Hello writers and readers! This is my first post in this sub. Please take a look, thanks so much!

Dancing In The Kitchen—A Surprise Vacation Romance (Part 1 of 2)

Summary:

A warm tale of unexpected romance set in coastal New England. A chance encounter while on vacation opens a week of laughter, connection, and passionate lovemaking for Mary and Tom.

Additional tags: [Aftercuddle] [Afterglow] [Begging] [Breast appreciation] [Cock appreciation] [Cock milking] [Dirty talk] [Doggy] [Emotional safety] [F-bomb] [First date] [Healing] [Humor] [Lots of] [Kissing] [L-bomb] [Foreplay] [Meet cute] [Nipple play] [New relationship energy] [NRE] [Nurturing] [Pinned hands] [Pounding] [Praise] [Pussy appreciation] [Reach around] [Reminiscing] [Rough to sweet] [Slice of life] [Soft to Rough] [Squirting] [Suckling] [Switchy]

Part 1:

It's early summer. Tom and Mary are enjoying separate vacations in the same seaside village in New England. Tom is spending some time away from work after finishing a challenging, year-long project. Mary is celebrating the successful defense of her master's thesis. She has a week left in the states, after which she'll return home to Toronto.

That Sunday morning, Tom is reading on the terrace of the local bakery cafe. His table faces the ocean, which he can see through pine trees lining a rocky embankment across the road. Tom notices Mary as she crosses the terrace to the counter and places her order. She's wearing red gym shorts, the vintage kind with white piping, and a worn, forest green sweatshirt that's turned inside out. She has on Ray Bans, and a trucker's hat with a brewery logo. Tom doesn't recognize the brewery's name.

Mary notices Tom as well. He has a stack of books on the table beside him. His age is hard to peg; his hair is shaved close to his head, and he has a boyish look, but his temples are gray. He's wearing trendy eyeglasses, translucent plastic frames with a light blue tint.

Mary is on her way out of the cafe, juggling her pocketbook with a tall coffee and a croissant, when she pauses by Tom's table. She wouldn't normally bother a strange man in a cafe, but she's stopped by the book he's reading—someone's collected poems.

Mary apologizes; she doesn't want to intrude on Tom's solitude. But she's a literature student, she tells him, and a huge fan of the poet. Tom smiles and says it's nice to meet another fan.

Mary sits down and eats her croissant out of a paper bag while the two talk poetry. When she's done, she cleans her hands and removes her sunglasses. Tom notices that she's wearing mascara, but no other makeup. Her eyes are brown.

It's a comfortable conversation. Their talk moves on to the village businesses, the public beaches, and the area woods and parks. Tom has his favorite places; he lives in Boston today, but he's never strayed more than a few hundred miles from where they're sitting now, and he comes back to this village as often as he can. He tells Mary that as a boy, he camped in the nearby woods with his dad nearly every summer.

Mary describes her master's research to Tom. She worries she's boring him, and Tom assures her that she is not.

Mary hesitates. "You probably have your day planned out," she says finally. "With your family or friends. But I was about to walk to the park that's right up the road. I hear the beach there is good for beach combing. If you're not busy, would you like to come with me? I could hear more about you."

"I'm visiting here alone," Tom says. "And that's a nice little beach. Less rocky than most. I'd love to come along. But I planned to stop by the bookstore next to the bakery. Do you have time?" Mary says that sounds fine.

In the bookstore Tom finds a poetry collection by one of his favorite writers. Mary, who knows most modern poets, is barely familiar with this one. Tom tells her, "If you're agreeable, l'd like to buy this book for you. It has pencil marks in it, and it's a screaming good deal at $3.00. I'd love for it to go home with someone who'll enjoy it. I'm a nerd, and already have two copies, so..."

Mary thanks Tom and warmly accepts. They leave the bookstore and stroll slowly up the road. Overhead there are stunted pine trees with sunlight breaking through, and ocean air whistling through the branches.

Tom talks about his work for a small architectural firm, and the things he does for fun, when he has time for fun. He says he used to bake bread every weekend, but that tapered off. Finally he gave his sourdough starter to a neighbor. Mary doesn't know how to make bread, but her hobbies include eating it. "Not too much," she says. "Just the right amount." Tom laughs, and Mary tells him about her favorite bakeries and restaurants in Toronto.

Because Mary has no pockets, at the beach she limits herself to one stunning, perfectly preserved whelk shell and a nice piece of amber beach glass. She and Tom sit talking in the sun, until it finally disappears over the tops of the pines. Mary hands Tom the marked-up poetry collection, and asks him to show her his favorite poem. "There are many," Tom says, "but here's a good one." To his surprise, Mary clears her throat and begins to read the poem aloud.

It's a long poem, almost a story. Tom knows the poem basically by heart, so he's listening to Mary's voice. There are lilting highs and warm lows, and a slight scratchiness that he thinks might be owed to an occasional cigarette. He enjoys Mary's voice, and also her silences, which become more frequent as Mary slows down to think about what she's reading and savor the images. Tom closes his eyes.

In the poem, a woman narrates a long history of relationships with men: the first infatuation, the perfect love that ended too soon due only to circumstance, the man who broke her heart and the next whose heart she broke in turn, the mature love, the love that taught her a solemn lesson, and the light, airy love that taught her only to enjoy herself. At points the woman in the poem is alone with herself, another kind of relationship.

When Mary is quiet, Tom imagines she's searching the poem for traces of her own life. Does a particular series of lines describe Mary? Or is that chapter yet to come in her life? Are there lessons in the poem that Mary has missed? Is Mary's mother in the poem? And who is the poet? What made her tell this story?

Mary may be thinking none of these things, of course. Still, Tom listens intently, eager for any clue to what is happening inside her.

The poem ends, and Tom opens his eyes. He and Mary sit quietly for a minute, looking out at the ocean. Finally Mary smiles, and asks Tom why his eyes were closed. There is much that Tom could say in response. But he says only that he enjoys listening to Mary's voice.

At Mary's suggestion, the two walk back to the village to get lunch at the farmers' market. There, they find a stall selling delicious-smelling curry. The young hippie woman working the stall strikes up a conversation.

"You two are an adorable couple," the woman says. "How long have you been together?"

Mary and Tom exchange smiles. Tom replies, "Oh, not all that long..."

Mary laughs, and interjects, "We met for the first time three hours ago!”

"So this is a blind date? Your first date? Wait a minute," the woman says, making a horrified face. "Did I just make this weird?"

"Please don't worry," Tom says, laughing.

Mary adds, "You've settled it for us. This is our first date!"

She's smiling, but Tom sees nervousness in her eyes, as if by saying it out loud she might have broken the spell.

"If this is a date, I'm happy with that," Tom says.

Tom and Mary sit down at a picnic table to eat their curry. "That girl was a cutie," Mary says, and Tom agrees.

"So," Mary says, "our first date. In all seriousness, I really don't want to monopolize your time, or assume that you have nothing better to do. But if the thought of a date sounds nice, what would you say to keeping the date going?"

"I'd say thank you," Tom replies. "And yes please."

Tom and Mary agree to have dinner together at Mary's rental. They exchange numbers, and Mary sends Tom the address. Then, they circle the farmer's market, picking out a few nice vegetables and some protein. Tom says he'll buy a six-pack of good beer at the store near the bakery.

Outside the farmer's market, Mary stops by a pretty blue hybrid car. "This is me," she says. She puts the veggies and chicken into the car, and then turns back to Tom. "Would it be all right if I hugged you?" she asks.

Tom leans in and they embrace. Mary squeezes him tightly. Over Mary's shoulder Tom sees a small pickup truck approaching from up the road. One of the salt-eaten wrecks the locals drive. The truck passes Tom and Mary, and finally Tom hears its engine fade behind him into the distance. Tom and Mary are still embracing.

Finally Mary takes a deep breath and lets go. "Thank you, Tom," she says.

"See you tonight," Tom replies. He waves at her through her car window and turns to walk the other way.

Ten minutes later, Tom is emerging from the store with beer in hand. He receives a text.

Mary: About that hug. I'm a little worried that you'll think it was too... big.

Tom: That was a lovely hug, and just the right size. I would like another!

Mary types "YAAAAYYYY" into her phone, then deletes that and types "Yay!" in its place. She considers adding emojis, but doesn't know what would strike the right tone. Finally, she gives up and hits send. She goes to the bedroom to take a nap.

Tom would like to nap, but he's much too excited about the evening ahead. So he reads until four o'clock, and then tries to make himself look presentable. Tom packed his suitcase for a bachelor getaway, but luckily he did bring one plaid button-up that looks nice, and a crisp new pair of shorts.

An hour later Tom climbs the front steps of Mary's rental and knocks on the glass door. He can see Mary in the kitchen, drying her hands with a dish towel. She opens the door. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the hug Mary gives him is quite chaste. Still, he isn't a bit disappointed. Mary is wearing a lovely cream-colored dress tied at the waist, with poofs at the shoulders and ruffles at the wrists. It's very feminine, Tom thinks. Underneath she has on cream-colored stockings to match her dress, and brown leather clogs that match her hair almost perfectly. Mary's hair is simple: straight, cut just above her shoulders, parted on the left and tucked behind her ear.

Tom and Mary enjoy a relaxed and easy time prepping dinner together. Mary opens two beers, and while they chop and sauté vegetables they take turns queueing up forgotten new wave and alternative hits from the 80s/90s on Mary's phone. They lip synch, laugh together, and dance awkwardly.

The conversation wanders from career to childhood memories to books to film. Mary shares her love of so-bad-they're-good movies, and offers a list of films that Tom simply must see. They take turns dishing on drama from their friend circles in Boston and Toronto, Tom's colleagues, and Mary's undergrad students. Names get named.

"This feels...irresponsible," Tom says, laughing.

"It does feel sort of illicit, doesn't it?" Mary replies. "But so satisfying."

Their talk over dinner is more serious. Mary discloses that one year earlier, she was reeling from the sudden, one-sided ending of a long-term relationship. She grieved for a month, and then with her friends' help made a halfhearted attempt at dating. It only made her feel worse. Today Mary is celebrating her master's thesis, but it also helps to be away from Toronto because the memories of the previous summer are painful.

Tom empathizes. He says that around the same time, in May of the prior year, he lost his dad after a long struggle with ALS. Caring for his father was essentially a second full time job, and after his passing Tom should have felt some measure of relief. But the new freedom only gave Tom guilt, so he threw himself into work. Tom says that this vacation and in particular being with Mary are very healing. "Thank you for helping to bring me out of my shell," he says.

After dinner Tom clears the table and fills the dishwasher while Mary rolls a cigarette and steps outside. Through the kitchen window Tom can see Mary leaning against a post under the deep porch roof. She holds her cigarette in one hand and has her other arm folded under her breasts. She's watching Tom. He sees her smile at him.

When Mary returns to the house there is a corny power ballad by a 90s hair metal band playing on the kitchen speaker. Mary clasps Tom's right hand and cups his shoulder with her other arm. Tom smiles, and envelops Mary's waist in his arm, drawing her close. They slow dance, giggling to one another.

After a twirl around the kitchen island, Mary finds Tom's mouth and steals a kiss. Then she pulls back, with a clouded, worried look in her eyes. "Is this ok?" she asks.

Tom smiles. He brings his nose parallel to Mary's, touching only slightly. His eyes are lowered, but not closed. This is Tom's favorite place to be, lingering in the space before the kiss, enjoying the closeness without any pressure or hurry. Finally he does kiss Mary, in answer to her question. Then he kisses her again, and again. They are still swaying, though the music has ended.

"Can I tell you what I love?" Tom asks Mary quietly. "I love the part of you that checks in to see if she's ok, that asks for permission, the part that worries that she takes up too much space. I want to be very tender to that part of you, because sometimes I am that person, too."

Tom continues looking at Mary. "But I also love the Mary who invites me on a walk to the beach, who asks me to have lunch with her, and then dinner. The Mary who gives long, passionate, full-body hugs to a man she's just met. And who sneaks a kiss while we're slow dancing. That Mary is brave and adventurous and I admire her so much. Basically, I want to be her when I grow up."

"Tom, you are too wonderful," Mary says, laughing.

"I think you are so lovely, for taking risks with me, for opening yourself up and asking for exactly what you want. I really want to reward that part of you. If there is anything at all I can do to make you feel good, or listened to, or cherished, please don't hesitate to tell me. Because I'm dying to do it." His voice is quiet, but filled with strong feeling.

Mary is flushed, overwhelmed. She winds both arms around Tom's neck and holds him as close as she can. She runs one hand over his shaved head and rubs her cheek against his. Then she gathers his lips in hers and enters his mouth with her tongue. After a moment of deep kissing, Mary pulls out and faces Tom, still gently cupping the back of his head. "There is one thing you can do for me," she says sweetly.

She leads Tom into the living room and pulls him down to sit next to her at the edge of the couch. Behind Mary, the window opens onto a lawn sloping down to the road that runs along a sea cliff. Beyond the road, a small cove is framed by low, pine-covered hills. Outside the narrow opening in the trees, Tom can see a small sailboat moored and turning gently in the ocean breeze. Sunlight reflects from the water onto Mary's face.

Mary unties the sash around her waist and unfastens two buttons at the side of her dress. The dress opens and Mary's breasts spill out. Tom sighs deeply, with an almost ecstatic expression. Mary takes his hands and brings them forward to gently cup each breast. After a moment she leans in, kisses Tom lightly, and says, "Will you lay with me, sweet man?" Tom nods. Mary takes his eyeglasses from his face and folds and places them on the end table behind her.

She reclines on her side, pulling Tom down carefully to face her. Her dress is open fully. Tom takes Mary's body in, and runs a hand from her thigh up to her bottom. The fabric of her stockings and her underwear is impossibly soft—merino wool, Tom thinks. There is a blanket across the top of the couch, and Mary pulls it down to cover the two of them.

Carefully, Mary eases Tom's body below her shoulder, so that she can slip an arm under his neck. Now her breasts are presented directly in front of his face. With her free hand, Mary lifts her right breast to Tom's mouth, stroking the nipple against his mouth from top to bottom in order to open his lips.

Tom looks at Mary, awed. "Is this happening?" he asks her. "Can I really do this?"

Mary breaks into a wide smile. “If you want it,” she says quietly, “it’s happening.”

"I want it very much," Tom says. "I'd like to do this with you all night long."

"Oh," Mary says, sighing deeply, "that would be so lovely. I'd like nothing more than that. The trouble is, I love having my nipples sucked so much, I'm going to come very quickly."

Tom is kissing and stroking Mary's breast. He looks at her for a moment, thinking. "I may be able to help with that problem," he says.

Tom licks the underside of Mary's nipple generously, and then lightly preps the top while Mary runs her fingers across his back. His face has a focused, serious expression. When Mary's nipple enters Tom's lips, the shape fits nicely with his mouth. Then, with his lips wrapped gently around the nipple, Tom begins a rhythmic licking and sucking, adding a gentle pressure against the bottom. When Tom's lips finally form a seal around her breast, Mary's nipple is drawn deeply into his mouth—much deeper than Mary expected, or ever felt entitled to expect.

The effect on Mary is dramatic. Her eyes roll back in her head. Her legs start to squirm, and her hips tilt repeatedly towards Tom, reaching for him. With her free hand, she reaches up and runs her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp and moaning quietly. She is quickly losing control of her breath.

Mary looks down at Tom in disbelief. His eyes are closed, and he holds her breast tenderly in both hands. His sucking is slow and gentle, as gentle as she could ever want. But by now her nipple is flattened against his palate, and his muscles have drawn it completely in. Mary feels as if her breast is a pitcher pouring into Tom's mouth, and his thirst is endless, enough to drink and drink until Mary is completely gone. If Tom were to increase his suction only slightly, Mary knows that she would come, and come hard. But he maintains the same gentle pressure, and even eases his pace slightly. Mary strokes Tom's head lovingly. His hair is prickly and yet soft, like velvet. She is deliriously happy.

After several minutes of sucking, Tom opens his mouth to let Mary go. He asks if he can switch to her left breast. Mary nods weakly, smiling and placing a kiss on his forehead. She tilts her body slightly towards him, and massages his shoulder blade.

While Tom preps Mary's left nipple, he looks up at her. "Will you talk to me?" he asks. "Will you talk to me while I suck on you?"

Mary smiles and looks at him quizzically. "What would you like me to talk about?"

Tom runs his tongue all the way around Mary's nipple. "I want to know more about you. Tell me anything. Even if you think it's boring. Let's start with...your favorite grocery store. Where do you love to shop? Tell me everything you like about it."

Mary laughs, but she cannot laugh for long because Tom has already latched on to her left nipple. Right away, his mouth makes a perfect seal and Mary feels her nipple sliding toward the back of his throat. It takes all the focus and effort she can manage to not come. She feels as if she's losing her mind.

Mary arches her neck backwards and digs her nails into Tom's arm. Then she takes a deep breath, squints her eyes hard, and blurts out the name of a grocery store. Tom opens his eyes quickly and looks up at her. The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, and then he resumes his hungry sucking.

Mary's voice shakes at first, but she manages to tell Tom about the store. It's a place in Toronto, located between the Yorkville neighborhood and the Annex. Mary says it's too expensive for her to do her regular food shopping there, but she stops by once a week for some small treat, mainly because she loves the staff.

"Tom, you maniac," Mary says, laughing. "I thought you were crazy, but this is actually working." Tom smiles again, his eyes closed, and keeps slurping at her breast. Mary brings the blanket around his shoulders and tucks him in.

She tells Tom about the grocery manager who is a former academic, who knows about Mary's grad school work and asks about it every time she visits the store. Once, when the manager's son was hospitalized, Mary made a week's worth of freezer meals for his family and brought them into the store. The manager fought back tears and embraced Mary in the produce aisle. Next, she tells Tom about the punk college girl who works the cash register, who's too young for Mary but who likes to flirt with her by throwing a free chocolate bon bon into her shopping bag on every visit. Then she tells Tom about the time her car was sideswiped outside the store, and six staff members rushed out to make sure she was all right and to help her with the police.

Tom is almost ready to switch back to the first breast. Mary strokes his cheek and asks him what she should talk about next.

Tom unlatches and smiles. He plays with Mary's belly, and slips his other hand deep inside her stocking to stroke her thigh. "Why don't you tell me about a time when you had a significant experience, a really moving experience, and there was no one there to share it with? It could be a film, a piece of music, a beautiful natural setting, anything at all."

"Oh, a beautiful experience?" Mary asks, grinning impishly. "Like the time when I met a sweet stranger on vacation, and he bought me poetry and got me to open up about my internal life while sucking on my tits? That's beautiful—but of course no one would believe it." Tom and Mary both laugh.

Tom's eyes close drowsily and he begins to work Mary's breast again. He's sucking a bit harder now, and she loves it. But at this point she can't separate the nipple stimulation from the joy she feels in simply being close to Tom. She's in no danger of coming until she's ready. She cradles Tom's head in both arms and peppers him with kisses.

Mary decides to tell him about a particular night, one that holds a special place for her, precisely because the experience wasn't shared with anyone. And in fact Tom will be the first person to know anything about it.

It was the summer before her second year at university, and Mary was camping with her parents near Perry Sound, off Georgian Bay. She waited until her parents turned off their tent light, and then she left the campfire to begin a solitary hike to a lake one mile away. When she arrived at the lake, she turned her head lamp off, removed all of her clothing, and slipped into the water. The darkness around her was complete—but the sky overhead was a bright white tapestry of stars. Every star that had ever existed was looking down on her, she felt. The water was freezing, of course, and Mary ended her swim fairly quickly, wrapping herself in a blanket for the hike back to camp. Her parents wouldn't have minded her adventure—they weren't the type to fuss—but she decided to keep her midnight swim secret, as a private memento. Until tonight.

Tom looks up at Mary. He can see that she doesn't need any more prompting. She is searching Tom's face, his eyes, while he gives love and attention to her body. She wants to open further to him, to share as much of herself as she can, in any way that she can.

Bringing her lips to Tom's ear, Mary begins to whisper. She tells him some of her dreams, things that are beautiful and fulfilling and comforting that she has imagined for her life. She lists the things about herself that make her proud. Then, she shares things about her that she is less pleased with, and is working to change.

A year ago, this would have entailed a lot of harsh, negative self-talk. But tonight Mary is fair to herself. She speaks only in positive terms, and only about the things it is important to change and that she has the capacity to change. Tonight, she is the beautiful and strong and confident woman whose breasts lovely Tom is worshipping. She wants to reflect only that strength, that confidence.

"Tom, my sweet man," Mary says quietly, stroking his cheek. "Will you take your shorts off and sit up on the couch? I want us to make each other come."

Tom lets Mary's breast slip out of his mouth, and does as he is asked. Mary kneels astride him. Her breasts hang and sway slightly in front of his face. She kisses Tom gently, and reaches into his boxer shorts to pull out his cock. It's firm, but supple in her hand. She loves his cock, and tells him so. "Oh, your dick is beautiful, Tom. I love how soft it is."

She strokes his cock slowly, humming with pleasure. Tom leans his head against the back of the couch. Mary places many gentle closed-mouth kisses on his lips—that mouth has been sucking for such a long time, she thinks, he must need a break.

Mary has no idea how long he sucked on her, but when they began it was daylight, and now it is almost night. Through the window the sky and the water are dim, dim enough that the rocky, pine-covered hills barely register against them.

Mary tilts Tom's head to the side and sticks her tongue in his ear. He moans deeply in response. She strokes his cock more firmly. After a few more strokes, she squares her body with Tom's and pulls her underwear aside. He looks up at her. Their eyes lock as she rubs the tip of his cock up and down through the lips of her pussy. "Oh, by the way—l'm on the pill," she says. "So let's just feel good, ok?"

Tom nods solemnly and mouths the words "Thank you." Mary can barely see his face in the failing light.

Mary is as wet as a halved peach. She pushes his cock inside her, and it feels like a hand gliding into a velvet glove. "Oh, Tom," she says, "you feel so good in me." Tom is deep inside her pussy, but for now they only sit there, locked in a tight embrace. Then, Mary begins to slowly rock her hips, sliding on Tom's cock. All the way up, pausing, and then slowly all the way down. It feels nice to fuck him softly and gently like this.

Tom's hands stroke Mary's thighs and torso. He whispers that he'll be ready to come soon, and Mary tells him that's fine. "Will you suck my tits some more?"

Tom has both of her breasts in his hands, and now he brings her left nipple into his mouth. Mary maintains her slow pace, but she brings her body upright to rub her whole torso and her clit against him. She opens her pussy wide and pushes down as deeply as she can. She rests her forehead against him. "Suck me hard, Tom."

Tom wants to suck her hard, and he does. His mouth is on her breast, and he begins to knead the other nipple with his fingers. Mary is groaning now. Involuntarily, she clenches his cock hard while she begins to grind up and down.

She's moving quickly now. A few chaotic pumps on Tom's cock, a few firm sucks on her breast, and she is there.

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God," Mary says. She feels Tom come inside her, pulse twice, and then he wilts. Mary pumps him a few times more and then collapses on him, kissing and kissing and kissing Tom everywhere she can.

It has always been this way for Mary, ever since she first became sexually active. No matter how crazy the sex, or how hard she comes, after her orgasm Mary gets a second wind and immediately wants to love some more. After giving Tom ten or twenty more kisses, Mary jumps up and heads to the bathroom to freshen up, a girlish spring in her step.

Tom laughs. "You're amazing!" he calls after her.

Thanks for reading this far! See next post for the continuation of the story…