Teatime

In the hollow of the afternoon with the cool springtime sun filtered through the thin curtains, she shows me into her living room with a little sweep of her hand.
There is tea and cake, and giggles and snuggles watching Julie Christie in Darling on the TV. A large clock with a gold rim on the wall, above a mantelpiece crowded with knick-knacks and photos of past summer days and relatives, ticks away the slow minutes of the day.

Later she is masturbating on the settee, her bottom on the very edge of the seat as she lounges back amongst the cushions. The two middle fingers on her right hand play in tight circles on her clit, the two remaining fingers held daintily aloft.
I sit on the floor in-between her open legs, watching. Watching her hand, watching her face as it stiffens in concentration, frowning every so slightly. Her skirt is bunched up high round her waist. I lay my head against one of her soft, pale, warm thighs. My face is very close to her dark pink pussy as it is stirred by her flurrying fingers, which I can view in detail.
I stroke her other thigh with my fingertips. I marvel at it’s velvety smoothness. Her strumming hand quickens when I start kissing her other leg. A line of kisses up along the delicate white skin of her inner thigh until I reach the top where when I suck on the taut tendon that is there; taking it in my mouth, licking it, tasting her as her hand continues to furiously flutter right beside my face.
Her cheeks are now rosy. Breathy whimpers escape her mouth as she reaches climax.

The room is warm and the air still. The sounds of children’s chatter and laughter as they walk home from school can be heard as they pass by outside. We are on the floor beside the coffee table; I’m on my back with my face nuzzling in her sultry minge whilst she is face down on top of me, gobbling away hungrily on my cock. She mewls, holding me in her mouth as the rhythmic motion of my hard tongue pushes her to a second orgasm. After that I push her off and do her from behind for a while. She keeps her face against the carpet - a shag pile I notice, half-amused. As I’m giving her one the TV catches my eye - some antiques programme: a white-haired pensioner turns a ceramic donkey around in his bony hand, points to a manufacturers stamp on it’s belly.
I don’t think I’m going to cum. A fatigue is setting in. I’m too hot; my back prickles with perspiration and I’m feeling headachy. I bet she’s got the central heating on as well.

We try a new tack: she’s keeling in front of me, I’m pulling her hair back behind her head as I wank myself right in front of her face, my balls dipping in and out of her mouth. I can feel her breath against them. It pays off and pretty soon I shoot a silky ribbon of jism into the air. Like some spider’s silk it extends quite beautifully, catching the light of the afternoon sun as it seems to hang suspended in the air for a moment before it sails gracefully downward. Further, lesser spurts of cum end up laced across her face like snail trails.
After I have gently wiped her face clean we hold each other, kissing necks and shoulders as we kneel there, naked together on her living room floor. Then there is more tea and the bakewell tart to finish. The filigree pattern on the icing reminds me of how my cum looked across her face.

two girls, at swim

the man was travelling with a heavy heart.
How long he had been walking, he did not know, only that he had yet miles to go before he could rest. The forest was filled with all the sun’s heat, and his sweat and his sorrow flowed from his brow. It was middle of the day, the air was close and his feet were heavy, his mouth a desert. It was then, and to his good fortune, he thought, he came upon a babbling river, the ripples sparkling like diamonds and fresh and inviting.
But I cannot afford to stop, thought he, and yet how tempting it is to rest my feet awhile in the cooling waters, and to dampen my boiling head.
No, he decided, I must press on. I have yet miles to go before I can rest.
Then he heard the laughter that came, girlish and carefree, from the river. And much splashing. Curious, he stepped toward the edge of the path and peered through the trees to the river that passed just below.
There, in the shimmering waters he spied two swimming girls. Like playful otters they turned and frolicked in the silvery brook, their bodies pink and lithe below the wavering surface. It was a sight that had him mesmerised, he could not tear his eyes away. He felt a yearning to fall into the glassy waters and join them burgeoning in his chest.
This is lust taking a hold in my heart, he thought and forced himself to press on with his lonely journey.

A short way down the path, however, and the trees gave way to an opening that led right down to the water’s edge, and there, still gliding carefree like some creatures from a sailor’s tale, were the two young women. They were swimming languidly on their backs, faces turned up into the bright air, basking in the cool of the water’s embrace on this hottest of days. And the man was tantalised all the more.
Quite unable to stop himself, he took a few steps toward the river bank, as if drawn somehow by the girl’s enlightening laughter.
He stopped short when one of them noticed him, but she did not cry out in horror, as the man might have expected a woman to whenever a strange fellow unexpectedly came upon her bathing. Instead, to his surprise, she smiled and raised a hand in greeting. More a beckoning than a wave, he fancied.
“Forgive me” he quickly said and started on his way before a soft, mellifluous voice called out to him from the water.
“Do not go yet, sir! Stay and join us here!”
The man stopped in his tracks. And though he sorely wished he could keep on walking, somehow, he could not. He turned himself to the river. Purple rushes swayed along the far bank. Dragonflies darted among them as Jay birds circled up above in the cloudless azure. And still the sun beat down it’s unforgiving rays. I could so easily plunge into these inviting waters, he thought to himself, and join these two young nymphs in their swim. But I must not and I know I must not, he told himself. I still have miles to go before I rest.
The first woman spoke to him once more, her naked shoulders visible above the water’s surface. “Sir, come to us and rest awhile in the soothing water. We will bathe your tired limbs, for surely you have travelled far and need to restore your form”
“Come” said the other, now, “the water is fine. Come”.
“Please, don’t tempt me further!” he cried “For I must… I cannot… ”. He willed himself to move, but remained rooted to the spot. Dumbstruck now, and still captivated by the rare beauty of the watery temptresses, he watched in awe as the first of the women emerged slowly from the river onto the bank. Sunlight shone brightly off her wet skin as she stood completely naked before him. And she was not ashamed.
The man took a step back, and another. He could not meet this Circe, for he was sure she was a seductress of a sort. He stepped back against a tree, there he could go no further and waited helplessly as she moved toward him.
The other had now come onto the grass, just as brazen in her nakedness. Soon they were upon him, the first with eyes the colour of emerald and golden hair, the second blue-eyed but icy clear like the water she stepped from, her hair red as berries. Red as blood.

“Sir, set down your burden now. Do not be afraid” the fair-headed one cooed in gentle tones. The man felt his body flag, he could but weakly mutter “what is it you want from me?”
“We have been waiting for you, travelling man” she whispered, a hand now touching his face, and her body drawing near. “Waiting for you to join with us, in the narrow waters”.
A kiss was planted on his parched lips, followed by another. Slim fingers now worked the fastenings on his shirt. The second of the enchantresses joined with the other, pressing her naked body against his, kissing his neck, undressing him.
The man closed his eyes and wished to be woken from this dream, for surely it was a dream. The sun on his head and the liquor must have caused such a carnal reverie, he decided.
But no, the torments continued and they were real. Cool lips and hands of the two mysterious women were on his body. The man was certain they were full of sin but could do nothing. He was surely in their spell.

When they had stripped him of all his clothes, and he stood as naked as they, the first one took his hand and began to gently lead him to the chattering river. A feeble protest he tried to make, but the man knew his dreams were broken. More insistent now the lady pulled her with him, toward the waiting water.
He bowed his head and in sorrow surrendered. She led on and he followed after.

The river enfolded him as the women had. He submitted to it’s embrace.
He joined the girls in their swim and did but forget all his woes.
From one mouth to another his kisses went. His hands all on long, silken bodies that slid around him. In ecstasy he joined them, their limbs tangled in his.
The red haired one put her mouth over his and kisses deep. Her mouth was filled with water.
Now the golden one with the silvery skin pulled his face to hers, snaked her arms about his neck and kissed him as if two lovers they were. They were falling beneath the surface, entwined. The swishing, green weed coaxing them to lie on their river bed.
And twisting together in the river’s undertow, in cruel happiness they forgot
that even lovers drown.

Sap Rising

Enjoying the fact that Spring has sprung.
Back tonight/tomorrow/soon/other.
x¬D