A Continua Perversion (x-rated)
She leant her head back against the rest on her seat. She watched the countryside slowly drift by as she let her mind wander. The drone of the engine easing her meditative state.
She had wanted a photograph. A single momento of the day. Their time together. A concrete symbol of how she had felt. But time had worked against them and now the image she had frozen was instilled only in her mind. Her memory.
She recalled the previous day. The morning had seemed endless, the countryside in reverse, as she drove towards her destination. Towards him.
She felt a warm glow as she remembered when she had spotted him. Waiting. Waiting for her. His presence had shocked her senses, the brooding darkness of his eyes as they had met, intently, over the crowds. She had walked to him then, slowly but urgently, her need growing with every closing step.
He had caught her. His arms had encircled her waist, the sweet scent of him instantly soothed her. She had felt weak as she melted into his embrace. He felt natural. They felt natural. She breathed him in, feeling starved, her senses warming.
They had spent the morning laughing, talking. Every moment reminded her of why she was there, yet every moment also brought her closer to leaving him again. The bittersweetness of every encounter.
She felt it as the sun began to lower. He felt it too. The clock was speeding now. Time was slowly elapsing.
Their eyes made the decision. Their minds spoke words only of intent. Only they could hear. The language of urgency, sweet and compassionate, but time limiting.
The walk was a blur in her mind. There was no words needed yet words would have been spoken. She could not recall the conversation now. She could only recall the feelings. The raw emotion.
It began as soon as they got in. She let her body take the lead. Her brain needed to rest. Too much thinking. Too much analysis. She watched his eyes as he bent to kiss her. She could read a torrent of deep and emotive thoughts and felt hypnotised, almost, by the pooling within them.
She could feel the heat already warming her body, the spread of it almost consuming her. Her nipples, already, were responding to the excited knowledge of his upcoming touch. She could feel them straining and pushing against his t-shirt. As they held, she could feel the physical connection pulsating through them. Her body seemed to respond and move in perfect tune to his, lighting small fires deep within her.
She found herself in the kitchen. She remembered times they had spent at the table, talking, discussing, laughing. Tonight the room felt different. Static. Talking was futile. Time did not allow it. Her inner soul did not want it. She simply wanted him. Now. Here.
She slowly kissed his lips and let her hands wander through his hair. She could taste his tongue, feel his breathe against her. The starving feeling returned. She pulled him closer. Harder. She let her own tongue stroke his, gently nibbling his lips as her arms lowered to rest on his back. She let her hands explore under his shirt, the feel of his flesh intensifying her raw desire.
The band of his jeans became magnetic, drawing her in. She could feel the swelling of him tightening his clothes. His hard excitement pressing up against her.
She could feel his lips on her neck, her throat. His breathe sending shivers of delicious delirium down her body. The heat moving first on her breasts then pooling further down between her legs. She felt almost out of control.
He pushed her onto the table. Visions of meals, family gatherings fading away with the rawness of what she knew would be happening.
She was grateful she had worn a skirt as she felt his hand moving up to release her from her panties. Too much material. Too much time. Her body felt alive with every tiny touch. His hand stroked her thighs, sending electric bolts up within her. The sensations forced her to open her legs and push towards him. Her awareness concentrated upon the wetness oozing between her legs and his hand touching, stroking, sending her into oblivion. She could feel herself swelling, engorging with the animal lust which felt instinctive, alive.
She released him suddenly. His button in wanting and his hardness suddenly upon her. Exciting her. She held him firmly in her hands and let her fingers trace the shape as she stroked and caressed his manly tool, her tool. She closed her eyes and let out a needed sigh as she felt his hands release her bra strap. Her breasts feeling stunned as they were exposed to the warmed air. She let her head fall back and welcomed his lips as they trailed down her collarbone before finally satisfying the sensual flow that had began in her nipples. His tongue felt smooth and wet against her sensitive flesh. Her body felt alive and delicate, sensitivities mingling with desired emotion.
His fingers found her secret spot and as he pushed and slowly, deliberately stroked, she felt herself melting, disappearing, leaving only a shell of pure sexual need.
She pulled him towards her, Inviting him. His hardened flesh pushing into her moistness with a sweet ferocity which caused them both to gasp in unison. Her body welcomed him gladly and she pushed into him, desperate, needing, her satisfaction taking the lead.
His lips felt urgent on hers as they rode together, their bodies mingling, becoming almost akin, yet separate enough to offer undiluted pleasure, with every touch, stroke. Fervent kiss.
The build up was exquisite, surreal. She felt the burning warming her, teasing her, then consuming her as she felt unable to contain her excited fever. He intoxicated her. His smell and touch sent her travelling, fermenting. No holding back. No control.
She held him closely as she felt her own orgasm rising as his breath quickened in harmonious concession. As she let go and felt her senses drown, she enjoyed the wetness of his own release pumping into her. His animal need evident as he clung helplessly to her damp skin. Her body sung. Her mind emptied. Her heart pounded.
They had layed quietly afterwards, their hearts slowing and their bodies taking deserved rest. She had felt closer to him then. They had both felt it.
Their goodbye was expected. It came too soon. Time did no favours. It offered no sweet justice. She had remembered then about the photo. The one that never was. The missed moment.
As she focused on the traffic slowing, she realised her heart was beating again, she felt moist, dazed. She thought again about the photograph and smiled. There were other times. More times. Always another moment for a photograph. As she thought back to being with him, she realised that her momento was continous. The feeling he gave her every time, and the moments she could file and relive again and again. He was her momento and her body burnt with desire and appreciation.
The mind of a deep thinker…or complete rubbish…it is all down to interpretation and perception…