American Rose

An American Rose in West Sussex

    The sun shines warmest whenever you are with your lover; Be that in Scotland, Ireland, or England.  

    She is poised as  a solitary rose against the  majestic garden of her sisters, Seven Sisters to be precise....
    We Stand there looking out over the white chalk cliffs that undulate against  the light blue sky. The sister's grass-green hair  waving in the light breeze as they rise and fall on these ancient hills that are dissolving slowly into the sea.  
    Below us, the sounds of waves churning the seaweed over and over as they continue to beat on the Seven Sisters doors.  We spend the day at this wonderful country park.  The trails are easy to access and lead us onto the beach.  It is low tide when we first arrive, and the fascinating underwater world of the rock-pools reveals itself.   Crabs scurrying about, as different types of tiny fish, trapped till the next waves hit, swim in circles around gray / black snails clinging to the greenish rocks.   We walk on...
    There are fishermen here, and there.  Casting their fish-wishing poles into the water in hopes a good lie will bite, which they always do.  Water rises to fill the void left in the dents that the rubber booted  fishermen make in the white sands as they play tag with their quarry.   We pass by....
    Down the shore line, wading birds dance along the edges of the lagoon as seagulls sound a cacophony of slander at us, as we are invading their space on these pale sands.  Nature's breath, as salty as it is,  floats ashore carrying little white and yellow butterflies that we notice are nestled along the rockfaces of the cliff.  They flutter about, struggling to reach the top.  Some catch the up-draft, and disappear from sight.  Others are content to rest in the crevices of the chalk-face, creating yellowish lines of living sulfur, as their wings move just enough to give the feeling of something living crawling up the cliff.  We stroll on....
         I watch her in my periphery as we walk side-by-side.  Her brown hair swishing in breeze, failing to cover her heavenly facial silhouette.  The lines of the contours of her face, as if an artist brought his work to life, a work of Michelangelo against the backdrop of the slapping of ocean waves.  Her supple neck, melting into toned shoulders and arms, covered by a long sleeved navy blue sweater.  I sigh as I drink in her beauty... I feel myself staring, but it is too late.  She catches me looking at her, not that this upsets her.  She simply smiles that impish smile of hers, and  takes my hand . We swing arms gently as we stroll along the shore smiling at each other , and natures beauty around us.  
      We complete our hike up the trail, and  back onto the grass-lined top of the cliffs.   Every time you observe a panoramic view of nature, it is like you pluck a chord on natures violin.  It resonates inside you.  You feel the vibration.  You hear the sound.  You see the instrument.  The view out over the ocean is no different.  The chord that is struck in us hums a beauty between as it locks our souls together.  I move behind her, and envelope her in my arms as we share this moment quietly.  
    And that's when it hit me.
    Of all of the sublime events in nature: From the natural phenomenon of volcanoes, earthquakes, landslides...to storms of all sorts and strengths.  From the birth of nature in the spring , to it's death in the fall...there is nothing that compares to the human spirit.  More specifically, to the human emotion of love, in all its manifestations.  
    What is nature compared to the love of a good woman?  Sophistry.  What is the wind compared to her spirit?  Doldrums.  And the force of nature, what is it compared to her energy?  Impotence.
   There is nothing greater in life than to love, and to be loved in return.   In my arms...right here, right now, is the woman I love.  The universe shrinks before me.  She makes the grandeur of nature small in comparison with the inner beauty she possesses.   So here we stand, together, in time and space.  This moment shall never come again.  So I must make the most of it, as I do every moment with her.  But this page, like all of the pages of our book of life, must turn.  So, we begin walking...

    We make our way back to our rented MG convertible.  I open the door for her, before walking around, and letting myself slide into the compact red, and white auto.  The English roads are narrow, compared to what I am used to.  But the English countryside is lovely.  As we head out of the park, the roads are lined with pink and purple crocuses and clover on each side.  We pass fields of light yellow foxgloves that sway in the warm spring breeze.
    Making our way northwest, we travel A283 through the town of Storrington, which lies at the foot of the north side of the South Downs.   Storrington has been around so long that it is listed in the Doomsday Book as “Estorchestone”, meaning a place well known for storks. It has a quaint feel of the old world, but  it is only in the last one hundred years that the traditional local jobs of blacksmithing and tanning became extinct.  
   Continuing our journey up narrow A283, we turn left onto Amberly Road, heading due west.  The I notice it.    Yes...that is what is so strange.  The roads are all  so narrow.  The houses so close to the road.  It makes a person not used to it a little uncomfortable.  But we eventually get accustomed to it.
    From here we decide to take the scenic route through the village of Amberly.  Banking a right onto Schoolyard road.  We pass several landmarks, including St. Micheals Church that has stood for hundreds of years.  As we turn left onto Church Street, there are the village pottery and the old village bakery shop.  And thatched looking roofs are everywhere.  The old world feel is everywhere.  
    Church Street winds its way around the back side of our destination, 13th century Amberly Castle, with it's accommodations of  modern hotel rooms, started out in the 12th century as a Manor house.  The rhomboid shaped stonework of the castle, with its high curtain walls has been used as a fortress since it's inception as such for the bishops of Chichester. The castle is still completely enclosed in those high curtain walls, and at midnight each night, the two ton Portcullis is lowered for the night.
    We drive through this impressive gateway, to the courtyard, leaving our MG in it's designated spot.  We walk across the yard looking at the impressive gray stonework, still standing proudly as if to repel an onslaught of medieval knights.  
    Over the horizon, the sun is withdrawing to it's resting place.  The sky is ablaze with all of the energy the life-disk can give.  Hues of orange, yellows, and pinks outline the upper walls.  And just as we enter the through the great doors, we turn to see  through the Portcullis, the last vestiges of a beautiful sunset,  we see the Green Flash.  The last rays of light just before the sun is enveloped by the horizon, pass through the earth's atmosphere like a prism, bending the light so we can see the green.    In a second, it was gone.  
    We  turn, and walk inside and arrive just in time for dinner in the long dinning hall.  Retreating quickly up to our room, past the rows of knights armor, to change for dinner as there is a dress code.  After quick showers, we get dressed.   I slip on my black suit and tie, while my love dons her sexy little black dress, with pearls.  
    Returning in no time, and  sit in plush velvet seats, enjoying Chicken Marsala, with French cut green beans Almondene, and and a little salad .  For dessert we enjoy cheesecake.  I made sure in making the reservations that the hotel was able to get her favorite dessert GF.  When she found out about this, her eyes lit up, and her  smile across the candle-lit table was heart-stopping.  Tonight,  her whole aura was lit up like the sunset we just witnessed.  But her flash is not fleeting, or rare.  She is as incredible, as usual.  
    We mingled for a while in the Great Hall with the other guests.  I was sipping the brandy.  And my dream-come-to-life was enjoying her single malt scotch when a small orchestra began playing somewhere tucked into one of  the many large antechambers.   As much as I enjoy watching her flirt, I had to interrupt her play time with this devilishly handsome Frenchman who had her giggling.   I pardoned myself, and asked for the dance.    
    Feeling each other this close, with nothing more than a few centimeters of fabric between us, left us looking forward to the second dessert of the night.  I could feel her muscles move with every step of the dance.  Her clothing, as sexy as she was in it, acted only as a shroud to me...something her body  mourns in....something it hides in.  But her body is precisely what I want to celebrate....exactly what I want to lay bare.  I can think of nothing else, till I notice we are being watched.
    As we dance, her potential  French lover is eying us, or more precisely, eying my love.  Watching as I slide my hands ever so subtly over her feminine form.  I move my hands ever so slowly as we dance.    At one point when I know he is watching, I lightly pass over her buttocks to the small of her back.  I can feel his eyes tracing her ass as I do this.  Gently, I also kiss her lips once as the music now concludes.  She knows all of this is going on as well, and she plays along in the same fashion.  Her hand resting on the upper part of my ass, pulling me a little closer. At one point, she even tugged my  hips closer as she was staring into my eyes.   Message received.
   We begin to walk across the floor when she looks at me quizzically.  My response:  “Tonight, my love, I want you all to myself!  And I will have you, from the tip of your toe, to the top of your head...and everything in between.”  She kisses me, takes my arm, and we walk slowly up to our room...just the two of us.  
    We rented the Wilfred Room, in the upper chambers.  It has a whirlpool, which is nice.  But it has my favorite kind of bed: one with four posts.  The window overlooks toward the main gate through the courtyard below, framed with a calico drapery.  Oak is everywhere in the room, even the restored beams in the ceiling are a beautiful finished oak.  Modern furniture seems a bit out of place.   A  medieval knight and his Lady would consider these accommodations plush.  We don't mind, as we have made ample use of the furniture.  
    The beast with two backs roams free in this castle, and she is a prolific beast.  We have, in the last three days, already tasted the passion fruit of the lips   in the whirlpool and bathroom, on the couch, high-back chair, table, oak chest, walk in closet, and of course, the bed.  
    We enter the room, hand in hand for our last night in the castle.  As I begin to move away, you squeeze my hand , and forcefully pull me back into your arms.  The motion spinning us around once.  As we kiss in mid-twirl, I begin to stir down below at your assertiveness.  Opening our eyes, we lose ourselves in each other for that moment in time.  Swaying as we were to the music of our hearts,  we continue to enjoy flutters of kisses.  My hand adheres to  the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it slowly toward your nice, round ass.  That same fortunate hand finds itself resting there, enjoying a respite on that beautiful island, as my other hand relishes the touch of the skin of your upper back, riding over that landscape  
    As we dance across the floor, shoes become unhinged, a bra unbuckled, a shirt untucked. Trinkets of clothing begin to spread out over the artists studio that is  our room.  Soon, all of the apparel of the evening's affair are strewn about....except for the pearls.  The pearls being the perfect accoutrement for the fair skin of my darling.  Their luster adding to the  already perfect look of her neckline, as they drape down to her collar bone, drawing attention to those mounds of hill-joys I love so much.  
    There we stand naked  in each others arms, flesh on flesh.  Our stroking hands exploring the vastness of the universe with every inch of their lovers body.    My interest in her is already apparent, as the bristles of the brush I wish to use have already stiffened against her palette.  
    The  canvas, our bed,  where we will paint our love portrait tonight, beckons us to splash all of the color of our love onto it.   And so, the artist and his muse begin...
    We lock lips once again, near the edge of the bed, as she reaches down and grabs hold of me.  Softly she strokes up and down to my moaning approval.  Our tongues reaching into each other,  looking for the meaning of life in the soul of our lover.  She adds a twisting motion now  with more pressure, as her other hand squeezes my balls.  My arms now envelope her shoulders in a protective cocoon of sinew.  
    Our lips part, as her tongue flits over my neck between the smacking of her lips on my slightly salty skin.  She completely sucks one of my nipples into her mouth.  Wow! I keep forgetting how electric that sensation can feel.  Downward she goes, bending over to do so.   Across the bed, there is a standing mirror, where I view the entry to paradise, already glistening.  Now she sits, and pulls me close...
    She has been stroking me this whole time. Now, she reaches with her lips what long for her to do, as she slides her mouth over the length of my shaft.  Over and over till it is wet with saliva.  The lubrication allows her hand a different feel, as my head now is sucked into the void, causing my other head to rock back.  She takes just the head in.  The pressure in incredible.  Then I feel her tongue massaging the underside, and my knees buckle.  Her one hand catches my ass to steady me, as her head begins bobbing for Ed's apples.  On the down push she relaxes.  On the up, she pulls with a powerful suction.  Slowly at first, but with increasing force and velocity, she seeks to draw the energy form me.  Her tight grip, in both lip and hand, are such that my whole body sways with each pressing movement of her head. She maneuvers me to the edge of explosion,  but throttles back as my heavy breathing and moaning give away my condition of surrender.   She leans back, smiling up at me, as saliva drips from lips onto her still stroking hand.  
    I now bend to kiss those same lips.  To take  her breath into me.  Caressing her breast as I do so, I now kneel before her, as her arms now race over my head, shoulders and back.  I force her back onto the bed slowly as I work my way down her body.  Stopping occasionally here and there for a nibble, or a lick:  a nipple here.., a rib there.  The soft tones of her flesh melt into my mouth like the fruit of summer that I enjoy so well.  I work my way down to the wet tumulus of pleasure, her pubic rose bud blooming before me.  I lift her thigh a little to feast on her.  My one hand spreading her as my tongue mixes her juices thoroughly.  I use my fingers to add to her pleasure, massaging her inner wall...then moving her lips around.  And when I go low, to use my tongue in her gatehouse, I play with her clit.  All the while she moans with approval, her hips twitching and gyrating...her hands tugging and pulling at my head.
    Message received.  I push her back onto the bed, grabbing her hands and tying them the the bedposts.  After this I rub my hands all over her body.  My right hand is inside her and flicking about when I suddenly start to finger fuck her good and fast...i keep going, before slowing to wiggle about in there...then finger fucking her faster...  She screams in please at first, then curses me as I procrastinate using my brush on the canvas of her body.  I smile, and then relent...
    My brush is primed for action, as I move toward her, the tip of said brush ready to dip into the many colors of her beauty.  I move parallel to her, allowing my thigh muscle to push on her round mound . She responds by pushing her hips upward time and again on the soft flesh of my thigh.  Soon, my skin is as moist as hers.  
    Her hands straining at the clothes holding her tight.  Her voice quivers in anticipation...begging me to enter her....to fuck her brains out.  I slide sideways onto her.  Instantly she wraps her thighs around my waist.  Slamming her hips up into mine, my dick slides between the folds of her lips.  I love that feeling of wetness.  We kiss, a moaning escapes our throats, as my dick finds its own way onto her hole.  It seems to know the way, as it drills into her.  She squeals, and exhales a deep, longing moan as I go balls to her walls.  Pushing up with my toes, I can feel the bottom of the head touching her lower wall.  I rock up and down for a bit to warm things up.  That's when her heels started hitting me in the lower back.  My hips automatically started thrusting, as my hands clutched under her shoulders.  It wasn't too long before the slapping of flesh was loudly resonating throughout the room, in addition to our screams of pleasure.  Just when she is on the verge of climaxing, I slow to a gyration.  Her heavy breathing, and vocalization  of “more....please...”  go unheeded as I taste her breasts.  Tos nipples, hard as cherries, but infinitely sweeter, felt good in my mouth.  
    Now I release her wrists in order to flip her over to do her from behind...in front of the standing mirror.  Her bending form, graceful in repose, spreads before me.  Her scent wafts up to me like vintage I would, and did, drink in.  Her brown hair falling to each side of her head as she positions herself eagerly.  Her hips wiggle in anticipation as I move between her knees.  
    Taking my dick in hand, I rub the head till it finds it's mark.  Slow I push, entering love's hallowed ground.  Her latching on to her hips, I keep sight of us in the mirror.  I am all the way in, but still.  It is she that  initiates movement, as she moves her tight little ass back into me.  Forward she goes, then back.  She has a good rhythm going now as I just kneel there, enjoying the fucking she is giving me.  I enjoy just focusing on the sensation of her warmth sliding , and enveloping my dick.  It is different enough from my thrusting  to be thoroughly enjoyable.  But before too long I can not endure.  I start to take control by squeezing her ass, and pulling back myself.  She reads my body language and stillls herself as the first thrusts bring us new sensations.  O  God, how I love this position!  Everything about it.  
    Looking into the mirror as we get humping in high gear, I see her ass cheeks crinkling below the force of each thrust.  Our flesh hitting each other takes on a cupping sound, I feel a need to reach around at one point to play with her clit.  Her response was immediate.  
    Her back arches, as full throat screams emanate from deep inside her.  I can feel the pulse of her inner flesh, as the throbbing climax squeezes my dick a little with each wave that seems to lasts a few minutes each time.  Our whole bodies rock and quake with the force of her orgasm.  I begin thrusting again, barely giving her time to breath, before she starts gasping again with each thrust.  
    I start hammering harder now, going the full range of motion.  My back is slightly culred for more thrust, as I quicken the pace.  Her wails of pleasure fill the room.  I suddenly realize I, too, have joined the sexual sonant around us.
    Hearing her “yes, yes...again....”  as she cums on the end of my dick causes the boiling to begin.  Rising from deep within, it curls inside of me like a snake .  I feel it traveling through me from my balls , and up ...and up....
    I explode inside of her.  White liquid spilling onto the sheets.  My rhythm is broken, but I keep moving, just to feel her.  I never want to stop.  But soon we find ourselves cuddling under the sheets.  Kissing.  Stroking.  Caressing the cares of life away, and speaking of the days event as if they  were a  warm dream on a sunny day.  Because no matter where you are at, the sun shines warmest whenever you are with your lover; Be that in Scotland, Ireland, or England.