the old robbins house oozed eastlake craftsmanship, from the handcarved bannisters to the floor to ceiling drapes and the ballroom on the third floor (of course).

the caretaker, with his robust russian accent, kindly gave us a tour and carried our bags to the second floor. we took a moment to relax before heading out to a sushi spot just down the road.

i always enjoy meals together, and the unagidon was precisely what i was hungering after. a trip to the liquor store on the way back was also on the menu.

as the sun began to set, we sipped our craft cider and tumbled onto the beautifully dressed bed. i studied the magnificent, exceedingly ornate headboard in quiet awe as he kissed the back of my shoulder and brought his girth to my cunt.

we fucked for almost an hour (or at least it felt like it), and it was absolute heaven. some modern western crime drama played in the background while we scrubbed clean in the gleaming marble bathroom and then fucked some more, this time with my ankles gathered to his shoulder. i must have cum five or six times in short, wild bursts of pleasure as he bottomed out raw. i clutched at his outer thighs to keep him deep as we caught our breath, the effects of the delta 8 candies making every point of contact sparkle. i felt heavy and light at the same time, and we kissed slow until he went soft and fished out a towel for me to clean up.

by morning’s light, he was between my knees again, our fingers laced and a handful of lube between us. my muscles ached but the pain dulled quickly. we went slow, still a little sleepy, and he took his sweet time working us both. i followed his hips between orgasmic spasms and did little else but gasp and clutch at the bedding.

breakfast was served at precisely 10 o’clock in the parlor, a hearty meal of toast, eggs, fruit, and pancakes dusted in powdered sugar. i ate as daintily as i could but i was starving. i studied the ornate mantle and handpainted ceiling motif as he talked about the therapeutic effects of delta 8 and how there are 44 candles on his birthday cake, not 48.

a wolf-headed man in the fields.