I can describe beauty. It stands tall and slender at the rails of the boardwalk, allowing the sea breeze to dance with white hair glowing in the moonlight. It is elegance wrapped in a cream-colored mock turtleneck sweater and matching cashmere slacks. Beauty is a countenance of serenity, absorbing the power and wonder of creation knowing all share a common source.

I walk quietly toward her, drawn to beauty like a soul to light.

I feel the power I know is there.

I can't resist it.

As I reach her, she turns and smiles radiantly. Her hand drifts up to my face and rests lightly palm on cheek. Her thumb slowly and sensuously strokes my lips, my nose, up over my eyebrow. She leans in and kisses me deeply. The sweetness of her breath infiltrates my senses. She moves back slightly to taste my mouth - her tongue caressing, playing, teasing. She pulls back and bright, dancing eyes look into mine.

Beauty speaks with a low-pitched, rich voice. I wonder at the forces which have put me at this particular place at just the right time.

"I don't think you have any idea how much I need to be fucked at this very moment."

I laugh with pure joy and pull her to me, molding her warm, supple body to mine. Without a doubt the wind and the tide are pale comparisons to the force of nature held within this creature.

Thank goodness the area is deserted.

I lower my hands to her waist and stretch my palms up under her sweater. The luxurious cashmere on the back of my hands is rough compared to the skin beneath them. I feel her warmth, her softness, and I raise my hands higher. I feel the small mounds of her breasts delicately held in silk cups.

"Pinch my nipples. Bite them."

The contrast of senses inflames me -- the softness of sight and touch, the coarseness of sound. My partner, my lover. My consort, my whore.

She peels her sweater from her body and pulls my head to her breasts. She runs her fingers over my smooth, bald pate, murmuring words of love and lust. I lick, I bite, I nibble... she bends to kiss my head then nip my ear. She has unzipped her slacks. She takes one of my hands and guides me to the inviting slick warmth of her pussy.

I draw back to watch her face as she makes her next move.

With her hand on mine, she leads my finger up and down the channel between her clit and the pulsating depths that promise infinite pleasure.

Her eyelids droop slightly and she breathes in deeply, allowing the sensations to take over.

Her eyes open fully and she looks directly at me with a sly, playful smile.

"Don't you love the way that feels? Put your finger inside me. Know what I have ready for you."

I oblige.

The warmth, the inviting wetness of the soft, blood engorged tissue make me want to bury myself inside her.

She reads my mind... as always. I feel her hand touch the bulge at the front of my slacks then slide lightly up and down the length. She deftly unbuttons the tab and slides the zipper down. Her hands dip inside my underwear, pulling them away from my body as she cups my balls with one hand and holds my cock in a way that only she knows to do.

I feel her begin to lower to her knees, but have other ideas for her. I stoop slightly and put my arm beneath her knees and sweep her into my arms, leaving her slacks in a pool on the ground.

I carry her to a bench nearby and lower her gently to it.

I sit on the ground in front of her, then watch her face as I pull her panties down her legs.

I hold her eyes with mine as I lower my face to her sweet pussy. I want to see her desire, her anticipation. My tongue reaches out to taste her. I smile when she drops her head back and looks to the stars as she simultaneously pushes herself into my mouth. The pleasure of pleasing inspires me. Oh, how I love that taste, the feel of her. Again, the contrasts assault me. Her soft channel and the coarseness of her curls. The sounds she makes — mewling, groaning, guttural cries as her first orgasm overtakes her.