There’s something irresistibly freeing about slipping away on your own every now and then, isn’t there? For me, it’s a short trip to a sixteenth-century pub nestled in the countryside, just a stone’s throw from home. Picture it: dark wooden beams, the smell of roasted meat and ale in the air, and in winter, a roaring fire waiting like an old friend.
This pub has a charm that feels like stepping into another time—a place where the world outside slows down. The regulars know me here, and as soon as I push open the heavy oak door today, Anna spots me from across the bar and smiles, pulling my pint without a word. It’s in my favourite glass, of course. The best time to visit is always lunch, when the pub is quiet, the hum of conversation low, and the chance to chat with the staff feels like an invitation to linger.
I imagine they see me as a relic of sorts, older, a bit old-fashioned maybe. But they always listen, and the conversation flows easily, like the ale in their barrels.
One wet lunchtime after a morning's worth of rain, I stepped into the pub to find Anna working alone. There’s a fair gap in our years, but that doesn’t stop me from appreciating the beauty of the younger opposite sex, when I’m allowed, of course. Anna, all 5’4” of her petite, curvaceous frame, greeted me with her usual spark. Her shoulder-length dark hair had blond streaks running through it, and those Hazel eyes of hers shimmered with a mischievous twinkle whenever she looked my way.
As part of her job, Anna is supposed to wear the standard black dress or skirt, but being the little minx she is, she always managed to push the limits, clinging fabrics that revealed every curve, her playful confidence matched only by her sticky-out bum that she didn’t mind showing off.
We started with our usual idle chatter about the ways of the world, a rhythm we’d fallen into during many a quiet lunchtime. But today, something shifted. The easy conversation took a turn as if pulled by some unseen thread.
Anna leaned against the bar and, after a pause, began sharing something unexpectedly personal.
“I’ve had this dream,” she said, her voice low and thoughtful. “It’s come to me more than once. I’m standing in a bar, holding my daughter’s hand, and looking up at the menu board…” she said before turning away, leaving her words lingering in the space between us.
I paused for a moment, never one to let a chance for a bit of banter slip by.
“Well,” I began, speaking in a calm, thoughtful tone, “the child likely represents hope, purity, and a fresh start. Holding their hand? That’s your subconscious urging you to embrace the future with optimism and a clear, untarnished outlook.”
Anna turned back briefly, letting out a soft sigh that quickly melted into her familiar cheeky grin. Before either of us could say more, the door swung open, and a couple of customers stepped in, shaking off the rain that had started up again. Anna glanced at me with a quick look, a single raised eyebrow that said it all: duty calls. She moved to the other end of the bar, her focus shifting effortlessly to the new arrivals. Just like that, our conversation came to an end.
I continued to enjoy my pint, watching her go about her work, her energy unflagging even on a damp and dismal afternoon. She was well aware, of course, that my other half, Amanda, was away in the States on business. She was a familiar face around here too, and her absence had become occasional fodder for light-hearted teasing from the staff.
At the end of her shift, Anna pulled on her coat and we stepped outside together, the rain was Just a fine drizzle now, her little red car sat stubbornly in the car park, refusing to start no matter how many times she turned the key.
“Looks like I’m stranded, I’ll have to get a taxi,” she said with a resigned laugh, tightening her coat against the wet chill of the afternoon.
“Well, lucky for you, I may not be an expert on daughters,” I quipped with a smile. “But I happen to be a top-notch chauffeur. Where to, milady?” I grinned holding the passenger door open. She laughed, shaking her head, but the relief was evident in her eyes.
“I’m just a couple of miles from here,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat, “down by the river in the old riverboat man’s cottage.”
The rain began to drum steadily against the roof as we pulled onto the winding narrow road that led down to the river, the rhythmic swish of the wipers cutting through the quiet. Outside, the world was cold and Gray, but inside, the atmosphere felt unexpectedly warm. Something about the moment suggested that this journey might hold more than just the usual small talk.
I know Amanda is away she said as we pulled up outside the cottage, but would you like to come in for a bit. As we made our way down the little windy path, the heavens open and a torrential rainstorm started.
Once inside, Anna gestured toward a door down the hallway. “You can grab a towel in there,” she said, pointing, before disappearing into another room.
I dried off quickly, the warmth of her home starting to chase away the chill of the day and followed her. To my surprise, I found myself stepping into her bedroom.
“Here, let me help with this,” she said softly, reaching to undo the buttons of my damp shirt. Her movements were instinctive, but the moment she realised what she was doing, she froze, her hands stilling as her face flushed.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her eyes lowering, a mixture of embarrassment and vulnerability washing over her. She looked like a child caught in the act, her puppy-dog eyes seeking forgiveness.
“Don’t stop,” I murmured, the towel slipping from my grasp as my fingers threaded gently through her damp hair. “It’s okay,” I added, my voice low and reassuring, as I tipped her chin up slightly. Our eyes met, her hazel gaze shimmering with a mixture of hesitation and longing, and I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers.
The first kiss was soft and tentative, testing the waters, but the second lingered, rich with passion and intent. Her lips were warm and inviting, melding perfectly to mine as if we had always been meant to find this moment. She breathed deeply, her chest rising against me as her arms tightened around my shoulders, pulling me closer.
“Oh, Peter,” she murmured breathlessly, breaking away just enough to speak, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Her words hung in the air, fragile yet powerful. I smiled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “If you’re trying to seduce me…” I whispered teasingly, my lips hovering just over hers. “Let me do it.”
I let my warm breath caress her neck before my lips found the delicate curve of her skin. She pulled back slightly, her hazel eyes locking with mine in a sweet, curious stare. Neither of us spoke; words felt unnecessary.
Our lips found each other again, this time with a fervour that couldn’t be contained. There was more intention now, a shared passion that built like a slow, unstoppable fire. I slid an arm around her waist, holding her tightly against me, while my free hand gently cupped her face. Every touch, every kiss felt deliberate, as though we were discovering something we hadn’t realised we’d both been yearning for.
Gently, I reached for the zipper of her damp dress, pulling it down until it reached her slender hips. Anna met my gaze with a playful smile and gave a little wiggle, and the dress slipped off her hips, cascading to the floor. She wrapped her arms around my neck as my hands rested at her waist, steadying her as she kicked the damp fabric aside, her laughter light and infectious.
She leaned forward, letting her head rest gently against my bare chest. The soft scent of her perfume, today, it was Black Opium she wore, mingling with the faint dampness of her hair. It was sweet and intoxicating, perfectly fitting her mysterious allure, a side of her I’d never quite seen before.
Glancing past her, my eyes caught the reflection in the mirror behind her. It was a vision of delight: Anna, wearing only a matching Miami-cut set of nearly see-through lingerie that clung to her curves in all the right ways. The delicate fabric highlighted her natural beauty, leaving little to the imagination but still enough to leave me utterly captivated.
Needless to say, my reaction was immediate, and she noticed. A small, knowing smile crept across her lips as her hands slid down to undo the belt of my trousers, her hazel eyes locking with mine, brimming with both mischief and desire.
Slowly, she sank to her knees, her eyes locked onto mine, a teasing grin playing across her lips. I stood motionless, my hands resting gently on her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips.
Her movements were deliberate, confident yet tender, as if savouring the moment as much as I was. The air between us seemed to hum with an unspoken connection, the kind that words could never fully capture.
She slid her hands to my waist, deftly unbuckling my belt and pulling it free with a deliberate, playful motion before tossing it aside. Her fingers moved to the waistband of my trousers, easing them down slowly, her smile widening as her eyes lingered on the prominent vertical outline beneath.
“All mine,” she murmured softly, her voice filled with playful possessiveness. Her fingers traced gentle, teasing patterns, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver through me as she let the moment linger, savouring the anticipation.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Her eyes widened slightly, a playful sparkle in them as she whispered, “You’re perfect,” her voice soft and full of admiration. I smiled down at her, my hand instinctively brushing her hair back, my fingers lingering for a moment as I let myself Savour the connection between us.
Time seemed to blur as the sensation built, a deep, raw ache in the pit of my stomach, a rush of unfiltered desire that only moments like this can ignite. It was the kind of magic that surges when every touch feels electric, and you know exactly where it’s leading.
With a gentle urgency, I pulled her up, guiding her back onto the bed. Anna gazed up at me, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, her body language an unspoken invitation. She was entirely open to me now, her excitement unmistakable.
The sheer fabric of her bra left little to the imagination, her nipples taut and straining against the delicate material. With a practiced ease, I slipped my fingers under the fabric, releasing them. Her skin was impossibly soft, warm, and inviting, and each sensitive peak beneath my touch was a pleasure to explore, each in turn fell to a warm kiss sending waves of please through her.
She drew a sharp breath, her head tilting back as my touch elicited a soft, involuntary gasp. The air between us crackled with tension, every moment more charged than the last. Her earlier mention of the dream lingered in my mind, stoking the fire that now burned brighter with every passing second.
I let myself explore, savouring the softness of her skin, the way her body responded to each touch. My lips trailed a path from her breast to her neck, and then back to her mouth, each kiss deepening the connection between us.
As my free hand moved lower, stroking, and caressing her soft inner thighs, my fingers brushed against the damp fabric of her soft silky knickers, lingering long enough to feel the warm, sticky juices. Her body instinctively shifting toward me, her breaths quickening. The sheer intimacy of the moment sent shivers through us both, every movement a deliberate escalation of the heat we both felt.
Her hips moved of their own accord, meeting me halfway as my fingers explored the inner her, her tiny hand rolling along a hardened shaft, pulsating at every touch. Her heat and softness drawing me in. Every movement, every sound she made was a testament to the connection building between us, raw and unfiltered.
I gently rolled her over, her back arched instinctively letting me pull her damp knickers down, a soft gasp escaping her lips as my touch deepened, exploring her with deliberate care. The way her body responded, tightening around me with undeniable intensity, left me utterly captivated.
Her legs wrapped around my hand, holding me there as if to anchor herself, her eyes fluttering closed while a wave of pleasure visibly overtook her. In that moment, she seemed entirely open, vulnerable, and trusting. The connection between us was electric shared intimacy and tenderness of the moment mingled with the undeniable pull of desire.
I positioned myself between her, holding her gaze, a glimmer of emotion lingering in her tear-lined eyes. I paused, brushing a kiss across her lips, silently letting her know I was fully present, fully with her. Slowly and firmly, I took her
Our movements became a shared rhythm, unhurried yet deliberate, the kind of intimacy that felt as much emotional as physical. She clung to me, her legs wrapping around my hips, her body trembling with every motion. The crescendo of her pleasure rippled through her, and I held her close, feeling every shudder and every sigh as if they were my own. “Don’t cum,” she whispered, her voice breathy yet firm, as her long, slender nails dug into my back. The sensation sent a shiver racing down my spine, adding to the intensity of the moment.
Her words anchored me, but my rhythm faltered briefly as a thought crossed my mind, of all the young men at the pub who couldn’t hide their desire for her. And yet, here she was, with me, sharing this moment that felt both surreal and electrifying.
Her eyes opened, locking onto mine with an unreadable expression that only fuelled my desire. As I pushed harder, more urgently, her voice broke through in a breathless command. “Come on,” she urged, her words edged with desperation. “Give it to me give me all of it.”
The raw passion in her voice sent me over the edge. Burying my face into the curve of her neck, I let go completely, the release overwhelming and leaving me in a state of blissful surrender. The warmth of the moment enveloped us both, a shared connection that felt as physical as it was emotional.
Anna yelped, her voice breaking into a low growl as her hands struck the bed in wild, rhythmic beats. Then, as if clinging to the moment and to me, she tightened her grip around me, her body trembling with the intensity of it all.
When the storm of passion subsided, we melted into a loving embrace. I reached for the duvet, pulling it over us as she nestled into my arms. The warmth between us was comforting, the sound of the rain outside a soothing backdrop. We drifted off like this, the world outside forgotten, for what felt like hours but was only a fleeting 30 minutes.
As I stirred, becoming more aware, I felt her hand moving gently, massaging me with deliberate care. Needless to say, I stayed with Anna until the first light of sunrise crept through the curtains.
=== <-->===
About a year later, Amanda and I were sitting at our usual spot, me with a beer and her with a glass of bubbles, when Anna walked in. I didn’t notice at first, my back was to the door, but the familiar sound of her voice carried across the room.
She had come back to visit, to see her old friends and say hello. “Hello, stranger,” someone greeted her. “Hi, all,” she replied warmly, her voice as cheerful as I remembered.
From where I sat, I heard her speaking to a little girl, her tone tender and loving. “Now, Mari, what would you like to have today?” she asked. “Shall mummy get you a plate of something, or do you want to choose?”
I didn’t need to see her face to know she was smiling. The warmth in her voice radiated through the room, wrapping everyone in its glow. I glanced at Amanda, who gave me a curious look, but I said nothing.
Funny how dreams have a way of coming true.
Not quite the end
