine."
"Hmm," Matt said as he held her hands.  A slight shiver ran through Melinda's shoulders and Matt seemed to feel it too.  "Your hands are about the same size."
"Yes, but my right hand is a little larger.  Mostly from playing tennis," Melinda said.
"Yes, I see what you mean," Matt said slowly.  His fingers were playing a little on the backs of Melinda's hands.  She felt the tingling grow stronger; a strange look crossed Matt's eyes and she knew that he felt it as well.  "Your hands are very soft.  Do you use a special dishwashing soap?" he asked innocently.
"Oh, you," Melinda said, slapping the towel lightly against his chest.  "You'll find out after dinner.  You don't think I'm going to do the dishes alone, do you?"
"Oh, I guess not," he answered.  The bread was ready.  Its rich bakery aroma mingled with the lasagna and the salad dressing so the kitchen smelled like an Italian restaurant.  Matt's cologne barely held out above the heady scents.  Melinda cut the lasagna and served salad.  Matt held her chair for her and then opened a bottle he'd brought upstairs.  "A nice Chianti," he said.  He poured out two glasses.
"What are we talking about?" Melinda asked herself a long while later.  The plates were empty; the candles had burned down most of their length.  "I know I've been talking and we've been laughing, but what about?  Am I really that nervous?" she asked herself.  Aloud, though, she said, "Have you had all you want?" She wasn't quite sure what she meant by it -- she could feel her feet getting a little cold, and it had nothing to do with the thin silk shoes.
"I'm stuffed," Matt said.  Well, it wasn't romantic, but that was all right.
"Then let's get the chores done," Melinda said.  "Take the glasses into the living room, will you?  Then we'll get the dishes done."
"Be with you in a minute," Matt said.  He came to the sink as she started the water and the bubbles.  Melinda looked at his forearms as he pushed his sleeves back.  She loved the thick brown hair from the backs of his hands and all the way up the arms.  She liked the muscles and the tendons, too, the obvious strength and the slender fingers that looked like they would be very nimble.  "I don't think of this as doing the dishes," he said.  "It's just a bubble bath for the hands."
"I've had my bubble bath," Melinda said, laughing.  
"I know.  Was that 'License to Kill'? I can smell it in the living room."
"Just an ordinary bath," Melinda said with a small smile.  It just about was "License to Kill"! "I hope you liked it."
They were soon done.  Melinda went to the living room and sat on the floor.  Matt was a moment behind her.  "I can almost feel his eyes," she thought.  "He's trying to burn right through these pants." She poured two glasses of Spumante "You know, I've never seen you drink more than one glass of wine," she said as she watched him sit cross-legged on the floor.  He even sat down gracefully, she thought to herself.  What a babe!
"I've always been driving," Matt answered.  He sipped the cold wine slowly.  "Besides, I'm an absolute lightweight.  These things go straight to my head and I get silly.  Sometimes I get obnoxious."
"Oh, I bet you're never a mean drunk," Melinda said with a laugh.  She looked at the fireplace; he didn't catch the hint yet.  "Let's play a round of backgammon," she said, pulling the game set off the coffee table.  They had played backgammon a couple of times in the park; he was good, but she was better.  "I'll set up if you'll light the fire." Well, if he wasn't going to catch on by himself, she would just have to help him!
"Oh, sure," he said, almost looking startled.  "I didn't even know you had a fireplace."
"It's right behind you," she said.  So he hadn't even been looking around!  "I thought he was paying attention to my top," Melinda said to herself.  "The plot thickens."  She had gotten the game out in all innocence, but another idea was forming.
Matt won the first game easily; Melinda took the second game after a hard struggle.  Part of the struggle was in her own head; she was a little scared of what she had decided to do.  In fact, she'd meant to do it during the second game but she'd chickened out.  But they'd each had some more wine and Melinda was even more of a lightweight than Matt.  What she wanted was definitely getting the upper hand of what she feared.
She set the pieces up for a third game and looked at Matt.  His eyes were sparkling, his whole body was more relaxed.  He'd even kicked off his loafers.  The fire was a soft glow in the room.  If the time was coming, it was already here.  Melinda took a deep breath and clicked off the lamp on the end table.  There was only firelight in the room now.  "Is that enough light to see by?" she asked Matt.
"Yeah, sure," he said.  His voice was catching just a bit; was he on to her? He almost had to be by now!
"Matt, why did you wait so long to kiss me?" she asked softly as she rattled the dice.
"I was waiting for a sign.  I've been stupid with women sometimes.  So I waited until I was pretty sure you'd like it if I kissed you.  I didn't want to screw up a friendship."
Melinda thought about what Jessica had said.  "If you wait until you're sure..." Matt had almost lost out by waiting so long! But it was sweet anyway.  "I was hoping you'd kiss me a long time before that," she said softly.
"I wanted to," he answered.  Yes, his voice was a little husky.  "But it wasn't just that I wasn't sure.  I wanted to kiss you, but I wanted to like you first.  Sometimes I've been so busy trying to be in love that I forgot about liking a woman first.  It takes time to really make a friend, you know."
"Yes, I guess you're right," Melinda said.  "So am I your friend now?"
"Oh, yes," Matt said, leaning over the board.  "My best buddy who isn't a guy." He put his face forward; Melinda met him and brought her hand up to his neck.  His knit shirt felt smooth and warm, the muscles tight as a spring underneath.  His lips were warm and soft, his tongue a little sweet.  She let go after a minute or so.
"One more game," she said.
"Then I should probably go," Matt said.  He didn't look like he meant it.
"Well, we'll see," Melinda answered.  "Not a chance," she said to herself.  Plan A would take care of that.   Aloud she said, "Let's put a little side bet on this game."
"What do you mean?" Matt asked.
"I'll show you when it happens," she replied.  "Roll!"
It took a few moves to set up, but Melinda managed to get Matt to hit her blot and put it on the bar.  She looked at him closely as he put the brown disk up; then she said, "I lose the first one." Gathering her courage, she undid one button on her top.  "The next time you get a blot, you get to do the button," she said.
Matt smiled at her a little crookedly.  His eyes were flashing now, not twinkling.  "This could be an awfully long game," he said.  "You know where this will have to end."
Melinda was serious for only a moment.  "Yes, I do," she said.  "It's taken me long enough to get you here."
"Then play for all you're worth," he said.  "Winner on top!"
 Luck was with Melinda; she hit Matt's blot just a couple of turns later.  He pulled his shirt out of his waist and let Melinda pull it over his head.  She piled it on the sofa.  Then Matt hit her blot and his hands came across the board.  Melinda leaned forward; their lips met again as she felt his large, strong, careful fingers slipping the next two buttons out.  "Hey!" she said.  "No fair! I said one button!"
"I doubled the bet," he said, his voice husky.  "That's a nice top you almost have on."
Melinda looked down at herself.  Her blouse was open to the waist, the blue lying over the pink camisole.  The camisole itself had very thin straps and it was cut low between her small breasts; she leaned forward a little further and Matt's breath caught as he glanced down.  Yes, the breasts were quite visible that way, Melinda thought with satisfaction.  "Hey, there's still a game going on," she said.
It was a very long game.  Both of them were playing to get blots onto the bar, both of them were playing to lose.  Melinda's slippers were piled beside her blouse and Matt's shoes in a little while.  His socks were next.  "This is getting pretty serious," Melinda said to herself.  The next blot would put them beyond a game and into new territory, territory that she had never explored with Matt.  Here at the border, Melinda was suddenly scared again.  But she could no longer protect her blot; Matt's piece was on it and his eyes were on her.
"You can call the bet off, if you want to," he said softly.
Melinda smiled and confirmed her own decision.  "They're yours," she said and stood up fluidly.
The pants had only a thin elastic waistband to hold them up.  They clung to her like an extra layer of skin.  She stepped over to Matt and brought his hands to her waist.  "Take your prize," she said.  His fingers were warm and just a little rough inside the waistband.  They left trails of fire on her underpants as he lowered the black silk.  Matt came up to his knees and lifted her camisole for a moment, kissed her tummy as he brought the pants down to her feet.  She barely had the balance to step out of them as she felt Matt's lips on the legs of her tulip pants and on her thighs, his tongue on her knees.  Melinda pulled Matt's head away for a moment.  "Your moustache tickles," she said, trying to smother her giggles and losing.
"That's why I grew it," he answered with a mischievous look.
Melinda dropped to her own knees and sat on the rug.  Matt's eyes glowed in the firelight; she knew her own eyes matched them.  Hair spread across his chest in a light covering, coarse and dark against his pale skin.  Her own shoulders were reddened by the firelight and a blush that rolled over her breasts, disappeared under the camisole that hid her nipples and not much more.  Thin silk lay over the tops of her thighs.  The loose cut allowed Matt to see each thigh's base, the heavy tendon that stood out and just a tiny curl of hair.  She held his hands and kissed them; he pulled hers to his mouth.  Then, suddenly, he dropped them and picked up the dice cup.  "We've got a game to finish," he said.
"You're ahead on points," Melinda said.  She was surprised at how much she sounded like Marlene Dietrich.  "I concede."
"No, you don't," Matt said.  "I was trying to lose.  We'll match dice once for the game."
"Okay," Melinda said.  She rattled the bones and rolled.  "Boxcars!" she said excitedly.  It was what she had really wanted.
 "Tough to match," Matt said.  "Seven - your game!"
"Then it's my turn," she answered.  She slid the game set under the couch and moved the coffee table back, coming up on her knees.  Matt was watching with an eagerness that made her all the hungrier for him.  She turned back to him and pushed him onto his back.  "You've been holding out on me," she said.  "But I've got you now."
"Have mercy," he said with a smile and a soft laugh.  "But only a little."
"No mercy at all," she said.  "You're my prize and I will have my way with you."
"Go ahead."
Melinda stretched her body along Matt's.  Her hips were on top of his, her breasts rubbing softly against his belly through the thin silk she still wore.  She reached over Matt's head and pinned his wrists in one encircling grip as she opened his belt with the other.  "I've waited a long time for this," she breathed into his ear.  Then she unbuttoned his Dockers and pulled the zipper down.  Her position felt awkward, so she straddled Matt's thighs and sat up.  She sucked in her breath as she felt his hands encircling her thighs, sliding under the underpants and touching places she had yet to show him.  She slid further down his legs.  "Not so fast," she said.  "I won, remember?" Then she laid open the trousers and snapped the waistband of his briefs.  "Do you always wear red underwear?" she asked.
"No, most of my skivvies are white.  But I had hopes tonight, too."
"You were right," she said.  "Red is your color.  Especially when it's the only thing you have on, I bet." She slid off and knelt beside him, tugging at the pants.  Matt raised his hips and the pants rode down his thighs.  "I've gone running with you lots of times and I always wanted to see your thighs like this," she said.  "Roll over, will you, please?"
Matt smiled up at her and did as he was told.  Melinda stroked his thighs with her hands, firmly, savoring the feel of the muscles and the skin, the coarse layer of masculine hair that covered him.  She let her fingers slide under the leg openings on his briefs and felt him shiver as she found the softer flesh of his bottom.  "Whoo!" he said as her hand slipped between the cheeks.  "Surprise!" she answered him.
Her desire to stretch this out was losing to her desire to have him naked.  She pulled on his waistband and he laughed as he raised his hips a little.  Melinda pulled down on the briefs, surprised when they failed to slide off quickly.  
"Wait up!" Matt yelped.  His hand went below him and Melinda heard elastic pop slightly as he eased his erection past it.  "Okay," he said and the red cotton joined the green knit, the brown twill, the black and blue silk.
Melinda straddled Matt's back, just below the bottom she was cuddling with both hands.  She lay forward, sliding her hands up the back as she went.  His quiver ran through her hands as her hair fell onto the smooth skin of his back and his shoulders.  His body felt warm through silk as she nipped his neck and kissed him.  He was craning his neck so their lips could meet; his hands had come around his back to touch her.  She felt them under the raised camisole and then under the waistband of her underpants.  "Oh, yes," she groaned.  "Now take my clothes off."
She sat beside her man and he rolled over to sit up.  Slowly his hands reached for her shoulders; slowly he drew them down her arms to her fingertips.  Gooseflesh burned along the path he traced on her skin; gooseflesh rose on his shoulders as he stared at her.  
"God, you are so beautiful," he said.  "Firelight is your best light." His hands were on the straps; the straps were suddenly down her arms and Melinda's breasts were bare.
She could feel the heat of his gaze, warmer than the fire that caressed her breasts and her belly.  Matt leaned forward and gathered her to him.  Melinda arched her back in pleasure and excitement; as she gazed at the ceiling, she felt lips and tongue cherishing each breast.  "Oh, my baby," she said.
"My lover," he answered.  It didn't make much sense and she didn't care.  His hands were on her back, driving pleasure into her with every stroke and every motion from her waist to her neck.  He gathered the camisole in his hands and raised it to her shoulders.  She lifted her arms high and he pulled the delicate silk over them.  "You're even more beautiful that way," he said.  Melinda could see how his eyes were fixed on her body, on the raised breasts and the flat tummy, the dimple of her navel and the sweep of skin down to her tulip pants.  Then she felt his hands on her back again.  One hand stayed on her back, slipping under the waistband and cuddling her bottom; the other hand was on her thigh and coming up from below.  Melinda gave a small cry as the hands met; sensitive flesh was warmed and fired by the gentle probing fingers.  
"Ah," she managed to say.  "I never knew my bottom could feel like that."
"I hoped it would feel like this," Matt said with a laugh again.  "I like bottoms especially." He pulled the tulip pants down at last and Melinda felt the warm glow of the fire -- and the blaze of Matt's eyes -- on all of her body.  She watched his eyes move from her hair and her own eyes to her neck, to her breasts and shoulders, down her waist and her tummy to the dark curls between her rounded thighs and she felt his need in his gaze.  
She looked, too.  Melinda held Matt's face in her hands as she stared into his eyes, nuzzled his moustache with her lips, looked down along his slender chest.  The firelight threw shadows along the ridges of his muscles to excite her even further.  His belly was flat, his navel a tiny gem.  His erection was glorious, beautiful, full of life and eagerness, not something dirty or made only of lust.  His thighs were chiseled and hard.  She felt the strength in them as she flung herself onto Matt, pressed her belly to his, felt his need against the mound of her belly.  
A slight push and he went down under her command.  She climbed across his thighs and pushed her damp vagina against the hand that he offered her.  Pressure grew inside her, a balloon between her legs that she wanted to grow until it burst in a hundred smaller balloons.  Matt's face was pulled into a mask of concentration as he gave her his love and his pleasure.  She stroked his hard flesh as he touched her vagina, although it was a little awkward.  Melinda felt his cock quiver at her touch, tremble with need for her possession.  It was time.
Melinda lifted herself.  Matt's hands touched fire to her bottom and her wet pussy.  She reached for him and brought his hard cock to her petal-soft vagina, rested herself around him with a sigh and a groan.  She couldn't really tell which sounds were hers and which were his as she stretched forward onto him.  Her breasts were points of living flame as he caressed them.  Her legs buzzed and trembled with the feeling of holding him under her.  Her clitoris burned and throbbed with pleasure as they moved, as his hips came hard against her bottom and she seized her pleasure to give pleasure back.  Her orgasm rolled through her until she splayed herself, spent, across Matt’s slick chest.
Her eyes focused as she heard Matt call to her, as she felt his frenzy grow to its peak and then begin to fade.  She held his neck and nipped it lightly as she felt his cock ebb within her vagina.  "Hang on," she gasped.  "I'm not letting you go yet."
"No, don't let me go," he answered from afar.  Yet he was very near; they had come to this special place together, heart in heart and body with body.
The waves rolled back.  Matt ebbed and she could hold him no longer in herself.  Need was gone, leaving a glow that banished the firelight to an ember.  Melinda lay beside Matt, her head on his chest, his hand on her bottom to keep her close.  She smiled at him as she dozed away.  "Jessica, have I got a story for you," was her last thought.