Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica

Scenery

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The small of you waist held between my fleshy grasp; thumbs pressed against your obloquies; fingers quenching the sensations of your backside.

The entrance to the balcony stands open. The breeze of the evening blows against your dress. I absorb the firmness of your body with each step you take, adoring the sway of your physique as we walk… seeing in it that which drains my longing. I can’t let go, I won’t let go. Your aroma brought to my attention by the wind causes turmoil in my heart. It brings me to places I’ve never been and wanted to explore. We reach the balcony, you hold on to the railing, I press against you, releasing from my grasp the small of your back. I hold your shoulders, stroke your hair, smell your neck.

I press tightly. My hands slide from your shoulders down to your waist, catching every curve eminent on your physique. I indulge in the sensation traveling through my palms, up my arms, into my chest. You stand, simply stand, feeling the escape of desire within me towards you.

There she stood before me. I knew what I wanted. She too made it apparent that she was after the same. Her hair being flown by the wind exposed her naked neck. The tinny hairs running down it stood erect as if excited for what was about to come.

A few sways of her hips, her long white skirt begins to drift from the waist. It’s become stuck, held in place away from gravity by the majestic figure that rivals the mountain chain at the distance. Her hand slides down and displaces the skirt. It falls prey to gravity, exposing her calves, hamstrings and this newly visible range of mountains now enhance to the scenery. Her golden heels accentuate all her figure, the calves crafted as if by Zeus himself, climbing up her slightly separated legs, smooth it all stood. There, I see the piece of cloth preventing my sight from nutrition.

My hands are meticulous in action. They slide their fingers through each side of the satin boy-shorts and press down on them. Kneeling before this awe, I resume the removal of that unwanted piece of cloth; the one preventing me from her. They slide down exposing her to my sight. We are face to face. I see her and want to speak to her.

I approach extremely close to run my tongue in her inner thigh, moving on up, I travel this newly exposed scenery. Breaking it apart, I taste it as if a flower swarmed by honey bees. I take a moment to absorb all of her, step back and look again. The opening between her legs speaks of a woman in lust. She’s well kept, a sight to worship. The mountains drop forming an open valley… through it runs my lust. I approach it in need to experience a new world. My warm tongue touches her, massages her, tastes her, as I pull back residues of her attach to my tongue as if attempting to prevent my backwards movement. Away from me, she refuses to be. I pull close again and bite. You feel the bite and pull one leg east, the other west, fully displaying obstacles from where I need to travel.
 
Standing with the care of time to my side, I explore the valleys and peaks placed before me. I follow the line created between the mountains and head north, stopping briefly at the small of you back. Caressing it, kissing it, touching it. My hands lead the exploration, pressing the thumbs against the muscles standing besides the spine until I’m fully standing. I press her against me, feel her, turn her. Her lips, the manner in which her bottom lip is caught between her upper lips. I need to touch them, my tongue contours her lips, tracing them is if a stencil upon a canvas.

A masterpiece has this artist savored from your lips, but I must resume. Enticed by your chin, your neck, I must depart. I shall be the artist that strikes the stencil in a multitude of directions just because this is the lure I lust. I follow the lines of your neck down to meet the trapezius. It is soft, gentle to the touch, magic in scent. It forces me up to the earlobe, where I meet the lobula with my teeth and engulf it within my lips.

I nibble your lobe, grasp it with my teeth, and gently pull on it, as my teeth release it, my tongue massages it goodbye. My right hand travels from your cheek, down your neck onto your chest, arriving at new found mounds that perk as if reaching for a kiss. My hand engulfs them, speaks to them softly, withdraws dragging the fingers from the base onto the bastion of longing.

Pulling me back you stare me down, gazing at my clothed body from unbuttoned shirt to pants. There you stare, first the zipper zips down, the pants lose the battle and are pulled down by gravity, exposing the contour of my fully awaken body. Half covered, the rest exposed by waist-low boy shorts. The veins exposed towards you, the shinny headdress separating the body from the top. My index touches the top, traveling around the lines dividing body from summit. My thumb grabs onto the shorts and pulls down, displaying of him even more. It continues to move, more of him is visible. You Grasp him in your hands, feel the warmth.

He’s wet from wrapping your lips around it. Use your tongue, I want to feel it, I want to feel your mouth opened to consume him…

Author: jibarican

https://crimsoncrossing.wordpress.com

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