Message-ID: <5717eli$3602070128@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: OscarPaco@aol.com Subject: Anniversary (m,f) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <971120160146_130683427@mrin45.mail.aol.com> The following erotic short is intended for mature audiences, which means: if you are younger than eighteen years of age, do not read further. Anniversary "Don't move," I say, and she doesn't. She stops, her glorious back to me, her naked arms stretched out before her, touching the fabric of shirts in the closet. We have just finished making love, long and slow, quietly celebratory. I sit on the futon watching her, taking in her delicious body: her blonde hair flowing over strong and slender shoulders, her back bookeended by rows of gentle ribs, the long waist, the gentle slope of her hips, supple and slight cheeks of her ass, her sex still glistening from our lovemaking, strawberry blonde wisps of pubic hair catching the morning light from the window, those muscular thin thighs, the long calves and delicate ankles, the high arches of her feet, the toes that I have kissed and tickled and sucked just fifteen minutes ago. I drink her entire body with lascivious eyes and am still thirsty. Fourteen years and I am still indescribably thirsty for this beautiful woman. I rise from the futon slowly, deliberately, never taking my eyes from her, and crouch behind her, reacing my tongue out to touch the subtle arcs of flesh descending from her tailbone. She moans with pleasure, places each hand on the closet door, making a cross of her body; she tilts her head back and moans again, drawing me in. I trace the insides of her legs from knee to ankle, and back, then follow the line to her center. She takes a slight step to steady herself, spreading her legs, inviting me. I lean forward until my naked chest rubs against her ass, draw my hands around the front of her body, bring my fingers together in the moist tangle of her pubic hair: so plentiful and so delightful. I kiss the small of her back, run my tongue over the small rise of her arching back. I press my hands over her stomach, knowing the sensation will please her; I press my chest more firmly into her ass, my own stomach against the backs of her legs. I stretch and trace the front of her body, rib by rib, until I reach her breasts. Gently as a whisper, my fingertips follow the outline of each breast. The November air is chilly -- I can feel the goose flesh -- but she does not move to cover her skin. Her nipples are hard as berries, jutting out hungrily; I pinch them, tug them outward, feel them against the palms of my hands. And it is this finally that sends her over the ledge: her right hand drops to her sex, and within seconds, her fingers are caressing her clitoris. Slowly at first, then steadily, rhythmically, purposefully. With my hands still cupping her breasts, I lean down slightly, kiss both ass cheeks, then place my tongue against her tailbone, testing. She moans again and arches her back a little more, picks up the pace of her circling fingers, her muscles tensing, focused on release. My tongue follows the curves of her ass, then probes inward, touches her anus. She lets out a groan, letting me know my tongue feels like velvet, inviting me in further. I search liberally, push the tip of my tongue against the aster, taste the delectable mixture of sweat and sex and need; I push into her and hear another groan. Her fingers are moving rapidly now, and I can feel her entire body tightening, preparing for the waves, focused entirely, waiting for the tide of orgasm. And it will arrive quickly, completely without fanfare, simple and intense as our marriage. When she comes, at last, she is quiet, and her body jerks and twitches. She does not lose her balance, and she catches her breath. I pinch each nipple as the orgasm starts, pull on her breasts gently, and push my tongue into her ass. She clutches me. She lets out a low gasp, opens her mouth, pokes out her own tongue, and with heavy breath, she lets go completely. Finally, she releases her hand from her vagina and grabs hold of the closet door to regain a steadier balance. When the waves subside, she falls gently backward, pushing our bodies onto the futon. She rests the weight of her body on me, her back on my chest, her hair cascading over my face. I hug her body against me, I want to pull her into me, to swallow her form whole. And when our smiles turn slowly to laughter, our glee is complete, our happiness total, our celebration just begun. The Beginning -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /