My head rests on his shoulder. As I look into the fireplace, the room seems to take on a magical glow. Laying naked on a blanket, his arm around me, the heat of the fire caresses our bodies. I can still feel the warmth of my own cream and his semen leaking out, covering my pussy with wetness, moistening the side of my legs and down below my vagina. I slip my hand between my legs and begin to massage the moisture into the skin of my labia and mons. My fingers seek more from my vagina and I place it on my abdomen, and breast, pulling the nipples out, moistening each so they glistened with the reflection of firelight. I want him on me, as well as in me. His eyes are closed, and he appears to sleep. I retrieve more, and move my fingers to my mouth tasting the moisture of our lust.
My mind wanders, as I try to understand how I find myself here. Sometimes control seems to slip away from me. This seems like one of those times. I don't seek encounters or relationship. I move through my life, keeping it as simple as possible. NO CONFLICTS. And certainly as few strangers as possible. I select my friends very carefully. But lately I have experimented with expression and expression of our feelings is like a disease. It grows and spreads within you, until you are consumed by its power. Each new revelation exposes something else and demands even more exploration and exposure. I find deep, hidden, emotions and desires. I find lust and a sensual part of myself, sometimes just as well left repressed. I find myself experimenting with my own body. Shaving my pubic hair. Touching and caressing my new softness and smoothness. Wearing clothes which slide across my body making me aware of their texture as they become sensuous touches. When I am at work and walking from one place to another, I find myself walking naked on a moonlit beach, and the silky caress of my clothes becomes a soft warm tropical breeze. And now, here I am, in a cabin, in front of a fireplace, lying in the arms of an almost stranger, naked, full of his semen.
My hand reaches for more of our wetness, as it leaks from me. I begin to spread it on his skin, softly, so he doesn't waken. Each stroke touches lightly, but more boldly. His breathing remains deep, his eyes closed. I touch his nipple, massage it with our moisture, and find it hardens to my caress. I plan to move and shift so my tongue can taste him, but decide the danger of waking him too great. My finger moves to his cock, limp, soft, lying unconcerned to the side. I begin to draw slow circles on his sacks, gently testing his sleep and then squeezing ever so tenderly. I have to use all my self control not to mould them to my palm and press them in my hand, feeling there strange firmness. My clitoris moves, in response to my thoughts, asking for attention to its own needs. I look into the fire and my eye loose their focus as I seem to see an image of two bodies in the fire, naked and entwined within each others arms. She is on her back, her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling her pelves towards him. He is on his knees, his hands kneading her breast, slamming his cock into her with all his power. And yet, her eyes burn with a yearning for him to pour more of his passion into her.
.... There is more of this story ...