My name is June. I was 24 when I met Paul. It was a week day, in late October, which, that year, was mild and just a little damp. We met by chance, in a wine bar not far from my office, but far enough not to be crowded by my silly colleagues, somewhere near Liverpool Street. I was then a “promising young executive”, in an advertising agency, run by a charming older and gay gentleman. I walked in the place, tired and fed up after a difficult day. I went straight to the actual bar, glad to see it was not crowded. There was that young man sitting there, sipping a long drink, and for some unknown reason reasons I went and sat next to him. He was watching the news on a TV screen above the bar. Some idiotic politician was making ever more idiotic statements. Suddenly, just before I ordered a drink, the young man exploded in laughter and made a very rude comment about the politician. I happened to agree and told him. He turned round, smiled at me, presented himself in a calm and warm voice: “I am Paul, I am sorry I was ignoring you when I spoke, allow me to buy you a drink.” I was surprised as to how almost old-fashioned the guy sounded. I saw a fine regular face, soft brown eyes with a hint of, perhaps, toughness behind the smile, beautiful strong hands. We carried on talking. He said he was a bookseller, had been meeting with clients in the City, and would soon return home in East London. He asked me about my job, and from then I told him a bit about myself, the pricks at the office, what I wanted to do. He was a good listener. We spoke about London, the economic situation, and turned to more personal things. He had a sister, a half sister, his dad had died ten years before, and his mum had remarried, and was living in France, in the Ardèche. I asked him about his sister. Her mum was Japanese, and lived in Kyoto. Edna, his sister, or rather half-sister, was a fashion designer, already well known and beginning to be successful. She lived and worked in China, and was coming often to London, where she stayed at her brother’s home. We talked for about an hour, then Paul said he had been delighted to meet me, and how about dinner the following week? I was quite charmed by Paul, and agreed. We exchanged phone numbers, and parted company.
Back in my studio, I thought of him. He exuded both strength and a degree of vulnerability, his calm voice evoking calm, sympathy, patience. He had a sense of humour. His demeanour was somewhat bookish. I then settled for a lonely evening, reflecting on the day. I went to the bathroom, was surprised to find that I was rather moist down below. Had I been a little aroused in the company of Paul?
I looked at my self in the wall mirror: a nice looking red-haired girl, with round breast and an equally round butt, who loved pleasure, but was not getting much of it. I couldn’t stand idiots, either male or female, and at work, only got on with the gay older gentleman. I then wondered about Edna, Paul’s sister, and decided that, if I had a chance, I would ask Paul to see a picture of her.
                                                                                                    

The following week, on a Tuesday, Paul called me. He was wondering if I would be free the following evening, to have dinner with him. I was free, I felt a little tension between my legs, I said I would be delighted. Paul said he would text me time and instructions as to the place, said he would dress smart but casual. I could hear his smile when he said that, then he rang up.
I thought about what I would wear all day on the Wednesday. I got Paul’s text at around midday: the place was a Lebanese restaurant I did not know, near the V&A, at seven pm. The rest of the day went very slowly. I realised when I went home that I had again moisten myself with anticipation. I showered, chose a light low-open top and a thin fairly revealing bra, then slim knickers, and a short skirt. The air was cool, so I would wear my best mid-season beige coat. I then proceeded to make up, choosing the eye shade carefully, and finally the lipstick, which I chose dark deep red. Thinking of what scent to wear, I picked up an expensive old-fashioned one, I reserved for special occasions. Last of all I picked up a pair of high heels Italian escarpins, which I rarely wore. It was just before six, I message Paul I would be coming on the tube. I felt excited. I took a pair of thin leather gloves and went out. It was not raining, the evening rush was beginning to clear. It was a thirty minutes journey on the tube, and some ten minutes walk to reach the restaurant, a tiny place hidden in a small quiet street. I walked in, a gracious oriental gentleman led me to a table at the back of the room. The place was lit discreetly, with coloured lamps and bright colours. Paul stood up as we approached. He was wearing an open neck white shirt, that showed his slim but muscular frame, and dark green chinos. He bowed and kissed my hand which almost made me laugh. I realised though that he was serious, and indeed he was, all evening, a model of a considerate young man. The waiter had taken my coat away. Paul held my chair as I sat down. “You are ravishing” he said in his melodious voice. Sitting back in his chair he smiled at me. “I am so pleased you could make it” he said, both hands flat on the table. “I hope you like what I have chosen for us”. The waiter brought some wine. We toasted. The wine was a light soft white wine, probably not dry enough for me. Paul asked how I had been since our encounter the previous week. We chatted amiably for the duration of the meal which was delicious. Over coffee, I took my courage in both hands and asked Paul if he was interested in coming with me for a drink at my studio. There was an instant of silence, he looked at me, smiled and said that would be, for him, a great pleasure.
After asking me for my address, he spoke briefly with the waiter and ordered a taxi, which came ten minutes later. Paul helped me with my coat and we left. Paul spoke about his work a little in the taxi. He came to London mostly to meet customers. When I asked him what books he was selling, he said mainly erotic classics in special editions, expensive stuff. People were buying from all over the the world, he said, smiling, so he had to travel often. We’d arrived at my place, and I led Paul to the lift. At my door, Paul stood courteously near me as I looked for my keys. We went in. We left our coats in the lobby and went straight to the living room. I put my hands around Paul’s neck and kissed him deep on his lips. His strong arms were around me like a warm, padded vice. “You promised me a drink” he said. I blushed, he smiled again and kissed me hard, this time on the neck and again on the mouth. I went to the kitchen to fetch some glasses and ice and came back, picking up the scotch I had bought the same day. I poured the scotch over the ice. We stood and toasted each other and our friendship. We sat on the couch. I told Paul I was grateful of his coming to my place. His reply was to hold me tight against him, and putting our glasses on the table, to undo my shirt and bra. I undid his clothes, and then pulled down my skirt and knickers, as he was undoing his trousers and soon we stood naked, kissing. I felt the arousal, the wetness spreading between my legs. I also felt his cock in front of me, hard as marble. Paul kissed my nipples, both hands on my buttocks, then lifted me and slowly lower me down on his cock. Effortlessly he penetrated my wetness and gently moved me till I got my first orgasm of the evening. We went to the bedroom, I took his cock in mouth and worked deep, holding his balls in my hand. All the time, he was so considerate, evidently his priority was my pleasure and comfort. I expected him to climax, but he did not. His control over his body seems to be total. We had a pause, I lie down on my side looking at him: he was indeed a very handsome young man. I asked him and he said he was thirty one. Smiling he took me in his arms, in a traditional missionary position, and penetrated me, slowly and with tenderness. Then he accelerated his move, and I squirted against his belly, feeling the flood of my juices pouring out. I shrieked when I came, feeling myself out of my skin. I was impaled on his cock, he was holding me tight, kissing me feverishly, on my eyes, my lips, my erect nipples.
                                                                                                    

He had given me the best fuck of my entire life. He’d left before dawn, as I was soundly asleep, exhausted. He’d finally cum inside me, with caused me to climax once more. He’d left a note on the table: “June, you mean the world to me – Paul”.
In the following few weeks, we met at least twice a week, went to concerts, we both loved classical music, to the opera, for long walks in the parks, to see films, to the theatre, to museums. He was always considerate, eager to ensure I was happy. He stayed at my place several times, always the generous lover, and I stopped worrying about his reserve, I was learning. I learned more about his family too, his tastes, his work, and his sister.
Then one morning in November, he called and said that Edna, his sister, would be in London, staying at his house with him for a week, and he wondered if I would like to come to them for the weekend before her departure. I felt the usual surge of fluid in my intimate parts. I was of course free, I would love to meet Edna, just let me know when and where. He gave me detailed instructions on how to get there, he would, even, later send me a little map of where his place was.
This was still two weeks away. I got seriously excited about it, in fact I think I could not help being aroused all this time as I thought about that weekend. I met Paul only once during that time, he was busy and in a rush, although always attentive to me and charming. I thought about what I would wear, what we would do, how well I would get on with his sister. He’d shown me a picture: a tall young woman, with jet black hair, a face that reminded me of Paul, but with a touch of asian features. Paul had said Edna was strikingly beautiful. I don’t think he would have said that of many women.
I concentrated on my work. I rebuffed several pricks who thought I’d been dropped by my mysterious lover. I worked hard, and was pleased to be praised by my boss. I would travel to Paul’s on Thursday evening after work, just taking with me what Paul told me to: comfortable clothes for a weekend in the wilderness. Edna was flying back to China the following Tuesday, having spent the week till the weekend of our get together, with customers and investors. I got ready, a small travel bag with essentials, practical clothing and toiletries.
The Thursday came. I was in heat all day. I would have to travel first to Stratford, and then take a direct line that was to take me to a station a quarter of a mile from Paul’s house. It was already dark when I left. It was to take me forty minutes to get there. I left the station on a wide and busy avenue, and found the little street Paul had drawn on his map. Soon the street got quieter, as it became pedestrians only. The street lamps were dimmer. The ground was covered with cobbles, tall walls on each side with overhanging mature trees. Paul’s door was hard to see, as half covered by a wine growing all over the wall. Paul had explained how to open the door. I pressed the little dwarf on the upper panel, and the heavy door opened silently. I walked in as the door closed as silently. I was in a narrow corridor with stone walls and red tiles on the floor. I passed two small doors on each side of the corridor and then arrived at a massive door. Paul was standing at the entrance, walked toward me, lifted me and kissed me full mouth before taking my hand, seizing my bag and leading me to the room. A wood fire was burning in a wide chimney, a large bay window was showing a garden in darkness. Paul begged me to sit down in a deep sofa facing the chimney, and brought me a glass of frosty champagne. “Welcome to my cavern, June” His smile was radiant. On the left was a row of book shelves, facing the bay window, and a long dark wood table. The light was soft, coming from a beautiful old copper lamp standing on a little console. At the back of the room, on the side of the door we had walked through, was another door and the first steps of a stairway. I sat back, sipped the champagne and let Paul told me, that Edna was on her way back from London and would be with us soon. We would have dinner here, he had planned it all, Edna would help, and so would I, and later go upstairs to see the place and getting dressed for dinner. I kissed him, telling him how excited I had been all day. He was smiling, observing me with a tender look that made me even wetter. He indicated the little bathroom at the bottom of the stairs, and I wondered if he had guessed I had wetted my knickers.
Paul poured me another glass, cradling a glass of scotch for himself. From upstairs came the soft sound of an old clock. Then I heard a door opening somewhere at the back, and a tornado entered the room. Edna walked straight to Paul, holding him as she would have done of a lover, kissed him on the lips several times, then turned to me, introduced herself, and kissed me on the lips too. She wore a lose jumper, that showed she was wearing no bra, and wide trousers held to her slim waist by a golden belt. Her hair was black, held by a little silver ring, down to her shoulder blades. I had then several strong revelations: Edna was an extremely sexy woman, she and her (half) brother were lovers (was I shocked?), we would have fun together. Paul and her went to the kitchen. They then came back, Paul holding the bottle of champagne and two more glasses, and asking me if I trusted them with the menu – it would be exotic and stimulating. We laughed. Edna sat with me on the couch, a hand on my knee. Paul poured her and himself a glass of champagne. I was asking Edna about her week so far in London, and we chatted for a while, drinking and joking. Both her and Paul had a delirious sense of humour, naughty and at times hilarious.
There were vegetables to prepare, and we moved to the kitchen where the provisions brought by Edna, were laid out on the table. Edna quickly organised the tasks, and we carried on with our conversation, increasingly funny, while Paul opened another bottle. He also carefully chose a bottle of red wine from a corner of the kitchen, and opened it.
Edna was asking me about my work, asking all sorts of intelligent questions about the advertising world, which she knew quite well. We worked for another hour, drinking and joking. Paul then told us we had done enough, that he would proceed with cooking which would take another hour, and that “you ladies” could go and visit upstairs, show June the place (winking at me), and get pretty for dinner. “Yes sir!” Laughed Edna, taking my hand and pulling me upstairs. “Take your champagne with you”, said Paul with a cheeky smile.
Upstairs were two bedrooms, evidently Paul’s and Edna’s, a large bathroom, a room that appeared to b a spacious study, with two desks, walls covered with bookshelves and photographs , and one large room, communicating with the bedrooms, that was a gym, with full equipment, wall-length mirrors and more photographs. Some of the pictures were quite erotic, and I recognised Edna on some of them. We went to Edna’s room and she opened a large cupboard full of clothes. Some of the clothes were modern, other evidently old and refined. We talked about what we would like to wear, and Edna suggested we went and have our showers, and then decide. We undressed and dropped our clothes on a couple of chairs in the corner. We stood naked and looked at each other, smiling, openly discovering ourselves. Edna kissed me, ran a hand between my legs. I did the same and discovered she too was wet. Was it because of me, or of her brother?
We went and showered, with much touching and laughing. Edna was game, we felt each other in our private parts, our breasts and buttocks, risked a finger in our pussies. By common accord we stopped and dried ourselves, went to the bedroom. “What do you fancy wearing?” asked Edna. We agreed that the goal was to please Paul. “Then we should wear those” said Edna, holding a pair of old-fashioned suspender belts in lace. “Without anything” added Edna. “Since neither of us shaved our pubic hair, he thinks this kind of combination is highly erotic, the lace, the suspenders, the tuft of hair coming out at the top!” We tried, Edna picked up two pairs of black silk net stockings. The suspenders, stockings, and our bushy triangles were indeed more than suggestive. “He will love this, at a times like this he’s like a teenager, it’s all about boobs, butts and cunts!” We laughed. Edna fished out two corsets of fine lace. Trying those I found out that they were comfortable to wear, with the top firmer to lift up the breasts. We looked at each other, then at ourselves, in the tall mirror: we looked like a really sexy pair!
Delightful smells came out from downstairs. Now, make up, said Edna. Eyes shade lipsticks… “I’ll do yours said Edna, do mine” We sat in front of the coiffeuse, our naked thighs touching. “We must use the same for our nipples and pussy lips, like old whores” said Edna philosophically. More laughter followed, but we liked the result. “Do you think our master will appreciate?” I asked. We laughed more. We heard a gong downstairs from the kitchen. “Ladies! Dinner is ready” shouted Paul. We picked up a pair of light slippers, and started our descent. Paul was in the living room, looked at us, and came over to kiss each one of us on the nipples, and then on the pussy. “Beauties” he merely commented. He was pouring red wine in superb crystal glasses. Edna went to the kitchen and started bringing dishes to the table, that Paul had set in the meantime. We toasted, the wine was fabulous. Edna and I sat on one side, and Paul in front of us. Our bare bums felt the smoothness of the old oak chairs. I recall that all of us relaxed, breathed deeply, then, stood up again and huddled together for a group cuddle. I was soaking wet down below. I knew Edna was too. We started eating, commenting on the delicious dishes. We drank a lot and talked about many things. Paul amused us with tales of old pornographers. Edna stood up and set some romantic and calm music on the sound system in the corner. Paul poured more wine, Edna went to the kitchen to fetch more dishes. Time flew, Paul stood and came to me, and fondled my naked breast and pussy. We talked about the day after, which was a Friday, and agreed to go to Greenwich park to make some pics. We ate, we laughed, we kissed each other. Edna and I removed our corsets, which left us just naked with our suspenders and stockings on. Paul removed his shirt. It was indeed much warmer in the room, with heat from the kitchen and the burning fire. There was a lull. Edna said that, unless I had objection, she wished the three of us to go to bed together, later. I looked at Paul. Paul said: ”It’s up to you, my darling” It was the first time he’d called me that. I went to him and said:”I want make love with Edna too”. We drank more. Edna changed the record to some slow dance music, she and I danced, while Paul was clearing the dishes and fetched the ice cream. The talk was now about us, what we wanted, love and our future. Paul brought some old Armagnac and huge round glasses. “You ladies go upstairs when you wish , I’ll do a bit of cleaning then join you.” We talked and danced a little more. Then Edna and I kissed Paul, and went upstairs. We could hear Paul downstairs busying himself with dishes and glasses. We went to the bathroom, brushed our teeth, cleared our faces and showered our pussies and legs where our intimate juices had flowed all evening. We went to Paul’s bedroom, found each other’s legs, my mouth to her cunt, hers to mine. Like Paul, Edna was a tongue expert. We searched, tasted, bit, felt the waves coming and engulf us. We came at the same time, several times, and again, covered in sweat and honey. Edna nestled between my legs, we fell asleep with her hand between my thighs and mine between hers. This is how Paul found us, fast asleep, an hour later. He covered us with a light blanket and went to sleep on Edna’s bed next door. Much later in the early morning, Edna rose and went to fetch him, still asleep, lying him down between us. In turn we fucked him with all our strength, furiously, in turn, stopping only to swap, until he surrendered, as he filled me with his cum. We slept soundly after that. I woke up alone, realised Edna was making coffee in the kitchen, and heard noise from the gym. I carefully walked in, and saw Paul doing one arm pull ups from the fixed frame. I tiptoed out, went to the kitchen. Edna embraced me, said “now he’s all yours, I promise, I will never forget this weekend, ever.” We kissed tenderly. We drank coffee, I told her Greenwich park was good idea. As we went back upstairs, Paul was emerging from the shower, naked, we stopped, both of us looked at him, and went to him and kissed him, everywhere. He held me tight looking deep into my eyes.
After breakfast which was more fun and jokes, we went to shower, and dressed, jeans, pullover, rain jackets. We walked out towards the car port, armed with our cameras bag, at the other end of the garden. A wide door there opened in the wall into a street parallel to the street I had walked along the night before, but open to traffic. Edna drove. She masterfully navigated the Friday morning traffic, right up to the river front , then took the tunnel and drove us to the park on the side of Blackheath. We walked though the park, listening to the birds. There were few tourists. The view over the river, the Navy College and the wharf was stunning. We visited the rose garden, Paul taking pictures of me, and Edna pictures of both of us. We sat on a bench, decided we would go and have dinner in Greenwich in the evening, and the following day go for a long walk in Kent.
This is what we did. Saturday was lovely, Edna and I walked hand in hand, she crying from time to time. Paul cheerfully invited us for a pub meal. We spoke again of our future. I announced I would ask Paul to marry me. Edna said that it was necessary and absolutely deserved. Paul smiled and said, he had thought it was his responsibility to ask, upon which he was laughed at. Edna drove us back home in the early evening. We had another bottle of the beautiful wine. Edna and I danced again together. Paul was thinking. Edna and I went up to her room and we had another very intimate encounter, then I went to fetch Paul, took him to our bedroom, closed the door, and made tender love to him. On Sunday Edna got ready for her return home in China. I was in no rush to go back to town, but knew Paul had work to do, and would take Edna to the airport the following Tuesday. I told him I would leave on Monday. It was a quiet sunny day. We walked through the garden. I saw a few things I would change, later.
                                                                                                    

Later would be soon. Two months later I had left my studio, and came to Paul’s house to live with him. I would commute two or three days to the agency in town. The rest of the week Paul accommodated me in the office upstairs, and I worked with him there, from then on, only interrupted when one of us decided to take us to the bedroom.
Edna called us to say she would get married, to a wealthy Chinese business tycoon, who was already an investor in her fashion business. We made note of the date.
Then, one morning, Paul knelt in front of me, and asked me to marry him. I said yes, and I started crying a lake. We called Edna straight away, she cried on the phone.
Going to her wedding was a big step in our relationship: she later took to visiting us regularly. Her husband was a gentleman, just fabulously wealthy.
Soon afterwards I took over the advertising agency where I worked, from my boss the older gay gentleman. I fired half the male staff, and in less than a year, concluded a massive contract with Edna’s husband.
Paul carried on selling and buying books. Our wedding took place the following summer, attended by a really multinational crowd. It turned out that Paul was an orthodox christian, which suited me fine. The old patriarch kept speaking greek to us, to our delight. Our children, Roland and Maria were born the following two years. Roland went on to study mathematics in the East, and Maria became a brain surgeon.
The weekend “to eclipse them all” was thirty years ago.

Picture:Greenwich Royal Park, istockphoto.com