CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work. This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
Author’s Notes
This is a fourth chapter to “Like Mother, Like Daughter.” There may be references back to the original, so I would recommend having a quick read to know the background.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sun was already streaming in through the thin curtains by the time I woke up. It was the morning after what had been the most wonderful night before. I stirred under the duvet, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
Something seemed different.
Suddenly I was fully awake, and very aware.
I was naked.
I was alone.
I sat up, questions ringing in my mind. Where was Peter? Why had he left me here? What time was it? It was the latter which worried me most. How long had I been sleeping? The sun seemed ever so bright outside, and I did have a train to catch. There would be no second chance if I messed up my journey back home.
I was still pondering the same when I heard a noise somewhere towards the kitchen. Was it Peter? It had to be, surely, but I didn’t dare call out in case I was wrong.
Silently, I climbed out of bed and grabbed the first thing to hand, a fleece emblazoned on the front with the same university logo I had seen on that envelope. I held it up. Even for Peter, it seemed to be on the generous size. On my smaller frame it would be, well… silently, I laughed, as I slipped the tent-like top over my head.
Yes, it was ever so loose, and about the same length as the little black dress I had worn the evening before. I tried to think of the young Peter wearing the same, in the end deciding that it must have been equally large on him too. For all it was big, it was damn comfortable, soft, warm, and so very…
‘Mmmm,’ I thought to myself as I took my first step and felt the soft fabric slide against my bare nipples. I took a couple more steps. It was like somebody was drawing the softest silkiest feathers across my sensitive nubs, and I could already feel them harden a little.
‘I could get used to this,’ I thought to myself as I reached the bedroom door and peered through, looking into the corridor between bedrooms and kitchen. It was then that it hit me, the full aroma of dark roast coffee.
“Peter,” I whispered, peering into the living area but not seeing my young lover.
“Ah… Sleeping Beauty awakens,” came a most familiar voice from somewhere in the shadows. “Perfect timing, breakfast is served for the most wonderful woman in the world.”
Peter wasn’t joking. As I walked into the kitchen, he was standing there in his dressing gown, dishing up pillowy pancakes from a frying pan.
My heart melted. He was half my age, and here he was putting me first. I’d come here with the expectation of a dirty weekend away, rekindling my innermost desires, but nothing more. Not only had Peter, even at such a youthful age, managed to exceed my every anticipation in the bedroom, he’d gone so much further. With dinner one night, and breakfast the next morning, Peter sure knew how to treat his women… how to treat… little old me.
“Sit yourself down,” he called out, pointing towards a round table with a couple of chairs. “Syrup or yoghurt,” Peter asked.
“Cream?” I replied.
“Sorry, no cream this morning. Just… syrup or yoghurt.”
Cream or no cream, Peter had served up a wonderful surprise. Light fluffy pancakes, juicy red fruit, and natural yoghurt, all washed down with deep dark coffee.
To be honest, he could have served anything, and I would have admired the young lad, but Peter had put some real thought into the weekend. I had doubted the whole idea of coming up to Norwich. How wrong could I have been. Every minute had been wonderful.
That said, all good things had to end.
“What time is it, Peter?” I asked.
“Errm,” he responded, glancing over at the clock on the microwave. “Nine fifteen. Do you need to get going, Amina?”
“How far is the station?”
“I can do it in ten, but I guess give yourself twenty to be on the safe side,” Peter responded.
I smiled.
“Good,” I said. “Still got some time. I want to spend our last hours together, Peter. Come with me. Let’s sit on the sofa. Wrap your arms around me and hold me close. Show me that you love me, Peter.”
“Didn’t I do that last night?” he replied, following me over to the sofa.
“Oh yes, Peter,” I smiled back at him. “Last night you made love to me… took me to that special place… quenched my every desire like only you can do. Now though… now, I want to feel your love… to feel your warmth… your sensuality… your need for us to be together. I’ve loved this weekend, not just the sex, but being with you too, Peter.”
“And I’ve loved it too Amina,” he replied, wrapping his arm around me as we sat together on the sofa.
I snuggled my head up against his soft gown, and Peter pulled me in close. For a few minutes, neither of us said a word. I closed my eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall, imagining the thump of his heartbeat.
It was just what I needed. It was just what Zeeshan never thought about giving. Yes, the sex was great, but that wasn’t all I wanted, all I needed. It was trivial things like the dinner, like the breakfast, like the security of being in his arms that I also needed to feel.
Was it a test for the young lad?
Was I trying to see how deep his feelings truly went?
Was Peter passing it with flying colours?
Without thinking, I ran my hand over his dressing gown. I found the opening between the two front panels and slipped my hand between the folds of soft fabric, far enough to feel his warmth but without touching my lover. I was half expecting Peter to do the same, to run his arm down my back and reach for my hidden naked ass. He never did. He just sat there, his arm still clasped around me, holding me in close.
Even when I slid my hand further inside his dressing gown, and ran my fingers across his bare chest, Peter never wavered from the cuddle he was giving. I glanced up at him and smiled.
“Where did I find you, Peter?” I asked, lifting my head, and placing a soft kiss on his lips as he gazed down at me.
“I seem to think… well… didn’t I find you, Amina?” came his reply.
“Amina… yes… Amina. Did you know my daughter?”
“Yes,” Peter replied. “She was beautiful, like you.”
“I miss her, you know. I wish she was still here with me.”
“I miss her too, Amina. I have a lot to thank your daughter for. If it wasn’t for your Amina, I would never have met my Amina,” Peter responded.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean…” Peter started but never finished.
It was my lips up against his mouth which put pay to any explanation. I knew just what he meant. If it wasn’t for my daughter, our lives would never have crossed. Peter had a lot to thank Amina for, and I guessed I had too. Deep down, I hoped the real Amina wouldn’t be disappointed in the way I took her name for granted, and the way I was putting myself first for once.
As we kissed, I slipped my hand out from inside his dressing gown. I gripped at the belt holding his gown together and gave it a gentle pull. It was enough to loosen the front of Peter’s gown, just far enough for to pull the top open. I placed my head back down, this time resting against his bare chest, this time feeling the warmth of his skin against my cheek. I could hear his heart beating fast, and I knew it wasn’t my imagination.
“You will make somebody very happy, Peter,” I said.
“Don’t I make you very happy, Amina?” he replied.
“Oh, Peter,” I responded, bring my hand up and placing it against his bare cheek as I kissed the young lad once more. “You don’t know how happy you make me feel. I just don’t have the words to tell you.”
I paused for a moment, simply looking up at the sweet young Peter.
“It’s just… well… one day I will grow old, and you… you will still be young,” I continued.
“Shhh,” Peter responded. “Until that day comes, we have each other, and once it arrives my love for you will never wane.”
“I love you, Peter… I do love you.”
As I spoke, I ran my hand back down over his chest, all the way until my arm nestled around his waist. Without warning, I pulled Peter in close. I wasn’t intending to, but my very movement released the loosely tied belt, and Peter’s gown fell open.
“No clothes?” I teased, glancing down at his now visible cock.
“Errm… I’m… sorry…” Peter responded, suddenly feeling that his nakedness was breaking the moment. “I just wanted to surprise you with breakfast, before you woke up. I didn’t want to disturb you as I got dressed.”
“Sorry?” I asked. “Do you hear me saying sorry?”
I didn’t wait for any answer. Instinctively, I reached down and placed my hand over his limp manhood. It was the first time I’d really felt him soft like this. I knew what I was doing, and what effect it would have on the young lad, but I just couldn’t help myself but start to play.
Peter didn’t disappoint. There was something so satisfying in his reaction. Peter’s cock swelled under my fingers, as I teased at his limpness. There was no denying it, blood was rushing through his young body, heading down to meet my every caress. I felt his manhood pulse, then stiffen, pulse again, then lengthen.
Oh yes, this was the Peter I had come to love.
In no time at all, Peter’s limpness was becoming a memory. He was growing with every touch and, yes, I was making sure to touch every inch of him. I ran my hand down and toyed with his balls for a while, then returned to his stiffer but still pliable cock. Wrapping my fingers around his shaft, I started to stroke my lover… long, slow movements along the very length of his manhood.
“Do you like that?” I asked, continuing to work his rapidly hardening member.
“Mmmm, Amina,” Peter replied. “I thought you had a train to catch.”