Handyman - Cover

Handyman

Copyright© 2010 by Tedbiker

Chapter 5

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Is he really too old to find love? Or too ordinary to be attractive to women? Some more sailing and the slow growth of a romance.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Slow  

Sitting there, in the warm cabin, with the rain beating down and the wind whistling through the rigging, with my arm wrapped round Wendy, her warmth pressed against me ... felt right. How could I have missed it?

“I’m sorry I’ve been so thick,” I whispered.

She looked up at me. “That’s alright, you can’t help it, you’re a man.” She laughed, softly. “Better that way than trying to get into the pants of every woman you meet.”

Something akin to magnetism, or perhaps gravity, drew our lips together. I couldn’t say which of us began; perhaps it was just mutual, but our first kiss was so sweet, it was enough for us at that moment. It was ... almost like being a teenager again, and kissing for the first time. But only almost, because we both had memories of how to kiss. Certainly it was fresh and new, and rather wonderful. When we finally broke, we both sighed, in unison, then we couldn’t help giggling.

When we finally made it into bed we didn’t fuck like bunnies. The release of the tension between us, and the tension of hard sailing, combined with a very early start, meant Wendy fell asleep in my arms within seconds. Deeply content, I wasn’t far behind.

I can’t think of a more satisfying moment in my whole life than waking with Wendy in my arms. It was just beginning to get light, and the rain had stopped. I didn’t stop to think before my hand began to stroke her back, revelling in her smooth skin and exciting curves. She hummed in her throat and wriggled close to me, her hand found ‘the rampant emblem of my manhood’, mine the curve of her hip and bottom.

“Harry...” she began, tentatively, “would you like to call me Gwen? I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’d like to think you were calling me ‘beautiful’ every time you said my name. But, just you, for now.”

“Yes, I would, because you are. But as long as you’ll forgive me calling you Wendy from time to time – it’s a habit that could be hard to break.”

“And ... I hate to break the mood, but ... what I’d like to do would be a lot more enjoyable if we cleaned our teeth and, um, relieved ourselves first.”

“Okay, but before we do...” my hand found her breast, cupped, fondled and squeezed it. “Yep! Every bit as perfect as I remembered.”

She giggled, and pressed her hand over mine, then quickly rolled over, unzipped her side of the bag and slid out. Reluctantly, I did the same, but pushed up the fore-hatch and went on deck. There is something ... primitive? About being naked in the open air. I mean, there was no-one to see. In fact apart from salt-marsh, low shrubs and water, there wasn’t much to see at all. It was a bit nippy, but the air had that clarity you only get after rain, and was like wine. I quickly extinguished the riding-light, walked aft and relieved myself over the stern. Ah, simple pleasures... !

I went below. “Er, Gwen, what you had in mind ... are we likely to be moving from here this morning? Because, if not, I’ll put some fuel on the stove.”

“Oh, don’t bother. I’ll keep you warm!”

As it happened, we were both cold to the touch when we got back into bed, but I warm up quickly anyway. We soon forgot such minor matters as we picked up where we’d left off. We just kissed for quite a while, though our hands did not stay idle. And she was quite right; I read a story recently in which morning kisses were described as ‘dragon-breath’ kisses. Ours were ... more enjoyable. Soon enough, I couldn’t resist the lure of her nipples. She doesn’t have big breasts (just perfect ones) but her nipples were very sensitive, and while my lips were enjoying the taste, my hand was migrating south. Actually, as I think about it, that was true literally as well as metaphorically ... Anyway, she pulled my head up, saying;

“Never mind the fancy stuff, I want you in me, holding me and kissing me ... please.”

When there’s only about three feet clearance between bed and the deckhead (read ‘ceiling’) the options for intercourse are limited ... but none-the-less pleasurable. We went for missionary that first time. Looking back on it, as I do frequently, I’m pleased I managed to hold out through her first two orgasms before letting go myself. I can’t claim the credit, though, not really; I was just lost in the moment. Yes, wanting to make it last – forever would have not been too long (might have got a bit sore, I suppose) – I’m rambling here. I’m sure you get the point; we were both more than ready for our first joining. It was very, very good.

As I softened, she said, “have you got any tissues or anything handy?”

“Your wish is my desire, milady,” I reached for my emergency stash (I get hay fever) and handed her a wad, tucking her against me as she mopped up, and starting my explorations again.

“That’s ... oooh,” she gasped as I found a particularly sensitive spot (no, I’m not going to tell you where) “I’ll give you ... um ... all day to cut that out.” She pulled my head to hers to kiss me deeply. “I was just going to ... ah! Can I just ... ooh.” she shuddered. “That’s not fair!” But it didn’t stop her kissing me again. “That’s just great, but I’m hungreee ... ahh.”

It was tempting to see how long I could keep her in bed, but my insides were telling me it was time for breakfast, too.

Bacon and eggs, mushrooms, toast and real coffee. Wendy... Gwen tucked in as enthusiastically as I did. Oh, I do like a girl who can just enjoy a meal without wittering about being fat – especially when, like Gwen, she has absolutely nothing to worry about. I know that, especially after a ‘certain age’ it becomes necessary to be careful; I need to myself, but if you’re eating something good you might as well enjoy it. You can always cut back for a few days after.

Sipping coffee and waiting for the kettle to boil for the washing-up, Gwen said;

“Harry ... would you mind if we went sailing today?”

I pretended to look offended. Actually, I’d been wondering how to broach the same suggestion.

“Do you mean to say you don’t want to drag me back to bed for the rest of the day?”

She laughed – I obviously hadn’t fooled her a bit.

“Of course not, and if I thought you were at all serious, I would. But you did invite me to go sailing ... and I’d rather save the love-marathons for a large bed in a warm room.”

“No, you’re right. I was kidding. North to north-easterlys today. We probably ought to get out of here before the wind veers any more. Quieter sail today, should be good.”

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