Belladonna on the Beach

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First let me tell you about your eyes, bright with something deep inside them. No cliché about stars or fire suffices; they simply light with primal joy. At least they do whenever I gaze in them, whenever I look in your face framed by your flowing hair. I want to believe you look at me in a special way that you look at no other. Though perhaps you do not, given the exuberance of your whole being. You radiate peace and joy given to the Woodstock generation, and look transcendental in long flowing skirts and soft cotton tops that ripple as you sway your slim long beautiful body. You are my friend and possibly unaware of how I look at you, certainly unaware of how I think of you.

These thoughts I keep secret not for shyness, but for the fact that you are married, for the fact that your friendship is vital to me, for the fact that we have separate lives that intertwine in a deeply ethereal but only lightly physical way. Our connections deepen with words that can only be hinted through action. But the brain is a wondrous creature; sensations are triggered as much in wild mind as in sensuous fingertips.

If you close your eyes you can imagine a great canyon stretching before you; place your toes right on the cliff’s edge and stare down. You will feel the rush as if the depths truly yawned before you. You will feel the wind caress its fingertips over your cheeks just as you would if you truly stood there. The mind knows no difference.

Now close your eyes and imagine, Belladonna, we are on an island. We are in a place that belongs only to us. The water, cobalt blue, rolls gentle waves that hush softly upon crystalline pink sands. The day has been spent in languorous conversation pleasant as the low and steady white noise of a pearly shell held to the ear. No rush but the skittering sandpipers foraging for tidbits. We watch the blue sky go golden, then tangerine, then crimson with silvered wisps of clouds as I slide my arm gently along your back, enjoying the touch of your skin along my fingertips. What wonderful anticipation in making a move, the joy of holding back with not a touch all day. The indescribable romance of the sunset melds perfectly synchronous with the sensuality of my smooth fingertips slipping over your back, my arm pulling you into my body. The friendly conversation of the day transitions into the wordless conversation of the evening.

Your eyes sparkle diamond glints reflected from the waves as you and I turn from the fading mecidiyeköy escortları crimson horizon to each other’s eager face. Lips part softly as we press them together, not the gentle kiss of friends, but the tender kiss of lovers. Red glows on your cheeks as the kiss lasts minutes, as I feel the ragged heat of the day fade from without and the burning heat from within simmer and rise. I could kiss you, Belladonna, for hours, and it may have been by the time I pull back, smile, and rise, offering to take your hand sweetly in mine. I pull you to standing, slip my arms around the small of your back, to kiss you again, more deeply in the pale glow of moonlight as shards of silver snake over the dark waters.

With your hand in mine, we walk the cooling sand into the palm grove, wordlessly moving closer to the steady sound of falling water. We reach at last the lagoon, awash in the gentle roar of water and steady chirp of the night creatures, of which we now are two. At the bank, we kiss again, my hand slipping under your soft cotton blouse. Clothes are important only to shield the sun here, but the eroticism of hidden treasure heightens the play. I slip my hands up your back, as you pull back and lift your arms. In the silhouette of you, the blouse is like a curtain lifting before the anticipated play, your hair tumbling down over bare shoulders, stirs me even more deeply. I hold your shoulders in my hands, squeeze firmly as you reciprocate, unbuttoning my cotton shirt and sliding long fingernails over my downy chest as I drop my arms back to let the fabric fall. Slipping my hands to your waist, I pull you into me. This kiss presses harder, more passionately as our tongues snake and charm each other to the mesmerizing music of the tropic passion. I feel your chest against mine, a feeling I have yearned for countless years. My fingernails rake up your back as yours clench into my spine.

Combing my fingers through your hair, I run a finger along the nape of your neck, then trace a line back down your spine down to the small of your back to slip another to the zipper of your skirt. Our torsos have pressed hard to each other as I feel the heat of your essence grinding against mine as we exchange breathless moans inside hungry kisses. My lips suck on your bottom lip and slowly trail across your cheek, down your throat. I feel the deep sigh in your throat as I suck your skin in pulses, timing the passionate sucks to my sliding down etiler escort the zipper, enough so your skirt falls down your long legs. Your hands rake my chest, slide down my abdomen, clasp the button of my shorts, working it and the zipper open to likewise leave me clad only in undergarments.

I take your hand and lead you into the warm, dark water. We move closer to the falls as your panties submerge. We stand waist deep as my hands cup your backside, kneading your ass cheeks as your moans deepen. At the falls, there is a ledge of rock. My hands clutching at your hips, you grab my shoulders and push up as I lift you to the ledge. My needs are hungry now, too hungry to linger anymore and as you rock back, I hook fingertips into your panties and pull them down and off. You gasp as I pull apart your legs, positioning my head between your thighs. Running my fingers along each outer one, I kiss alternately the soft skin inside each thigh. Your sighs turn into pleads. My hands slip inward, along the crease of each leg and I look up at you in the darkness.

Your loud gasp echoes as the tip of my tongue trails along the wet glistening nether lips. The taste of the lingering days salt, the fresh water of the lagoon, and the muskiness of your own passion is godlike nectar. I gently pull your legs further, curl my tongue to cup and slide inside for a deeper taste. Your hands claw at my head as I thrust in and out deeply, deliberately. Your back arches as my steady sucking enthralls you. Gasps and groans excite me deeper as I suck on your engorged clit. Belladonna, you do not know yet how the sound of your pleasure hardens me, animalizes me. I feel the shudder run through you as I plunge my face as deeply as I can, taste your inmost passion.

My continued licking elicits only squeals and pleas. You tug at my arms asking wordlessly to pull up to the ledge. I release and pull up on the rock. Even in the darkness I can see the wildness in your eyes. You pull off my soaked boxers, springing forth my manhood, shaved hairless as well, long and throbbing. I feel your fingers trail over the length, hear the hum of approval as you feel my large throbbing helmet. I pull up for a kiss. There is so much more play we could do, Belladonna, and that will be for other stories of fantasy evenings, tonight, we want the raw passion, the animal fuck.

You guide my cock to your throbbing center. I hold at the entrance, nuzzling my head against your quavering şişli escort labia. With teasing pecks at your lips I push just part of the head in, let only the throbbing knob enter, rubbing up and down, brushing your engorged clit. You gasp with each peck and nuzzle and become more demanding, pushing at my ass to force the point. To me, this is the most wonderful moment, where my length slides deeply inside to the base enveloped by your welcoming lips. This is the moment I look hard into your eyes. I hold there, shuddering, kissing you passionately. I make my whole shaft throb and grow, without a thrust of the hips as you gasp against me. I push us up the slick rocks to take us closer to the spray of the falls.

Now we begin the heart of the dance, learning the motion of our hips as they thrust against each other, learning the steps of our dance, of lead and follow. My shaft draws out slow, thrusts back deep, as the cool water sprays over our heated flesh. The tribal ritual of knowing, of learning, becomes perfect. My passion’s shaft thrusts into you as a knowing lover. I vary the rhythm. Easily I could spill over the edge, but I love the moment too much to let it go. Between groans and thrusts, I stop to kiss you, to nibble your ear and whisper “Belladonna” into it. Other moments I arch down to slip your hardened nipple into my mouth, feel your chest arch into me.

Finally it can be contained no longer. The thrusts become steady, furious. It is bestial fucking. I grunt and you gasp as we pump together. I listen to the sound of your gasps, feel the constriction of your pussy muscles to time my release. “Oh God, mmmm, fuck me.” You grunt. I grab your ass as fuck full force, lifting your legs to my shoulders as we thrust. Our grunts become “Nooww” “Cummm” as I feel the rising release. I arch my shoulders back, pumping, groaning to the sky as I feel it reaching. Your legs slip down and scissor my back as you pull me tight into you and my deep seed releases. I pump like a geyser as I feel your vaginal muscles grip the base, accepting everything I have to give you. All our muscles are rigid as each wave washes through, until, what could have been hours later in our minds, we collapse together in a heap of two bodies entangled to where one can begin where the other ends. In the spray of our lagoon’s falls, we lay there, me inside you and planting tender kisses over your face.

Now open your eyes. You are back in the real world, a married woman doing the best in your job and your family, sending a thank you message to a dear friend, one you call an angel, though with devilish thoughts beneath, the yin and yang of a flesh and blood man. In the world, nothing has changed, in the mind, there was another closeness.

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