The bedroom was beginning to lighten with shades of pink and orange when Anne drifted into consciousness. The smell of the fresh sheets mingled freely with the scents of their lovemaking the night before. Detergent fragrance and fresh sea air intertwined with Anne and Jean and flavored lube and perfume and cologne and wine, all rolled together in a heady mix of overpowering smelly stuff.
Anne was taking all this in, this strange and wonderful mixture, when she noted the interloping undercurrent on the wind, something she recognized, but couldn’t immediately identify. It was deep and rich… coffee. Yes, someone had made coffee. Someone. Jean. He wasn’t in the bed and then she realized that in the end, he wasn’t supposed to be, either. His absence from her side was as alien as his presence would have been. She smiled sleepily at the thought, then began the process of sitting up, shaking her hair loose, and running her hands through the long locks to substitute for a brush. A hastily straightened rat’s nest, but it would do. She was quite sure Jean wouldn’t mind. After all, he was the cause of it in the first place, he could hardly complain about it.
Looking over the side of the bed, Anne found the short silk robe on the hardwood and slipped it on, tying it loosely about her waist as she slid from the bed. She liked the feel of the silk against her skin, and loved the way it fit her so perfectly, barely reaching the bottom of her ass cheeks. She found a pair of white ankle socks in the top dresser drawer and got them on her feet, taking a moment as she bent over to glance behind her at the full length mirror in the corner. She found the view of her own bare pussy lips there strangely beautiful and arousing. She paused only for a moment, then straightened and padded off in search of the coffee pot, acutely aware of silk and sea breeze brushing her nipples beneath the mostly open robe.
(Continued below the fold)
A few moments later, she stepped silently out onto the deck, having followed the breeze to his whereabouts. He sat on the top step leading down to the wooden dune bridge, wearing a short sarong-like bath wrap.
Without a word, she took the step below his, nestling between his thighs and sipping her coffee as he wrapped his free hand about her, slipping it under the silk and finding the bare skin of her shoulder. They sat there in silence like that for a long while, watching the beginnings of the sunrise over the ocean, listening to the rhythmic thunder of the waves reaching the sand and the first cries of the laughing gulls on the wing, lost in the smell of the salt on the wind.
Jean’s fingers stroked her shoulder absently, without direction or purpose, just idly touching her. She loved the way he touched her like that. Just touching for touching’s sake. She leaned into him more fully, rubbing her cheek on his chest a few times before coming to a rest. She couldn’t help but purr a bit like a contented kitten there.
“I love you.” She smiled. It was the first time he’d used those words. They’d been saving them for the perfect moment, and this was an excellent choice.
“I know, Jean. And I love you too. With all my heart and soul, I don’t ever want to leave this place.” He pulled her into him. And she did love him, every bit that much. She loved his warmth and his passion, his eyes and his ass, even the way he pronounced his name the French way, though he was as American as she was.
He was quiet for a long while, and she was happy to let him. It was the most romantic and perfect first meeting she could have imagined, everything she had hoped for and then some, and she wasn’t ready to stop quietly reliving every moment of it.
Their coffee cups emptied about the same time, just after the sun had fully breached the sky.
“I’d like to stay here too, darling. But if the owners come home and find two strangers in their house, they’ll separate us with the bars of a jail cell.”
Quietly, they left.
From whence came the art:
That image is titled A beautiful start to the day, by Mikey, and is licensed by the artist under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 license.