As the late autumn sun dips regretfully behind clouds close to the distant rolling horizon, the room is gently filled with an orange glow, the air a strangely real citric suffusion, a welcome haven from the cooling outdoors, a lovenest.

Standing quietly in the middle of the room, your thin dress silhouetting your skin against the blaze, your tender smile glowing lovingly in my direction, you indicate your approval with a subtle shift of your hips.

Approaching without a sound, my hands coat your thinly covered shoulders with pressure, support, love. And as your body becomes accustomed to the invasion of its space, my fingers move slowly to the straps of your dress, and it falls soundlessly to the floor, leaving only the silhouette behind.

Still standing silently, your bare arms reach behind me, and hold me close through my shirt. Your body feels hot despite its meagre covering, and I stroke your spine with just enough pressure, gently rub your earlobes with my calloused thumbs, touch my lips to your hot cheeks, kiss you wetly but gently on the lips.

My hands behind your back expertly unclasp your thin black bra, the familiar straps falling to your sides you as I slip them from your golden shoulders. The pressure of your breasts against my chest holds the bra in place briefly, until I pull back momentarily, and the bra too falls to the floor unnoticed, your breasts again against me, free from their constraints.

Knowing that this time is yours, rather than ours, you make no move, but stand there in mute willingness, only glancing briefly through the French doors to ensure we have no audience.

I can feel your nipples hardening comfortably against me, even through my shirt as I continue to stroke your back with my hands, and my lips caress every part of your face. As my fingers find their way toward the base of your very tactile spine, a shiver runs through you. An anticipatory shiver. A shiver of remembrance.

Unable to reach further down your back without discomfort, I reluctantly let my lips slip from yours, and slowly my mouth moves downward, opening and closing on your skin, with the gentleness of a butterfly, past your chin and down your sensitive neck, and further.

I pass your breasts and the now desperately erect nipples with barely a kiss. I know they will need some attention later, and that you usually like to do that yourself.

As my mouth moves further down your relaxed but motionless body, my knees bend until I'm kneeling before you, my mouth gently prodding your navel with quick kisses, my hands caressing the gentle slope of your buttocks through your thin satin underwear, black like the bra, slippery and shiny to my loving touch.

Hands have a way of wandering, and mine gradually find the thin side straps of your panties, and as I slide my thumbs through them, your knees part slightly, and I slowly lower the thin blackness from your rear, and uncover the brown thatch of curls between your pale legs. The panties join the collection of clothing on the floor, and still you stand motionless before me.

Returning my hands to your lower spine and buttocks, I stroke you more firmly with my fingertips, another shiver flowing through your body beneath my hands.

I slowly lower my lips further, gently touching at the brown curls and then kissing the insides of your legs, edging ever closer to the hidden treasure beneath the thatch.

As my lips begin to feel the tenderness surrounding your vagina, you move unexpectedly, spreading your feet apart on the floor, still silent and otherwise unmoving.

I know the movement is an invitation, and I quickly sit on the floor, my legs straight out between yours, my hands again on your buttocks, my lips now positioned ideally to provide more direct stimulation.

Licking my way slowly up the gently swollen familiar intimate lips, I am again reminded of the seeming contradiction of the slippery hairless region within the aggressive thatch. Dipping my tongue a little more deeply, I partake gratefully in the taste and smell of your most intimate parts, my tongue flicking seemingly everywhere at once pulling at the lips gently, tugging them unnecessarily apart to caress, excite.

My fingertips, scraping first down your butt, just firmly enough for you to notice, slowly make their way down the crease between your buttocks, slipping carelessly along, lifting up to your lower back and slowly falling again, shivers again providing feedback.

As the area being caressed by my tongue becomes wetter and more receptive, I slowly move up, flicking and caressing all the while, until the tip of my tongue reaches the almost electrified tip of your clitoris. I know how important it is to take it gently at this point, and I back away, only to return again and again, your hips thrusting against my tongue now, bucking against an imagined penis, pushing me deeper, further, harder.