Chapter 16. CANNON
After collecting our bags at Miami Airport, we picked up a rental car and enjoyed a drive up the eastern coast of Florida to Palm Beach, where Claire and Joe lived.
“They live in L’Ermitage condos,” Dick explained.
“If I know my real estate, and I do, L’Ermitage is right on the Atlantic.”
“It is, and we’re at the Breakers, just down the street.”
We pulled into the long, tailored driveway leading to the magnificent pink hotel. The road was flanked by rows of palm trees on either side, with a manicured esplanade and multi-tiered fountain in the middle. Dick pulled up to the entry where two valets approached to open the car doors for each of us. Then a third young man unloaded our luggage to a trolley and led us into the lobby.
I stood in the middle of the great hall admiring the stately architecture, the magnificent arched ceilings and crystal chandeliers. I looked towards reception to observe Dick as he handled the details of checking in. His silk jacket hung smoothly from his strong shoulders. I watched as he turned to scan the lobby. When his eyes focused on mine across the room I felt a spark of electricity. He nodded, as if satisfied, and slid his jacket aside to return his wallet to his rear pocket, revealing a muscled thigh.
I was transfixed by his masculinity as he walked across the gilded carpet. He crooked his elbow invitingly, and I slid my arm through his. We strolled the length of the lobby to the open-air courtyard. The floor, walls and elaborate fountain were made in intricate designs of pink marble. The trellis dripped with white blossoms, and palm trees hung overhead, the rose tones of the low sun glinted through the fronds. A warm breeze swept up from the ocean, through the open arches. Dick and I stood arm in arm. I leaned into him and we contemplated the scene. The scent of salt, sand and jasmine embraced us. I inhaled a deep breath of his musky essence, and clung to him feeling light headed.
“We’re meeting Claire and Joe at seven,” Dick reminded me, “and I need a shower before dinner.” Upstairs our room was dominated by a king-sized bed. “We’re only here for a couple nights,” Dick apologized, “Just one big bed, not a suite. Okay?”
“One great big bed is perfect,” I assured him, “and the view of the ocean from this balcony is fabulous.”
As I unpacked a few things and laid out my clothes for dinner, Dick showered. I was lounging on the big bed in lacey lingerie when he joined me, an oversized towel wrapped around his waist.
“A bit overdressed for dinner, aren’t you?” He inquired in a straight forward tone that always disconcerted me when I anticipated flirtation or irony.
In response, I spread my legs wide open, and patted the mattress. He took my unsubtle hint, and stretched out beside me on the bed. His hot lips smothered mine with a passionate kiss, then moved across my cheek to my earlobe. As his tongue explored the inside of my ear, the moist sucking sounds sent a thrill to my groin. I writhed in reaction and reached for his nipple, letting the nib excite the palm of my hand as I rubbed in circles.
Knowing we had little more than an hour to meet his sister in the hotel lobby, I rotated my head down, lifted the flap of the towel, and guided his slightly flaccid cannon deep into my mouth. I shivered with delight as I felt the muzzle swell, and his barrel harden and expand into my throat. Instinctively I sucked.
At the head of the bed, Dick’s face plunged deep into my twat. As he sucked my clit, his fingers explored my crack and inched into the recesses of my backside like a wiggling worm both coming and going. In response, as endorphins flowed, my tongue and lips probed and stroked at a feverish pace. My teeth raked the length of his cannon, and when I reached the muzzle, my mouth sucked and pulled, eager to drink his smoking projectile.
His tongue plunged into my pink, and my whole body coursed in rapture. At the same moment he reached his climax and fluid surged into my throat. I swallowed, drawing his seed into me, feeling full body bliss. Loosing my hold on his penis, I let it slide from my mouth, ejaculate oozing down my chin, soaked up by the edges of the towel.
Dick fell back onto the pillows, his clean-shaven jaw, slathered with my love juice. Weakly, his hand reached for mine. I dragged my spent body to rest against his shoulder. Our mutual cum formed a sticky glue that bonded our thighs as it dried.
We slept deeply, ignorant of the setting sun. The ringing telephone jolted us awake.
“My sister is in the lobby,” Dick said as he hung up the receiver. “I told them to have a drink at the bar and we’ll be down in twenty minutes.”
“Oh, goodness. I’m probably already in trouble for making you tardy.” I worried.
“Yes,” Dick agreed with a grin, “You wanton woman!” He smacked my rump and said, “I’m taking shower number three of the day. Give me two minutes and the bathroom is all yours.”
Twenty-two minutes later, hand in hand, we entered the hotel bar and spotted Dick’s sister and her husband at a table by the windows. Dick sported a pale, yellow golf shirt under his blazer, and I wore a flirty blue tea-length dress, having refreshed my make-up and tamed my love-messed hair in a clasp. We were the picture of Florida propriety and New York chic.
As we approached the table Claire looked at the watch on her wrist, tangled among many braided gold bracelets. “Hi you teenagers,” she quipped, “we were about to order a second round.”
I blushed and smiled, feeling embarrassed yet delighted that the jig was up and I had managed to lay claim to her brother by simply being twenty minutes late.
Dick bent down and kissed his sister on the cheek. “Claire, you look lovely as always.” He turned to his brother-in-law with a handshake, “Joe, seems retirement agrees with you. Both.”
“Yes, indeed,” Joe confirmed.
“Lorelei,” Dick addressed me formally, “I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Claire Packer. And her better half, Joe.” And he continued, “Claire, Joe, this is Lori.”
I’ve read Emily Post’s guide to good manners, and I assure you I’ve got them, in bed and out. Channeling a southern belle with a New York accent, I reached my hand forward to clasp Claire’s and chanted, “Claire, it’s so nice to meet you.”
She graciously took my hand, reaching to place her other hand on top as if we were making a pact, “Lori. Welcome to Florida.”
Joe’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed it back to stand. He took my proffered hand and squeezed warmly, “Lori, indeed, charming. I’m so glad you could join us.” He seemed genuinely delighted.
Later, back in the room, I washed my face, hung my dress in the closet and slid my bare feet across the cool sheets, reaching for Dick’s toes and skin to skin contact.
“I liked them,” I told Dick.
“They liked you too,” he confirmed.
“I’m looking forward to meeting them at their condo tomorrow. And a walk on the beach.” Dick held me, as I gently caressed his arm, loving the sensation of the hairs in my fingers. The sound of ocean waves and soft moonlight filtered into the room. “Dick?” I asked, “How long have they been married?”
“Well, my nephew Chip is in his thirties, I guess. So, they’ve probably been married about forty years.”
“That’s nice. Forty years.” In the back of my mind I was thinking they got married the year I was born. “So, were you ever married?” I dared to ask hoping to sound casual.
“Married?” He asked, as if uncertain he had heard the question correctly.
“Uh-huh,” I continued, “Haven’t you ever been married?”
“Almost, once for a very short time.” He caught me off guard with what sounded like a straight forward answer. I realized I was so used to his masterful circumvention of the truth that I hardly knew what to do with a candid answer. It wasn’t until a long time later that I realized he never said yes or no, just almost. And I never asked how you get almost married.
For a minute, I stayed very still, steadily stroking his arm despite my excitement at this juicy tidbit. “What was her name?” I tried to speak calmly.
“It was Barbara.”
“What happened, Dick?”
“I knew her for a short time and we decided to get married. She wanted it more than I did,” he said simply, as if these personal conversations were our usual nightly, tucked in bed pajama talk. I stayed quiet, offering the room for him to explain further. “It was an upsetting time. Within a few months I realized it wasn’t going to work.”
He stopped talking and I waited, until I realized he wasn’t going to say anything more. “But Dick,” I asked and sat up so I could look into his eyes. I was curious, but I also felt sad for him, “What happened? How did it end?”
“No story here, Lori. We ended it and she went away.” He said it matter-of-fact as if he were explaining he said goodbye and hung up the phone.
“And you never saw her again?” I asked unconvinced.
“Never saw her again. Never wanted to. And don’t want to get married,” he volunteered looking right at me.
“Never?” I whimpered in disappointment.
He rubbed my back and encouraged me to slide down again. He took my hand and guided it up and down his arm. With his insistence, I started caressing again as I considered how to ask my next question. “Did you have any children?”
“No, Lori. No children.”
“And you never married?”
“No, Lori, never.” I heard the clear declaration of his past and his future, spoken gently yet firmly. Then he kissed the top of my head, and pulled me close for a deep, wet kiss, “Goodnight sweetheart. Sleep well.”
Within moments I felt his chest moving with deep rhythmic breaths. He slept and I lay awake with my head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, mulling his words. “No, Lori, never.”
“Cheated!” The word clamored in my head. “Cheated!” A small tear leaked from the corner of my eye as I realized I would never be his wife. But as I eased into insensibility, dreams reshaped never into someday.