From Norway with love

[aaardvarky]

It is Sunday evening and I wander into her dressing room where she is packing for her trip. The dress remains on its hanger ready to be placed last in her case. Beneath it rests a small pile of lingerie, straps of a suspender belt folded neatly into a matching set, two packs of sheer stockings alongside, their unopened cellophane cover catching the light.

‘Darling, which of these two day dresses should I take?’, she asks, holding up each in turn. ‘I quite like the blue one’, I reply. ‘And why would that be?’, she questions teasingly. I stammer something inane and blush, feeling conspiratorial guilt at my response. ‘Oh, darling, don’t be so serious’, she continues, ‘It’s only a week until I am home and you can have me all to yourself!’

Monday morning arrives with a jolt. From the hallway, where it has remained overnight, I carry N’s case to the car. To catch the early flight we need to rush and the traffic is heavy, but she appears relaxed, as if this was just a work flight for another conference in Oslo. At the airport we hug and our lips meet for a parting kiss. She smiles and giggles, ‘be good whilst I am away, won’t you’, then turns on her heels and wheels towards the departure gate.

Later that day, I receive my first message.

‘He met me with flowers at Olso Lufthavnairport, as you said he would. This is so Lars. There was a softness and propriety that seemed to straddle his quiet strength and purpose. It allowed me to feel, rather than think. As usual we embraced, although your watching eye would have seen two friends greeting, rather than a lover’s caress. I took his arm to stroll to the Saab. The flowers placed behind the seat, he opened the passenger door for me. I pressed my knees together feeling sun-warmed leather against my legs, and could not help but notice his glances.

The car journey took us away from Oslo to Honefoss, feeling the freshness and smelling soft scents of summer through the open window. Sunlight caught the side of his face, showing the definition of features you will remember from his visit. We were content to sit in silence, to feel and sense the moment. I just wanted to savour each small detail of every second of our time together, feeling the transitions, letting my imagination circle half-formed thoughts about what lay ahead’.

We arrived at the university campus in good time for the conference, which was predictably Norwegian - reserved and serious. Oly’s presentation was well received, after which he suggested that we skip supper and head out through the mountains to Borgund. At that very moment we were buttonholed by the Principal who whisked us both to the bar, and our escape plan was scuppered! You will be disappointed to know that we spent our first night in separate student rooms with single beds!

Our Tuesday morning drive snaked up between snow-clad peaks into Norway’s heartland. We stopped for lunch at Tønjum before heading on to Vestland, the place where Oly has his mountain Hytte. We arrived as dusk gathered. Below us a light glinted from a tiny window, a curl of pale wood smoke lifted in the evening air, and a small car drove away from the cottage on the hillside road towards the village. As the Saab came to a standstill, the evening stillness was astonishing.

Leaving the car, he led me through a heavy wooden door into the softly lit room of the cottage, a log fire burning in the hearth, the aroma of cooking permeating from the kitchen and a table set for two. Oly broke the silence, ‘Hey, I can always count on Maia - look she has set the fire and our supper is in the oven’. ‘Let’s enjoy the last light before it gets dark’, he added; and so we stepped back out into the chill air.

For some moments we paused, gazing out towards the darkening Fjord, Oly behind me, holding me close with his hands around my waist. I could feel his warm breath on my neck. As we stood together I felt him stiffen and his lips touch my shoulder. L, you cannot imagine how romantic that moment was! After the tiring journey I felt elated in the sheer solitude, my senses aroused with the feeling of strong arms at my side.

‘You’re getting cold’, he said, and taking my hand, he led me back into the warmth and security of the cottage, where with a smile he turned towards me saying, ‘Well, now we are here, what should we do first?’

[aaardvarky]

Dear L
I do hope you were not too anxious after my message. But you have to understand that following the student room fiasco, the long drive, and having arrived with Oly at such a romantic place, I was more than ready to be seduced!

We thought it wise to eat first as housekeeper Maia had clearly gone to such trouble to prepare everything for our arrival. Oly served hot bowls of Norwegian lapskaus with crusty bread, and glasses of Malbec from the bottle I had smuggled through customs. We chatted as we dined, the only other sound being the crackling of the fire and the occasional jumping spark.

After supper I took the deep armchair by the fire and Oly sat at my feet. Drowsy with wine and fatigue we simply watched the fire as the embers glowed. I felt his hand rest on my knee and his fingers stroke my leg in a gentle, natural, unhurried way. Again, we sat in silence feeling the touch and the moment. Instinctively I parted my legs slightly to accommodate his hand. We looked at one another; his hand strayed to my thigh, idly playing along the energy lines of my inner leg. I tensed a little with anticipation of the deliciousness of his intention. He felt this, teasing me a little longer, waiting until I was so stimulated and provoked that I was totally ready and longing to feel him plunge deep into me. His hand had found my thigh, above the stocking top and I felt the rise of his response.

We descended to the floor, lying back on the rug, kissing and caressing. I felt every part of my body strain towards him. I began to undress him, touching and kissing his chest and back, caressing him and wanting him to feel the same urgency that I felt and yet for us to resist the need and prolong the seduction. My hands strayed to his buttocks and I squeezed, pulling him towards me, but only enough to touch, not to penetrate. He smiled, sensing what I wanted and began gently to lick my breasts, responding to them individually. I could feel the tightening around my cervix which told me that my orgasm was building. I let it lap at me and focussed on his playing of my body. There was a moment when my legs involuntarily opened, just as he began to push them open - I don't know which impulse came first, I think it was simultaneous. Then he was in me, it was slow, rhythmic, determined and I felt as though I was drawing every bit of his energy into me, fostering the connection, tasting it, loving its intensity and its variety. Our bodies were so in tune that it was like a river delta in which you couldn't tell which way the water was flowing. The build continued and when it felt as though it couldn't be any deeper or more intense, a new dimension would open to us and there would be a little more ... a little deeper ... a little farther to go ...

When the moment of climax came it was sudden and unstoppable. A surge of pleasure emanated from my cervix, passing through the rest of my body paralysing my fingertips and toes. It gripped with an inescapable tension, then burst in an explosion of pleasure, the two of us climaxing simultaneously. For a moment I imagined I could see your face as you watched us, fascinated, helpless to intervene, sensing your ejaculation with your exclusion, but knowing you would not wish it to end.


I realise that this may not be what you were expecting for a first night together, and neither to be honest did I. But you asked me to tell you everything as it happened, and so I have.

This morning we are to ski to the lake, and from what Oly has intimated, this sounds as if it will be another daring adventure for me to recount.

With love, N

[Chrislydi]

I thought she was extremely meticulous in her description, not so much in the careful snd precise sense of the word but in her extraordinary attention to detail. No movement, feeling or even hidden emotion was left out, nothing as it might apply to both their interaction in the present, or your remote access both at the time and afterwards. I maybe interpreting it too literally, but I'm not so sure what you might have expected from their first night together, considering the inevitable tiredness and complex feelings involved.

Did she think it was far more intense than you might have expected (for a first night)?

[aaardvarky]

Checking my emails before leaving for work on Monday and Tuesday, with no message from N, left me feeling low. I knew she and Lars were to attend the Monday conference in Oslo, but had hoped for a few lines after their first night together. Of course I couldn’t have anticipated that they would be trapped at the conference centre, sleeping in single beds, their departure for Vestland delayed. There was still no message when I arrived home on Tuesday evening. It was as if N had travelled to the far side of the moon, from which communication was impossible, and I was left with a sense of frustrated apprehension.

It was therefore with relief that in the early hours of Wednesday morning I received her first message. I pictured their meeting at the airport and their first kiss, remembering our parting kiss at Gatwick, and more memorably their absorbing kiss during that unforgettable night we spent together. As if watching a sepia film, I pictured them walking away arm-in-arm to his vintage car, and the breeze of warm air surrounding them as they motored from Olso.

It was at the point that she described their arrival at Lars’ mountain cottage that N’s picture gained sharp focus. I absorbed her description of Lars’ Hytte, smelling the wood smoke and aroma of cooking. The scene seemed real and ‘normal’, as if I was spying on strangers rather than observing my own wife. When she wrote of the moment they stood together before the fjord my heart leaped and breathing stopped. Her account injected the challenging inevitability of my denial of the pleasure I craved, and a realisation of the pleasures they were to share.

N’s second message followed immediately in my email box. I was about to open it when instinct told me that I should wait. Like you, my dear reader, I had no doubt of what might follow, and this moment was not the right time to read it. With fascinated apprehension of what awaited, I closed the laptop.

Just as N foretold, I spent time in anxious anticipation. For those readers who are familiar with this feeling, that which I experienced will be instantly familiar - an unresolving churning of frustrating energy that kept drawing me to read her message, whilst resisting it led to an exquisite frustration of sexual tension.

It was later that evening, after a supper alone in a silent house, that I turned to N’s message 3.

What I had craved since Lar’s visit to London flooded back into my mind. N’s vivid description created visceral images - candid, uncensored, erotic and unashamed. Each detail she recounted spoke of what I valued, what she would bestow on Lars and what I was to be denied. I felt a jealousy tinged with erotic fascination. N’s description of their pleasure suffused though me. I was so captured in their moment of connection that it became my moment. Without touching I was gripped with an intense shudder that matched theirs, as if N had reached out to wring from me an ecstasy laminated with irresistible pain.

[BDJ]

I have fond memories of love letters, though long discarded, from my young wife while I was away from her for a eight weeks. Though mostly composed of seemingly banal observations, she never-the-less gripped me by the testicles when she juxtaposed loving endearments with snippets of information about her new lover. It was doubly exciting because it was the very first time she had spread her wings and seduced one of my young co-workers...all by herself. So yes, I love that you put such details in your writing.

[aaardvarky]

BDJ, its good to know that I am not alone in valuing the potency of a letter! It is simply something that you read and cannot interrupt or question. It offers what it chooses to offer rather than what the reader may demand. I am pleased to read about your experience when young. Thank you for your kind words.

Chrislydi, again thank you for staying with the story. You are so right about N's remarkable detail. It is partly because she is made that way, and partly a measure of her candour in light of our agreement to share everything. As the story progresses you may see how N's choice to retain the closest connection works out. Regarding the 'first night' intensity - I suspect that feelings were elevated following failure of their Monday plans! That said, N's description of events was quite surprising, making a challenging read!

[Chrislydi]

There always seems an added piquancy to experiencing such emotional reunions remotely, and the confused thoughts and perhaps delayed communications may only have added to this.

Beautifully described as usual, but there is one point that's puzzled me, it's more than likely my own fault as I've not been paying enough attention to the way time passes throughout your account, but initially your wife and Lars knew each other in the 1970's so to quote

'We were young; it was the 1970s, just part of normal life, not defining, simply present, understood and accepted. They were friends in Oslo before we met, and they had stayed in contact. He would arrange to meet when visiting on business. His trips were regular, but not frequent. I would be working, so distanced from events. Afternoons gradually drew into evenings without protest or discussion. I didn’t feel insecure or indignant; it just seemed casual and unthreatening. Unattached and respectful, he was never unkind or intrusive, and maybe that was why his visits became a normal part of life.

Weeks earlier when she suggested inviting him to dinner, I confess I had been strangely fascinated, any ambivalence evaporating as we spoke about it..... '

So by the time of the invite for dinner is this a long time after the 1970's? I would think, let's say thirty years afterwards, as you talk of emails and it must be the later 90's before emails became so universal, even perhaps the turn of the century?

[aaardvarky]

Chrislydi, well spotted! My first entry, posted in January 2022, was a stand-alone story which I felt worked best as a period piece. Encouraging messages from Bubbajack, Rocketman, OOAA and especially Antidote2909 spurred me to consider writing more, but by April, the ‘edit’ facility had disappeared from my original post, meaning that I was not able to change and update the time period. So I was stuck with this lacuna, having no way to resolve it without changing the plan for what I was to write next. Yes, it did concern me, but I hoped it might escape unnoticed! I quite like the idea of continuity from the first episode to the trip, importing more of a poly status to the story. Its just a pity that I was unable to edit backwards!

[Chrislydi]

..... I was not able to change and update the time period. So I was stuck with this lacuna, having no way to resolve it without changing the plan for what I was to write next. Yes, it did concern me, but I hoped it might escape unnoticed! I quite like the idea of continuity from the first episode to the trip, importing more of a poly status to the story. Its just a pity that I was unable to edit backwards!

Yes, time lapses should be ignored, it works better with the continuity in place as in effect that's what actually happened. The poly element is central to my whole understanding of the interdependence of the relationships and how this 'triangular' one grew with time.

[aaardvarky]

Chrislydi, that is what I figured, and I appreciate that you agree. I love this triangular configuration from the point of view of the denier and the denied as they report their progress to higher and more challenging levels of eroticism. For me the cerebral is more erotically powerful than the physical - the anticipation and expectation more poignant than the actuality. That is why I am writing about it from a reported perspective, keyed to the emotional implications for the characters rather than that of the physical detail. It differs in effect from the ‘real time’ sex that is ubiquitous on the OHW group. I am pleased you are still with the story and not too concerned about my continuity lapse!

[Chrislydi]

Chrislydi, that is what I figured, and I appreciate that you agree. I love this triangular configuration from the point of view of the denier and the denied as they report their progress to higher and more challenging levels of eroticism. For me the cerebral is more erotically powerful than the physical - the anticipation and expectation more poignant than the actuality. That is why I am writing about it from a reported perspective, keyed to the emotional implications for the characters rather than that of the physical detail. It differs in effect from the ‘real time’ sex that is ubiquitous on the OHW group. I am pleased you are still with the story and not too concerned about my continuity lapse!

I could write a long reply but it would be both repetitive and completely unnecessary. Your more remote access giving an emotionally connected but physically detached perspective, the way you write about immediate feelings and the deeper emotions involved in that special three way connection, all combine to make your account worth reading. It's a refreshing change from the norm.

[aaardvarky]

Dear L,
It seems to be an age since this morning. So much has happened, and whilst I know where to start….I am not sure where I should stop! I must warn you that today’s events and my response to them have surprised even me. You may find them quite challenging - so if you are not in a quiet place with an open-mind, stop now and return to my message when you feel able!

I mentioned that we planned to go to the lake, a four kilometer ski from the cottage. Oly packed a towel, a blanket and the lunch that Maia had prepared for us, and we set off through the forest. The skis loaned by Maia were perfect, as was the glorious sunshine that glistened through the trees and flooded the glades. I am amazed how deserted this place is. Save for distant Reindeer and the call of an Artic Fox, we encountered nothing and no-one throughout the journey.

Arriving at the lake just after midday, Oly spread the blanket over fresh snow and we set about our picnic of Brunost, Nøkkelost, Jarlsberg and Fenalår, washed down with a non-alcoholic Glögg.

When Oly stripped for his swim in the lake, I made to walk to the tree line to take a pee. As I did so I felt Oly’s hand grasp my wrist saying, ‘Don’t leave’. His request was both question and request, an innocent look of supplication crossing his face. ‘And why might you want to watch me, Olly?’, I asked. ‘It’s simple’, he continued, ‘I want us to do something outside our comfort zones that will bond us in erotic energy’.

My confliction at his request and confusion at his explanation gave way to a feeling of embarrassment tinged with curiosity. The night before when he and I made love, shared passion with Oly was something that you and I had discussed before I left London. But his proposition was complicated and uncontemplated, representing an act that could unite Oly and I in a different dynamic. Yet I must admit that my feeling of guilt dissipated with the fascination of succumbing to his request…and I was intrigued by a novel act of exclusion that, when I told you of it, you might enjoy.

Now naked, Oly lay away from me in the snow. Interlocking our fingers he pulled me forward towards him. My mind was dizzy with thoughts of domination and submission, of control and being controlled, of ownership and being owned - of me by him and of him by me. I sensed that for Oly it was about the act itself, whereas for me it permitted safe entry to previously forbidden territory. Whilst he had initiated the idea, I sought to exploit it for my own curiosity.

Afterwards, he looked deeply into my eyes as if I was the most important thing in his life and pulled me towards him for our lips to meet. We smiled, then laughed and Oly sprang to his feet, raced naked to the jetty and like a silver fish, dived into the lake. I followed, to wait for him at the end of the pier whilst bathing my feet in the icy water.

Leaving the lake, skiing hand-in-hand through the glades I experienced a different and novel sense of connection with Lars, deeper and more binding, intensified by what had transpired. Whereas last night’s love making had been about the exchange of sexual and emotional energy, this was about attaining unity.

Below us, the light in the little window twinkled and a fresh plume of smoke rose from below the tree line. My heart was singing. And my mind somehow drifted to the possibility that evening of wearing ‘the dress’.

[Chrislydi]

‘I want us to do something outside our comfort zones that will bond us in erotic energy’ ...(an act).that could unite Oly and I in a different dynamic. ...thoughts of domination and submission, of control and being controlled, of ownership and being owned - of me by him (Olly) and of him by me

A closer connection between the two of them with your exclusion perhaps more real and harder to process?

[BDJ]

My satisfaction is derived from the need to really read every word of the story to fully grasp your intent. It is delicious for those of us who love the written word. I savor each passage, forcing myself to ignore mundane distractions. John Jasson and Chrislydi are two others who give me joy simply marveling at their sentence structure, not to mention that of which they write. I am enjoying the experience of discovery as yet another artist with words reveals him/herself to me.

[aaardvarky]

BDJ - what a delight to read your comment; thank you for taking the time to post it. It is encouragement from my tiny band of readers that motivates my desire to keep writing, so you are definitely instrumental in this creative process! On the whole, those that post stories here on OHW write for their own interest and satisfaction. I sense it is that which makes many contributions authentic - members writing for themselves rather than to a formula. I especially enjoy the use of words that create impact rather than simply carrying a narrative. I take quite a bit of time to revise what I have written - I recognise forfeiting ‘immediacy’ of flow, but enabling the contrast of a crafted description.

[aaardvarky]

My readers may wish to know how I felt after reading N’s account of her experience with Lars at the lake. The answer is complicated, given my exclusion from the event - whilst being included in her account. Like you, I pictured the scene, imagining being present to observe as I had been during Lars’ visit to London. I experienced powerful compersion for N, but also the underlying vulnerability that it induced. With her sexual freedom, N had stepped away from the confines of our intimate life together breaching with Lars a taboo that was imbued with erotic meaning for them, physically, sexually and emotionally. The realisation of Lars’ desire for unity with N made me consider how N would deal with what she described as ‘a different and novel sense of connection with Lars’…‘more binding, intensified by what had transpired’, and what might be the implications of it for us. The question was both arousing and disconcerting.

It was as if I was receding into the shadows as her accounts became more visceral. It reminded me of Apollo 11 where, as Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin circled the far side of the moon, communication with the earth was severed and they disappeared from view. I became suddenly aware that for Lars and N, their time together was likely to develop an intensity from which I was to be increasingly excluded, and from which the outcome for all of us was quite uncertain.

[Chrislydi]

I like the analogy with Apollo 11, you could even develop it further, and perhaps this was implied. Neill Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon and went down in history, while the largely forgotten Michael Collins stayed with the spacecraft piloting it around the moon, to be permanently the forgotten one, the one noone remembers. The analogy doesn't quite hold up, as of course this was always preplanned, there were no surprises, and no deviation from the expected course of events.

Here of course Lars and N had a clear choice they could have been far more inclusive of L back home in London, stuck some might say rather rigidly, to the preset plan and kept strictly to the script. They didn't and perhaps this is were life and it's many choices comes in. Life is not a screenplay and you're not reading from a script, circumstances, events and human emotions interact, things do not all go like clockwork, choices have to be made on the go and not with any right or wrong answers.

They made their choice, and it at this point that has to be hard for L to accept without a great deal of reflection on how this changes things, and of course how the new bond between N and Lars may now go much further, stretching out into unchartered territory. It may now be up to N to rein Lars in and pull back from this developing and perhaps damaging intensity, or risk permanently changing her relationship with L.

For me Lars has essentially instigated a potential breakdown of trust in a more selfish action, he's almost tried to manufacture a split in the threesome and tried to make N and himself that bit more special, the Armstrong and Aldrin to L's
Collins, the forgotten man left in London.

[aaardvarky]

Chris, well spotted again. However the problem with relationships is that they tend not to stick to ‘the script’ and things develop in ways that are difficult to predict. I sense that you may enjoy the next episode!

[aaardvarky]

Dear L

One of the joys of the Hytte is having the use of my own room and ensuite bathroom. After taking tea together it was here that I retreated for a rest, to shower, and to prepare for the evening with Oly.

Spread out on the bed straight from unpacking is ‘the dress’, a selection of lingerie alongside, and a pair of stockings still in cellophane wrapping. Whilst not the the style for a wedding, the dress reminds me of a bridal gown - possibly its sheen, maybe the way it moves as I walk; but most probably that evening, the first time I wore it, and the erotic memories with which we imbued the taffeta. I lifted it so as not to shed a drop of its magic and inhaled the smell of fabric and perfume that lingers still.

When I asked you if I could bring the dress to Vestland you understood the sensual implications for me, and I knew of the conflicting feelings my request would provoke for you. I had thought that you would seek to dissuade me, sensing its danger. Yet I suspect it was that same charge that compelled you to agree, and in doing so, adding excitement by encouraging me to invest it with a new and different energy.

So I have decided that tonight is to be the night to wear the dress. I am writing now that you may anticipate its effect, and dream of its consequence. I will write again tomorrow.

Sweet dreams,

N

[Chrislydi]

Dear L

One of the joys of the Hytte is having the use of my own room and ensuite bathroom. After taking tea together it was here that I retreated for a rest, to shower, and to prepare for the evening with Oly.

Spread out on the bed straight from unpacking is ‘the dress’, a selection of lingerie alongside, and a pair of stockings still in cellophane wrapping. Whilst not the the style for a wedding, the dress reminds me of a bridal gown - possibly its sheen, maybe the way it moves as I walk; but most probably that evening, the first time I wore it, and the erotic memories with which we imbued the taffeta. I lifted it so as not to shed a drop of its magic and inhaled the smell of fabric and perfume that lingers still.

When I asked you if I could bring the dress to Vestland you understood the sensual implications for me, and I knew of the conflicting feelings my request would provoke for you. I had thought that you would seek to dissuade me, sensing its danger. Yet I suspect it was that same charge that compelled you to agree, and in doing so, adding excitement by encouraging me to invest it with a new and different energy.

So I have decided that tonight is to be the night to wear the dress. I am writing now that you may anticipate its effect, and dream of its consequence. I will write again tomorrow.

Sweet dreams,

N

Sometimes it can be useful to remind ourselves of why the wearing of a simple garment is infused with such significance, why it carries such symbolism for what they're about and what all of this means.

'It was indeed a dress that women covet - and most men would yearn to remove. Had it a voice, it would have demanded attention from its hanger. With subtlety and allure the dress drew both the eye and the imagination. It was sublime, tight fitting across the torso with perfect decollage, full in the skirt, and moved on N with a rustle of crisp Persian silk-shot taffeta.

Home after its first outing, N requested a last dance on the terrace before returning the dress to its hanger. Pedro Laurenz’ tango ‘Todo’ drifted to where, in close embrace, we danced. As Alberto Podesta reached the last bars of his song, N led me to our bedroom. Pressing me against the bed, she knelt across my torso, spreading the skirts of the dress down towards my knees and forward across my chest. I felt the stiffness of the taffeta against my skin, a moment suspended in time, and then her soft, damp presence as she lowered. Within seconds we both realised we were about to climax. It was sudden, as though we had borrowed the lead up and now we were right at the edge with virtually no warning. N felt an intense gripping in two spasms. At the same time I released with a throbbing energy, not once, but repeatedly as though there were no areas I would leave unfertilised.

And now you may understand how the dress came to be invested with the sexual energy and tension which it came to own, an embodiment of passion - and an implication of what its wearing would deliver for the future.'

And now that very Dior dress and all that sexual energy and tension, the passion of those shared moments from the recent past, captured within that dress and transported to this Norwegian Hytte, to somehow bring together the feelings and emotions, that moment of real bonding between N and L, is to be joined by that between N and Lars, to complete the triangle and give it meaning.

You hope the significance of the completed triangle, the energy now shared between all three, will be captured within and help ameliorate any uneveness or distortion to the whole that had threatened it's destruction.

[wannabecUKold]

Chrislydi, well spotted! My first entry, posted in January 2022, was a stand-alone story which I felt worked best as a period piece. Encouraging messages from Bubbajack, Rocketman, OOAA and especially Antidote2909 spurred me to consider writing more, but by April, the ‘edit’ facility had disappeared from my original post, meaning that I was not able to change and update the time period. So I was stuck with this lacuna, having no way to resolve it without changing the plan for what I was to write next. Yes, it did concern me, but I hoped it might escape unnoticed! I quite like the idea of continuity from the first episode to the trip, importing more of a poly status to the story. Its just a pity that I was unable to edit backwards!

FWIW I assumed that they first met in the 1970s at university, and they continued in touch with increasing intensity over 25-30 years, with your understanding and acceptance. They have met up in person, of course, during these years.
Then Lars makes the visit described by you. For this visit it is understood what is going to happen. Perhaps the opportunity for him to stay like this had finally arisen when offspring had left home and you two had time and opportunity for yourselves.
Then follows her trip to Norway, not immediately because this symphony is andante not allegro. Some years could pass. But the need for the trip, to give them time away together, was recognised and planned for.

Many of us will recognise this scenario: our wife has a friend - most likely an ex boyfriend - with whom she has a deep connection. They split up because they had come together too early in life. And you had married her and made a family. But she had always kept in touch with him. He had always remembered her birthday. They had periodically lunched together or he had taken her out when in town. And finally the time came when it was recognised between the three of you - though barely spoken of - that there could be, and needed to be, a consummation, as beautifully described by aardvarky. See how she needs you, her husband, to lie next to her as she takes him into her.

[aaardvarky]

Dear L
It is now a freshly snow-clad Thursday afternoon here in Vestland and I have returned briefly to my room to describe what happened last night. Did you dream of me wearing ‘the dress’? What did you do? How did you feel? What was your response?
Well here is your chance to compare your fantasy with my reality!

After showering I dressed just as I had planned, although I discarded the thong and brassiere as the dress provided all the support I needed, but I kept the suspender belt and stockings for the sexy way they make me feel.

When I entered the kitchen Oly was preparing a supper of Fiskeboller i Hvit Saus - haddock and cod combined with cornflour, milk, and eggs, rolled into spheres, lightly cooked and served with a béchamel sauce.

Standing behind him I placed my hands on his hips whilst watching him work. His fresh linen shirt smelled of cologne and impulsively I pressed my lips to the back of his neck to breathe in his aroma. He smiled and turned. Looking straight at me he exclaimed, ‘wow N, where have you and that dress been all my life? You look gorgeous’. So it was quite early in the evening that I knew I had made the right decision to wear it!

After supper with the lights dimmed and to Tord Gustavsen trio’s ‘Circling’, we danced out to the veranda. The moon lit the snow with an iridescent glow across to the fjord, where it formed a streak of pale light. I buried my face into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body, and pushed my fingers through his thick hair. It was one of those supremely romantic moments, almost certainly unique in a lifetime, energising, exciting and sensual. His lips met mine in a deep kiss, our breath was exchanged and sexual tension transferred. His right hand left my waist and reached beneath the hem of ‘the dress’ which with taffeta petticoats, he slid above my knees, and then further until his fingers touched a suspender strap. Our lips were still connected when he released the fabric and his hand moved across my naked mons pubis to the outer lips of my labia, sending a shudder of arousal through my being. I could feel him stiffen as his trousers brushed against my leg. The urge to take him inside me was unstoppable. I moved my right hand to unfasten his flies and liberated his erect cock. At that very moment he lifted me onto the veranda rail, and with one arm encircling my body, he entered me.

Our love making there lasted for what felt like minutes until he released me and we returned to the warmth of the Hytte. Oly led me to his room, unzipped ‘the dress’, gently lowering it to the floor as if he comprehended its authority, and I stepped from within its magic circle and into his arms. Naked on the bed, he continued to serve me, thrusting deeply, stretching me, driving me to an unstoppable climax. We came simultaneously as if our bodies had been tuned by the day’s events and ‘the dress’. I screamed with sexual relief, almost passing out with pleasure and the knowledge of his massive ejaculation.

Afterwards, we did not speak but clung to one another, feeling as though we had gone a stage beyond the known, into a new place where we were both somehow changed. Later we slept, entwined as only lovers can when all boundaries lie without and what is within is totally fused, refreshed and recreated into a vibrant space.

When we awoke the sun already filled Oly’s room with light. He hugged me to him and I nestled, feeling comforted by his strength, warmth and the intensity of the love that seemed to swirl tangibly between us. I could feel him inside me still and all around me, as though I could breathe him and he held me as though I was the most precious thing to his soul.

Rising, I carefully collected ‘the dress’ and returned it to my room where, rather than hanging it, I folded it so as to contain its energy. Reflecting, I can say that I am thrilled I brought ‘the dress’ to Vestland. Yet I now realise that it encompasses a very different energy from when I wore it with you. But, be assured that if I return, I will let you experience its new magic in one way or another.

With love,

N

[Chrislydi]

Exceptional aaardvarky,

I'm all out of superlatives, a beautifully written, highly erotic and very moving account. You realise we'll expect all future chapters to be equally outstanding, you're setting a very high bar.

Chris.

[aaardvarky]

Her message left me with a dichotomy of feelings - huge compersive joy at the pleasure she was experiencing and sharing with Lars - yet an underlying jealousy at his effect, and her absorption of it. Their exclusivity both thrilled and troubled me.

But I had to remind myself that N had shared with me every detail of her time with Lars, as she had said she would, without censorship or prevarication; and that each detail had been crafted to feed my craving for denial, an obsession that had been forged by Lar’s visit.

Concerning ‘the dress’, at the outset of her message N had asked of the difference between 'my fantasy' and 'her reality'. Whilst I had pictured the moment of her seduction as she wore ‘the dress’, I had not anticipated the dynamic implications of it. I glanced back to my message to her, agreeing that she should take ‘the dress’ to Norway, and it read, ‘Who knows, perhaps, through its energy, it may connect the three of us in the moment of its wearing?’

The question that now required an answer was whether the power of ‘the dress’ could maintain all three walls of the pyramid, or did it simply bolster two, exposing the weakness of the third?

[Chrislydi]

The question that now required an answer was if the power of ‘the dress’ had maintained three walls of the pyramid, or simply bolstered two, exposing the weakness of the third?

The further worry is that even if all three walls are equally strong and intact now, and that's far from a given, will that be anything like the case when she returns? There's only been three days gone, and that's including the 'wasted' night, so another three or four major bonding sessions to come.

I know we've talked of triangles and three sided three dimensional pyramids but what's a two sided structure with no depth, maybe a playing card? Well by the end of this week the whole house of cards may have collapsed.

Chris.