0 comments/ 63518 views/ 4 favorites A Plausible Analogy By: Gustavius She had not worn this gown before, a thing of her own creation. Ankle length it was, with a wrap-around that opened along the leg as she raised a thigh to my waiting hand. At some point I took her hands and stepped back to see the flow of material that swept upward over those wide hips and soft, soft belly, then rose out over each shoulder with just enough exposure of her long neck and delightful cleavage to suggest that her sweetly blossomed nipples lay just inside, awaiting my wet tongue. I knew without looking that her creation opened in the back, just below an imaginary line where her bra strap would have rested. She read the look I gave her and told me the gown was but only one of several surprises she had prepared for me this night. “I’ve brought you a thing or two from the Kingdom - come see,” she said, leading me to the low sofa. A bottle of fine sherry and little gift-wrapped boxes were there on the coffee table. “I’ve already started without you. Couldn’t wait, they’re so good....” She bent and reached underneath for the little copper box and took one out. I brought a candle near and touched its flame to the twisted end, and she brushed silken hair to the side and drew in with hollowed cheeks (a lovely sight, indeed, as I pictured those same lips sucking me). I followed then, knowing she’d already reached a high, remembering as I tasted the tip’s wetness that her occasional work in Londontown presented an opportunity to make a small clandestine purchase. I poured us some sherry and commented on its velvet taste as the inhalation of the sweet smoke had its desired effect. “You know, if the customs people should ever find these on you, they’ll have your ass,” and her response was a smile that seemed to show amusement over my choice of words. Whatever could she have been thinking, I wondered? March the Thirty-first A train ride this day to begin one more adventure, this time to capture on film her smile and her form against the background of the city’s contemporary quarter; home to the artist, the university, and the boutiques offering the latest in European fashions. A small travel bag with camera and attachments that I’d brought became the subject of her attention, as the train followed a path to the main station. She sat beside me, a vision of pastel-colored blouse and worn, tight fitting jeans (totally in character, I thought) with lengths of brown hair brushed to a brilliance in the smokey light - I wanted her so badly. There were others in our compartment, so I could only fantasize, imagining having her straddle me there on the upholstered seat and move on my cock with the sway of the rail car. I smelled the fragrance of bathing oils on her skin and thought for a moment of how these scents were also to be found near her secret crevasses.... I was jarred back to reality as the train began a synchronized shuddering accompanied by the release of pressure and a shrill whistle, all to signal our arrival in the terminal. A glance through the glass now to see the transformation from natural to artificial light, then a dusty darkness as each car stopped with a jolt. One more steel carriage among many that had come home again to this greatest of stables. She leaned over to use the window glass as a mirror, touching her hair and breaking into a smile for my watching eyes. We found our way along the aisle to the end of the car and stepped down into the crowd. Its motion swept us onto the concourse, away from the baggage carts and ticket lines, and once again into the sunlight. Our walk to the city’s square - recently converted to an open area for pedestrian shoppers - only lasted a few minutes, yet in that short time we were able to taste and feel the very life of the city. Noises of commercial transportation surrounded us, people of all ages moving with us, meeting us head-on, cris-crossing our path. Everywhere was evidence of a rapid pace of life only broken by the amblings of the very young and the very old. I looked at her as she moved beside me, her proud stature with jutting chin and breast and, once again, that loving smile. She seemed in a parade of her own making, drawing upon the inner thoughts of those she confronted along the way. Perhaps this was something of her mystique. I for one knew her aura was not only evident in a crowd where so many at one time could pay her tribute, recalling visions of her atop the bed or kneeling against it, opening herself as if to say, “ The Princess Ariadne is now prepared to receive the cock of the delegate from Thessaloniki.” Then again, I cautioned myself, there was never any overt sign of this noble lineage in her voice or conscious actions. It was, however, quite apparent in the way her body moved, and, glancing at those passing by, I realized they, too, were aware of this special quality of hers. It had been impossible to have her pose effectively along the thoroughfare without drawing the unwanted attention of others and losing the natural rhythms of the city. Instead, she continued to make her way along the boulevard, pausing to window shop at her own pace, while I kept in lense range (sometimes ahead of her) timing the motion of the people to capture her body in stride or her face in joyful beauty - and surely including a number of exposures that captured the rounded swell of her sweet ass cheeks hugged in faded denim. I never tired of seeing that part of her. How could I not capture the curve and flare of her womanly arse? We came upon a secluded bank of telephone stalls, and, probably remembering a previous photo session, she stepped into one and began to pose for me under the pretense of making a call. Her back turned to me, head thrown back listening to the words of a make-believe speaker, she emphasized that part of her body she knew most fascinated me. Now hearing the camera working behind her, a turn of the head (and that devilish look, so often a trademark of her desire to give or receive a sensational fucking!). Then turning full around in the stall to face me, phone receiver held to an ear, eyes partly shut, she let her free hand roam into the front of her jeans. I watched fascinated as her fingers came to life inside. It lasted only seconds, but long enough for me to overcome my surprise and get the shot. I loved her for her inventiveness, her sexy and provocative sense of humor. I walked over to her, held her and told her so - now feeling her soft perspiration and whisper of her hair. She brought two fingers to my lips, and I caught the scent of her pussy. My eyes focused on a tiny ringlet of hair she now used to tickle my nose and lips. And she placed her middle finger on my tongue to taste her saltiness and sweet musk. People were moving near us now, some in animated conversations. To them we could well have been casual lovers relieving the day’s tensions by sharing an intimate kiss, while having no idea of the symbolism the striking woman had attached to that kiss. Later, we looked for a table out of the sun. We found one that was set back near the second rise of a terrace; a low wall that overflowed with the season’s first tulips separated us from the tables of an adjoining café. The shade umbrella advertising Campari filtered some of the noonday glare. I watched fascinated as a tiny fly circled near the white froth of my Pilsner beer. She had opened the little bags in front of her examining the details of the hand-carved ornaments of Easter she’d just purchased. I set the lense for another closeup of her face and working hands - closer this time. Chairs scraped the stone floor beside us, as students began to arrive from the university for their midday meal. Waiters were already on their way with trays of soup and bread and tall glasses of beer (I could use another one of those if I can get his attention). A few more exposures of her on the terrace and we would continue this inside - ‘One Day In The Life Of Justine - A Visual Tribute To Her Divine Body.’ I set the camera down and tasted the foam of warmed beer, while she nibbled at her sandwich and spoke quietly, “I love this when there is no connection with a paying job. I can be myself and put on all my faces for you...even improvise. You know, I really had to scratch myself down there before (open smile with sparkling teeth exposed). That’s what that silly pussy shaving’s done to me - given me a terrible itch.” I laughed with her and felt myself becoming hard. Inside, I paid the requisite deposit at the desk, and we walked up to the third level and found the little studio, complete with shower and lighting equipment. I’d learned it was once a small hotel that was converted a few years ago to individual studios for photo sessions, among other things. The temperature was pleasantly cool as we stepped inside. Slatted blinds allowed thin bars of sun to enter the single window. The heavy lounge chair and single bed and table left little room for the three tripods that held strobe lights and reflectors. She wasted no time undressing and went in for a shower, while I shouted after her to hurry. We had the room for two hours, and I was anxious to begin the first of several more rolls of 35mm film. I reached for her blouse she’d dropped in a pile with her jeans and used it to dust the SLR I had fixed to a spare tripod. She came out of the shower drying herself and sat on the chair’s arm massaging a nipple to pink hardness, tugging at its length, watching me as I chose a filter and checked the camera’s position and meter readings. We had worked out this series of poses earlier, visualizing all the necessary settings and angles for maximum effect. She was quite good at introducing new ideas, drawing I guessed on her years of experience behind the camera. In a side pose, her swelled breast lacked any highlighting, so I poured out some scented oil I’d brought in the camera bag to bathe the soft globe that molded itself to my fingers. Her hands busied themselves with my belt and zipper, tugging my pants to my knees, teasing me with little sighs of delight. And she followed my example by taking cock in hand and stroking the oil along its length (the moist suction there reminded me of her mouth), as I increased the pressure on her breast. With the timer set to fifteen seconds, I brought the glans up to the very tip of one breast and gently pushed against its nipple. The pressure there was so slight, yet her little nipple squeezed outward as though to taunt me...and the shutter clicked. I experimented with this pose for a few more shots, each with some variation in camera and strobe positioning, once even with her soft breasts pushed together to envelope my hardened length. At one point, my concentration was shattered by the sounds of heavy love-making from the studio next to ours - unmistakable noises of bodies coming together mixed with a woman’s wild cries. She became hysterical, shaking with uncontrolled laughter, and she mused that some office manager was having a taste of his secretary’s little cunt for lunch. I said it was a shame that I’d already eaten, but she, having none of that, was already guiding my head down to the shiny clit that poked out to meet my lips. Only ten or so frames to finish the shooting, but the room was ours for another forty minutes. Now, every pose she held for me suddenly became an open invitation to fuck her, and, with that thought in mind, I worked to allow us some time for sexual reward. Remembering a practical rule of contemporary photography, I tossed her the bikini panties to slip on - a touch of female intimacy to blend with her skin tone and highlight her sexual center. Stepping into these and pulling them up to cover her pussy, she snapped the elastic band and turned away to kneel on the bed. I helped her to prop herself on all fours with her thighs apart. With handheld camera, I crouched behind her, caressing for a moment one of her sculptured ankles, and I was struck by the vision of her breasts dangling there like some unpicked fruit - sweetened pears that swayed with her gentle breathing. I tore myself away and adjusted the lighting to illuminate one of her titties - it caught the full brilliance from the lamp - and I tugged the little panties above her suntan line so that it all but disappeared into the deep cleft of her arse. It was with this pose that my camera recorded two of her most enticing and sexually explicit features in the few frames that remained. I became aroused again at the sight of her two globes suspended in light and shadow; one in darkness paired with its radiant sister. I asked her to massage her titties with the oil, and her long fingers spread to encircle first the left, then the right one, lingering for a second or two to tug on each nipplet. I controlled my breathing as best as I could under the circumstances and pushed the shutter button, then again. I became mesmerized, watching her contemplating the soft fruit of her own body, framed by the beauty of light and dark thighs, and matched with the near perfect vision of divine buttocks that held captive a few strands of panty silk now stretched to show off the wet lips of her pussy. I had to have her then. I brought her to her feet, mouth searching for her neck and earlobe through a cascade of soft brown hair. She responded, laughing quietly, whispering those special love words. The camera work and all her seductive posing was over for this day, and I allowed my hand to explore the line of her thin waist and downward onto the supple flare of her ass cheeks. The skin there still held the patina of oils we’d applied, shiny in the meager window light. She began to make a gentle turn, then thought better of it. Was she enjoying the excited probing of my penis against her bottom? I hesitated only a moment, then pulled the bikini panties down and off of her ankles, and she, anticipating the delight of my entering her, leaned over the bed again, offering me her sweet pussy from behind. But the sight of her delectable ass, now partly opened, made me delirious and I watched, transfixed, as she stood for me with her back gently arched, her soft cheeks shining in the afternoon light, inviting. Each of her semi-globes taut and proud, the dark cleft between parting to take in the full length of my middle finger. When I moved my body against the back of her, my thighs felt her sexual heat. She sensed my unspoken plea for assistance, and her hands came around to spread herself open. Thin white stencilled lines from a thong she’d worn stretched apart. And when she felt my hardened penis against her opened valley, she released her buttocks to close around the glans and several inches of its length. I satisfied myself with staying between her soft cheeks and not pressing farther, knowing that one day we would each come to enjoy that ultimate penetration - but not today. Instead, I delighted in the discovery that the cleavage of her sweet bottom was so fleshy deep, so encircling that I was able to draw out almost entirely, and plunge upward only to be enveloped again by her delightful flesh. I bent my knees slightly to improve the angle of my entry while pressing her flesh together, and she stood upright to accentuate the arch and flare of her ass. As I continued to fuck her in this way, she began to increase the pleasure by squeezing, the relaxing her buttocks in unison with my thrusting, her mid-section taking on a sexual rhythm of its own. Now that my cock had burrowed a kind of love channel of its own between her cheeks, my hands began to roam to pinch her nipples or join her own hands to play with her clit, even managing through all this to work a finger inside the wet mouth of her pussy. I was at this point nearing the edge - she slipped a hand under to cup and squeeze my sacs - and I exploded, the added lubricant giving more ease to the fucking. I looked down once again to see in the dusty window light the utter sensuality of her womanly arse caressing my shaft, tightening once or twice more as if to swallow my offering. It seemed she’d brought herself to climax at the moment I came! She turned her head to me and gave me her mouth and tongue, and I felt her hand take hold of my cock from behind her and press it against her pussy lips. I turned her around then for a deep kiss and allowed my fingers to wander downward to feel the sticky wetness inside the crack of her ass. She said, “I liked the feel of you back there, you know,” and I confided in myself that I was indeed making progress, as we collapsed together on the studio bed for whatever minutes remained on the timekeeper’s clock. * To Be Continued * A Plausible Analogy Ch. 02 January 23rd The drive that late afternoon seemed without end, almost to the point of boredom, severing the city’s center in heavy, plodding, end-of-workweek traffic, following trolley tracks, and sliding over ancient cobblestoned corners. We managed eventually to break out of the relentless snarl of trucks and taxis and spotted the blue signs to the super highway heading west. Then finally, three unobstructed lanes appeared that invited our high speed passage. She sat quietly through most of it. Now we were talking and laughing together, our spirits brightened with thoughts of the quiet seclusion we would share this evening. A persistent image of my middle finger slipping in and out of her little pussy kept crossing my mind, pleasantly interrupting my train of thought. North now, through flat, open (and well fertilized!) farmland, the last of the sun touched its fire to the occasional church domes, then darkness. I stopped the car to remove the covers from the driving lights. She came out into the chilled air, shadows joined in the headlight beams, and I held her close and whispered my intentions (a smile from her lips as her hand slipped down to give my crotch a squeeze). The road now absent of all but the local traffic, we swept through the last tiny villages, lights throwing their illumination across our path. Soon, a left turn onto a bridge that carried us under an ancient gate and along narrow streets to a gilded sign announcing our hotel. Taking our overnight bags from the boot, we ran as one into the chilling air and opened the great door to a rush of warmth and wonderful smells from a distant kitchen. We were met instantly by a large woman who had seen one too many travelers in her time. Spending only moments with the formalities of registration and surrendering our passports, the housekeeper provided us with a room and bath for the night, and, yes, dinner was being served. Up the carpeted stairs and along a hallway in semi-darkness we found our room; a double-locked entrance door opened to plush carpeting, antique wardrobes and a high ceiling that overlooked a large bed with carved headboard. As I closed and locked the door and set my bag down, my excitement for the hours ahead could hardly be contained. She was occupied with arranging the contents of her night bag on the dresser top. I set my coat over a chair, then stepped behind her and removed the hooded cape from her shoulders, laying it aside (a hint of her self-consciousness realizing she’d forgotten). She straightened with my hands around her front warming themselves in the folds of her sweater and curve of her stomach. I leaned forward to kiss the lips she turned to offer me (the sound of someone turning a key in the lock next door). Her hands took mine and brought them upward to her breasts. Standing behind her still, I squeezed and they pressed outward; through the fabric of her bra I felt her fat little nipples harden. Tension from the evening’s drive disappeared as I massaged her flesh, and I felt the familiar hardening, pressing now against her tight bottom sheathed in form-fitting pants that so perfectly defined the separation of her jutting buttocks. She raised her arms and parted the length of silken hair that reached to her shoulders, and my lips closed on her exposed neck. Her whispers told me of how she’d longed all day to have me play with her breasts - “You always go straight for my butt or my puss and neglect my titties!” then in the same breath, “...shall we eat dinner soon? The restaurant must be near closing (she let a hand trail behind to grasp my swollen friend),...or do you think we can manage an appetizer first?” Letting go, she turned in my arms and, in one motion, pulled the sweater over her head, mussing her hair, and held a pose for me, laced bra with flesh-colored cups that highlighted her familiar contours, the material barely restraining her womanhood. I don’t recall doing it myself - she must have taken the initiative - but I was soon without pants, my cock freed from jockeys, and she had me sitting at the bed’s edge (someone walked past in the hallway outside). Kneeling at my feet, she took the glans full in her mouth, bathing it with her tongue, little love bites, letting it out in the chilled air for a moment, then drawing its length in again, all the way to the back of her throat. With eyes opened and smiling up at me, she bathed me with her tongue before allowing her lips to bring sweet pressure all along its length. My eyes meanwhile took in the vision of soft hair and slender back, a tiny ribbon that kept her bra in place, then lower, the cheeks of her noble ass that flared outward in pants now stretched to their limit. I touched her as a signal to wait (her lips nibbling at one of my sacs, tugging at the curled hairs there) and reached for a pillow to raise myself - the less for her to bend to suck me. Once adjusted, I lifted her head and fed my cock once more to her waiting mouth, her eyes smiling at me while she sucked, her tongue again tickling and coaxing its tip from inside her mouth, no doubt enjoying the taste of early cum. Not hurrying the foreplay (as had been her practice on occasion), she breathed hot air to fire the tip, then gently used her teeth to keep me from full discharge. My hands held her head, softest strands of hair, her ears aglow - part passion and part sweet embarrassment - and I began a gentle forward and back motion as she took me in and out, lips tightening around the head to keep it captive. As our movement increased, her fingers played as she cupped my balls, even moving lower to wet the sacs with her tongue (strands of her auburn hair matted to my impatient cock), once even letting her tongue linger in the tight crease below. Then, “I’ve got to stop and catch my breath....” I was at this point still very hard - and quite wet, judging from the presence of a small draft in the room, and for a minute I thought she wanted to have me cum in her mouth. She, meanwhile, was adjusting a bit of lace that had crept down to expose an enlarged nipple. My hands went to those wonderful tits, lifting and molding them to form an inviting cleavage. In an inspired moment, I pushed two fingers between her mounds and delighted in feeling the soft pressure close around them. She was quick to read my thoughts. Staring at my fingers at play, “So, you’d like to fuck me in there would you?” With a radiant smile, “...but it won’t work, not without a bit of cream between them.” (And I wondered to myself how many cocks she’d taken between her breasts before this....) And so began a bit of comedy; in the midst of this sweet agony, my erection ready to explode, she stood up and went in search of some lubricant to moisten her breasts. She held up a small item from the dresser top, “Toothpaste?...no, I don’t think so.” I got up to help, and, while she rummaged through her night case, I undid the little clasp and lifted the straps from her shoulders. Not yet done, my thumbs slipped into her waistband and pushed her pants down to expose her sheer panties. Excited now, I knelt to help her out of the pants, nuzzling against a silky buttock and leaving a wet kiss there. “I’ve got it...just the thing!” as she showed me the little bottle of sun screen. “Invention always conquers in time of need,...something like that.” Giggling now, she grasped my rod and led me back to the bedside. I tossed her the pillow to kneel on - better to position herself - and this time her nippled beauties rested on my thighs. Together, we filled our palms with the lotion and bathed her titties with oil until they shown the reflections of the bedside lamp. Soft, natural, perfectly formed globes. I was delirious with the thought of having her this way, the gentle pressure surrounding, teasing my cock. She took me in her mouth again for a moment of sucking, then, as though this was practiced lovemaking, she placed its length in the oil-sweetened cleavage. I almost came, but she grasped me with tightened fingers until I regained control. Flattened palms pressed her titties together to form a delicious passage between, as I nudged its tip into the fold until the glans popped into sight (seeing this, she flushed a bright scarlet and smiled up at me). Our hands joined and kneaded her flesh around my shaft until only the bobbing tip was visible. I wanted so much to initiate the tit fucking, but we were both too confined to make that possible. Instead, she lifted her breasts along its length, up and down, while I tried with little success to thrust and withdraw. We discovered a most satisfying rhythm, although I knew the combined eroticism of sight and touch wouldn’t allow this pleasure to last for very long. She was quickly becoming captive to this new way, her hand working furiously inside her panties while I kept her swelled breasts in motion. Realizing my fountain was near erupting, my thumbs pressed her nips inward, and I felt joyful release as pearled cum filling her crease. Her lower half was suddenly alive with motion; my fingers massaging her breasts and neck until she came. She sat back to catch her breath, and I marveled at her lovely pose of gleaming breasts and a finger or two still at work inside her pussy. I brought her closer again, and, with spent cock in hand, I anointed her outspoken nipples with the last of it. And she, playful as ever, put a fingertip of cum to her lips and made a show of enjoying my taste. We kissed, our tongues exploring, then joked about the pair we made: she with sticky breasts and sodden panties and me still half dressed and sporting a rather wilted cock. I said something about giving her a proper fucking in bed, assuring her I could be ready for her, but she interrupted with, “...much rather wait until after we’ve eaten. I’m starved,.... besides, I managed an orgasm or two while you were between my tits (she confided once before that her nipples were ultra-sensitive).” So we set about gathering our clothing and readying ourselves for a wash-up and change of clothes. I stopped to watch her bend to step out of her panties before she adjourned to the bathroom for a moment’s privacy. Soon, she beckoned me in to share the washclothes, fragrant soap and towels piled near the vanity sink. I finished first and used another to wipe the cum from strands of her lovely auburn hair. Another smile, a tongued kiss, flattening of soapy breasts against my chest, her hands busily grasping my buttocks, while my fingers caressed her lower back and tiny cleft above her ass cheeks (was she willing to forego dinner...?). But a slap from her hand below, and we were soon dressed again and finding our way downstairs to the dining room. No doubt, the meal was yet another part of our sexual holiday, and we made every effort to savor the tastes and smells in that context. Over and over we celebrated our luck at reserving a room at this charming hotel with its restaurant...and the wine. The grapes, we were told were grown on the nearby hillside. I offered a toast to the villagers, the creators of this wine, and to her, ending with something about the exquisite sensation of cumming between her breasts. We were the last two patrons to leave the room - even the group of card-playing locals at the large corner table had departed awhile ago - and the innkeeper asked us only to turn off the lights before turning in. The wine had gotten to her, and she leaned on me as we found our doorway. “God, but I want you inside of me,” was all she said as I fumbled with the door lock, then caught a glimpse of her waving arms and bending to remove her clothes (giggling again). I said something about vowing not to awaken any of the other guests with our lovemaking, and she answered with, “Well then I guess your fucking me in the arse is out for tonight (hysterical laughter)!” Falling backwards onto the bed, her thighs opened to show me her wet little pussy. Nearly free of my own clothes, I paused before pressing by cock inside her. I recall how she raised her knees to her breasts, her hands grasping to hold herself in position and her fingers opening her cunt lips for my entrance. We moved quietly at first, then more violently as the old bed received a hearty workout. After all, the evening had been one of foreplay, and this fucking was for us a final consummation. Soft flesh of her bent legs under me, we kissed, and her tongue matched the rhythm of our lower bodies. I thrust again and again, she opened herself to take me deeper, and we came in one glorious thrunderburst as I felt my release go on endlessly inside her. She shook from the tremors of her own climaxing, sweet vagina refusing to release my shaft. Only when I suggested we get under the covers did we separate long enough for her to find her panties and, holding them against her pussy, she ran to the bathroom to wash herself. A little later, we talked some, touching each other, quietly laughing together, and found ourselves drifting off to sleep. I awakened after what must have been only an hour or two of rest, unwilling to allow the busy events of the day before to dampen my desire to fuck her again. A kiss to her ear, eyes opening, and a smile that signaled no inhibitions this night. Playfully I reversed myself along her side and tunneled under the covers until I found her mons and its furry top. She had taken hold of my cock at the other end of the bed, warm breath only inches from its tip. I pried open her thighs, nibbling the folds of wet flesh and little pubic hairs, her scent almost hypnotic. Tugging at her pebble clit with my mouth, I tasted her musk (she shifted her body suddenly), then buried my tongue and lips deep inside her..... And next I recall, I was awake again. A blur...time?...distant sounds in the outer hallway, footsteps from the room above, sunlight coming from somewhere...then the sweet scent of her body near me. I rolled out of bed and looked back at the tangled covers only partly covering her body, here and there. She slept, and I was instantly tempted to awaken her; instead, I stood near like the casual voyeur. The classic reclining pose, head turned away with strands of glistening hair across her pillow, arms thrown outward, her torso curved with one breast and flattened nipple exposed, twists of bedsheet tangled around her exposing her labia, and a gathering of blanket under her womanly ass, slightly elevated, her long tanned legs extending to the bed’s edge. I quickly found the camera with 50mm lens and strobe in the wardrobe and prepared the settings. Moving now to the bedside and careful that the strobe did not disturb her sleep, I photographed her in all her youthful, sensual beauty. Her pose was one that could only be the result of dreams brought on by ravishing sexual activity. (These photographs are my favorites; for whatever reason, I have never shared them with her.) Setting camera aside, I got in beside her, warming myself with her body heat, and quickly becoming delirious with thoughts of continuing what sleep had so rudely interrupted the night before. January 24th She sat beaming, sleepy eyes unwavering, a soft reddish glow on her cheeks, lips moist from the tea she sipped. My head felt a bit fogged from last night’s wine and the lovemaking that followed. My tongue found a trace of her love scent on my upper lip, and I savored the taste. She laughingly imitated the gesture, and I reached across our breakfast table and kissed her full on the lips; her tongue surrendered to me, then, “Last night’s fucking was delicious...and this morning’s awakening with your tongue inside me was like a dream fulfilled. We must get away like this again....” Excusing herself for a last visit to the Ladies, I became entranced with the sway of her bottom highlighted by the two faded spots on the cheeks of her jeans (she knew I was watching her little show, and she flashed me a smile before disappearing through the door.) The grandfather seated behind the front desk gave me some friendly directions to the Rally stop, then wished us well and added sincere wishes that he’d be seeing us again. I noticed he allowed his eyes to become well-acquainted with her physical attractions as he spoke. With bags and photo equipment stored in the trunk, I pulled around to the hotel’s front entrance where she was waiting for me. All in fun, I continued to drive ahead while watching her reaction in the mirror. Her expression told me she could play at this game, too, and she started to walk in the opposite direction. She was enjoying every bit of this, as I reversed and pulled along side her (only a moment’s hesitation with her head cocked and taking the pose of someone undecided...then a broad smile as she opened the car door and slid in beside me). “What would you have done had I continued on?” I wanted to know. “Oh, I’d have found someone hereabouts who’d enjoy the company of a young photo model for the day....or perhaps one of the drivers passing through today looking to give his navigator the boot! What a marvelous time we’d have, then....all the way to Monte Carlo!” I couldn’t resist, “Right, the lucky devil wouldn’t get two kilometers from here before you’d have talked him out of the running and into the nearest hotel.” We clowned around with each other like that until, with raised sunglasses and quite serious eyes, she told me how she’d remember last night forever, then “...and we’ve not explored all the possibilities yet, have we?” I’d expected a considerable crowd gathered, yet we had no trouble finding a parking space on the access road. Walking to the official check point, it became clear that a great number of people had turned out, perhaps on foot, and more were on their way. The scene was one of organized anxiety; officials with colorful armbands were pacing about with perhaps nothing better to do than look important, uniformed women with Red Cross patches were heating two kettles of what looked like rich hot chocolate over portable stoves. Boxes of chocolate bars were stacked on a folding table near the cordoned-off area that would be the drive-through point. A control clock mounted on a board beside the gate was undergoing final synchronization, an official with cell phone was counting down the time hack, and above the low chattering of the spectators, camera advances and stop watch checks could be heard. I could sense her excitement grow as the time passed. She was wearing a heavy sweater around her shoulders, and her cheeks showed the same rosy coloring as when I first put my cock between her shapely breasts the evening before. Even with the morning sun, the air had a sharp January chill. Maybe by the afternoon it would warm...by then the two of us would be headed south again, away from this charming town and back to more mundane surroundings. By this stage of the event, the front runners should have been spaced apart by several minutes. We waited, walked a little, then waited some more. Ten minutes after the expected first arrival, a car horn was heard from a distance, the crowd noise rose in unison, and the mud-streaked front of a Lancia worked its way through the eager spectators. She stood beside me, waiting calmly, then jumping up to see the team car as an official opened the barrier gate. The driver climbed out, stretched himself and surrendered his place card for the time stamp. The crowd nearest him roared with laughter when he took a drink of the complimentary cocoa, then curled his lips and spit it out. She gave an excited account of the goings on, while I took it all in with the 35mm. The driver’s teammate remained in the car, studying his maps with great concentration and probably thinking about the next 100 or so kilometers. The car - a French entry - had begun in Stockholm, and I wondered aloud why it had made such a long jaunt north to compete when Cherbourg seemed a far better start point for a French team. A Plausible Analogy Ch. 02 This thought vanished with a blast from the engine’s exhaust, and they were off only to be replaced seconds later by a Lotus Cortina with two studded tires strapped to webbing on the car’s roof. The procedure was the same; time card stamped, the driver momentarily walking off cramps from his high speed confinement, and always the proffered refreshment. Then followed an assortment of performance cars, all equipped with an array of driving and fog lights across their front grills, and all sporting the familiar red and white badge of the Monte. We wandered apart as I moved to cover a new approach angle. She had taken to wearing the stylish fur hat now, and I found her easily near the stop gate. We munched on the sandwiches I’d bought, while she told me about the team that was forced to quit when their Saab refused to start again after checking in. She had joined with others to help push the car off to one side, while the driver and navigator, “...just stood there and yelled at the crowd, the officials... everyone in sight. I think they were Norwegian.” Mid-placed cars were arriving in packs as we found ours parked on the street. It was early afternoon when we drove south over the same road used by the Stockholm cars to reach their overnight stop. She was kneeling on the seat watching through the back for signs of an approaching rally car, then, “There’s one coming. Very fast, it looks like!” I glanced at the mirror and there he was, lights flashing. I slowed and steered to the side to let him by, catching only a glimpse of the navigator’s wave of thanks before the Alfa sped out of sight. We spotted pockets of local villagers gathered mostly at the curves, some waving frantically from a distance, then quit once they realized we weren’t part of the event. She continued her backward vigil, passing the time between sightings with talk of how she loved the south of France and - a natural segue, I thought - fucking on a deserted beach by moonlight. And all the time, her sweet bottom swayed with the rhythm of the radio’s music. Her movements excited me, and on a straight stretch, I let up on the accelerator, spread my fingers and gave her ass cheek a passionate squeeze. “Love to....” was all that she needed to say. We came to a long upgrade, then slowed for a series of short turns with the usual clusters of curious spectators. Not certain what it was I was looking for, I rounded the last turn and spotted a small road off to the right (No road sign...was this a private drive? Were we destined to fuck each other in some farmer’s barn?). I turned off, and we found ourselves climbing again. A bit farther and there were trees with no evidence of any buildings - this might have been a logging road. We had definitely picked up some elevation, and now the ground beside our road appeared to fall away to a ridge below. Careful not to get us too close to the edge, I pulled onto the grass and, getting out, there below was the roadway - perhaps two or three hundred meters. She climbed out for a look, then laughed and pointed at the ant-like spectators below. “Guess this one’ll qualify as a screwing in public, hey?” Averting my thoughts of the moment, I reached for the binoculars from the back seat and aimed them at the road below. Nothing but a tractor with hay cart creeping by. I heard mumbled sounds of voices from below and the binoculars found a family of four with a blanket spread and picnic food ready to be eaten, a pet dog tethered to a nearby tree. I handed her the glasses to see for herself, but, “...they’re jumping around so much, everything is blurred.” So I brought her around to the front of the car and told her to prop her elbows on the bonnet to steady herself (and then it struck me!). A final touch, I rummaged around in the back until I came up with our bottle of Duff Gordon, uncorked it (to her surprised delight) and set it down. I leaned to kiss her, and she said something about not wanting to be interrupted. I assured her that all the spectators were below (and hoping that was the case). She bent down again, tummy resting against the engine-warmed bonnet, for the moment perhaps caught in a daydream. And it was mine to do, alone. Opening her jeans at the waist - snap up front, zipper, feeling soft ‘V’ of her panty silk, inside. Pulling her jeans down over her hips, exposing her womanly buttocks, tiny curled hairlets peeking out, I pulled them all the way down, while she moved her body to help - and to entice me. Her shoes off, I helped her step out of the jeans, then attended to her little panties, slipping them to just below the lovely creases formed where her cheeks met her thighs. My hands gently urged them apart - partly shaven vagina now open to the sunlight. I nuzzled against one cheek - the cool air had given her skin a texture now - and caught the fragrance of her bathing oils, while I slid the panties down, leaving them around one ankle. She got her shoes on again with my help, and lay forward across the car’s front. For me, this was her most erotic pose! My hardening increased at the sight of her taught buttocks that beckoned me. I glanced around quickly to see if we were being watched (nonsense!), reached down to touch her wetted pussy, and spread the pouting lips to see the moist pink insides. Crouching behind her, I tasted her wetness, while my fingers went to work there and then upward to those glorious pillows - gently massaging, plying her sweet womanly ass that jutted outward, straining to be kissed by the afternoon sun...or perhaps by me. I spread open her cheeks to the sunlight, and she helped with one hand. I touched her little wrinkled bud, lingering there for a second or two, and surprised again at its sudden heat. My knees began to ache, so I stood and offered her a taste of the sherry before I took a pull on the bottle myself. Then, with bottle in hand and behind her, I let a stream of the sweet red liquid flow over her buttocks and into the divine cleavage, downward until the sherry anointed lips of her cunt. Her muffled laughter told me she loved it. And now to work! Starting from below, I traced the folds of her secret parts with my tongue until - satisfied that I’d tasted all of her sherry’d flesh - I rested my tongue at the entrance of her wrinkled anus.....then ventured in. I was amazed to feel her ringed muscle tighten in perfect step with her heartbeat. Now obsessed with this delectable part of her sexuality, I curled my tongue as if it were intended to penetrate her and pushed a bit more up inside her, wetting the silken hairs nearby in the process. During this, my hand reached to cup her breast that swelled with her heavy breathing, coaxing her proud nipple between thumb and index, while fingers of the other hand found and tugged on her pussy clit. I thought I’d reached for the moment a sexual nirvana, my lips and fingers playfully in touch with the most vibrant parts of her womanhood. Just then, perhaps unsure of my intentions, but (I hoped) more out of reflex than rejection, her buttocks closed tight around my extended tongue, thus preventing me - at least on this occasion - from further opening her rear passage. Not in the least distracted, I stood, urging her to lean forward, and she opened herself for a more conventional fucking. Grasping its length, she guided me between her cunny lips, then began to fuck herself with my cock, in and out. And then it was my turn. I took charge, thrusting deep inside her, while, with her hand through her legs again, she squeezed my sacs as I fucked her with all my might. On the very edge of our climaxing, I grasped her ass cheeks and opened them again to delight at the little puckered anus that popped out in view. Looking to the sky, I watched a cotton white cloud in motion, felt her surge backwards,... and we came together. In the distance, the sharp rap of a downshifted engine, and excited voices below reached up to us, as I felt her cunt gripping me to drain me of any last bits of cum. And we stayed like that for perhaps an eternity, sipping from the bottle and relishing the sensations of sun and quiet breeze that bathed us, her slippery sweet inner lips tightening their grip to hold me captive there forever. G