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| Blogs > rm_johntaylor74 > On the great voyage home |
Part 2 - The Fun Begins
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Part 2 - The Fun Begins The afternoon was quieter, but held interest of its own. As the morning had been like two<b> teenagers </font></b>in heat, the afternoon was like a 20-something couple in love, silly and innocent, recapturing the guilelessness of a remembered youth. She was at her public best now, flirting like a little girl, joy overbounded, her smile so incredible, no one could resist her. She was like that, could walk into a roomful of strangers, smile, and everyone, men and women, would simply fall in love with her. It was totally annoying sometimes how she could do that, and it spawned, within everyone close to her, an almost psychotic need for her, as she would always stay so tantalizing out of emotional reach, but at the same time beckon you closer, promising eternity if you just took that one more step toward her... to which she would respond by taking two steps away and leaving you feeling like a whose mother had forgotten you. She could make perfectly sane, well-adjusted people completely crazy, but it was hard not to love her even in spite of that. She complicated life and made you feel stressed in even the happiest moments. I was always considered the aloof one, but in truth, she was. I avoided people, she avoided herself, burying her existence is a sea of humanity so as never to confront the truth of her own life. But it was days like today that drew you back to her, where she let her guard down and she seemed to let you in to see the real little girl behind the gregarious facade. Walking throughout the island, we teased each other, played jokes, acted monumentally silly. She was flirting in the moment, with no future purpose other than the enjoyment she was having right then, and it was joyous, a powerful happiness that you would always remember as that one special moment when your life seemed to have all become so clear. And then it happened, that something to change her mood. The father of one of her students saw us together, as we stood looking out over the lake. I was standing behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist as her fingers lovingly traced along my forearms. Her head was thrown back against my chest, and we looked an almost picture-perfect couple. But it couldn't last of course, and with this gent seeing us like this, he, quite innocently, made a remark about us getting married. That statement was jarring for her, as it was something more than what was going on right then (at least in her mind), and she saw it as both an intrusion (and she hated anyone talking about her or her life) and as a reminder of something she didn't want, and began to distance herself from me. That, maybe, is too selfish a statement, too self-directed. She truly wasn't distancing herself from me as much as she was retreating within herself and in her own way trying to protect me. Burdened by thoughts that she may have lead me to believe something more than there was, she could not bring herself to face the overbearing power of my annoying, ever-present optimism about us and our future. She truly never wanted to see me hurt, and never wanted me to misunderstand her feelings for me — even in moments that seemed like forever, it was only meant to be that moment and only that moment. My own overly romantic notions suppressed any sense of logic and saw what it wanted to see and felt what it desperately wanted to feel. Her warnings made sense in the calm, clear moments of simple conversations, but when you were so buried in the tenderness, the passion of the moment, you forgot the logic and let yourself feel more, and be forever hopeful that you could convince her of those same romantic dreams. As we walked back silently to where her family was, she walked a half pace in front of me, playing with a blade of grass she had picked, brooding, remembering every pain she had experienced in life, and every pain she had caused in others. I fought hard within myself to not return to my own old ways, of being an asshole and making things worse, of being selfish and wanting her too much at th is moment. It reminded me of just how difficult our relationship was at times, and how even in the most intimate moments she would hide in herself, which would trigger my own craziness and feelings of abandonment, and we would go on our merry path of self-destruction and further poison any chance we had to get past all of this, leaving wonderful remnants of anger & resentment for future battles to be built on. She spent much of her existence in the public eye, yet alone with someone it was very private, and the shyness within her came out all too clearly. As beautiful as everyone thought she was, she was equally uncomfortable with how she looked. When it was my turn to pleasure her, she panicked if the lights weren't off, as she didn't want me to see what her pussy looked like. It was a strange thing when taken out of context of our connection to each other, but one must understand that she had a respect for me before she had a lust for me, and showing oneself in a sexual way to someone you considered a guide or a guru is sacrilege. Wherever we were, it would have to be darkness, or she would cover my eyes with her hands. In a way, it was incredibly erotic and intimate to not be able to quite see what you were doing. I could fondle and rub and stroke every inch of her body, trying to find my way. In the darkness I was led to the target by touch and taste; and her unmistakable scent drawing me forward. The fingers and palms of my hands would rub along the outside of her labia, warming her little snatch, encourage it to fill with blood, so it would be ready for my tongue. My fingers searched, my tongue probed each millimetre of skin, each fold, lavishing attention on areas forgotten by most, until a sharp cry from deep within her told me I had found my mark. And it was at that point I began to ravage her. Tongue, lips, mouth, teeth, fingers, hands, all working in unison to launch her toward her goal... and then I would pull back, stopping to admire my work. My eyes, now adjusted to the light, I could begin to make out her form, and see her head thrown back, her face twisted in both anguish & enjoyment, torn between the sheer delight of writhing on my swirling, dancing tongue and penetrating, inquisitive fingers; and the now delayed appeasement of her swollen sex. I watched... her mouth open, waiting for her lungs to force the air from her body in a series of powerful, commanding screams, both emptying her soul, and snatching back her existence at the same time. I waited... tasting her secretions on my lips, savouring each drop as a victory in battle. My hands rubbed her pubic mound, teasing the wonderfully lush hair; rubbed her legs, her stomach, feeling the tremors, waiting until they had almost subsided and until she would almost open her eyes in wonder of why I had not completed the task, or had at least continued on my way toward its completion. And then I would start aga in, licking, suckling, and nursing at her sweet pussy... I was entranced by how swollen her lips had become, as I could almost see them glowing pink & purple through darkness. Then alternately ravaging those nether lips again, diving deeper with my tongue and fingers, holding them inside her for a moment... but silent... waiting for her body to writhe in search of the movement inside her; of the pleasure as I swirled and drove my fingers home, as my tongue licked the very walls of her vagina, teasing her swelling from the inside and feeling the luscious tightening of her flesh around my tongue as it deposited each new wave of juice on it. Each time I would bring her closer to the edge, her hands, which had until then been lovingly stroking my long hair and keeping it from falling in my eyes and across my face, now used my hair as a guide to drive my face into her on-rushing thrusting; and drive my tongue almost to the mouth of her cervix, as her pussy slapped against by my face . I turned my hand with the palm facing upward, so my fingers could stroke along the inner wall of her pussy, as my thumb tickled the centrepoint of her clit, ensuring it's full erection. And again, I would pull away for a moment... a moment of eternity for her, as I would wait to start the cycle again, trapping her in this almost loop of time, where she could get almost to the apex of her orgasm, but not to it. The pleasure she felt up to that moment, and then the torment of not having the release. All that pleasure building up and storing within the walls of her pussy, tingling through her whole body until I would finally make the dam burst. For a single moment in time, there was complete silence and a look in her eyes, the fire of a wild confused, on the periphery between clarity and confusion, and not knowing which to choose... and then the sounds came, and the fire within her came forth, as she would choose the rage that bonded the clarity and confusion as one. The screams were piercing, and one never knew whether they were an affirmation of herself, or a cry of bewilderment of a combined repression & indulgence that was her upbringing. She tried desperately to raise me from my spot, still lapping at the folds of her sweet pussy, embarrassed at cumming in my face. But I held tight, wanting to maximize every second of her orgasm, and used my mouth and chin to push against her pubic mound, amplifying and prolonging the waves of pleasure that rifled through her body, now almost rigid from the rapture that tore through her. ... and still, she was tormented by the confusion, repaying my efforts with an alternate stroking of my hair, my cheek, my face, so lovingly, a touch with such warmth and passion it was like the tenderness of a goddess herself; and in the next second still desperately trying to lift me from her, clawing at my shoulders, marking new areas on my back for future scars. When it was all done, and the bliss had passed, after she regained herself, and could push all the confusion back into her again, no matter how satisfying it all may have been, she craved more. That, of course, was the point of the technique, that she would want more, and now I could fuck us both into oblivion. After licking her that way, she used to love to have me fuck her from behind. She loved the feeling of my body covering hers, engulfing her, offering her a completion protection, where she could feel safe and completely embrace her own passion. She told me she could cum in that position like nothing else, that intense surge as each wave of pleasure rolled through her, forcing out those repressive holds that held back her hunger at times. It was especially wonderful as the feeling would mix with the reverberant tingling of the Crescendo, leaving her basking in her own pleasure, soaking wet from the mix of her juices and mine, swimming within her, dripping from her moist cunt, exposed to the air, creating an unmistakable scent that was like a wonderful aftertaste which remained with you and extended the feeling, long long into the succeeding moments after it was all over. Her opening was positioned a little bit higher than some women, but still fucking her from behind created a special feeling for her as I could thrust even deeper than normal. Quickly helping me off w ith my pants and underwear, she grabbed my cock with both hands, playing, licking and sucking it to full attention, smearing the precum all over my shaft so it was good and wet and would slide wonderfully between her legs. Glistening with the moisture of her tongue, it stood ready, the big purple head all shiny, with just that little pucker of skin right around its little mouth. Turning over, she moved back toward me on her hands and knees, reaching behind me with both hands to pull me forward and into her. My cock was so hard, I had to arch my back and push my hips downward, to get low enough to enter her. When I finally did enter her, slowly stroking past the initial pressure until she relaxed enough to take me in, I could use the posterior wall of her vagina as a pressure point to push my cock down slightly, and drag the tip of my head across that area with the draw out of each initial stroke. And stroke I did. Once she was ready, I had to go for broke. Sometimes she appreciated my gent leness, but for the most part, you were either high and hard or she'd literally tell you to get out. And so I bore down, pinched out the muscles in my back to protect the degenerating disc, grabbed her hips high up and around her lower abs and proceeded to stroke fast and hard, my thighs and balls slapping against her with each stroke as she thrust back into me. Her head turning in half shudders to either side, her teeth gritted, her forearms strained so the tendons were nearly ready to crack, as her hands grabbed tightly at the covers and held on for dear life... and still she urged me on... harder, harder, faster. But never one to just completely do what I'm told, I would add a few of my own tricks and went into my literal screw fuck, pivoting my hips round in a circle, so my dick was actually in a screwing motion, stretching each side of her sweet little hole, and painting each wall of her cunt with both as much of my shaft as I could keep in her, and the tip of my cock. She described it as a wild, w onderful feeling, like being fucked on an ever spinning merry-go-round. Her head swimming and almost dizzy as the rest of her body revelled in this special little surprise that I would keep in my trick bag, and pull out at only the most opportune moment. The spinning movement prolonged both our sensations, for her, furthering her growing orgasm, and adding a whole new component to it, for me, keeping me from reaching mine too quickly, by giving me a moment while she recovered, to quickly bear down when I felt that little surge growing within me. Or if I had gone a bit too far, to take my cock out completely and squeeze the head at the base, and then quickly put it back in her before she noticed, all the while still using my free hand to play at her swoll en clit and nether lips so tumescent it inflamed my desire to even touch them. And then back in again I went, returning my shaft to that warm wonderful place which felt like a reward for me, giving her again the sensation of that large inviting creature filling her, stroking inside her, and bringing an irrepressible smile to her face. I rubbed the palms of my hands across the broad muscles of her back, and around to her chest, so I could grab hold of both breasts and tease her nipples for the final few strokes, to help time our moment together. Then finally that moment came, the one we had both been waiting for, and I could feel the tension rise within her and I would thrust harder to bring her over the edge, and release my own resi stance to try and cum just as her orgasm had subsided, in order to carry hers forward just that little more, as the first splash of hot wet cum seared through her, and hips bucked almost involuntarily again and into my last few thrusts... and then we turned and both fell down together, me on my back, her on top of me now, the cum from both of us liberally spread over either one. Her breasts now heaved against me with each breath, the nipples drawing slightly across my chest hair, and that opportune moment when our nipples would touch, and I would feel that special closeness to her again.... She looked back at me now, reliving this long memory I had been having and stared into my eyes, her own chest heaving in deep breaths, her mouth parted slightly, invitingly, as if she were reliving that adventure with me, seeing it play out in my mind's eye, and then being swept up in her own memory of it. Her face had that look of "Oh my god, I had almost forgotten." And I felt a softening of her heart, as the fortress began to come down again, in the familiar pattern of her moods. Her somewhat flawed memory began to recapture the moments of our times together, and she would regain the emotion of just how much we meant to each other, and how much fun it was to be with one another. After this full memory had ended, with my thoughts of us lying together, the scent of sex wafting all around us, being in each other's arms, for a brief instance forgetting the obstacles preventing us from the happiness we felt at that moment... she turned to me now, and kissed me full on the lips, lingering, darting her tongue into my mouth to give me a taste of what I had been missing, and then walked away. From that point on, though, she began to come back to me, in little bits at first, shy glances to see if I was angry or just confused, long stares backed by a sweet smile to further the bond of the memories we had just re-lived; and to seclude us from the others, casual touches like the territory marking signals you would make in front of others to show you had made a claim on this person. And then something simple happened that pushed along this little psychological microcosm, recapitulating the steps beginning a relationship. One of her brothers, in a fit of teasing accidentally spilled a load of food on her. This new anger she felt was furthered as she discovered that she had left the bag with her change of clothes, in the car, and she only had a jacket now to wear on top of the singlet underneath the top that had just been stained — and this was not at all the right kind of weather for a jacket. All of us were in silence now, almost held hostag e by her anger. She took a jug of water and towel and went down to the waterside to try and wash out her top. I followed slightly behind to see if I could help or to just make her smile a little with my traditional goofiness — but I hadn't realized that it was a set-up. While she was indeed a little bit upset, it was not as bad as we had all thought, and she used our fear, an her own overt outward display to draw me along with her, knowing I would follow her, fulfilling our classic near dependent relationship. As she crouched by the water now, she began to remove her top, slowly, demurely. Even now, she still moved like a dancer, with sensuality and elegance even in the smallest of movements. Her body still lithe with that hint of musculature that solidified that aesthetically pleasing look. I watched without trying to seem like I was doing so, catching glimpses of the warm, tanned flesh of and between her breasts, wanting to reach out and stroke them, kiss, lick, and suck at her nipples, nursing like a newborn. My thoughts so loud everyone in the park could probably hear them. And she watched me, watching her, smiling all the while, knowing the effect she was having on me, and smiling even more because of it... and accidentally showing me a nipple here and there to further my matched pain and pleasure. As a gentleman, I removed the top layer of the two shirts I was wearing and put it around her shoulders. She stopped for a moment, caught a scent of me from the cloth, and put it on, buttoning very slowly, her arms by her side, pushing the formidable flesh of her swaying mounds even higher, the cleavage bulging over the semi-circular cutout at the top of the singlet she still had on. Taking my hand now, she led me off in a different direction, away from everybody and toward some unknown destiny. She knew where she was going even if I didn't. We came across a caravan of tents, where a dance performance was going on. She knew both the organizers and performers, and asked if we could just duck into the dressing areas to sit down for awhile, as it was really getting too warm to be outside in the blazing sun. The whole thing had such a feeling of being scripted, it was almost impossible that whatever she had planned would fail. She could have asked these people for anything and it would have happened. As we walked around to the far tent in behind all the others, a breeze picked up slightly, cooling us down a bit, and almost pushing away all the other sounds, and even the other people. As we pulled back the tent flap, silence had descended around us, and everyone had disappeared. We sat down at one of the picnic benches with a long plastic table cloth draped over it, our backs to the tent wall. She sat just to my right, leaning her head on my shoulder, her left hand stroking my back, spelling out names with her fingers, playing like a little girl. She had a performance programme in her hand that she opened in front of me, and began pointing out people she knew and how she knew them. Her right hand now dropped below the table and caressed my legs, her fingernails tracing along the hem of my pants, then along the zipper, up and down, until she got the desired result, and my cock shot straight up, hard as it could be. Under the table cloth now, she did the unthinkable, unzipping my pants and pulling out my swollen member. Unable really to duck down and suck me off, she did the next best thing and begin to stroke my cock with her hands, first lovingly caressing it, almost moulding it like she was makin g bread, then harder, as she grabbed hold of it, and began to pump up and down, the foreskin making the little eye play a game of peek-a-boo. I did my best to act nonchalantly about this, in case anyone came into the tent, concentrating on the programme I was "reading", and trying to think of something ugly, so I wouldn't just lose it and cum everywhere. Putting her tongue in my ear and whispering to me that she wanted to see me cum, made my whole body tremble, half in panic, half in pleasure. She worked faster now, wetting her hands with her own saliva, she increased her grip on my penis as it began to get slippery, her spit mixed with my pre-cum. She reached down with her other hand and grabbed my balls, and began caressing them. I was shivering now, almost from some unknown draft. Her right hand continued pumping harder, her left hand crossed underneath putting my balls in an almost stranglehold, to cut off the exit of blood from my cock, which was now truly engorged, veins throbbing visibly, helping to ensure that my orgasm would come a lot faster than normal. With each stroke, her right hand gently struck her left, sending a wonderful jolt of energy into my testicles, forwarding a wave of pleasure through them and then back up the thickened veins of my cock, and telling my brain to forget the ugly thoughts and just go with the pleasure of the moment. She took a full grip now with both hands, and I watched as her sweet hands moved up and down in almost a rhythm of their own... watched connecting the pleasure I was feeling with the movement of her hands, and the peek-a-boo game that the head of my penis was now engaged in, hiding with each upward stroke and revealing itself with a wry, glistening, ever more messy smile with each downward stroke. I tried to delay myself a bit longer, wanting that wonderful feeling of anticipation to last as long as possible. But the orgasm was welling up inside me: from the my tip of my cock down to the base and through my balls, my groin, and radiating throughout my body there was a tingling feeling that was so utterly delicious and inviting it was nearly impossible to resist its call. At the same time, I was getting to be a voyeur in my own pleasure, watching her delicate fingers, and sweetly polished nails do their work. Each stroke, faster and harder now, ever swelling the glistening purple head of my bulging shaft, making it look like a cobra puffing out and arching its back, bringing me ever nearer an orgasm. Her tongue worked feverishly in furtherance of that cause as well, sending pleasure down from the ever-so-susceptible skin along my ears, alternately with her teeth pulling at my lobes. My breathing shallowed as my orgasm neared and then the sudden realization hit us both at the same time, that if we didn't think of something, I was going to ruin the whole moment by indeed cumming everywhere. Expertly, she wet her fingers and quickly pulled up my foreskin to stop the force of the ejaculate. I leaned into her, my shoulder to hers as the violence of my orgasm ripped through my body, and sending its waves trembling into her body as well... over and over, until the muscles of my abdomen felt as if they had done a thousand sit-ups. We sat for a moment, enjoying the release, she whispered to me that she felt as if she had cum as well. Sacrificing her own moment, she worked quickly to clean up my cock and place it safely back in my pants before anyone could come in and see what we had been up to, or suspect what might happened. As we casually left the tent, as if nothing other than a bit of res t had transpired, I whispered to her that it was her turn next... to which she only raised an eyebrow and smiled at me.  |
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