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Outdoor slut |
PHONE ME: 0908 391 3460
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We walk out back, the grass uncut for about a week, it's thick and overgrown. Laden with dew, damp and fragrant as we scrunch it between our toes.
I lead you under the willow tree, between your rose garden and the herb garden. The scent delights us.
We pause there. I slip off your babydoll.
You unfasten the hooks at the bottom of my teddy. I raise my arms to accommodate you; the teddy flies to one side and falls to the dampen ground.
I am yours. Do with me what you will.
We kiss, tenderly, with building passion. Out tongues intertwine, I move down. Your throat, your shoulders, the tops of your breasts. Downward, to your belly. I kneel before you. My hands at your hips, they clasp the last of your clothes. My hands slide down your legs. I help you out of your panties. I toss them to the side, unheeding. I draw you down, kneeling together with me. I clasp you; I fall |
backward onto the ground.
I pull you on top of me. I wrap my legs around your waist; I clasp your shoulders, I pull you close, down on top of me.
You violate my mouth with your tongue; not satisfied, you work your way down. A brief stay at my breasts; erectile tissue turgid. Then down my stomach, tarrying at my navel. I cannot stand the anticipation
You linger; I push you down even lower; down to my secret place that is yours alone. But you pass me by. Down my thighs, scratching, probing, feeling. I can't take much more; the anticipation builds. Finally, your lips reach my vagina.
Oh, Jayne... I love you so much...
Delicious, delicious. Your hands slide up my sides. I clasp your hands. I hold you tight. Please don't stop. I'm insane with desire.
I'm writhing in the overgrown greenery. I'm yours. Drops of dew fall from the willow, tempering our incandescent ardor.
Oh, dear Jesus, I'm almost there! Please, don't stop. Almost... almost... there! In utmost fervor I scream; I'm sure I'm awakening the neighbors.
I settle. We embrace, my ardor dwindles; it tapers to naught.
All at once the fire re-kindles. You're kissing me, probing, exploring me. I'm yours. Do with me what you will. Your tongue roams down my tummy, to the secret place that I have given to you alone. Make me yours. Own me.
My womanhood is a shell; you pry me apart, my pearl glistening. The tip of your tongue finds its mark. I cannot withstand.
Again I scream. |
PHONE ME: 0908 391 3460
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