My house is small. The property is larger. So I have more privacy than many people. That was the main reason I bought the house. Complaints from neighbors about late night 'noise' can be embarrassing.

Candy looked around the house and smiled. I knew she had realized the advantage. With the air conditioner going, we might have been on a desert island.

"You are the first." I answered the question she didn't ask. She smiled.

I poured her a dry white wine, just slightly cooler than room temperature. She sipped and held it in her mouth for a moment. I watched. Her brown eyes were warm and soft, her lips as full as her figure. Her brown skin was dark and her smile appeared to be almost a laugh.

We had gotten to be friends on a web site where we exchanged stories. I appreciated her enthusiasm and her sense of joy. Candy was a woman who knew how to enjoy life.

Taking her hand with the wine glass in it, I brought it to my lips and sipped some. Holding it in my mouth until it was warm and rich, I leaned forward and captured her full lips, which opened to my assault as I pressed the wine into her mouth.

Her lips were alive and vibrant beneath mine. Our tongues battled and bathed in the taste of the wine. I moved her hand to the table and we set the glass down.

I wanted to take my time. To savor each moment. But it was important to establish what we were here for, and who was in control.

Putting my hands on the front of her pale green blouse, I demanded, "You aren't too attached to this blouse, are you?"

Her eyes glowed into mine as I grasped the sides of the shirt and tore it open, buttons flying and a soft cry escaping those moist lips.

Her full heavy breasts strained against the fragile black lace of her bra. I removed the shirt and dropped it to the floor. Reaching around her I released the bra and her breasts settled, warm, heavy, sensuous, and inviting. My mouth descended on a nipple and bit softly. Candy groaned and her hand caressed the back of my head. We were ready.

Taking her hand and our wine, I led her to my playroom. She trembled, deliciously, at the Andrews cross and the array of paddles and canes and floggers, artfully arrayed. I let her sip some of her wine, while I put on the tape. I had found that I enjoyed listening to Edith Piaf, very softly, as I worked. It seemed, somehow to play to my mood.

Taking Candy's wine, I sat on my chair, and said, "You have too much on."

Looking at me, and glancing at the cross, Candy sensuously stripped off her boots and slacks, and peeled off her panties that matched the bra that we had left behind. She was twenty or more pounds past ideal, but on her it looked good. I could feel the heft of her full breasts and the seductive weight of her ass in my hands even as I watched her move.

Candy didn't bother folding her clothes, just cast them aside, turning her body for me to enjoy. And I did enjoy it. She moved nearer and knelt before me.

I sat sipping my wine, and enjoying her pose, and the tension I let build. Finally, she could stand no more, and she looked up at me.