He held her head in is hands, cupping her ears to steady her while she stood, statuesque. Her feet planted slightly apart, arms hanging down by her sides. Apart from her eyes and heaving chest, noting else moved. John looked into her eyes with a steady stare, questioning and trying to gain reassurance that he had read her signals correctly.

Letting go of her head, he undid the buttons of her heavy cardigan, pushing the bone shaped fastenings through the buttonholes, starting at the button nearest her throat until the last fell apart. He pushed the garment over her shoulders and gathered it together, carefully laying it on the bed behind her. She offered no resistance and didn’t move from the spot where she stood.

John once again cupped her ears and tilted her face upward. He gazed into her blue eyes that had grey flecks surrounded her irises. He could not fail to notice the doubts that ran across her consciousness and puckered her eyebrows in consternation. John closed the gap between their lips, feeling the heat of her breath as it escaped from her. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the touch of lips. Her heartbeat increased as the space between them lessened.

Softly, with the merest of touches, their lips met, a kiss so long in coming, light, almost chaste in the simplicity of the connection. Francis feared she might faint. Her knees seemed as if they might give way and leave her bereft of support. She was hyperventilating and her heart raced like never before. This brief brush of lips was her fist kiss and the culmination of so many unrequited dreams.

John whispered, “Are you okay?” His breathe, tasting of mint, tickled her dry lips. She rewarded him with a slight incline of her head and a blink of her eyes. He kissed her again with a light touch of warmth and a promise of so much more.

He shifted back a little to study her face. Francis took a breath, feeling like she had suddenly remembered that she needed oxygen. He released her head and slowly manipulated the top button of her blouse under her chin. The mother of pearl button released, revealing her throat to him, the indentation uncovered and inviting his mouth and tongue to explore. He ignored the invitation for now, but stored it in memory for later, perhaps.

He undid the next button and then the next, slowly working down the garment until the last button parted. With consummate care, he eased the tails of her blouse from the waistband of her tweed skirt and eased it off her shoulders to join her cardigan on the bed. Francis remained motionless, her arms hanging listlessly, bereft of volition. Her eyes, by direct contrast to her body flicked around as if trying to record everything all at once. She couldn’t remember if her bra was clean on this morning. She hoped it was and not one of her older ones at that.

John concentrated once again on her eyes, seeking permission to remove the next garment and to ensure she was willing to continue. He was desperate to not rush things or frighten her into retreat. Her frantic rapid eye movement gave no indication in either denial or complicity, just that she was on the edge of panic perhaps.

Taking her lack of indication one-way or the other as acceptance, John stepped around behind her. He slipped his fingers below the waistband of her skirt and undid the button and slid the zipper down. He pulled it over her hips to around her ankles. Automatically, Francis stepped out of the halo of the skirt as if on auto-pilot and resumed standing in the same spot, immobile with her arms still hanging lifelessly at her sides. Statuesque in her underclothing. Vulnerable as if a suit of armour had been removed piece by piece, leaving her exposed in a way she had never before been.

Her satin shift effectively covered her bra and panties, the three garments were all she now had on between, John and compete nakedness. Even effectively covered, she had never been quite so lacking in clothing before a man, other than a Doctor. If it were possible, her heart beat even harder, reducing her to a quivering statue, incapable of movement or cohesive thought. This was so much more than she had dreamt in her quiet moments before sleep. So many emotions, so many sensations all clamouring for her attention but, overriding all, was something like a furnace, blazing in the pit of her stomach. Was this to be the occasion? Was this to be the culmination of her fantasies that had plagued her dreams for so many years? Added to her roiling emotions was doubt. Would she be able to please this man, having had no experience before? Would it hurt? Would he be disappointed?

Returning to stand in front of her, John kissed her lips again, just a brush of lips that made her gasp in a much-needed breath. He studied her face as he slipped of the thin straps of the shift over her shoulders and gently eased the garment down, revealing her bra and the alabaster skin of her shoulders and chest. He inched the slip down over her hips, marvelling at the transparency of her skin as her body became exposed. He knelt and tugged the shift down until it too, pooled around her ankles. He could smell her arousal in the muskiness, emanating from her sex, hidden by the heavy cotton panties. Mechanically, she stepped out of the pool of satin and returned to her former pose.

He didn’t want to rush things, frightened that haste would scare her and ruin this moment. He wanted her to savour every second and have a lasting memory of this slice of time. She had admitted that this was her first time when they realised that their feelings for each other were reciprocated and sex would be the next logical step in consummating their love. John, with something akin to desperation, wanted this to be something memorable for Francis and not a mess of rush and ineptitude, leaving her wondering what all of the fuss was about.

He kissed her again, but this time with a little more urgency and insistence. Their lips meshing together, breath shared and lips beginning to part. John’s tongue slipped out and tested her parted lips, running over them, tasting, savouring her passion as it rose from her depths. Her mouth opened slightly further, allowing his tongue to slide across her teeth and then between to find her tongue. For Francis, this was the first invasion of her body. The trills of nervous energy that raced through her was akin to an electrical current traversing her mind and body. It was almost overwhelming in the intensity.

He held her, an arm around her shoulders, the other around her waist to support her. He felt her trembling, felt her heart crashing against her ribs. He stroked the small of her back in reassuring circles, trying to reduce her nervousness while his tongue explored her mouth, raising her temperature.

Breathlessly, he broke the kiss and reached around her back to unclasp her bra. He was aware that this would be the first time she would have revealed her breasts to a man. This was all a first time and he was mindful of that.

The bra snapped apart. John eased the straps over her shoulders and released her small breasts to his sight. Her aureoles were dark pink, surrounding slightly inverted nipples. Francis looked down and frowned. He noticed and realised that she was feeling that he might be disappointed that she had small breasts and that her nipples went in, rather than out. He smiled at her and cupped her as if weighing her left globe. John bent his head to kiss her aureole to see if he could tease out her hidden nub and was successful after a minute or so of licking and gently sucking. Her teat gradually came to life and stiffened at the attention it received. Gratified at the response, John concentrated on her right breast, hoping to evince the same response while his thumb and forefinger maintained the erection his mouth had produced. He felt Francis shiver and her breath hitch, but, other than that, very little outward signs that his best efforts were having the desired effect. Francis thought she would explode. The emotions that smashed around her system were causing havoc. Butterflies were stomping in her stomach and her brain had turned to mush. She didn’t know what she was meant to do in this dance of love, deciding to just wait and see how it all fell out. Somehow, it was far removed from the romance novels she had consumed avidly. The written word had not prepared her for the turmoil she was going through. Pages of eroticism could not convey the depth of mind-numbing euphoria that effectively held her immobile. Her body was sending signals akin to panic where her nerves were being treated to ministrations, the like she had never before felt. Twin strangers to her, her nipple was screaming of the exotic warmth of his mouth and the exhilaration his fingers were eliciting from the other threatened to send her over the edge. Her knees felt unsteady and likely to collapse. But, above all, her sex was throbbing insistently, demanding that it required attention. She could feel her wetness and smell her arousal in a musky aroma. Something in her lower belly fluttered urgently. She did not have the experience to recognise the clamouring of signals as a prelude to her body making the necessary adjustments to accept his intrusion that would, if all went well, conclude with an almighty orgasm.

She needed to do something to join in with this build up to their union, but, what? Rational thought was beyond her and her inexperience was telling. Her romance novels had arms being thrown around necks and passionate kisses being swapped. But what John was doing to her went beyond the pages of Mills and Boon and the limitations of the written word to describe; Had by-passed all that she had read and, in truth, had gone far beyond her wildest imagination or fantasy.

She watched John resume standing, both hands eliciting electrical shocks to her nipples as he gently tweaked and pinched them. Francis looked down and hardly recognised that she did in fact, have nipples, so rarely had she seen them and never quite so excited. She looked up, into those brown eyes that she had fallen in love with. They gazed back at her, slightly triumphant, slightly masterful and utterly spell binding.

John leaned forward and kissed her again. His lips, warm and dry contacted her own, stealing her breath away. He pressed against her mouth, his lips apart and then his tongue slid between her lips. Francis opened her mouth to receive him hesitantly, not knowing how this was supposed to go, but trusting him to lead. So many different tastes invaded her buds as he found her tongue. It was the most thrilling and intimate contact she had ever experienced. She found herself answering his kiss. Her tongue massaging his as it explored her mouth.

John was now massaging her lower back having explored and stimulated her nipples to his contentment. In wrapping his arms around her, he had pulled her into a close embrace. Francis automatically adjusted her body shape to thrust her hips forward so that their contact was as full as possible. Her mound was mashed up against the denim of his jeans. Automatically, she began to rub her pubic bone against the harsh fabric with small pelvic thrusts. Unknowingly, she had entered into the dance of copulation and wasn’t aware of the gyrations her body was initiating. John read the signs though and quickly realised that the moment of panic had passed and this beautiful woman was telling him of her readiness. Gently, as if she were china, he picked her up with an arm under her shoulders and the other behind her knees. In two short strides, he reached the bed and placed her in the middle over the blankets that covered her mattress. He knelt beside her and began to stroke and massage her body, beginning at her neck and incrementally traveling down her torso, over her breasts and stomach. She lay, stiff and seemed unresponsive, but he could see the shivers his fingertips were eliciting and the goose bumps that covered her skin. Her breathing was jagged, rapid, increasing as his fingers grazed her nipples and then diminishing slightly as less erogenous areas of her body were explored.

At last, his fingers reached the elasticated band on her panties. Deliberately slowly, he spread his hand so that he was under the elastic. She read his intention and lifted her hips so that he could remove her last shred of clothing to be completely at the mercy of his gaze. John slide them down over her knees and then off of her feet to join the rest of her clothing at the foot of the bed.

John took the time to really look at her, savouring her natural beauty, noticing the three small moles that adorned her left-sided rib cage, her milk white skin that had never been exposed to the sun or any other man and the small tuft of curly dark brown hair that announced where her sex was. He was enraptured. Francis was perfect and in the first spoken words for many minutes, told her just how beautiful her found her to be. She smiled at the praise, was secretly relieved that he thought so and was thrilled that he had taken the trouble of telling her. Her love for this man grew, if it were possible, at that moment and any trepidation she had in their tryst, evaporated.

Suddenly, all thoughts of panic, worry at her deficiencies as she saw herself or that he might not find her to his liking, fled from her mind. A calmness enveloped her. And, in a subliminal message, she accepted that he was going to be her first and that it would be all that she had ever hoped it could be. She knew, without thinking, that he would be gentle with her and she invited him into her body. At last.

She reached up to him, raising her arms until her hands reached his face and brought him to her lips. For the first time, she initiated the next step in this ritual of dance. He lay beside her, their lips melded together while tongues duelled. His hand explored her skin while her breathing deepened and her heat rose in the furnace of her groin. Francis was as ready as it were possible to be and she was welcoming his touch, encouraging him to explore further and felt a little impatient for his fingers to caress her virginal sex.

John received her messages and slowly, his hand travelled over her stomach until he was combing through her pubic hair. His touch was electric and elevated her readiness to an even greater height. Involuntarily, her hips rose to meet his fingertips and her knees parted to permit entry and encourage the young man to finally enter her body.

Deft fingers found her opening to be soaked already. Her secretions having provided the lubricant necessary to ease his way. Carefully and without hurry, John parted her nether lips and slipped his index finger between the folds.

Francis gasped at the welcome intrusion. Nothing had ever entered her before and somehow, it felt right. It felt good and as things should be. The feeling of being filled and stretched a little was beautiful in her mind.

Other than slipping a finger into her heat and kissing her all the while, John hadn’t moved, frightened that he would scare or hurt her. But, as the initial touch extended, he crocked his finger and slipped in deeper and then began to rub that rough spot inside her that he knew would give her pleasure. Gradually, he increased the frequency of his ministrations and slipped a second finger inside her while his thumb found her clit and gentle rubbed it.