They loved these weekend breaks. Pile into the car on a Friday after work, off to a different part of the country each time. Never the same place twice -- well, not often anyway. This time they had returned to the West Country. They were bewitched by some of the local towns and wanted, amongst other things, to return and browse through the old Market Town's antique and bric-a-brac shops.

Now, out of season, they could indulge themselves and also drive harder bargains on what they liked. At least that was the theory; it seldom seemed to work that way in practice.

After a pleasant afternoon of seeking out the small collectibles and old books they both liked, they made their way back to the hotel for a late afternoon cup of tea. Dumping their purchases in their bedroom, they had come back downstairs and were now sitting in the reception room, where a log fire burned quietly in the fireplace. They waited for a member of staff to appear. Eventually one of the receptionists appeared, walking through; she noticed them and came to see if she could help. They asked whether it was too late to be served.

"Goodness me, no," was the response, and then she went on to add, "but you might like to consider going to our function room to be served there. It's down past the Dining Room, you can't miss it. This afternoon and evening we have a quartet playing dance music. This is our monthly Dance afternoon and evening -- Tea Dance now, Dinner Dance this evening. I'm sorry; when you checked in, I assumed that you knew. We have a lot of guests who just come here for the Dance; I thought that you had come for that as well."

The pair grinned at each other. "Why not," Sheila said. "I'll put up with your two left feet -- just don't spend all the time walking on mine!"

"Well, you knew that before you married me..." Sam rejoined as they got up and made their way to the back of the building.

Following the gentle sound of the Dance Band, they rounded a corner and were rewarded with an open door and the sight of a surprising number of couples dancing. "Properly!" she thought to herself. The light was dimmer in the room, and as their eyes got used to the lighting level, they carried on in and made their way to an empty side table. A waiter appeared with their afternoon tea, complete with tea cakes. Sam signed the bill and the waiter vanished as promptly as he had materialised.

The first cup of tea downed, a new dance started, a Waltz that even Sam felt he could cope with. Getting to his feet, he turned to Sheila, bowed and asked, just audibly over the sound of the band, "May I have the pleasure..."

Eyes sparkling, Sheila rose to her feet and replied, "Oh! Kind Sir, I thought you would never ask..."

Inwardly and visibly Sam smiled; he loved it when Sheila "hammed it up". They were in for a fun evening, he could tell.

Later, during a slower number, he held Sheila close to him, both arms round her waist, she with both arms round his neck, cheek to cheek, comfortable, happy. As she nuzzled his neck and playfully nibbled his ear lobe, he felt the inevitable stirring in his loins. Sheila did as well.

"Sir!" she said, a look of mock outrage on her face, "I'll have you know I'm a married woman..."

"And I a married man," Sam finished. "Perhaps we ought to stop and continue somewhere a little less public?"

Sheila giggled, "I thought you'd never ask!"

They picked their way through the other dancers and left. Passing reception, they noted the evening session starting time and that "it went on 'til late." Entering the small lift, he saw the slight flush on Sheila's face and knew she was both happy and not a little aroused by her exertions. As the door closed behind them on its short journey, Sam seized a quick kiss, happy that she was enjoying the weekend and that both were able to let their hair down a little.

Following Sheila down the corridor to their room, Sam laughed as she put on an exaggerated wiggle of her hips. "Careful now, a man could take that as somewhat of an invita--" Then Sam blushed as another couple turned the corner in front of them, both grinning as they had obviously heard what had just been said. Mentally kicking himself for putting them in an awkward and embarrassing moment, he opened the door into their room, moving aside to let Sheila enter. Sam started to say he was sorry: "Me and my b--", but was quite taken aback when his normally rather demure wife pulled him through the doorway, flung her arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth. Sheila, usually rather modest in her advances, played her tongue with his, grinding her hips against what was now a hard bulge in Sam's trouser front.

Barely pausing for breath, she dragged him fully into the bedroom section of their suite, pushing him first against and then back onto the bed. Sam could barely believe the speed, determination, and almost predatory ferocity that Sheila applied to undoing his belt buckle and dragging his trousers round his ankles. Then, before either of them seemed to be able to draw breath, she leaned forward and drew the head of his now aching penis into her mouth.

Sam protested weakly; then, as the sensations of Sheila's mouth took over, he gave in to the inevitable that was happening. As her fingernails scraped the underside of his shaft and the now tightly wrinkled skin of his sac, Sheila finally caused the orgasm that made him see stars it was so intense. He had hardly drawn breath before Sheila -- lips, tongue and mouth sticky and full of his juices -- kissed him, open-mouthed, transferring the full taste and not a small amount of those juices back to him. Sam, unused to his own taste, paused for a heartbeat before mentally shrugging his shoulders and carrying on with what was so new to them both.

His turn now, he kissed her neck and down the front of her blouse, his hands fighting with the buttons. Dragging her bra out of the way, he paid homage to her breasts. Sheila arched her back, pushing herself against his questing tongue, helping him remove her soaking panties. Sam, moving down as he eased them off her ankles, noticed she still had one shoe on. He laughed inwardly and then, pulling her skirt up out of the way, he homed in on her mound as she spread her legs to give him the access his almost frantic search needed.

Holding his head with both hands, Sheila moaned as he fastened his lips over the source of the now copious flow of juices that were being produced by her aroused and open sex. Sam himself groaned as he licked out and tasted the nectar she produced. On a separate level, he was amazed that the whole episode left him hard and ready for the next act of the play swiftly running its course. He moved his mouth away, hearing Sheila's "No!" dimly in the roar of the blood in his ears, then feeling rather than hearing the gasp as he slid himself gently but firmly all the way into that wonderful grasping cavern of her waiting loins. Even though it was only a scant time since the intense orgasm of such a short moment before, he felt himself unable to delay the onset of a second intense experience. Sheila, now gripping and moving, almost violently with and against him, bit into his shoulder in an effort to silence the scream of ecstasy that escaped her lips.

With the pain of her bite and the exquisite torture of a second intense orgasm in less than ten minutes, Sam fell forward, half- smothering Sheila as he almost blacked out. Both fighting for breath at the exertion and pleasure of the encounter, they slowly started to move again.

Sheila leaned over in the dim light from the courtyard light outside their window and fumbled at the bedside light switch, shielding her eyes as she finally managed to switch it on. Still facing away from Sam, she giggled as she saw the reflected scene in the mirror-fronted wardrobe sliding doors. Sam raised his head to look and then laughed at the sight as well. He saw two very dishevelled people: he, with a half-off, torn shirt and a ferocious bite mark on one shoulder, still wearing socks, one shoe and his trousers in a knot round his ankles; and she, with a blouse hanging open and a bra, still on, but now pushed up and over her breasts, skirt like a tyre round her waist, one stocking one still in place, the other at half mast, and also with one shoe on and a pair of panties entangled in it.