Mar
23
Love on a summer evening
Filed Under Incest | Comments Off
It is late summer, early evening, the stars are just beginning
to twinkle. We are naked, in our hot tub or heated swimming
pool, our bodies glistening with moisture, the warm breeze
caressing the water droplets on our skin. We hold each other
loosely, our bodies adjusting comfortably to each natural
contour, soft hands on smooth skin, mine around your waist,
yours on the sides of my shoulders, and lean in for our first
kiss. We move slowly, our heads circling down with sinuous
grace, our moistened lips moving towards their point of
first contact, our tongues savoring the tastes, textures
and sensations as if for the first time. We caress one another
with gentle, patient hands, enjoying water softened skin
as smooth as silk, as pleasing as satin, finding and lingering
over those errogenous zones inherent in each of our bodies.
We pleasure each other orally, as always, first cunnilingus
for you, then fellatio for me. We begin to make love, again
slowly at first, prolonging the first magnificent friction
of my massive member gliding smoothly into your perfect
passageway, the warm water sending ripples outward in
time to our slow rhythm. As the evening progresses toward
night, the flickering firelight from the tiki torches
encircling the deck capture the dance, casting long shadows
that are themselves sensous. As we cycle through our expansive
repertoire of hallowed positions, chronicled and perfected
through the centuries in the Kama Sutra, our intensity
increases, the waters becoming agitated, sloshing and
splashing in time with our efforts. At appropriate intervals
through the night, we occasionally pause in our luxurious
labors to revisit our linguistic skills on one another,
my lips and tongue craving the taste, texture and depth
of your pussy, you lips and tongue savoring the mass, weight
and girth of my cock. In practiced tantric fashion, we control
and prolong our massive climaxes until the first eager
sunbeams of the new day come streaming over the distant
horizon. Wrapped together in hooded terry cloth beach
robes, we fall fast asleep in each other’s arms, our
oversized hammock rocking very gently in the morning breeze,
the sun drying the last splashes of water from the deck,
unaware of their significance. Fact or fantasy, what’s
the difference. In a life well-lived, every fantasy one
day comes to pass.