I kicked the door shut with the back of my leg as we locked lips.
Celine and I kissed with hunger and an urgency that left us breathless.
The bed was soft as I pushed her gently unto it and then I reached down and lifted her gown. Eyes wide shut she eased off her bum to let me pull the gown off and suddenly , Celine was lying there in nothing but her bra, her lovely breasts as full and as perky as I remembered them.
“You still have a lovely body,” I cooed as I took one erect nipple between my lips.
A soft moan escaped her as I nibbled on one and then the other while my left hand travelled down her tummy to nest in the anchor between her legs.
And even though she still had her frilly black panties on, my finger encountered wetness.
I pulled the pants aside and parted her folds then I was kissing her nipples and playing banjo with her kintus and then listening to her make melodious sounds.
“Eat me,” she cried and I obliged by leaving a trail of kisses that ended between her legs.
I worked downstairs between her legs for about ten minutes before, Celine pushed me gently away with the legs she had placed on either shoulder.
She took off my tie and shirt, unbuckled my trousers and unzipped my fly, then gasped as my whatchamacallit sprang at her.
“It’s grown,” Celine said with a shy laugh as she wrapped her cute mouth around me and suddenly it was my turn to sing.
Then just when I thought I would explode, she pulled away, lay back and invited me to do the do.
I kicked off my shoes and trousers and was spreading myself all over her when a knock came on the door and I froze, transported many, many years ago into time when her father’s car honking at the had gate doused our ardour.
“Don’t fucking answer that,” she screamed grabbing my whatchamacallit and leading it into the pleasure zone and as she began to gyrate I realised I was finally getting to finish the business I started almost 20 years ago.