The Final Tryst "Here's the pics you always wanted," I say with a grin pushing the photos across the table. You glance at me smiling and look carefully at each shot. Then you take out your reading glasses, flash me another grin, and look at each of them, carefully, again. As you look I laugh inside remembering how when we first met you didn't want to let me know that you needed glasses, probably thinking that they made you look too old. So you would just order whatever the waiter recommended and we would pretend that your myopia didn't exist. How silly we were. How comfortable now. ***** "They're lovely," you say after examining each one thoughtfully. "Bet you can guess which one I like best, huh?" I can't help but laugh out loud which makes you laugh too. Getting into our playfulness I reply, "Could it be the one where my backside is totally exposed?" And I recall how that's always been your favorite position as well as, possibly, your favorite part of my body. But the joy I'm presenting on the outside doesn't match the pain on the inside. You seem not to notice and laugh aloud, "Yep, you got it, babe. Perfect." You had always asked for naked pictures of me but I could just never bring myself to have them made. Now, at our parting, I bring them to you, a final gift. "Thank you," you say sincerely, and slip the photos gently into the pocket of your shirt. ***** "Remember how we sparred at first?" you ask. I nod smiling. Of course, I do, recalling how in the beginning we were jockeying for position, bantering, feeling and scrutinizing each other, seeing if this could be a match. I was checking to see if you would stand up to me - would balance my assertive energy - not back down - and I had almost scared you away!! Almost, but not indeed as you sensed a woman who could equal your vim and vigor - a woman who could give as well as she got and who would be there for what you needed and wanted. We had already done the preliminaries on the internet and on the phone, but then, face-to-face, we did the final investigation to see if the chemistry was right. And for us and our alchemy that required some tussling. ***** "I bet I know which is your favorite memory," I say confidently. "Well, now, sweetie," you reply raising your eyebrows with a grin, "you mean I have to pick ONE?" And we both laugh. I continue, "It was the time I got to our room first. I was undressing, getting myself ready for you, putting on that hot pink satin short number with the spaghetti straps." Your eyes are opening wider as you remember. "Only I didn't have time to finish my preparation before you came in," I say. Now your grin has turned into a broad smile. You interrupt, "As I recall my plan was to sit down and have a long conversation with you --only when I saw you -- half naked -- I -- well, I - " "You were overcome with lust!" I laugh completing the sentence for you. You lower your eyes, smiling, that fond memory making your heart leap. "At my age to think that I had never made love before with my pants around my ankles! I couldn't even wait to get undressed. I just HAD to be in you and on you," and I notice that you're licking your lips as you, even now after all this duration, get excited just thinking about that time. ***** A part of me feels like tears will fall from my eyes as I ache inside recalling the past and knowing what's going to happen, but I don't cry. I maintain the fa ade I've practiced so carefully in front of the mirror these past few days. "How about that boat trip we made around the bay," you begin and as you relate the story you become animated, moving your arms and hands. "The hydraulics went out on the steering and we were going round and round in little circles. I had to take control of the boat by using the forward and aft engines and it took quite a bit of energy to keep her on course. And you were laughing the whole time!!" And I am laughing again now, as you recall every detail. "That was a LOT of work. I don't know if you appreciated all my efforts," you continue with a mocking seriousness. "I was sweaty and exhausted when we finally returned to port." "Yes," I chime in. "It was a good thing we had had sex before we left the dock because I don't know if I could have stood you all dirty and dank," I giggle. You nod your head remembering how all you had wanted to do before the trip was play with my breasts, but we were overcome with passion and, well, one thing just lead to another. ***** "Remember that day in the wine country?" I ask as you shake your head with in a big grin. "How could I forget," you reply thoughtfully. "How many people buy five bottles of sake on a trip to the WINE country?" And we both laugh talking about how we traveled from winery to winery, tasting but not buying. Then, just before we were to return home the only brewery left was one that made sake. How funny that seemed at the time, and it even seems sillier now. And for an instant I wish we were reliving that joyful episode. ***** "I know the hardest part for me was when you were in Penang for over 12 weeks setting up that new branch office," I start. "I remember kissing you good-bye and having you tell me it would be three weeks at most. And then how upset I was when your return kept being delayed because you kept running into all those problems." "Ah, yes, but the letters," you mention with a smile. "Our letters. Your letters. They were soooo good," you continue nodding. It's as if you don't want to talk about that memory. I think that's because when you do, that part of the world triggers your visions of the horrors of war that you experienced there and your mind is haunted by what you had to do to survive. But for me it is the sadness I felt being separated for so long - and then I realize the separation this time will be much, much, much longer.... ***** Suddenly you begin to laugh. "What?" I ask. "Oh," you say laughing louder, "I was just remembering that time -- ha, ha, ha -- when we were 69ing it and you got all excited and you really wanted me to fuck you and you scooted down and said something like, 'Take me from behind, baby. Fuck me.' The only trouble was, there you were over me, PINNING my legs and me to the bed." You're really laughing now making me join in your mirth. I continue, "As I recall, you tapped me on the butt" -- and I move my hand in a tapping motion in front of me -- "you tapped me on the butt and said, 'Uh, 'scuse me, ma'am. I'd really like to participate here, but my DICK ISN'T THAT LONG.'" Then we're both laughing -- loudly -- perhaps too loudly, because the couple at the next table glances over at us. You lower your voice slightly. "Yeah, the VIEW was FANTASTIC, but I couldn't accommodate you," you snicker. "He just ain't that big, babe." And then our hands are touching each other across the table and we're smiling, remembering that -- to us -- hilarious incident in our shared history together. One I know each of us will treasure forever. ***** We have agreed to this. We are civilized people. We know the psychobabble jargon like "closure" and so we have decided this is the right way to do it. And it is. But somehow I wonder if it wouldn't have been easier if we could have stood in a room and shouted mean, hurtful things to one another, me throwing a plate at you and you raising your hand and pounding forcefully on a table. <> I think. <> and for the first time today a tear squeezes out of the corner of my eye. ***** "Let's go to our room," you say smiling, looking at me carefully. I nod and we get up and walk slowly to the elevators. As we do I am remembering and you are as well, I'm sure, the times we've rushed to this spot, sometimes not even wanting to wait for the elevators and dashing up the stairs instead. This time though, our pace is careful as if each step should be treasured. You reach out and take my hand and bring it to your mouth for a kiss while glancing at me sideways, tenderly. You push the button and we wait patiently for the doors to open. When they do we move out of the way, you on one side and me on the other, to let the people off. Facing each other we watch as a happy couple exits. She's giggling joyfully and he's laughing aloud, his arm around her shoulder and her arm around his waist, and we stare at one another, remembering when that was us. ***** We are the only ones on the elevator. My heart aches when I remember the times we've started foreplay here, the rush of the ascending lift pushing the blood to our loins and making it impossible for us to keep our hands off one another. This time -- this last time we will ride together -- you look at me and tip your head to one side as the doors close. I push aside the pangs of early grief and melt into your embrace. We don't kiss. We only hold one another, close, eyes shut, experiencing the inevitable surge as we are hoisted into the air. I grab hold of you even more tightly. Can it be that I am trying to hold on to more than your body? Am I trying to retain what is -- what was? And your embrace too seems stronger -- possibly stronger than you have ever held me. ***** As we stroll down the hall to our room, I can't help but notice our measured paces. How many times have we raced down this hall? Too many to count. This time there is no hurry; there are only calm, deliberate steps. You fumble with the key. <> I think to myself, annoyed but laughing at the same time. At least THAT hasn't changed I chuckle - as I wonder if this remnant of our cherished moments together will stay with me. ***** Inside I almost lose it, but I grab hold of myself. Everything looks so perfect. You've taken care with every detail. You move over to the small stereo you've brought, and you push the button. Sarah McLachlan's seductive, sensuous voice fills the room. Our music, our diva, our room. It's not really dance music, but you take me into your arms and we try to find the beat, rocking back and forth. And for the first time I feel your warm breath on me as you tenderly kiss and nuzzle my neck, knowing so well how much that action will never fail to arouse me. We separate. There on the table in a bowl of hot water is a bottle of sake, a remnant of our trip so long ago. We just smile at one another -- no words -- each of us recalling again that joyful jaunt. You pour us each a glass. "Here's to us," you announce raising your glass high. I mimic you. But then instead of immediately drinking somehow we both know to link our arms, our hands still holding our glasses. Only then do we sip, our arms intertwined and our eyes watching one another. "To us," I repeat trying to sound cheerful, but all I can manage is a weak smile that belies the voice in my head that says, Don't let him go. ***** The bedspread is thrown over a chair and the covers are turned down, the pillows fluffed. You lower yourself, sitting on the edge of the bed and pat the spot beside you. "Come 'ere, darlin'," you instruct and, of course, I come to you. "Got somethin' for you too," you say with a laugh as you whip out a small, gray box. There inside is a pair of earrings - 14K Gold studs in the shape of hearts with two tiny diamonds. The tears start to fill up my eyes, but I am afraid to let you see. So I just stare at this lovely gift and say how beautiful they are and how they're so perfect and how much I like them and how grateful I am that you could pick something so perfect. But mostly there are so many words because if I don't say them then there will be sobbing and tears, which I could not bear to do right now. I take off the pair I'm wearing and put on your gift. Then I get up to gaze at myself in the mirror. My eyes look a bit glassy from the tears I haven't been able to hold back, but I continue to babble on hoping that you won't notice. And I know that each time I wear this priceless gift I will remember this moment. ***** You lie back onto the bed and sigh. Your feet are still on the floor; you're staring at the ceiling; your arms are out to your sides as you say, "Oh, Babs. Oh, sweet, sweet, sweet, Babs," and you let out another sigh. And then there's silence. I want to hear more words. I want you to say you'll change. I want you to tell me you will make it be the way I need it to be -- for me. I wish more than anything else that you would make some witty remark, about the future, our future. But there is only the sound of Sarah's soft voice chanting, "...i will remember you, will you remember me? don't let your life pass you by, weep not for the memories, remember the good times we had? ... i'm so tired but i can't sleep, standin' on the edge of something much too deep, it's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word, we are screaming inside, but we can't be heard, i will remember you, will you remember me?...." ***** In the beginning our lovemaking was like a fawn learning to walk, awkward but charming and beautiful at the same time. Now it has become the dance of experienced lovers, each of us knowing what the other needs and wants to make the ballet a success. I lie down next to you and slowly unbutton your shirt, rubbing my hands over your chest. You love that gesture, sometimes placing my hand there for some gentle stroking afterwards - after our passion has been spent. Now I begin there, moving my hands carefully through your curly chest hair. How wonderful, I've always thought, that you love that action and get as much pleasure from it as much as I do. I carefully remove your shirt and gaze at the beauty before me. Your smooth, healthy skin, your firm muscles that are so well toned but not bulky, the curly, soft, gray chest hairs, and I gently bend down to kiss this part of your body that I love so much. ***** "I want to give you a massage," I begin. "Slip out of those pants." You obey and lie back down on the bed. I tell you to scooch up on the bed, and then I smile as I remember the first time I told you to "scooch" and you said, "Huh?" Now you just move yourself further up so your head is on a pillow. "Roll over," I say. "I want to begin on your back." So you do. I slip out of my clothes except for my bra and panties, take up the bottle of massage oil, which you have so carefully placed on the nightstand in a bowl of hot water to warm it, and pour some oil onto your back. My movements are long and slow as I caress your back, relishing in its every nuance. The smell of almonds fills the room and I can hear your breathing coming in slow, measured sighs. Your arms are crossed under your head and your eyes are closed and I can feel the tenseness in your strong muscles lessening as I work. "Gee, you keep that up and I'll be so relaxed we won't be able to do anything else," you tease. I give you a little slap on the butt and pour some oil over your lower body. ***** I've always liked your butt. You joke about how small, but firm, it is. It's a man's butt, I think to myself laughing. Hairy, little muscles, almost no fat, and small. It hardly sticks out at all when you stand, so insignificant and inconsequential to your frame. So different than mine. I massage it lovingly, kneading it, loving the way it moves when you're using it to thrust your hips to me. And I find myself getting aroused thinking about how well you do that. ***** I straddle you facing your feet and begin long, firm strokes all along your beautiful legs, leaning over as I go to let my breasts, still within my bra, touch you lightly. I wonder if you notice. Each time I run my hands along your legs I pause stretched out over you, my hands rubbing your feet. Then I sit upright again and begin another caress. I am enjoying the movement and on the final stroke I lie down on top of your legs, and hold them tightly. How many times have I lain here, I wonder, relishing in the feel of your body all along mine? I close my eyes and urge my mind to remember how wonderful this feels. ***** "Front side," I announce getting up to let you roll over. You're feeling pretty relaxed and you leisurely turn over letting out a very big yawn. "Oh, sorry to boooore you," I tease. And before I continue with your massage I can't help but tickle you, flexing my fingers all along your sides. You grab me and playfully throw me over you onto the bed. "Want to frolic, huh," you say as suddenly more awake you wrestle with me returning every tickle two fold. I'm wiggling actively and trying to continue to get you, but you're definitely getting the better of this tussle. I'm a pretty strong woman and put up a pretty good battle and I probably couldn't out scuffle you anyway, but -- well -- perhaps I don't really want to win. And I relish how wonderful it feels to have you over me, clasping my hands above my head, breathing heavily, a fire in your eyes. The conqueror, you reach your head down and give me a hard, powerful kiss of victory, beginning with closed lips that are soon apart, pushing my lips apart with your tongue and lips, entering me as I pretend to resist still. Then my soul reaches up to you, and I return your kiss with a vigor that matches yours. It's a kiss that says, 'Take me. I want you more than I have ever wanted you.' And as you release my hands, I wrap my arms around you and grab hold of you tightly as you return the grasp. I can feel your dick hard against my leg and I lift my head up off the bed to get another kiss, but now it's your turn to tease. "Nope. Not yet," you exclaim. "You have to finish my massage first," and grinning broadly you release me and flop over onto your back. ***** I am breathing very hard in anticipation of what I thought was going to be immediate sexual activity and it takes me a moment to compose myself. And I remember how many times in the past you've done this to me/with me. It's been in a different form and sometimes in a different place, but it's been the same. I wonder if you learned it from a book somewhere, or if you learned it from experience, or if it's just some innate wisdom you have. The knowledge that for a woman it's often the journey to the "climax" that's as important as the act itself. That arousing me and then letting me back down and then arousing me again - and again - can make me like a hungry tigress greedy for her prey. And I wonder, my heart heavy, if I will ever have as good a lover again who practices this skill. ***** I return to my task of giving you a massage while my breath is still coming more rapidly and deeper than I would like. With you lying on your back, I begin with your feet, adding a little oil and working it in. I am enjoying the feel of your skin beneath my fingers and I close my eyes trying to imprint on my brain this tactile sensation of your body. I remember when you told me the very first time we were together that feet were important to you - and how much you liked mine - nicely shaped, healthy skin, no calluses, well groomed, painted nails. And I remember looking at yours and thinking how pretty they were for a man's feet. 'It's a match,' I had giggled to myself wondering if you said those words too. ***** I notice that my breathing has become more regular as I work on your legs - adding the warm oil and rubbing gently, relishing the feel of your skin. I think how great it is that I am getting as much enjoyment from this as you are. As I move up to your hips, you're watching me, no doubt wondering what I will do. I look at you - a silly, sly smile on my face - and you smile back. I tip my head to one side and we both wonder whether I will continue by pouring warm oil on your cock. We don't take our eyes off one another -- staring. I straddle your legs and hold the bottle as if to pour, but I don't turn it over far enough. It stays suspended over you. Still we watch one another. Your grin gets bigger and I suspect mine does as well. Our stare almost becomes a glare -- each daring the other to blink. Your grin gradually turns into a smile with your teeth showing, and still you look at me. I notice from my peripheral vision that your dick is beginning to stir - enjoying this game. "Welllllllllll, darlin'?" you drawl. "Yesssssssss?" I hiss, and by now I notice your dick is beginning to swell. And still we just gaze at one another. My turn to tease now. I move my arm forward and the warm oil pours onto your tummy, our eyes still locked. I lean over and never taking my eyes from yours I begin to rub the oil over your belly. I notice how your cock would like some of this tender attention, but I do not oblige. You're the one who blinks. Actually you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and I see your body relax a bit as I massage your upper body. You had been so ready - prepared to pounce if I had wanted it - but now you're content to let me finish and I am glad you have because I don't want to miss any part of this ceremony. ***** As I lean over you for the second time to massage your shoulders and neck, I feel your hands along my sides and back. I close my eyes temporarily to enjoy the feel of your caress. And smoothly you undo my bra to let my breasts hang loose. I remember how the first time we were together you had given me my first orgasm just by playing - gently and tenderly and lovingly - with my breasts, your hands and your mouth endlessly stimulating me until my pussy was dripping and I could wait no longer. And I wonder to myself how many men know - like you - how closely a woman's tits are linked to her cunt and how the right attention there can win her heart. "Kiss me, hun," you say as you carefully fondle my breasts. And without hesitation, of course, I do, loving the feel of your lips, the taste of your tongue. ***** "Your turn," you declare pushing me over onto my back. You take up the bottle of oil and pour it over my tummy. "You have great skin. It's sooooo soft," you say gently and I know you mean it because you have said it to me so many times in the past. As you massage my upper torso I close my eyes and relish the feel of your touch. You massage my tummy, my shoulders, my arms and, of course, my breasts. Soon my nipples are becoming harder from all your attention. Only then do you lean down and lick them - long, slow, juicy licks. And you suckle softly, murmuring. ***** You turn your attention to my legs and feet and I realize how wise you were to take that massage class years ago, because you know how to apply just enough pressure and how to stroke my muscles until they're practically calling your name in ecstasy. Then you straddle my legs and pull my panties down a little bit. Pouring oil there you begin rubbing my belly over and over. By now my entire body aching for you and you somehow sense that but don't rush anything. I long for you to tear my panties off and take me, but the wisdom you've gained over the years serves you well as you lean over an kiss my belly and instruct me, "Turn over, babe." ***** The feel of your hands on my back is like a welcome hug after a stressful day, your touch washing away all cares. And the strokes to my thighs and calves makes me long for you to be between them. Only then do you ever so carefully remove my panties and as you do you begin kissing every spot of skin that becomes exposed. Then you begin kneading my ass. You've always liked doing that but his time you do something you have never done before. You begin kissing while rubbing, covering every inch of my butt. It's like you're savoring every detail, wanting to remember what it looks like and the feel of it in your hands and mouth. And as you continue your movements I am aware how arousing your actions are. How incredibly sensual that feels. As you linger there longer than you ever have before, I begin wishing you had done this to me sooner - many times - because I did not know how exciting your deeds could be. I didn't realize how many nerve endings were in this area that would have responded so favorably to your hands moving firmly and for so long, with little accompanying love bites. ***** And by now - of course - my every pore, my every millimeter of skin, my every nerve ending truly aches for you to finish the job. And once again - one last time - I am totally yours. As you spread my legs I surrender to you, sighing deeply as your hard cock enters me. Part of me wishes I could delay this orgasm, but I can't - I never have been able to - when you get me to this point. And as my body tenses and my pussy convulses, I see you smile. You remove your cock and move your face to my pussy, lapping up my juices, licking every crevice, and sliding your arms under my butt. As you continue your mission I raise my hips up to you and you suck my clit making me cum yet again, this time crying out as my legs begin to shiver uncontrollably, grabbing hold of your head. ***** I am trying to catch my breath when you're over me again, your hard cock filling me up, and I am certain that if there is a heaven it must have a part like this. Your lunges are hard and forceful and my body responds in kind by rocking in sync with your thrusts until once again I sense the sweet agony of release washing over me. Sensing what is happening you let yourself explode into me, filling my pussy fuller of cum than she's ever been while she milks the sweet nectar from your throbbing pole. We pause for a moment, my arms around you rubbing your sides and strong shoulders. As I wrap my legs around your hips, I feel your body relax as you lower your weight onto me and I am almost sure I will cry as I know this is the last time I will feel you here like this -- so wonderful. After you kiss me tenderly and roll over off me, I lean over to lick and suck every last bit of cum from your now diminishing cock. As I taste the mingling of my juices and yours this one last time I try to savor every nuance of flavor and smell - lingering longer than necessary to do the job but not long enough to make my heart content. ***** Then we lay in one another's arms, snuggling, relishing in the afterglow of true contentment, enjoying one last time the connections we've made, the bonds we've built. And as we began so we end. You place my hands on your lovely chest to stroke it contentedly like I have done so often in the past, my fingers running one last time through the soft, gray hairs. And I clench my teeth tightly to keep myself from crying. ***** You head for the bathroom to bathe. I don't arise and dress. I lie back down and pull the covers over me and close my eyes, wanting to remember every touch, every kiss. I want to linger here for as long as possible with your smell still on the sheets and the taste of your body still in my mouth. I fold my arms tightly across my body as I hear Sarah's soft, sexy voice murmuring, "...hold on. hold on to yourself for this is gonna hurt like hell. hold on. hold on to yourself. you know that only time can tell, what is it in me that refuses to believe my love, you know that you're my best friend..." When you return from your shower you're humming. "What? Totally ravaged are you, Huh!?" you say with a laugh looking at me on the bed, and I am almost overcome with sadness as I recall how many times you've said those words to me. Seeing my face, you become more serious and sit down beside me. "It's over, huh, babe? Are you sure?" you ask. Part of me wants to cry out, No. Hold me forever. But I don't say those words. They're in my heart, in my mind, in my mouth, but the words I hear myself saying are, "Yes. I guess -- I do believe this is the best way," knowing that this is solely a rational decision and not one my heart endorses. You lean over and kiss me gently on the forehead. "Thanks for the memories -- oh, and the pictures too," you whisper, your voice beginning to crack. "You're wonderful -- still." You take me into your arms and we say, "I love you," one last time to each another. You rise up quickly -- is it to keep me from seeing your face? -- and gather your things. You look at me, and we give each other a half smile. "Stay in touch...," we say at the same time. ***** As your slender frame moves through the door, I have a flash of the future. You're lounging alone on a patio, an older man now, the grandfather of teenagers. "Mirrorball," an 'oldies' album these days, is playing on the radio. You take out the pictures of me from so long ago. They're crinkled around the edges and the image is beginning to fade -- probably a lot like I would be if you were to see me in person, you think to yourself smiling -- but you close your eyes and the memories come flooding back to you comforting and covering you like a hot bath on a cold day. And you reminisce about what was and dream about what could have been .... ***** I touch the gold hearts on my ear lobes and I whisper to the shadow of your presence still in the room, "Bye, Luv ...." Only then do I take off my mask and release the sobs that I have been so carefully concealing deep within me