Ectasy on Fire

Chapter Five

In lieu of the late dinner Madam Andre had planned to serve when Mrs. Staunton and her houseguest Steve returned from the opera in Monte Carlo, the two decided cold chicken sandwiches and beer would be okay; so this was the menu. Both enjoyed themselves. Steve sat at one end of the mahogany table while Melissa sat in her regular place.

After sending the staff off to do as they pleased, the older woman was content to be alone with the boy. She felt quite safe with him, comfortable in her own house, full of expectancy and the anticipation of what the night might yet bring.

As for Steve, he was all charged up. The air of excitement since they'd come back from the opera was spine tingling. While showering — just before climbing into his pajamas and his new ankle-length robe with the deep pockets and the fur trim around the wide collar and hem — his prick had throbbed constantly.

Tossing his stained shorts into the hamper for Nellie to launder, he had taken one last look at them, and the memory of shooting his semen into them while Melissa's delightful fingers caressed his cock under his clothing returned to further stimulate and excite him.

He doubted that he'd ever forget the intense thrill of her nearness to him, kissing him as she had. Neither would he ever forget the wild excitement of seeing her with her skirt up, the delicious sight of her pussy mound under tight panties, and how the crotch of her panties had clung to her plump lips.

Nor would he forget the view of her long, beautiful legs encased in the filmy, silky stockings, or her pretty toes wiggling so provocatively under the sheer material. Until Melissa, Steve hadn't paid much attention to women's toes, but now he found them sensually arousing. He didn't understand this, but several times at dinner, he found himself licking his lips over the thought of Melissa's feet.

As far as Steve was concerned, Melissa was the most rapturous woman he'd even know. As he let his thoughts drift pleasantly, he was pleased that she was as old as she was. The idea intrigued him. It was spicy, and added a kind of frivolity to the new experiences he was anticipating.

"A penny for your thoughts, Steve," said Melissa from her end of the table.

"About that crummy opera," he lied.

"I agree. They're not all the same. This was one of the worst. But then, here in this part of the world, one doesn't just attend the opera for the music." She fell silent. She looked at him, at his clean face, his sparkling eyes, his hair still tousled from his shower, his new pajamas sticking out from under the new robe.

Melissa found herself wondering if he was wearing anything under them. This thought excited her, increasing her desire for the young boy. She began to feel a quickening in her cunt, a fluttering in her clitoris at the thought of the boy's young penis, hard and proud, long, thick, and white inside his pajamas.

Her mouth was watering as she imagined his cock. She was famished for sex, almost drooling for it, her clitoris stinging, as were her erect nipples under the robe she wore. While she'd bathed and prepared for their little impromptu supper together, she had fingered her cunt, pinched her clitoris and finally massaged her index finger up into her tight moist asshole.

As she'd done this, her thoughts had concentrated on the fun she anticipated having with Steve. She'd reviewed all that had gone on between them so far, from the moment she'd first set eyes on him.

She was continually impressed with the young boy's manners and ways, how he did this and how he did that, how he walked, stood, sat, bent his head, how he smiled or did not smile in response to something said to him or something he said himself.

"We won't have to go to the opera all that often," she said after a long lapse into silence. "It's just that it's fashionable at times, and living here, I mean, around these parts, it's sort of necessary to maintain one's image. You do understand me, don't you, Steve?"

Melissa picked a fresh, ice-cold bottle of beer from the beer chest, which rested on a little table placed to her side. She opened it.

"Yes," he replied. As he watched Melissa, he was growing more conscious of his reaction to her luscious body, to the often mischievous look in her bright eyes. She spoke in a refined accent, a mixture of British and American. Hers was the conversational tone one associates with sophistication rather than snobbery.

Sometimes her eyes seemed to be burning. Other times her lids would flutter coolly and coquettishly like a young girl's. Sometimes — like now — her shadowed face was stunningly beautiful.

When dinner was finished, she said, "We'll leave the dishes for Nellie." She paused for a moment, wondering if she dared ask him. Then she decided to take the plunge.

"What do you say to having a little chat, perhaps a nightcap up in my sitting room? You've not seen it yet, Steve. It's very cozy. It overlooks the sea, a most pleasant view."

"Okay, but I am getting sleepy."

Melissa could not tell if he was really tired, but she didn't want to argue either.

"Fine, Steve," she smiled. "When you feel you want to leave, just say the word."

Following her through the chateau, he grew increasingly conscious of her seductive walk. The delightful sway of her buttocks outlined under the clinging robe. Her high heels click-clacked on the highly polished wooden floors, which led to the staircase and on to the upstairs regions of the great house.

He had a wonderful view of her jiggling breasts as she turned to climb the stairs. He knew they were naked beneath the robe. This excited him; he felt his prick leap inside his pajamas.

As he climbed the wide, plushly carpeted staircase behind her, he admired her trim ankles and naked heels. God, he said to himself, what marvelously small feet she has and what excellent care she takes of them.

When they'd climbed two and one-half flights, she turned. "It's just a little further, Steve."

"That's okay," he replied. They were both a bit out of breath. "You should have an elevator," he teased.

"I know," she laughed, "but we've never been able to get one. We've had all kinds of mechanics and designers, and even an engineer, in to look over the idea. None of them came up with anything sensible."

At last they reached the floor that held her sitting quarters. Steve was truly out of breath now. They'd climbed four very steep flights of stairs.

"In another minute we'd be in heaven, huh?" he joked.

She laughed. "It seems like that, doesn't it, darling?"

She caught herself. This was her second use of the tender word and it was as spontaneous as her first use of it had been.

The room was as pleasant as she'd said. The view of the Mediterranean was exquisite. Boats with their lights bobbed far out from shore. He could see what looked like an island far off. He could also see the grounds of the chateau, where a light illuminated the woods here and there. The sprawling lawns and twisting pathways, flowerbeds and the houses to the rear of the chateau were impressive, even in the dark.

He sat on a sofa next to the huge picture window. This place was very comfortable indeed.

"How about some special wine for our little nightcap, Steve?"

"Sounds okay to me."

"It's very special. A gift of a very dear friend. It's ages old, too."

Steve watched Melissa as she opened the bottle of old wine with the skill of a Parisian cafe waiter. She poured two goblets full.

"Well, here's to your happiness, Steve," she smiled, raising her glass in a toast.

"Thank you," he replied politely, raising his own. He sipped from it and smiled at the pleasant taste.

"It is good, isn't it?"

"Yes," he agreed, sitting back, and crossing his legs.

Melissa also sat back, and when she crossed her legs, her robe parted. The soft light from the large picture window gave Steve another wonderful view of her beauty.

From the ankles up, both of her legs were bare to mid-thigh. In the light, they looked startlingly white and sexy.

Melissa smiled, "Well, when you have something nice, you're proud of it, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Steve, "and Melissa," he added, taking his time because he felt his heart beginning to pound, his breath growing short at the sight of her white, silky skin, "your legs are very beautiful. Very sexy."

She caught her breath. "Would you like to see more of them, Steve?" She felt a shudder pass through her body. She shivered, waiting for his reply.

"Yes."

Putting down her glass, she shifted her position to lift up her robe. Now she was naked to the waist. Steve could easily see her hairy crotch, and the insides of her thighs, where her flesh looked unimaginably soft and tender. Melissa spread her legs slightly, slowly. Steve gasped. He could see her pussy-lips!

"So beautiful," he sighed.

"You can touch them, you know. Don't be shy," she smiled. She took his hand, guiding it to her leg. "I love to be touched, Steve."

"I can tell."

"You can touch me anywhere you want to, my little darling," she said, her voice low and soft.

"Anywhere.?" His heart was thundering, his hand shaking.

"Yes, oh, yes, Steve, anywhere." She could feel her cunt heating up. She knew it was growing wetter and wetter. Her breasts were stinging, her nipples burning against the fabric of her robe. His hand glided tentatively between her thighs, cupping her hairy cunt. She almost cried out in wild ecstasy.

As his fingers combed her soft, fine pubic hair, she leaned forward. She took his face in her hands, and caressed his cheeks, then put one hand behind his head. "You can kiss my legs, if you want, Steve. I'd just love that, darling. I would."

Steve followed the lead of her hands, offering little resistance. The aroma of her hot cunt was intoxicating.

"Why don't you get down on your knees, Steve?"

"Oh God," he murmured.

"Go on. Get down and kiss my legs. Begin with my toes, if you want."

"Oh, I want to," he cried, slipping to his knees, bending to brush his moist lips over her toes, which wiggled in the tiny leather straps of her tall spike-heeled sandals.

"Kiss my toes, darling. Yes, kiss them… oh, my darling Steve, lick them just like… oh, yes, just like that."

This was his first time with a woman. He licked her toes, each one, then sucked them. He moved his mouth to her instep and kissed it gently before licking her delicate ankle. Her flesh tasted sweet. He worked his mouth up her leg slowly, and as he reached her thigh, he felt her toes playing in his lap, moving across his hard cock. He went weak, almost dropping her leg, but he held on. The sensations brought on by her foot on his cock were maddening. He lowered his head again.

He kissed her inner thighs, where her flesh was not covered by the stockings. He licked under the uppermost edge of the stockings, feeling the scratching fabric against his tongue, and then the soothing softness of her flesh. He licked further upwards, lightly darting his tongue over the closed outer folds of her cunt, which seemed to open to his touch.

Then he fervently kissed this wet surface, all around the edges, the center, the very top of it, and down, where it ran into her behind. She arched her back on the sofa, moaning her utter approval. He began to lick her then, to dart his tongue quickly inside of her. He took her folds between his lips and pressed them here. He did not know that at the apex of her folds lay her clitoris. It was between his lips and, as he pressed there, she squirmed and moaned louder still.

"Yes, yes, Steve, that's it, that's it," she said. He rubbed his lips, which held her folds and the center of her sex, together. He took them wholly into his mouth and sucked on them lightly. He chewed them with his lips and licked them with his tongue. Then, for some reason, he lost confidence and withdrew his mouth altogether from her cunt. She looked at him, startled.

I… I," he said, not knowing what to say. Instead, he returned to his earlier position at her feet, where he felt more confident. He took hold of her foot again. She leaned back, resigned. It was the boy's first time, after all, and she needed to be slow about things as he was bound to be unsure of himself.