Message-ID: <10790eli$9805031924@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {Patrick Donovan}JDR"Cinnamon A"( MF )[1/3] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Note: This message was posted by a secure email service. Please report MISUSE OR ABUSE of this automated secure email service to . Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6ic0dj$fjg$1@sparky.wolfe.net> JOHN DARK REPOST The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk. The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week. These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way to encourage them to continue entertaining you. The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as well. ===================== ABOUT DISTRIBUTION: Please feel free to archive and/or redistribute this story electronically, AS LONG AS THE HEADER REMAINS INTACT (this includes the original title, my name and e-mail address, AND the copyright information). If I see this story reposted or archived WITHOUT the header, I will be one ticked little puppy. DISCLAIMER: UNDER 18? DO NOT READ! STOP HERE! * Intro * These stories generally depict consenting relationships between mature, loving people. These are fantasy people who don't have to worry about pregnancy or STDs (herpes, HIV, etc.), that's why they don't always use protection. Don't construe this as tacit permission to do the same. Use your heads and use protection--if not for yourself, for your partners. And now, on with the show... 8<------------ THE LOST SOUL JOURNALS by Patrick Donovan E-mail: (c) 1993 - Black Angora Press ===================== Cinnamon Patrick Donovan drwho@world.std.com for A. Section A: I'm not sure how it all starts, but this is our first time together. It's a sudden encounter, perhaps I am on a job interview out West and looked you up. Somewhere along the line you decided to show me one of your favorite, private places. It's along a rocky coastline where few people go because of the strong, crashing waves, but somewhere along the shore there is a place, a small cave-like opening that is shielded from the pounding surf. We get totally soaked trying to get there, but when we arrive it is such a peaceful place. Even the raging sea just beyond the craggy knoll that protects us seems to be practically silenced by the awe of this place. It is nearly dusk and we break open the bags we have brought with us. They contain logs and papers and matches, as well as blankets and towels and a little food for us to share -- all sealed in trash bags to keep them dry, you were certainly right about that! You spread out the blankets while I set up the fire inside a circle of rocks which has obviously been used as a fireplace before. Soon the fire is raging and, without even thinking, you remove your dowsed T-shirt. I blush and quickly turn away. "Oh, shoot! Pat, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking," you laugh and turn around. I can't help but watch as you slide the limp shirt off to reveal a simple white lace bra. In a moment it comes off as well, showing me the beautiful smoothness of your bare back. You drape the shirt and bra over a rock next to you and, as you do, I can just see the sides of your breasts swaying. Again I blush, knowing I shouldn't be looking, but I am so entranced by the suppleness and perfect silkiness of your skin. "Pat, could you bring me one of the body towels?" I grab the one with the tropical flowers and walk up behind you. As I open the towel and raise it to envelop you, I have to fight off an urge to peer over your shoulder to see your breasts. Slowly my arms encircle you from behind and close the towel around you. Before I can pull my arms back, yours slip over mine and draw them tightly to your chest. I clear my throat as I realize that you are clasping my arms against your bosoms. You hold me so tight that I am pressed right up against your back and my face is nestled against the back of your head, your long, curly hair feels so soft and smells so divine. "Oh my..." is all I can manage to say, whispering it softly in your ear. You release my arms and lower your hands to your cut-off jeans. I watch them suddenly appear on the ground below the towel's end, along with a pair of silk black panties. My heart races. You wrap the towel tightly around yourself and carry your garments to the rock to dry them off, then start walking back towards me. "I like to come here when I want to be alone and just lay naked on the towel and listen to the sea. It makes me feel so calm." Suddenly the image of you sprawled out on the beach towels in your full, naked glory possesses me. Am I missing the signals here? I mean, is there any real point to drying out your clothes since we're just going to have to get soaked again when we leave? Is it all a ruse on your part to seduce me or are you being blatant about it and I am just being dense? "Patrick? You might as well get out of yours too. Come on, here." You bring a huge towel and hold it up in front of me, blocking your view. Hesitantly I remove my polo shirt and throw it onto a rock. Then I step out of my shorts and repeat the toss. My heart is pounding as I realize the only thing between us other than the towel is my underwear. Shaking, I slowly drop them. Only when I have stepped out of them do I see that I am obviously aroused at the thought of you being naked under your towel. I find myself stopping as I reach up to take my towel from you, caught up in the mystery of your body. What do you look like under that towel? Is your body even half as lovely as your face? Your wide, brown eyes? Your smile? Your sensual and delicate walk? Will your breasts fit in my hands? How thick is the silken forest of your sex? What do you smell like there? What do you taste like? Oh, Alicia, how I long to taste you... ...I am stirred from my thoughts by the motion of your arms drawing the towel around me. I take it from you, still in a daze, and adjust it to fit me modestly. Then we sit on the blankets in front of the fire, the crackles from which seem to create a musical counterpoint to the rolling of the waves behind us. The song continues uninterrupted by either of us for some time. Soon the last rays of the sun are gone and you, Alicia, and I are all alone in the firelight. A little while later I notice you reaching for the bag of provisions we brought and start to remove things from it. I offer to help, but you decline and set about preparing our light meal: cold fried chicken (mmm!). I also notice you setting up a can at the edge of the fire, fill it with water and put something into it. "What's that?" I ask. You continue setting up our meal. "Something for later. Don't worry about it. Hand me the plastic plates, will you?" After we manage to eat a little of the chicken and wash it down with what I thought was supposed to be sparkling grape juice but which turned out to be champagne, you tell me you want to lie down. I am surprised, then, when you stand up and face me. "Do you mind if I -- if I take this off? I really like to be nude when I lie out here." My heart seems to just thud to a stop. "Uh, Alicia. I, I --" I am totally lost for words. You move directly in front of me as I rise to my knees. "Patrick..." you say, but without even waiting for a response you slowly part the top ends of the towel to reveal your bare breasts to me. I like to think that everything I have experienced before has prepared me for what you've just done, but somehow I am still taken aback at the sight of your beautiful breasts. Full, round globes the size of oranges jut from your smooth-skinned chest. Already the breeze causes your nipples to grow taught and I can feel my own soft member growing firm beneath my towel. Before I have time to react to this new sight, you allow the towel to fall completely from your body. The sound of it hitting the dry sand is the only thing I hear. My breath shudders at the sight of your nude form cast into copper by the firelight. You turn slightly towards the flames to allow me a perfect view of your dark triangle. You stand only a few inches from my face now and I can see your sex with such detail: the thick, matted hairs, your aroused clitoris and the glistening separation of your vulva and labia. No matter how many times a lover reveals her sex to me, I am always moved with passion at the sheer beauty and seeming delicacy of her most intimate and sensual place. The effect you have on me is almost hypnotizing. You stand so close to me now that I can detect the sweet scent of your passion. I lose all hope of resisting and wonder why I even bothered at all. I feel a flutter in my chest as I dare to move toward you on my knees. My breathing is ragged and heavy as I reach out and place my hands on your naked hips. Touching you is like touching ice: it sends a shiver down my spine, but not from the cold -- from the sensuality that emanates from your body. I draw you to me, laying my head against your firm tummy. I slip my hands back over your behind and clasp your smooth cheeks. Oh God, Alicia, I'm finally touching you and I'm not sure where to go from here. Before long you feel my lips against your abdomen, slowly drawing a line of kisses down from your navel. I can feel your thighs tensing in my hands as I close in on your pubic mound. The scent of your womanhood has, by now, intoxicated me beyond all hope of sobriety. The slow pace I am forcing myself to take on my downward plunge toward your sex seems agonizingly tortuous to me. But momentarily I am rewarded by the sensation of moist, silky hair against my lips and the feast begins. Nudging your legs apart with my body, I slip between them. I keep a firm grip on your hips as I slide beneath you, brushing my lips roughly over your sex as I adjust my balance. You let out a soft gasp at the contact and slip your hands down to the top of my head in response. Within seconds of settling down, I begin to draw the tip of my tongue gently back and forth along the outer edges of your vulva. You can feel it, the tender brushing of something firm and moist teasing the slight opening of your sex. With each stroke it penetrates slightly deeper into the entrance to your body. Occasionally I slip it all the way up into the cleft of your labia and caresses the erect little bud of your clitoris, causing you to spasm and press your mound roughly into my face or to pull my head firmly against your sex. As I pleasure your womanhood, my hands slide from your hips around to your bottom and clasp the smooth firmness of your buttocks. My fingers gently knead the skin that covers your powerful muscles, which are flexing in response to the sensations flowing from your sex. Already you have started a light thrusting motion, your hips shifting back and forth, sliding your sweet mound over my face, painting me with your wetness. Oh, Alicia, your juices are like honey and the taste overwhelms me. I have to have more and that is when you feel my tongue plunge deeply into your birth canal. The sudden penetration into your depths causes you to gasp aloud, a gasp which echoes throughout the rocks that shield us from the outside world. Your legs begin to shake and your knees feel like they're going to buckle as my assault on your pussy continues unabated. Faster and faster, deeper and harder I go. It is difficult to catch my breath when I am buried into you like this and I can feel disorientation and dizziness come over me from time to time as I lose all awareness of everything but the center of your passion. By now your buttocks are thrusting and shaking with aggressive desire. Your body does everything it can to get my tongue as deep as it will go into your vagina, pushing it towards your cervix with determination, even though it could never reach so far. Meanwhile, my hands continue to massage your bottom, caressing your bare skin and teasing the valley between your luscious cheeks. Occasionally my fingers will brush your sensitive anus and you'll emit another sensually-charged yelp into the air. The only thing I regret about this is that I cannot see the expression on your face. I can only imagine that your head is tossed back and your eyes are closed. Your mouth, open in a silent scream of pleasure and delight. Only an occasional choking gasp or raspy intake of breath is able to escape. All other functions of your body are devoted to the encouragement of the feelings beginning to swell within your loins. Already your birth canal and labia are open wide and pulsing with blood. Your womb is surrounded with swollen blood vessels and capillaries and the muscles of your uterus are also shuddering with intensity, waiting for the right moment to -- -- I feel your hands grip my head, your fingernails digging into my scalp: the first sign of your imminent orgasm. The tip of my finger, which is resting nestled in the pucker of your anus, can feel your sexual muscles beginning to throb and pulsate. I can feel the walls of your vagina rippling against my tongue and it is then that all hell breaks loose. "Uhn! Patrick -- oh! God, Pat-trick! Huh, uhn!" you cry as your body releases you to a full and complete orgasm. Your arms and legs and hips and thighs shudder and quiver, twisting and turning as you come. Your bottom starts slamming your mound furiously against my head, grinding your soaking wet forest of black hairs and the glistening slit that it protects into my face. Your climax produces more fluids that flow from your sex over my nose, lips, cheeks and chin like a waterfall of honey liqueur. I am completely hypnotized by the power and intensity of your climax. Hearing you call my name through choked gasps and sobs of pleasure makes the experience all the more sensual for me and I summon one last surge of strength to give you pleasure. At the height of your climax, just as you think your entire body will give out or your loins will explode, you feel the sudden shock of my full index finger as it plunges into your anus. It moves upward without hindrance, pushing through your tight sphincter past it to be among the moist, shuddering walls of your rectum. Still my finger slides upward, gliding into your forbidden passage until it is stopped, by sheer lack of length, at the knuckle. Your weary body is rocked by yet another wave of orgasms and this time I can feel them. Your anus and the velvety-smooth muscles of your lower intestine shudder and contract and pulse and clasp to force the blood away from your intimate places, creating the most explosive sensations your body has ever felt. Your head is light your mind is beyond spinning, with every ounce of your mental strength concentrating on the sledgehammer pounding in your loins. "Paaat - triiIICKKKK!!" you scream in a rough howl of delight and exhaustion. Then, as suddenly as you screamed, your body gives out and you start to fall forward. Only the fact that I am kneeling in front of you allows me to brace you until I can remove my finger from your body and slip my hands and arms up to catch you. I let you fall back into my arms and lower you gently toward the towels and pillows, your breasts bouncing lightly as I release your naked form. I kneel over you, holding your hand and watching your breathing. It is still heavy, but has begun to ease up. After a few moments, your eyes start to flutter and your body begins to move. "Take it easy, sweetheart," I say to you as I brush your cheek with my hand. "Maybe the champagne wasn't such a good idea," you joke in a weak voice. You take my hand and bring it to your lips, kissing the back of it and sending tingles of warmth up my arm. Then you take it in both hands and place it between your breasts. I can feel your heart pounding in your ribcage. "Oh, Patrick. Oh God, that was, that was...so wonderful. So wonderful..." CONTINUED ABOUT DISTRIBUTION: Please feel free to archive and/or redistribute this story electronically, AS LONG AS THE HEADER REMAINS INTACT (this includes the original title, my name and e-mail address, AND the copyright information). If I see this story reposted or archived WITHOUT the header, I will be one ticked little puppy. WARNING: Remember that these stories are copyrighted and that publication of them in ANY media -- print or otherwise -- without my permission is illegal. I don't mind it showing up on the 'Net, in archives or on BBS's (as long as the header is there), but publishing it in an on-line or printed magazine is where I draw the line. ASK ME FIRST. Hey, I'm a pretty nice guy. ===================== Cinnamon Patrick Donovan Section A -30- -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |