a little less conversation
She shifted in her seat inside the car, refusing to look at him as this time his hand wreaked pure havoc on her thigh beneath her skirt. But she gave in to the pleasure now. Both of her feet, bare now that her sandals were lost under her seat, were propped on the dashboard as his fingers delved far inside her. Her head rolled from side to side as she keened with pleasure. She murmured his name time and again and was cresting on the edge of her climax. Her torso jerked forward within the confines of her seatbelt when he, perverse to the last, removed his hand from the apex of her thighs.
“What…”
“See that white car in front of us?”
“Uh…”
“See the lights mounted on top of it?”
“The police? I didn’t even…”
“Notice? Good…”
Blushing at her wanton behavior, she smoothed her skirt over her legs and turned to her companion, frowning at him.
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“Because you were enjoying yourself… and I wanted it to last for you as much as humanly possible.”
“Ah…”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Enjoy yourself?”
“Right then and there with your hand…”
“My hand what?”
“Your hand doing what you know for a fact it was doing.”
“Ah, I see.”
“What do you see?” “That after showering your body with untold pleasure, you are still pretending that you are a victim to my wild desires and not a willing participant in all of this.”
“I…”
“Shhhhhhhh, sometimes, it’s better to forget about talking… we have other ways of communicating…”
For the rest of the drive, his hand remained on her thigh, almost motionless, except for the occasional strum of her fingers on his skin. In silence, he drove the car to a small lake. The light of the moon reflected upon its surface, lighting the beach surrounding the beach in a way only a poet could have dreamt about. It was a very romantic setting. And she watched as he left the car, opened the trunk and took from it a blanket, a chrome thermos and an empty bottle of wine. He laid the blanket a few yards from the car and then turned to her, knowing she was watching him and crooked his finger at her.
She went to him and knelt by his side on the blanket. Her bare feet, her sandals still in the car, sunk into the sand the day’s sun had warmed during daylight and she turned to him, a question on her lips. However, before she could say but a word, his lips claimed her words, his tongue her mouth and his desire her senses. She gave into the kiss, her arms going around his neck in a positive fashion, drawing him to her as they tumbled on her blanket. Released, her passion was a match for his and he sunk his fingers into her long mane of black hair drawing her mouth to his.
Legs curled around his and pelvises bucked into each other and tongues fenced like musketeers against the cardinal’s guards. She looked up at him, saw the passion and lust in his eyes and knew that he saw the very same in her eyes. As sweat dripped over both of their trembling bodies, clothes fell carelessly around the blanket and skin rubbed together slickly as hands got curious and adventurous. She ended up on her back, the fingers of one hand holding on to one of his shoulders and the other running through his long, damp locks.
He looked down at her, at her half-opened mouth, her blushing bosom, at the way her pelvis bucked up toward the sky, toward his touch, craving his touch. He smiled in a purely wicked fashion before moving away from her. She moaned in protest and he turned to her quickly, pressing a finger to her lips, silently urging her to silence. She watched his back muscles move under his skin and raised up on her haunches, trying to see over his shoulder. She heard nothing but the flow of a liquid, presumably from the thermos, into a glass container, the bottle he’d brought along to the blanket site.
He turned back to her, gently pushing her to lie back and he took back her mouth once more, brining her to a fever-pitch that had her body twitching this way and that in response to his arousing touch. She keened and cried until she tumbled, feeling dismembered yet whole, happy and yet terribly sad to have this plateau of pleasure come to an end. His mouth descended until her breasts were at a level with his mouth and she felt his tongue licking at her. But then, she felt something unexpected, a pushing at the part of the body that was most sensitive and yet the most open to intrusion. “What are…?”
“Hush sweet baby… hush…”
He didn’t kiss her this time, watching her face and her mouth to see if she would trust him and in silence she remained, her eyes losing focus as his arm tensed and relaxed, moving in and out of her spread thighs, pushing in and pulling out the bottle he’d just filled with a warm liquid in and out of her. The ridges at the opening of the bottle wreaked havoc on the sides of her moist canal as it sunk deeper and deeper into her, constantly surprising her as the bottle’s neck widened and yet, she accepted it into her body. Then, as if he had not done enough to make her eyes roll into the back of her head, he changed the angle of entry of the bottle, putting the opening into direct and wonderful contact with her fabled G spot.
Her toes curled under her feet and she was moved by instinctive jerks, throbs and shakes of pleasure she had never seen or heard about, even in the most descriptive of books and movies. Next to her, her companion, her giver of pleasure didn’t remain unsatisfied as the friction of her skin against his shaft also made him lose what little control he’d been able to have all evening long as he had taken her higher and higher into the realms of pleasure. And as she fainted from the overwhelming climax he had given her, he pulled the bottle from her and deliberately and slowly licked her juices as they coated the bottle’s neck.
Consciousness returned to her and found her curled up into a tight little ball as if she were afraid to lose the memory of pleasure. She looked up and found him smiling down at her.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked her.
She nodded and watched him bring the bottle of water to her lips, knowing that her juices, milky as they were, were mixed in with the warm water he’d poured into the bottle earlier. She drank until her thirst was gone and when he pulled the bottle from her mouth, she watched as he drank the remainder until it was all gone. He licked his lips, smacking them loudly before turning to her, a smile on his lips.
“The elixir of the gods…”
“And for the goddesses?” she asked, looking at her hip, still wet with his juices.
“Another time…”
“It’ll give me time to find just the right type of bottle…” she answered with a wicked smile of her own.
