Her happiness
It must have been June of 2002, when we strolled along the pathway by the sea. The breeze was a welcome respite from the hot weather.
She held my hand furtively at first, then slipped her arm over mine. We didn't do this during our early years. As a matter of fact, we couldn't have dated more than a couple of times. So why were we walking like this under the moonlit night, like any star-crossed couple?
We had got out of the automobile, because the public car park was too brightly lit for any private intimacy.
The night was cool, the humidity wasn't too bothersome. I was looking for a dark secluded spot. Shadowy areas where the tree and tropical foliage will provide cover from the merciless expose of the streetlights. As it was long past the dining hour, there were few others wandering around after a seaside meal.
She wore dark Adidas track pants. Slipping my hand from her waist, I reached into the elastic waist band from behind, and dived under her panties. Inched down the crack of her cool bottom, and fingered her puckered anal orifice. "I'm not clean down there," she whispered. Regardless, my index finger pushed past the spincter muscle, which contracted spasmically as I invaded her secret canal. She wasn't comfortable with the intrusion.
We came upon one of the few benches in the park. Bending her over the slatted back rest, I pulled her pants down to her hips, revealling the two moons in the shadowy night. Whipping out my partially erect phallus, I tried to insert it into her. But her anal opening was too dry, or too small. Lubrication, more than convenient mouth spit, was needed. With both hands, I spread her cheeks, and probed with the hardening tool. She wriggled her bum to help, thrusting it backwards against my blood engorged rod. It must entered an inch, the foreskin stretched back by the effort, and I felt the cool flesh inside. The constricting tightness gave great pleasure, but it was not wet and hot like her vaginal chamber. At the sound of approaching footsteps, we disengaged and sat down on the bench, as it was designed for.
The female walking past eyed the bulge of my erection, distending my pants, but her geek partner was focussing straight ahead.
We decided to resume activity in the car, lights or no lights.
She adjusted the seat controls, to slide it all the way back, so she could find more space in the foot well below the glove compartment. Like a child opening a birthday present, she undid my belt buckle and unbuttoned my fly to reach in and take out her sex toy. Pumping vigorously with her fist, she was anxious to bring it to life quickly. Her attention was dedicated to the veined rod of flesh, not the twin bags of testicles. Sliding the hardening shaft between her lips, I saw her cheeks hollow out as she sucked in deeply. She tongued it skillfully, rimming the corona, and never once did I feel her sharp teeth. I pressed her head down, trying to push the swollen head into the deep recess of her throat. From my perspective, all I could see was the top of her bobbing head, her tresses spread wantonly across my bare thighs. Repositioning myself, I sought the the sight of my penis disappearing into her mouth, and reappearing magically moist with her warm saliva. I gathered her hair into a severe ponytail, so as to see her whole face pleasuring my member, her eyes focussing intensively at her dedication. She must have fondled and massaged the love tool for an hour.
During a respite, she pressed the stiff pole against her left cheek, measuring it against the side of her face. It had stretched from her chin to the top of her eye brow. The satisfaction of exclusive access to such a tool was clearly giving her immense pleasure.
But what I was longing to see was her unique afterglow of sex, the reddish blush that spread from the tops of her breasts to her face. Some say the red flush is epitome of what a woman looks like after having *great* sex. She was the only one I have seen it with.
"I just want to put it in," I told her as I rolled over onto her, now supine on the fully inclined front seat. "I won't fuck you, I just want in."
Her pants a crumpled bundle on the floor, T-shirt and bra flung carelessly somewhere in the back seat. A bronzed nude in the shadows, her gloriously erect nipples betraying her excitement, despite the feeble objections articulated to preserve the remnants of her modesty. She had shaved her pubes, to show off the gentle slit at the juncture of her legs, a most erotic gesture of her complicity. Musky juices leaked from the plump lips of her vulva, signally her readiness for the penetration.
"You're so hot and wet down there," I mouthed breathlessly into her ear, as my penile head dipped into the smoldering heat and cupious lubricity of her vaginal orifice. Her innermost tunnel of flesh was so deliciously succulent, it was almost unbearable.
Locking fists, she grasped me tightly with both hands, pulling my chest into her bosom, straining to fuse our bodies together. Breasts squashed thus, her long, hard teats poked aggressively into me. Then I noted that whilst we were pressed flesh to flesh, her vagina was out of reach.
The passing years had taken its toll. Both our waistlines have changed. Our new contours prevented us from coming together in the missionary position, frustrating our clawing hunger for each other.
Then it shrunk. The rigid penis retracted to a soft limp. But she would have none of it. Her legs clasped high up around my waist, juxtaposing herself to claim my retreating tool, a desperate swimmer struggling to stay afloat. A lost battle.
When I stopped the car by the roadside to drop her off, I yanked up her T-shirt to see her glorious breasts one more time. The dark perky teats ringed with chocolate brown aeroles. She laughed quietly at the audacity, eyes darting around quickly to check for passerbys, and then at her own naked assets. I palmed the full weight of both mammaries with my hands, squeezing the firm globules, flesh overflowing between my spread fingers, pinching the erect nipples.
At least they seem unaffected by the passage of time. Reluctantly, I let go of the abundant breasts, knowing one day they will sag pathetically like water filled balloons.
She held my hand furtively at first, then slipped her arm over mine. We didn't do this during our early years. As a matter of fact, we couldn't have dated more than a couple of times. So why were we walking like this under the moonlit night, like any star-crossed couple?
We had got out of the automobile, because the public car park was too brightly lit for any private intimacy.
The night was cool, the humidity wasn't too bothersome. I was looking for a dark secluded spot. Shadowy areas where the tree and tropical foliage will provide cover from the merciless expose of the streetlights. As it was long past the dining hour, there were few others wandering around after a seaside meal.
She wore dark Adidas track pants. Slipping my hand from her waist, I reached into the elastic waist band from behind, and dived under her panties. Inched down the crack of her cool bottom, and fingered her puckered anal orifice. "I'm not clean down there," she whispered. Regardless, my index finger pushed past the spincter muscle, which contracted spasmically as I invaded her secret canal. She wasn't comfortable with the intrusion.
We came upon one of the few benches in the park. Bending her over the slatted back rest, I pulled her pants down to her hips, revealling the two moons in the shadowy night. Whipping out my partially erect phallus, I tried to insert it into her. But her anal opening was too dry, or too small. Lubrication, more than convenient mouth spit, was needed. With both hands, I spread her cheeks, and probed with the hardening tool. She wriggled her bum to help, thrusting it backwards against my blood engorged rod. It must entered an inch, the foreskin stretched back by the effort, and I felt the cool flesh inside. The constricting tightness gave great pleasure, but it was not wet and hot like her vaginal chamber. At the sound of approaching footsteps, we disengaged and sat down on the bench, as it was designed for.
The female walking past eyed the bulge of my erection, distending my pants, but her geek partner was focussing straight ahead.
We decided to resume activity in the car, lights or no lights.
She adjusted the seat controls, to slide it all the way back, so she could find more space in the foot well below the glove compartment. Like a child opening a birthday present, she undid my belt buckle and unbuttoned my fly to reach in and take out her sex toy. Pumping vigorously with her fist, she was anxious to bring it to life quickly. Her attention was dedicated to the veined rod of flesh, not the twin bags of testicles. Sliding the hardening shaft between her lips, I saw her cheeks hollow out as she sucked in deeply. She tongued it skillfully, rimming the corona, and never once did I feel her sharp teeth. I pressed her head down, trying to push the swollen head into the deep recess of her throat. From my perspective, all I could see was the top of her bobbing head, her tresses spread wantonly across my bare thighs. Repositioning myself, I sought the the sight of my penis disappearing into her mouth, and reappearing magically moist with her warm saliva. I gathered her hair into a severe ponytail, so as to see her whole face pleasuring my member, her eyes focussing intensively at her dedication. She must have fondled and massaged the love tool for an hour.
During a respite, she pressed the stiff pole against her left cheek, measuring it against the side of her face. It had stretched from her chin to the top of her eye brow. The satisfaction of exclusive access to such a tool was clearly giving her immense pleasure.
But what I was longing to see was her unique afterglow of sex, the reddish blush that spread from the tops of her breasts to her face. Some say the red flush is epitome of what a woman looks like after having *great* sex. She was the only one I have seen it with.
"I just want to put it in," I told her as I rolled over onto her, now supine on the fully inclined front seat. "I won't fuck you, I just want in."
Her pants a crumpled bundle on the floor, T-shirt and bra flung carelessly somewhere in the back seat. A bronzed nude in the shadows, her gloriously erect nipples betraying her excitement, despite the feeble objections articulated to preserve the remnants of her modesty. She had shaved her pubes, to show off the gentle slit at the juncture of her legs, a most erotic gesture of her complicity. Musky juices leaked from the plump lips of her vulva, signally her readiness for the penetration.
"You're so hot and wet down there," I mouthed breathlessly into her ear, as my penile head dipped into the smoldering heat and cupious lubricity of her vaginal orifice. Her innermost tunnel of flesh was so deliciously succulent, it was almost unbearable.
Locking fists, she grasped me tightly with both hands, pulling my chest into her bosom, straining to fuse our bodies together. Breasts squashed thus, her long, hard teats poked aggressively into me. Then I noted that whilst we were pressed flesh to flesh, her vagina was out of reach.
The passing years had taken its toll. Both our waistlines have changed. Our new contours prevented us from coming together in the missionary position, frustrating our clawing hunger for each other.
Then it shrunk. The rigid penis retracted to a soft limp. But she would have none of it. Her legs clasped high up around my waist, juxtaposing herself to claim my retreating tool, a desperate swimmer struggling to stay afloat. A lost battle.
When I stopped the car by the roadside to drop her off, I yanked up her T-shirt to see her glorious breasts one more time. The dark perky teats ringed with chocolate brown aeroles. She laughed quietly at the audacity, eyes darting around quickly to check for passerbys, and then at her own naked assets. I palmed the full weight of both mammaries with my hands, squeezing the firm globules, flesh overflowing between my spread fingers, pinching the erect nipples.
At least they seem unaffected by the passage of time. Reluctantly, I let go of the abundant breasts, knowing one day they will sag pathetically like water filled balloons.
posted by sandy @ 7:49 PM
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