How Dreams Are Ended

Emilia needed no reminders that only the two of them were left of the Ferreira family who had been the founding members of the business, Ferreira Ceramica. It had become a niche business making, decorating, and selling the output of a small Galician pottery company that catered to the many tourists who flocked to see the rugged coastline that looked out onto the Atlantic Ocean, or wandered through the lush woodlands; or admired the architecture of ancient buildings. Some even mastered the Galician dialect.

She had joined the company soon after her marriage to Julio, the true founding owner whose idea it had been to use the redundant buildings, on part of the family's farm, to create a place where he could devote all of his time and skills to a craft that he had learned, and perfected, in La Coruña before moving on. He had always been an independent and creative spirit and she had been captivated by his enthusiasm and seemingly inexhaustible energy.

She had loved and been loved for the five years of her marriage, a love match that had ended tragically when the van, that the business used for delivering stock to outlets along the coast, had been struck by a truck, the driver dead at the wheel from a heart attack and Julio unable to avoid a collision.

It had happened two empty years ago, now, but Pablo, Julio's nephew, had helped her through the worst of times. Just by his presence, he'd let her know that he would stay loyal to what his uncle had built up from nothing and that she had been such a part of. Pablo was an inventive and gifted painter, the deft application of swirls of colour, or geometric patterns, on plates, jugs, cups, and serving dishes such a feature of Ferreira's output. For the tourists, the riot of colours applied to plant pots was the icing on what had become an ever-larger cake that was the company's annual turnover.

When she wasn't dealing with sales and deliveries by trusted haulage companies for customers outside their immediate sphere of influence, both she and Pablo would drive the company's replacement van; who undertook that task depended on where the pressure points lay but, young as he was, Pablo had always been a stickler for quality and would not be rushed in his decoration of the fired items, applying the glazes and swirls of colour to the designs that she had pencilled onto the items that would be in the next, and final, firing run.

Circumstances had made them fall into a closer collaborative effort and she had drawn comfort from that. In what they each did it was clear that an artist lived in each of them. What was also happening, and that neither of them would put a voice to, was that they were becoming involved with each other; they were drawing closer.

Restraint, brought on by a continuing sense of family ties, heightened the sense of frustration and that only a kind word or snatched glance might ease away. She was a widow in her early forties; he was a young and single man, unattached to anyone as far as she knew, and twenty-five. Longing and frustration must have been seen in each other's eyes and yet neither dared to cross the line.

What would people say of them if they discovered that they had tumbled into an affair? Had it begun even before Julio's untimely death they would ask? How could she do that with a much younger man?

Respect, for how it had once been, was taking its toll on each of them.

As he worked, Pablo knew that she was around, dealing with orders and packing them in readiness for collection by a courier company that sent a vehicle to the pottery once a week. Others were being packaged for them to deliver to local tourist hotspots.

"Do you need some help?" he called out, unable to keep his eyes off her.

It often felt that he had a permanent hard-on when Emilia was around. What she was seen to be wearing today was only making that sense of arousal worse. She was no beauty queen, but her voluptuous body was clothed in a V-neck blouse, a swirly skirt with a chequered pattern, and a cardigan that hung loose and open. The blouse shaped her and revealed her smooth-skinned cleavage. Her face was bereft of all makeup. Why bother with that when it was flawless and her luscious lips full and their natural colour unspoiled? Captivated by the sight of her, Emilia's discreet application of a favoured scent made his involvement with her complete.

"No, it's okay," she answered, "you helped me earlier in loading the van."

Emilia smiled as she met his look upon her. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to do that, just as it was not to feel as besotted with him as he was with her. They seemed to be drawing closer with each passing day, and the sharp ache of loss was relieved by his attentive company. They took the simple pleasure of being able to continue working together.

Pablo put the remaining pieces that he had been working on into the kiln, making sure that what they had both put into it earlier had not been disturbed. He then closed the doors and secured them, turned the timer to the setting required, and stepped away.

"Aiee, sorry!" he exclaimed as he bumped into her, not realising that she had moved to stand close by him, at his shoulder.

She gave him a soft smile before brushing past him, Pablo breathing in Emilia's unmistakable scent.

"I'm just checking what you have done. We agreed on that, we each do that for the other," she told him. "I want to come with you and deliver what is in the van. I need to do some customer relations, see them face to face in their shops, and not just rely on our phone calls. Do you mind?"

Pablo laughed. "Of course, I don't mind!"

"Then I'll gather my things and I'll meet you at the van. I'll tell Carmiña and Virxinia not to worry about the kiln. It will turn itself off after all, won't it?"

"Sure," he answered, distracted by seeing how Emilia brushed back her hair and fastened it in a grip at the back of her head. He catalogued every curve and movement of the woman before him.

They would be together for a while and could talk. He might even persuade her to stop for a drink and a snack somewhere on the way back. There were plenty of places to choose from in the small towns and villages they would pass through and he would be alone with a woman whose physical appearance got to him, even in the confines of the factory and showroom.

The van moved soundlessly over the road and they had the chance to talk.

"There are days I get pretty low, but I guess you know that?" she said, not looking at him but gazing out of the window instead. "I'm always glad that I have you with me to run the business."

"We're partners in that way, just as you were with Julio," he answered, casting only a moment's glance her way as the road rose and fell, the rugged scenery changing and the tree canopies of the forest on either side blotting out the sun, or rays of light pooling occasionally on the road ahead. "I'm glad we got the business side of the trip finished so quickly. I'll have something new to work on but all that I kept thinking of was being with you."

"And," Emilia hesitated, "and now I am ready for it and need special company. You understand me, I think, because I often see it in your eyes...."

She again left her words hanging in the air between them.

"Let me do more than just look at you, Emilia."

Pablo slowed down and fumbled for her hand that lay in her lap. Even through her skirt, he could feel Emilia's warmth and softness of her thigh. She gripped his hand and kept it to her.

"Stop somewhere," was all she asked. When he did, Emilia unhooked her seatbelt and twisted in her seat, her skirt sliding over her thighs and she took his hand again. "When we get back I want to love and to be loved."

She met his kisses and the fingertip caress to her skin as Pablo brushed them over her thigh, a soft groan escaping over his lips. "It's like that too for me, darling! I would let you go on, but I'll wait! Just get us home and love me there!"

Pablo, a younger man with his girlfriends that even she had heard about, was with her and his desiring looks could not be ignored. How could she let go, surrender to the longings that thoughts of them together had again aroused? How would she ever keep it a secret from the rest of the family? How would she be able to conceal that she had been seduced and willingly shared in passionate sex in the home that she had once shared with her late husband?

She had begun to sense that he needed her in that way and her body craved a man's attention in the most energetic and fulfilling ways imaginable and that she so desperately needed. She ached to be wanted and for a man to satisfy his lust for her.

"Have I embarrassed you with the way that I look at you, sometimes?"

"No, you haven't, and it's not sometimes, Pablo, you darling man."

She had kept from saying darling boy, but that was how she so often thought of him because of the age difference between them. But her feelings, and attraction to him, took no account of their ages or the difference between them; she was the widow of Pablo's uncle.

Pablo had seen the disbelief in her wonderful almond-brown eyes, how she looked coyly at him and fingered the necklace, and the bright bauble, that hung so enticingly in her cleavage. He had also watched how her breasts moved as Emilia's slender-fingered hand brushed back her silken black hair, so lustrous, and allowed him to see her unmade face and her skin smooth and unblemished, just like porcelain.

Now that they had spoken of an interest in each other he wanted to see so much more, to see all of her and pay attention to the woman that she was, to caress and kiss every part of her voluptuous and beguiling body, to kiss those wonderfully full lips and to be held in the embrace of her arms and legs. She was no lissom babe, but a mature woman with a passionate soul. He had seen that expressed sometimes, not in a touch upon his arm to encourage him in the work that he did but in the flourishes of the brushes as she applied colourful patterns on a fired piece of clay before it, and many others went back into the kiln.

"Well?" he asked smiling.

"You've given me time," she told him, her voice breaking as she gazed at him with tear-filled eyes, "I've seen from your looks on me that you're being honest with me, and you have been for so long that I would know when you weren't."

"Oh, Emilia, don't be upset," he soothed, breathing softly on her lips as he leaned in and then moved to kiss her gently. "I admired you from a distance, thought how wonderfully strong you were in dealing with all that had happened. And still, you came to work."

"You couldn't have done it all on your own!"

"No, I guess not."

"I'm not upset," she went on and pressed her lips to his cheek. She felt his arms go around her waist and she was crushed against him, felt Pablo's hands caress her hips then slide over her skirt and grip her soft, fleshy, bum cheeks. She pushed forward to encourage him in his desiring touches. "Is being with me...going with me...will it make you feel more alive if you know what I mean?"

She couldn't hold back the rushes of longing as he pressed his lips to her skin and breathed warmly on her cleavage before she guided his head down to the tumble of her heavy breasts, only the thinly brushed cotton fabric of her camisole top between his mouth and her skin. There was no need to fan the flames of aberrant longing that he aroused in her. She felt them too.

"It's been of help to work here and be close to you, but that is a distraction from feelings that I shouldn't have...given what you've been through."

"I understand, how I understand!" She squirmed as his fingers brushed the bared skin of her thigh, the skirt she had chosen to wear, opened to his claims upon her. He smoothed slow caresses over her skin and she trembled, parted her legs some more until his fingers brushed over her mound, and traced a path over her slit. She groaned and felt her body spasm in response to his caresses. "Go on...go on, please!"

"I want you and ...and I have feelings that I cannot control any longer, Emilia!"

She clung to him as he kissed her, trailed kisses down and onto her breasts, and pressed his hungering mouth to her nipples which were to be seen poking against the fabric of her blouse. She tugged loose the fastening at her waist and her blouse fell open. Pablo's gasp of wonder to see her breasts and cleavage fully exposed to his gaze was silenced. She pulled on his hair and drew him down to them.

She groaned in pleasure and called out to him.

" I don't want you to...to control anything! Show me and share all that you feel!" Her pussy felt on fire, was wet, and it gushed. She squirmed as his fingers fumbled before they plagued her. "We've fallen into the web, both of us!"

Deranged, or not, with lust for what he saw of her, Pablo still found ways to caress her, to finger her moist heat that her panties failed to keep from him.

'Help me with this, my feelings for you,?' he kissed, groaning as she finally plucked up the courage to touch the hard swell in his jeans. He cupped her upturned face in his hands and bent to kiss her, open-mouthed and deeply, swirled his tongue until she met him in the wild act of submission to their longing for each other, the riot of emotions that they each aroused.

"In your apartment...love me in your apartment!" she gasped and slipped away, out of his grasp. She ran to the pass door that led from the main house and to his apartment. There had been a time when she and Julio had not been inhibited in their loving of each other and knowing that Pablo lived next door.

"Just help me through," he asked again, embracing her to him and Emilia leaning back as his hands cupped her heavy breasts. "I just need to let it all go and have no one else to help me." He nuzzled kisses to her throat and neck as he held her to him, having her feel the state of his arousal.

Emilia twisted in his embrace and met his hungering kisses. A real man, accomplished and desirable, would take her and possess her body and mind as never before. She had waited for the moment to arrive and, whatever happened as a result, would be dealt with at another time.

She wanted to fuck and to be fucked by the man who slowly began to undress her and she did the same for him, with kisses and caresses no hindrance until they tumbled onto his bed, the late afternoon sunshine outside brightening the room. Until now, there had been no reason for her to be there. Now her lover would see and know of her; he would glory, perhaps, in her body and succumb to what she offered to him and she wished to know of in return.

He had been attentive, reassuring in his slow lovemaking as they fell into sharing every moment they could. She had not been disappointed in feeling the heat of his skin against hers, nor the slow and sensuous movements of his body as his penis found her deeply, sensually, and certainly. His mouth had found her nipples and now they ached, along with her thighs, her experiences with Julio, unlike all that she had shared with Pablo, her young lover who had finally bedded her.

"Don't mark me, Pablo!" She had to tug on his hair as his mouth claimed her nipples hungrily, his hands squeezing on them until her nipples were there for him to take. One hand moved over her bare hip and down her thighs in lazy sweeps of admiration before it rested again on her mound, two fingers working their way into her slicked heat. "Yes, go on, keep on touching me there!"

His hand kept sliding over her mound, cupping it or slowly rubbing up and down, each caress offering enough pressure to drive her insane with longing. And then, every so often, he would slip his fingers between her pussy's swollen lips and beguile her as they slipped in and out.

"You're so wet, beautiful woman." Pablo gazed fondly into her eyes before he slowly bent down to kiss her once more.

"And I want to do something for you. Please, Pablo, lie on your back?"

She wanted to suck his penis, to knead his ball sac once more, only for longer, and to savour the taste of the sex that had already been shared, to feel the lazy sweeps of his hands to her back as she leaned over him, to have some control over a man who had already pleased her beyond enduring.

"You can do what you want...you know enough to please me."

He was turning his body over to her, to have his senses aroused once again by her, a beguiling woman, with her soft skin and fleshy warmth, who had taken all that he brought until she had yelled out in her pleasure, shuddering as one orgasm followed swiftly on another and he had finally flooded her with clammy warmth, no thought given to him wearing a condom. He did not have any.

She began to slowly run her hands over his chest, tugged on the downy hair that covered it, teased the spiral that went down over his belly until she cupped his sac, and dragged fingernails over his trembling, jerking length. Her lips settled on his nipples, one then the other as she worked his length, wanting it to become hard again. She had loved to see how it arced out from his belly and a dense mat of black hair. She couldn't get enough of what he did to her, in body and mind now.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked, as he squirmed underneath her, the clamp of her hand on what he brought strong and only purposeful. The act had been performed on Julio on uncounted times, but now she felt different; what she performed upon him was a prelude to a wasting rut that she did not wish to end. She knew that they had so little time to behave so wantonly.

"Hell no! You're not hurting me! It's quite the opposite!" He had called out in reply and now he resumed pulling on her hair to bring Emilia down onto him once more.

Her nails trailed a path over his belly, along his trembling prick, scratched his ball sac, and then down between his legs. Her tongue traced a path over his penis as she held it, circling the tip with her flickering tongue before she slowly let it slide into her warm mouth, her lips drawn back as her teeth grazed over it. He had asked it of her the first time. Now she knew what to do for him...for herself...for them both.

She tasted the pre-cum as it leaked through the slit in the hood of his penis, sucked again and she felt him buck his hips to meet her claims. She couldn't get enough of him, now, and would do this for the man she had discovered him to be; passionate and devoted to her..

"We're lovers...with every moment that passes." She kissed his penis and felt his hands on her head, then her shoulders.

"And I love everything about you."

She languished in Pablo's embrace as she sat up and Pablo bent to kiss the tumble of her breasts, his hands clamping upon them as they were drawn to his mouth. "You want all of me again, don't you?''

She reached down, between her legs, and found him, brushed the tip of his penis over her pussy's lips, and had the head part them, to nestle there as she again sought to get used to him being there and all that he brought. He rubbed his cock tip up and down, letting her juices coat it, each caress of that domed tip bringing pleasure and the urgent need to have him find her once more.

It was beyond enduring as he slowly made her settle upon him, rocking her hips and thrusting forward and back until her bum brushed over his hips in a sensual rhythm.

She pinched the skin of his chest as they moved slowly together, Pablo holding her hips or offering sliding caresses to her breasts, Emilia rocking forward and back or gripping the hands that he held out to her so that she could lean back and be taken in a different, stretching and caressing rhythm.

"You're at home in me again...so deep in me again," she groaned as she slowly rode him and felt Pablo's hands grip her hips and he began to set the pace. Her breaths sharpened as she struggled to keep up with his raging demands on her body, her breasts jerking and brushing over his skin as she tried to slow him in his demands upon her. "I...I can't go on like this!"