Within seconds of slipping into Celine’s guest bedroom, Nils and Marci were naked, on the big bed, fucking. Moonlight shone through the tall windows, bathing their bodies, but they were oblivious to beauty of those shadowed curves, the splendor of that silvery skin. With each thrust, Marci moaned, a counterpoint to the steady slap of flesh upon flesh. The piquant aroma of their arousal filled the room, but they were unconscious of the sounds and scents of sex. They gripped each other with fervor harsh and tender and harsh again, but of tactility they felt nothing but the slippery snug suction of cunt clutching cock and the swell and surge of impending orgasm.

Climax came, the pleasure of it powerful and sudden and prolonged. Marci cried out. Her cunt gulped and swallowed Nils’ jetting seed. They lay together smothered by bliss of their own making.

Some minutes later they swiveled together, and Nils’ mouth found Marci’s sex, and Marci’s mouth found Nils’ phallus. She tasted herself as he tasted her. She couldn’t at first fit all of his cock into her mouth, but was content to lick and kiss and suck from the side, while Nil’s tongue explored the frills and folds and furrows of her lubricious core.