1 comments/ 13772 views/ 0 favorites Perennial By: miss_trust Some things are perennial. Little sparks that just keep burning regardless of what's going on around them – they may dim or fade for a bit but they never go away as long as they're nourished. I was in a house – not my house, not a house I knew but I was comfortable. There were many people there, maybe thirty, and the house was not large but roomy enough for a family, a small gathering – a little too small for this many people but it was ok. I was younger than anyone else and different from all these people. I was the only girl. I hadn't noticed that at first, not sure why it hadn't struck me but it hadn't. I knew most of these people – how wasn't important, just that they weren't all strangers. Walking through rooms, talking in passing, never having any real conversations, I built up a tolerance to the heat in the house. The heat was from so many bodies in spaces meant for fewer heartbeats. It wasn't stifling, just prickly, noticeable, an understandable affect of so much humanity. I had come here for a purpose but we all had – none of us invited, just congregating because it was time. The den had a circle of chairs, ottomans, stools, and loveseats filled with bodies, most solitary but everyone seemed to be interacting with someone else. Entering the room showed not a seat to be had but one of the men motioned me over and had me sit on his lap. No hesitation, I knew this person and if he was ok here, with these people, with me on his legs, I would be too. People talked in and out of the room but it slowly got more and more quiet. Never silent, never a lack of some vocalization but more hushed, anticipatory. I don't know how or when but this man I knew, this man whose lap had been offered, this man who's legs were my support, he was cradling my breasts – one in each of his hands. He kissed my shoulder through the cotton I wore. A long kiss, soft, unmoving, gentle and sweet. Back erect, I was proud he would want to hold me and I smiled. Each of his hands held firmly for a perfect fit: pinkies against the flesh just under the breasts, ring and middle fingers supporting below the nipple, index fingers just above the nipple but close enough to graze, thumb above the areolas. Hands much warmer and softer than they should have been, heated air coalescing on burning cheeks, there was no shame in this, I knew it and the others seemed to see that too. Ages didn't matter, familiarity didn't matter, occupation didn't matter – we were here, we were together and that was that – no further explanation needed. Though I can't recall what he said, my support asked something, muffled by my shirt, my shoulder, the heat. There was some sort of connection missing. Upon realizing this, I needed his skin on my skin – no more fabric, no cover. My arms went up with the hem in my hands & I pulled the shirt over, above, off. Where his hands had been holding me, there was cold not because it was cold but because his heat had vacated those spaces. Gently, he returned his hands to where they'd been and his mouth to that space on my shoulder. I think I was humming – I know I was smiling, floating, ecstatic for the security, beauty and humanity this man was giving. Basking would be a good way to describe what I think we were all doing in those moments. There was a third hand, this one placed on the side of my neck, thumb pressing up at the outer edge of my jaw. And a second set of lips, these above my breasts and below my collarbone. Tender but pressing, insistent. Listing my head to look up, I couldn't help but to be happy, full of a lovely, vibrating current. I placed hands on shoulders before me, pressing back and he went back to his seat. Standing, there was cold again where hands and mouths had been. A good shiver, a healthy one that just reinforces the enjoyment of heat. I had been wearing a skirt but it was pooled around my feet now. The bra was being unhooked as I stood and I shrugged my shoulders forward to help it fall away. A man kneeling in front of me peeled panties off of hips and pulled them purposefully down until they were reacquainted with my skirt. I watched as he looked up and leaned forward to kiss my bare mound. The heat was back and not just in places touched. Have you ever felt glorious in your own skin? Completely filled with joy and serenity and an openness you don't have every day? That was it for me – everything became beautiful and real in that time. The man still seated behind me placed hands on my hips and guided me back down to sitting. He didn't keep them there but allowed them to travel the paths up my sides, over my stomach and breasts, across my thighs, following my spine, all of the paths on the skin he could reach. It was only natural that I lean into him after a moment and part my legs for him to reach other paths. This is where hands should be – traveling. This is what hands were meant for – bring out what is already there, holding, caressing, fondling, touching, helping, pressing, guiding, touching. A sense of melting and melding as skin brushed skin and heat radiated in and out. A sense of understanding as lips and tongues danced where they hadn't been moments earlier. Hips rocking to make contact, to give and take. His clothes were no longer on his body either but it wasn't worth identifying when. Arms encircled my waist, pulling me closer into the body behind. A warm cheek resting at the base of my neck as a mouth suckled one nipple. He was erect and I was wet, simple and natural. Everyone in the room was where they needed to be and doing what they needed to be doing – it didn't really matter except that it was right. His hardness slipped and bobbed between my thighs. Sometimes making contact with my sex, sometimes thumping a leg, sometimes waving like a thick read – upright and beautiful. Light danced in the air around us, as did hands on bodies around the room... most likely, around the house. I almost think it was the moment when all of humanity danced together, everyone touched and felt and everyone appreciated. A man I hadn't seen was stroking my hair and one cheek, gently leaving in his wake contrails of warmth across the sky of my skin. Kiss on the lips, parted. Tongue darting to taste sweetness. Soft moan as my hips shift to accommodate a forward lean of my torso meant to encourage this kiss. The shift made the head of his shaft press firmly against my clit. Wonderful shudder, tingling heat and sweetness in response. Two men across the room holding each other – I know they weren't gay a moment before and aren't even now, just two people finding each other beautiful and close. Pressure and acceptance meet as this man behind me guides himself into spaces I can offer. I welcome him and reach for what is offered in front of me. No longer a mouth, no lips or tongue, but a wonderful, silken-domed part of the man before me. To hold away would have been wrong. Thumbs and fingers pressing into hips, thighs, stomach, bringing hunger to sate. The man standing holds himself for me, veins lifted, toes curling, breath quickened. My lips dry against the smooth skin he presents, kissing such sweetness, a drop quietly appears. Licking myself and him, part moistened lips and slowly press forward until my tongue is caressing that tight bit of bowstring between head and shaft. Softly, gently testing and tasting. Lips applying pressure, creating suction with my mouth I see delight as I look up. There is another woman in the room, just a seat or two away – I hadn't seen her before but she is doing as I do. She is in rapture, as are the men around her. A sister to me in movement and sense. A mother to sensations birthed of contact with her. A daughter as those around her take great care while helping her learn to move alone and with. My lips contract to hold firm the flesh between them, reverently suckle, taste, pleasure. Tongue pressing at the underside as I slowly move forward, warming more of him with each second. Balancing myself with one hand on his thigh and using the other to cradle and gently fondle his balls, I let my mouth and head dance back, forth, up, down, turn this way then that. Salivating for the eternal loveliness of man, soaking in the gift he's giving as I accept and rejoice in the man beneath me. There is pressure everywhere but freedom too. A light show behind my eyelids and tension in relaxed muscles. The room smells of sex, warm, musky, vivid – like us. Another woman on her knees near the center of the room. Nobody is near her and she is touching herself – dipping, circling, massaging as she enjoys her own skin in this moment. We've been at this for millennia, ages, we are ancient yet we're babes in the woods. We know nothing of ourselves without knowledge of each other... and so we continue. The man I know, the one beneath, behind me – he is moving more quickly and I meet his hips with a need to find further depths he will navigate. Legs splayed as I suck on the cock in my mouth, I press my face as far forward as possible, feeling that man's pubic hair against my nose while I try to move my tongue still. Now I stretch and straighten my torso, pushing my hips hard against the man inside me. Rock the hips, grind, press, shift and twist. Sighs and moans, pleasure sounds around the room. I hum. Someone giggles. More women are here... how did I miss them? People touch each other and themselves, giving in to skin, tasting each other's essence. There is no end to touch, no limit. We three continue to rock and thrust, pushing and taking each other. Flooded with fluids – my own and this other's – I swallow and suck, lick and lap as he shudders with weakened knees and gasped moans. Eyelids flutter as eyes no longer need to see what the body is feeling. I am in throws, waves, pulses... I thrum with a rhythm my own and theirs. Everything sensitized against air currents borne by sighs and moving limbs. The house is now full of touching – not just this room, not just my line of sight. But my eyes are closed and I only see what is in my mind. This man who has given himself to me backs away and becomes limp while he stands taller, more proud and strong than before. While his cock is no longer erect, he is more than he was in my eyes. Smiling, he turns to go – I don't know where and it doesn't matter; he's not leaving me or anyone else, he is just continuing. The melody of caught breath. Around the room, almost in unison, we women cum. Catching breath as it searches to escape with the pulse and flow of our orgasms. Any touch is like an icefire and some of us moan, some sigh, some laugh, others are silent and others weep for joy. These people who touch us, both men and women, who bring us to this little death, relish the place they occupy, this space of giving while they take away the joyful explosions. Eyes open and I see we are all women now. Where did the men go? The one I knew? Wait... there is no one else – it's me. I'm alone in this house, in this room... ah, I've been asleep. Eyelids flutter – a smile and intake of breath as heat floats from skin. One hand between my legs continues to gently rub my clit and I close my eyes again. Another dream... am I alone? No, they are all here. We are perennial. Perennial Garden (...thank you Angel Love for all your editing skills, suggestions and patience.) Lana's garden around our little cabin at the naturist resort were unparalleled. For years she had kept a notebook in the car so that every time she saw wildflowers blooming away at the edge of an old country road she could record the flowers' exact location. We'd then go back to that spot in the fall to dig up some of the bulbs or roots for transplanting; and over time Lana had orchestrated gardens around our little decks that always had an abundance of beautifully colored flowers from early spring through late fall. We had a thick, green privet hedge that served as a breakfront and privacy fence around the entire lot, including her little raised-bed vegetable garden that consistently yielded not only exotic salad makings for us but also enough for any of the other members in the resort whoever wanted anything. I was only the "brawn" in this entire endeavor; the flowers and Lana were the true beauties. It was so sexy to be able to watch Lana as she stretched, squatted, and kneeled while working in the gardens. Her hands and arms would always be covered in mulch and dirt. Her bare feet would step gently in-between and around the plants and bushes. Every once in a while a swath of dirt or a couple of errant leaves would stick to her sweat-moistened thighs or chest. Lana's little dark and always pert nipples were two of my favorite flowers. She often would just smile and let her tongue lightly graze her lips when she realized that my eyes and erect penis were enjoying the view. A light scratch of her shaved genitals or her thighs to scoot a bug away would leave a little muddy hand print or vague set of dirty finger marks on her skin giving her an air of being a primitive Tribal Mistress. Lana knew that whenever she stepped aside a garden bed to take a pee that I profusely enjoyed it; she made every attempt to always face me as she squatted. She would even announce innocently in advance something like "Wow! Do I have to take a pee!" There are two kinds of suntans; the ones that sometimes yield areas of burns and stripes after someone has lounged in a pool side chair; and then there is the so-naturally bronze-brown tan that somehow would paint absolutely every square inch of Lana's slender girlish body. We had our own magnificent semi-enclosed outdoor shower complete with a table large enough for Lana to lie on as I would scrub and shave her after a session of gardening. But as sensuous as that was for both of us it was even more of a delight to see her occasionally rinse herself slowly with a garden hose while taking particular attention to make sure that her pussy was thoroughly cooled and cleansed. Her suntan lotions and oils would make the water bead all over her. Watching my sperm slowly seep out of her and down the inside of her legs we had taken a break for a "quickie" particularly excited both of us. Melissa was one of the few single women who had come to visit the resort. Lana had given her an initial tour of the facility at the request of the resort's owner. Melissa was new to nudism and appreciated Lana's feminine touch in introducing her both to the resort as well as genuinely making her feel welcome to the overall newness of the recreational naturist lifestyle. Lana and Melissa became good friends quickly. Melissa was a nutritionist whose minor studies in college centered on botany. It didn't take long before Melissa started helping Lana in the gardens, and until they assigned me with building another raised bed. They designed it together one night as we all sat on the deck; it was almost like a ceremony. I cooked dinner as they took showers. Lana loaned Melissa some of her puka necklaces and huge hoop earrings. The now "Two Tribal Mistresses" sat drinking wine and lovingly combing their hair as they envisioned an octagonal three-tiered raised-bed garden that would fit perfectly in a somewhat barren corner just inside the privet hedge. Melissa stayed with us that night on a little sofa in our cabin. "All I need is a sheet just in case it gets chilly. I usually like to sleep with nothing covering me on warm nights." From that point forward Melissa almost never rented one of the resort's cottages unless her friend, Jenny, was coming with her. Jenny was also new to nudism, and her segue into sunbathing and swimming to-date was enjoyable, yet a lot more tentative then Melissa's. I cut and fit the pieces for the three octagon garden bed tiers during evenings that next week in the backyard of our "regular" home. It was Lana's turn to watch; she only let me wear flip-flops and a pair of gym shorts that allowed her to view my cock and balls as now I knelt and stretched testing out how everything would fit together. Lana sat with her legs wide-open wearing a pair of well-worn and almost thread-bare blue jean cutoffs with the waist button undone, and a very sheer mini-bikini top. As far as any of the neighbors could tell we were just working on a little building project. What we were "building" inside our imaginations was seemingly unapparent. During the warm summer weeks when we were at our full-time house we abstained from orgasms; it was almost a game. We would just let our desires and imaginations build and build so that we could let them explode once we were able to be outside and within the privacy of the surrounding hedges out at the cabin. Early Friday morning I loaded the trailer with the new frames as well as plenty of soil that was already mixed with compost. We both got home from work late that night; we weren't able to start the hour long drive up to the cabin until after it was dark; which was fine with me; that meant Lana would strip and finish the ride naked as soon as we were onto the little country back roads. It was nearly two am when we went to bed that night. We had eagerly unloaded the new frames so we could put them roughly into place, and we had given the gardens and plants a thorough watering while we enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine. We innocently petted and baited each other with our mouths and fingers and elected to let the "lovin' commence" on the deck in the morning when the sun was just starting to come up. At about seven o'clock we heard voices in the kitchen area as we still lay in bed; it was Melissa and Jenny making coffee. There are no doors inside the cabin; my morning erection was barely covered when Melissa poked her head around the corner to announce "Get-up-and-or-get that thing down.....it's time to be farmers." Lana and I snickered. Melissa was a very quick-wit and definitely becoming even a closer friend. Lana and I stumbled into the kitchen area almost like drunks. Melissa had a towel wrapped around her waist; Jenny's towel was higher allowing her chest to be covered as well. By the time we were working on our second cup of coffee while sitting out on the deck, the only thing any towels covered were the seats of our chairs as all our butts sat on them. Lana's ice-breaking "Wow Jenny! Your tan is looking great! Almost all the old suntan lines are gone!" had been so encouraging and so natural that whatever traces of being somewhat intimidated at being naked with the rest of us just dissolved into the morning's sunshine. By early afternoon the new three-tiered octagonal raised-bed was in place, filled with soil, and a series of Popsicle sticks marked out plant positions. The four of us took showers in the resort's pool side bath houses and then took a swim. We went back to the cabin where we had a huge salad and some very cold beer. By probably three o'clock we had all somewhat collapsed as we all lay out on our deck for some sun and even a snooze. I was the last to wake-up; the three women were sitting on the deck holding beer, trowels and looking over some newly homegrown seedlings that were targeted for the new garden area. I realized that a goodly amount of semen was both on my penis and around my genitals; I knew that at some point I must have been napping while fully erect. Embarrassment fully overwhelmed whatever arousing notions I would normally have enjoyed thinking that Lana alone had enjoyed my sexual exhibit. I attempted to take the edge off of my concern with a call over to them of "Where is my beer?" Lana again provided a true-ice-breaker, "Good Morning Mr. Sunshine; how they hanging? Jenny, Melissa and I want to know what kind of fertilizer you use to make your dick grow so well." They all laughed. Lana then offered me a beer and a kiss; and almost as if my genitals were the jelly-marked face of a little kid, she firmly and quickly wiped me off with the corner of a towel. The chicken that I was grilling still wasn't ready by the time the three women had finished setting the new seedlings; they even had a chance to take showers. The chatter and laughter that I had heard coming from our outdoor shower enclosure seemed innocent and playful enough; it sounded similar to what a shower room must sound like in a women's gym after a workout or game of racket ball. I took particular delight in watching the three of them mix-and-match jewelry accents as they sat at the table; Melissa had actually gone back over to their rented weekend guest cottage to grab a stash-of-stuff in order to make their overall accessory selections that much more extensive. I had dinner that night under the stars with three very attractive and sexy women; it was divine. I was both flattered and very aroused as the three of them talked so openly later that evening about everything from nail polish to their favorite toys to some of the things that Melissa and Jenny enjoyed doing together. They spoke of me in the "third-person;" almost as if I was not there which truthfully made my presence with them that much more comfortable for me. I was so privileged to be able to participate if only as an observer. Whatever questions were asked that directly concerned me Lana would answer on my behalf; I had only to occasionally render a "yes that's right," or a "no....I think we got that vibrator from that store out in San Francisco;" and those brief moments of participating in the overall conversation were more than enough. The conversation began to turn into some demonstrations; Melissa's "stash-of-stuff" that she had retrieved from their guest cottage included some favorite sex toys. When Jenny had gotten up to get everyone some more wine, Lana comfortably asked her to go inside and "grab my little pocket-rocket out of the drawer next to our bed....and get the three or four little attachments that you can slip onto it for us as well." The three women began to share their favorite spots and techniques. Melissa on behalf of the entire group openly encouraged me to "join in and play with your cock if you want to....I think we're all going to be masturbating in front of each other in a couple of minutes." Lana then offered to show the group how she had used the pocket-rocket on me. I was told to stand in front of the women; I was already fully erect and very wet. Lana held the base of my cock as she teased the underside of my glans with the little pocket-rocket. Even the lightest contact made my penis jerk upward; the opening of my urethra widened as my penis got darker and the details of the veins in my shaft became even more defined as my hard-on got harder. Lana then squeezed my tip as she had learned to do so well in order to thwart off my ejaculation....much to the amazement of both Melissa and Jenny - and honestly to the amazement of both Lana and myself as well. We had never had me so close to an orgasm and then been able to successfully delay it with that so erotic technique. The four of us moved our chairs into a more formal circle and within seconds we were all exhibiting and masturbating in front of each other. I purposely used a grip that was my least favorite in order to delay myself. Each of the women now had at least one leg propped over the arm of their chairs in order to make themselves more open. Melissa's anus was in full view as she slouched lower and she quickly inserted a little thin dildo into it. Jenny spread her herself so far apart that her clit and very open vagina were in full view; it was if all our eyes would be the only additional touching that she'd need to cum. Lana had a vibrator with a very large girth deep inside her as she teased her clit with the pocket rocket. Creamy excretions began to spot Jenny's pussy. All our moaning began louder even within our best efforts to contain them. I was able to only give myself an occasional reverse stroke that I'd lightly start at the base and then quickly end by letting my fingers slide off the tip of my cock. Lana's humping became more and more severe, Jenny's cream had now had a couple of little squirts that had landed beyond the edge of her chair. Melissa's anus was now almost voluntarily both grabbing and releasing the dildo ever-so-slightly as she fingered and rubbed her pussy. The impact of Jenny's cum finally squirting up-over and onto us produced another set of groans that we delivered almost in unison. My sperm darted out with enough force and volume for me to be able to direct at least a little of it onto each of my three partners. Melissa's anal dildo shot out of her and onto the deck. Lana had to freeze; her orgasm had made even the thought of removing the vibrator from within her pussy very pleasurably painful. We just sat there in speechless disbelief until Melissa delivered the day's final ice-breaker "Damn that chicken was goood tonight." Our laughter enabled us to be able to breathe once again. That evening we shared together occurred many years ago; but its brilliance is strong enough for me to have thought of it often. The desire to write it down in order to share it with others was a result of my recent sorting through boxes and boxes of old photographs. When I came across some pictures of those perennial gardens I wondered if by chance whatever memory held within all those beautiful gardens of me was as wonderful and endearing to them as my memory is as wonderful and endearing of them.