Buying the Virgin

CHARLOTTE

He looks like a god. My bronzed, blond Apollo. I gaze on, for the sheer pleasure of watching him move, male beauty in motion, sheer poetry.

Having reduced one tree core to usable pieces, he moves to pick up the next, placing it on his timber anvil. And now, he sees me, his face lighting up.

“Charlotte!”

Dropping the axe, he strides over, sweeping me into his arms, his eyes alight.

“I didn’t hear you arrive. I was trying to have everything ready for you.”

“I can see that.” I grin. “Looks like you’ve got the house toasty warm for us.”

“I wanted you to come Home.” His expression is a puzzle; longing, love, hope, enthusiasm, sadness. “I wanted you to…. to have a place to call your own.”

And then he is on me, his arms encircling me, his mouth fastened on mine.

I love him. I want him. And my body wants him.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at me, a speculative look in his eye. “Yes?” he says.

My heart pounding - I have seen too little of my Golden Lover in the past few weeks - I cast an eye over our surroundings. “Um, yes, but here?”

He grins, beckoning me with his eyes.

“Er, no, not here….” Taking me by the hand, smiling all the while, he leads me back into the kitchen, opening the unidentified door I spotted. And beyond is….

The chamber is basic in the extreme; four walls, a ceiling and a bed. But a fire burns brightly in a hearth, on the wall to the rear of the kitchen range when I think about it, and there are candles everywhere. Only one or two are lit, but Michael moves around the room with a taper, lighting one candle off the last, until light glimmers golden with candle and firelight.

The bed is huge and thickly blanketed.

“I couldn’t get the house properly ready for you,” he says, apologetically. “I wanted to, but there simply wasn’t time. But I was able to get it to the point that we can eat, and sleep and make love.”

The room, bare though it is, is beautiful. And I see from the hope in his eyes that he wants me to like it.

“It’s lovely,” I say. “Um…. have we a bathroom?”

those trees and

got to pee

he cracks out laughing. “Gotcha!” And I laugh too, wondering how much of

bathrooms there if you want to. Or there’s an old privy out the back. I’ll have to

“Right…. Um… A shower?”

tin bath hanging off a nail in the

This should be interesting….

he asks, anxiety in every word. “I

in his hair, my lips on his. “It is perfect. You’re here. I’m

says. “James will be here too,

stops to kiss me, and the

get cold. Get into the bed,” he mutters, his voice husky. “I’ll just go bolt

have peeled off layers of winter clothes and am between the sheets, having found waiting for me, half

warm enough once we’re both in

watching him as he undresses, unbelting his jeans, shrugging

looks embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I should have been

“You’ve been working, hard, on building our home. You’re fine.” And he

My Golden Lover….

a time apart from you. I just

what

skin is cold, but his breath scalds across my skin, my nipples puckering. His arms, one around my midriff, one about my shoulders, pull me in tightly, contouring my curves to his harder, muscled body. Again, his fingers are chilled, sending a frisson scampering up through me and drawing a warm response from

drawing little gasps from me and sending my pussy into

and hard against mine, his erection pressing against my thigh. I feel electrified, heady; and the

me. I want

as he moves to sink his cock into me. Already wet for him, more than ready after our long parting, I spread myself wide, willing him

you. I love you. I’ve waited for you.” I murmur. “Make love

him, swinging my hips to

face lying on the pillow by mine. “Charlotte….” He

This is lovemaking at its most simple. Two people, one within the other, the meeting of flesh, the meeting of souls; my Golden Lover and I, as we rock and love and fuck our way

I match him, swinging my hips up to take him as deeply as I am able. His cock ramming into me, balls banging against me, our

struggling for control, to hold

it won’t

within me, quiescent, for too long, strains for expression. With Michael’s cock within me, stretching