0 comments/ 17653 views/ 3 favorites Tantric Tradewinds Ch. 1 By: AnonOne When they finally did get in a few dives, Keri and Al immersed themselves in the deep solitude of the ocean. While neither one of them wanted to admit it, they had grown to be more than friends or even casual lovers. They had not seen each other since college. They were both married to other people and living miles apart. That distance seemed to great to traverse until they reintroduced themselves online a few months earlier. They decided to avoid the topic for now and just enjoy the diving and the relaxation of the tropical trade-winds that kissed the shores of Cayman Brac. The diving had been wonderful. They chose to do two acclimation dives to brush up their skills and re-establish their buoyancy control. In another day they would be diving the Tibbett's wreck. They had gone their separate ways after the dive boat docked. Keri had some serious tanning to catch up on, and Al had a thick novel he had been yearning to dive into. Al found a wonderful mangrove sheltered hammock and was soon deep into his novel before he realized that half the afternoon had already passed. Since he had promised to cook dinner, he decided it was time to go into town and stock the galley. He marked his place in the book with a rueful smile and grumbled to himself that he should never have let her know what an excellent cook he was. The sun was low, but still hours from setting. Keri rested on the chaise, enjoying the ocean view from the deck of their rental cottage. She smiled at a man strolling by down on the beach. She let the sarong around her body slip from her curves. Her bronze skin in sharp contrast with the white bikini forced the man to take a second look. She looked over her magazine at her body and was appreciative that she could still turn heads with her stunning figure. Most women her age would never be caught outside their back yard in a suit cut as radical as this. She loved to tease other men with her body, and especially enjoyed the look on their eyes when they came closer and realized she wasn't a nubile and silly teen girl to be taken lightly. The amusement turned in her mind and frowned with consternation realizing that Al had never taken her lightly. She wondered if he had any success in resting or was he equally distracted with pondering the state of their relationship. It had been his idea to eat lunch alone and take a break, which, he reasoned, was probably for the best. He was confused by there relationship and was fairly certain that she was in a similar state. Had they really fooled themselves. Did they think this was just to be a reunion of old college friends that happened to share a latent passion for Scuba diving? Who were they trying to fool? Al rummaged around in the kitchen gathering items to make dinner. A wonderful breeze of the tropical tradewinds blew through the kitchen window. Al stopped for a moment and took a deep breath relaxing in a tantric meditation. Every part of his body was alive with desire for Keri. It would be a betrayal to his senses if he did not make love to her tonight. He resolved that he would no longer flirt with her. He would take her and devour her. Keri sighed and flipped aimlessly through her magazine pages. She was entirely too occupied with thoughts of Al to actually do more than flip through the glossy pages. This was supposed to be a friendly dive trip for them; however, they had managed to flirt toward making love several times, and she wasn't even totally unpacked yet. Playing with fire. She knew that she was attracted to him from the moment she saw those hazel eyes for the first time in years. Here she was a married woman acting like a giggling schoolgirl over a very married man. With two of their five vacation days already spent, this was her first afternoon alone since their flight landed in Cayman. They had decided for safety sake to only spend three days diving together. She wanted to abandon that safety. She needed to feel wanted and connected, and Al seemed to make her melt into that happy oblivion. She wanted to lift out of the scruples that bound her. While she loved her husband, she never felt intimately connected with him after the honeymoon wore off, and she had wondered if a woman ever achieved such a dream relationship. She knew the answer before she even asked the question. Al made her feel that way. He always had even before they were both married to other people. Al continued to work feverishly in the kitchen, dicing and chopping vegetables and creating nothing short of a culinary masterpiece. He checked on the two bottles of Piersporter chilling to perfection in the small bungalow refrigerator. Everything would be wonderful tonight. His senses were sizzling and buzzing. He savored the anticipation of the conquest. He would seduce her, because he knew that while she struggled with their relationship, she needed him to seduce her. Keri looked up and watched as another man strolled along the beach and stared hard at her. She loved to see men's faces follow roam over her still bouncy and full chest. She dipped her eyes to her magazine, but watched as the man licked his lips and let his eyes roam over her long tan legs. She enjoyed the power she had over men. That power, however, was elusive with Al. While he would look at her with similar hunger, she always trembled under his gaze. She always sighed and wished to be devoured. She thought about getting up and strolling for a distraction, but walking the shore alone seemed pathetic. Maybe she should wonder into the village plaza and shop, but shopping meant that she would have to cover more skin, and frankly she liked the way her heavy round breasts and full hips filled the swim-wear. Instead she satisfied her exhibition need--lounging on the porch, laid out in full view, less than 100 feet away from the high tide shoreline. She watched the man in the sand and surf stumble as she turned over and loosened the strings of her bikini. Inwardly she smiled at her small victory over the other sex, but knew she had only won a small battle. Perhaps losing the war could have benefits. Her mind filled with fantasy images of being dominated. She pushed guilty feelings and worry from her mind and dozed slightly in the warm tropical sunshine. His warm hand touched her ankle and followed a line up to her thighs. She woke up to the sensation. Her pleasure hindered by the worry that her legs weren't thin enough. His tongue on the slight hallow of her hip made an icy tingle flow through her. The power of his lips on her flesh excited all of her at once. She resisted the temptation to open her eyes and place her palm on his neck and encourage him to proceed. She wanted to let him be in control. For a moment, she pretended that she was still dreaming. He sat on the edge of the chaise, and his hands slowly roamed along her bronze skin. Occasionally, he dipped down and kissed her sweet brown skin. He knew she wasn't sleeping, but he wanted to see how long she could maintain her facade. He partly turned to look at her directly. He stared deep into her soul as his hand slid further up her thigh than it had been since they dated years ago in college. He felt her tremble at this bolder touch and smiled. Her thoughts were manic. She wanted him but, fear had her. While she had suspected that they would make love, she never imagined that one of their cottages would go empty while they co-habitated for the entire dive vacation. Now his hand was caressing her inner thigh. Was their any way what they were doing could not be wrong? The question she could not deny asking herself. It did not matter, she would not say no. In that moment of determination, she wanted to find reassurance that she was not dreaming; that what was happening was real. She utter a small sigh and tried to continue the pretense that she was napping in the warm tropical sunshine as his fingers twirled along her smooth flesh. It tingled, but the sensation was mixed with warning signals. She told her friends that she was not going to have an affair, she knew herself better than that. But this, what they were, was not about lust. Almost from the moment she met him, she wanted to know what it was to kiss him, to be held by him. She was certain it could not be lust. She had felt lust before. It was hot, and prickly, and waned with orgasm. This desire for him was like nothing else. Anger, endearment, confusion and dismissal ran course through her mind. The only power she had to fight her desire for him was fear. This fear was not about her husband finding out, but about this married man refusing her. She still wasn't sure if all of his romance and seduction was merely a game for him. They had met online, after years since they dated for goodness sake. How could this power he had over still be so strong? The only thing they both had in common was their love of diving. She did not know his feelings and the possibility of rejection wounded her. With this fear, she could restrain herself from ravishing him. The desire for him grew, despite her motivations to get rid of these feelings; feelings for this man she should not want. The unspoken attraction pulled them together. This attraction also burned her: her conscience, love-life, and faith. There was the safety in the quiet struggle. She could be free to feel exactly what she wanted to feel without anyone knowing. Perhaps it was too late to ask whether she should have allowed the mental compromise. For now, she did not have the desire to struggle against her feelings for him. Before this trip, she tried to content herself with self-pleasure whenever she had received one of his emails. She had started to actually lock herself away a few months ago, masturbating for long periods of time as she read his words-each keystroke was like a forbidden touch. She had become addicted to the idea of touching him. She enjoyed the sensation of the forbidden fruit without tasting it. That restraint barely held on their first night on the island. They had arrived late and he had carried her luggage to his bungalow. They were both exhausted and her breath caught when he suggested they just sleep in his bungalow for the evening. Her heart sank when he became the perfect gentleman and slept on the guest bed. She had almost walked to his bed and made love to him in the middle of the night. Now the departure day seemed to already be soon -- it made her more anxious about returning home, leaving this place, leaving him. It was the stolen caresses that fueled the fire that slowly consumed her failing morality. While they only exchanged deep glances and light touches, the idea of the heat from his body wrapped around her, intoxicated her. Each accidental touch was a thousand deaths. Now as his hand boldly encircled her mound quivering beneath the fabric of her suit she was perched on the brink of oblivion. She entered into the beauty of the moment. They came to this moment through hours of talking, enjoying each other company. They had a union of souls. They were kindred spirits. She and he became the world, and no one else matter or cared. He was connected to her, and even if today was to be their last day, she was his, and he was hers. The sweetness of what was happening filled the painful emptiness that into which he fit perfectly. Her fear faded and, for one pure moment, she knew what is it like to love. She tasted the desire to fill and complete the one who has made her whole, and that man was not her husband. Finally she opened her eyes and looked up into his face. His eyes showed no evidence of the battle that confused her. Al took a deep breath and stared into her lovely eyes. The fragrance of gentle flowers and the sound of the surf set a seductive scene. He could not blame her; the moment was right for what was to become of them. Before this night, he felt the presence of a hesitation so heavy that he was sure she did not want to cross the line and go too far. But now, with so few hours left, he would risk hurting what they were just to have he wanted. He bent down slowly and kissed her very slowly and deeply. One finger slid gently under the fabric of her bikini. She wanted to spend her life kissing him. Warm waves of passion bathed her eyes, breasts, hands, back, and her very center. All felt alive, new, aching to be kissed with those lips. She could not recall ever having a dream that made her feel like this. She gave herself up to the moments as they fell like the rain, in concert with each other, swelling like a string quartet. She heard music without the power of instruments. They created the dark and silent place were the senses are more aware. Each touching, tasting, and taking in the scent of their lover. They were caught in the moment and even if this was to be their only moment they were making the memories that would surely last their life apart. That span was non existent here in this place filled with only the liquid sounds of two lovers in their new embrace, he was free. The newness of her sent strong currents of energy through him, his mind fought against the urgency of his body. The anticipation was delicious. Dream and reality blurred as she surrendered once again to his touch. Right now, he desperately wanted just her. Only twice when she seemed to move away a bit did his mind threatened to shame him back to the sacred vows. The ones that he swore to someone else. But each time, he would resume the probe of her mouth with his tongue, stroking the underneath the thin Lycra that covered her very moist and humid garden. He was all here with her. And it was quiet as before. He could remember when he was in high school. It was a time that kissing was a way to distract his girl from the awkward struggle of undoing the hooks. Then, in college, he began to realize the power the kiss had over a young lady's objections. He fell in love with the look of the woman in his arms, weakened and melting after he kissed her. Now, he was melting. He did not mean to be this open to her, to trust her like this. But it felt too good, giving so much, so openly to her. He did not want to hold back. At that, his mind silenced and he kissed her deeply wrapping his arms around her, keeping her still just enough. His desire grew too and caused him pain in the position that he was in. He slid and twisted, seated at the edge of the chaise. Their mouths hotly played together as he laid himself along beside her, stretching out his legs and then fitting her chest and mouth on top his own. Her breaths became soft pants. His hands guided her hips to meet his. On top of him, she swayed and rocked instinctively, almost imperceptibly, her hips were riding little waves. Her mind toggled between wanting to remain in this kiss and telling him that she wanted to stop this--affair. She tried to pull back, but felt herself passing the point of no return. She thought that if she could keep her briefs on, that there would be less to recover from. Maybe if they walked away from this the burden of the secret would not be too much. They might be able to salvage their marriages and return to a more platonic friendship and save themselves from having a secret that would devastate their families. They could stop here; kissing one last time. Ultimately, she wanted to keep this pure. She wished sex didn't always carry emotional baggage. She like what they were, but how could that continue to be when they returned home again, if this continued. She knew that if she made love to him, they would be more than casual lovers on a tropical fling. His hands were on her buttocks, pressing and smoothing the skin, spreading and cupping them. Warm glistening moisture from her inner lips moistened her briefs. If she were with her husband, she would have taken them off by now. Here she was with a man she had not seen in years and now that they were reunited had only known for a little while. She clung to the idea that if her bikini bottoms stayed on she was still innocent; they were the last door between her as wife and adulteress. She felt trapped in the arch of that doorway. He turned slightly on one hip and his right hand maneuvered between her thighs. His finger slid once again under the Lycra and inched against her moist slit. It dipped into the silkiness and he touched her clitoris. When she moaned, he broke the spell of the kiss to look into her eyes. His lips curving slightly in amusement at her innocent confusion and complacent submission. His left arm angled and propped his head. He could see the gray crests of the black ocean. The sun had set since he walked onto the porch. The ocean air carried the scent of her, waving soft whiffs under his nose. Without thought, he removed his probing finger and tasted the wet excitement that had coated his entire palm. Carried by the wanting, he moved down her barely clothed body, and hooked his thumbs under the briefs of her bikini. With his hands fixed to the sides of her hips he held her from struggling he began to remove the fabric from her bronze skin. She slid her legs up to impede the removal, but he was oblivious to the objection. His hands covered her bent knees and press them outward. Once again, she felt his tongue, this time on the smoothest of her skin. Time stood still as the tiny flutters of orgasmic pulses rippled through her. The soft chestnut curls barely contain the sensitive swelling. It seemed to being reaching up to kiss him. His whole hand touched her vagina, then stroked the line from her pink pearl to her center. One long thick finger disappeared within her sweet walls. She was melting all over again. He pleasured her slowly and slipped her bikini from her writhing limbs. His sun kissed flesh blended well with her skin. Sounds of his chest hair on her breasts echoed the rhythm of his legs rocking between her own. Her chest heaved into his as she breathed. Her hands rubbed at the muscles of his backside, then soft lines from her nails invigorated his thighs. His cock was strained and taut. This time, the moan came from him. There was a moment of silent stillness, full of peace. He left the warmth of his kiss on her lips to move down her body. He took the pink gumdrop shaped nipple into his mouth. The feel of her breast in his mouth made her shiver. It was an eternity of caressing the full mounds with his hands and face. Then, at last, he left the dark summit to take a mouthful of the smooth caramel skin and pressed his stiff flesh past the moist petals into the pink silky glove. The motions were long rolling crests of rising and falling, tender peaks that broke over and again. His face, hands, legs worked to stimulate the rest of her body, forcing his memory into her soul. Their lovemaking was a tempest. It was a crashing stormy sea that was wet and powerful, relentless and awesome. Her heart pounded like rain on the deck of a listing ship. She felt as though she was dying and being born at the same time. Lightening and thunder flashed and died. The calm water yielded to the waves again building on the horizon. Her arms and legs hugged him as they created a new tide of heat and friction. The sex and feel of someone new, someone who had an intimate awareness of her made her giddy. She was drowning in the waves of pleasure and orgasms, one sewing into another until she felt the surge in her fingertips. Her energy flushed over her in pulsing waves. When their chest came together in a deep grinding thrust she could feel the heartbeats join. Her buzzing pulse joining and intensifying with his own electric pulse. The power of his release flowed from his head, spine from the base of his cock and erupted within her. The rhythmic and concentric waves of her sweet muscles were gently massaging the shore of his throbbing volcano. Everything within him, was set free. To Be Continued... Tantric Tradewinds Ch. 2 The morning was hours away. The warm tropical air carried the sounds of the surf and footsteps on the wet sand. The nude lovers lay still. "She is asleep," he thought, with his arms curled protectively around her. The moments passed with her deep sighs and peaceful stillness. The quiet movements became more deep and long. He gently slid from her and covered her slumbering body with the throw that had been hanging on the rail. He quietly slipped into the kitchen nude and vulnerable, and utterly happy. He began to rummage about the cupboards and refrigerator, trying to save the abandoned feast he had prepared for her. As he prepared the food he took small loving glances out the window at her sleeping form. He could see the blue light of the moon shining on her bare chest. She was as lovely as any thing he had ever set eyes on above or below the water. He turned his attention back to the meal and did not hear her rouse and pad into the kitchen on her slender naked feet. He was totally focused on preparing the desert when he first heard and then felt the Reddi Whip spray out and onto the backs of his thighs. He reached for her but she just smiled and dodged his every move, spraying him with even more whipped cream. For only a moment was she standing, in full view. He attempted to take the can from her, but she distracted him with a very strategic move. She sprayed that last of the white cream on the front of his thighs and then, with precise calculation, she folded herself to the floor. Her hands slid up his legs on either side of his knees and she dipped forward and began to kiss his soft penis that was hidden beneath a mound of white cream. She could take all of him in this state. She savored the wonderful contrast of the sweet cream and his salty, surging cock. She let the heat of her mouth and the full blanket of her tongue stir the flaccid flesh to life. Once attentive, she began to suck with even more effort, gently arousing him. Her mouth worked him with full long draws. He was content: eyes closed with his hand stroking her hair and cheeks. With each stroke up, her mouth became more resistant, every so often pressing the tip of her tongue in the grove where the shaft and the head triangulate. All the while, her hands manipulated his testicles, her fingers dancing in his hair, rasping her nails in the long wavy strands. She enjoyed the pleasure she gave him. The salty-sweet mix of the whipped cream and their previous sex lingered on him. The taste of them thrilled her. The smooth glands of his head was nearly too much to bear as it pressed into the soft palate, the pressure made her instinctively swallow. Her miniature vacuum made his cock throb and twitch in her mouth. Sweet drops of clear foretaste preceded the final surge of blood into his engorged member. He loved each delectable sensation given by such a strong willed woman tamed between his legs. She never grew tired of bathing his hard, thick cock with her tongue. It grew even more erect between her lips. She increased her tempo when she saw him grip the counter in an attempt to hold back. She had him in her power now. Her swirling mouth bewitched him. He reached down and cupped her bobbing head, trying to back her off his rigid erection. She flashed him a fierce and defiant glance with her dark eyes and he surrendered to her. She was taking very fast strokes of his cock in her mouth. She flattened her tongue and breathed on each downward swipe. He was moaning and rocking on the balls of his feet and she enjoyed the power of she had over him. He moaned and she further delighted in her sexual power. She paid for that power when she miscalculated his ability to control his orgasm. She felt his cock erupt with no warning and jets of molten cum streaked down inside her mouth. She swallowed once, but was overwhelmed and tried to pull off of him, but he grabbed her by her hair and held her in place as he shot load after load of cumm down her throat. She tried to swallow as much as she could, but there was so much of it that it ran out of her lips and down her chin. She choked back her fear of his fluid and lapped it up. Her licking tongue kept him stiff and erect and he lifted her from her knees. She eagerly followed his lead as he positioned her against the counter. She thought he was going to enter her, and she leaned over the Formica and spread her legs waiting for his flesh to pierce her. Instead she felt coldness nudge her pink and brown fringed labia. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him knelling behind her. His thumbs had spread her buttocks and his face hovered there. Above his face as he pulled yet another can of whipped cream from the fridge. He popped the cap and inserted the nozzle into her moist petals and slowly shot a stream of thick white sweetness into her. She moaned and writhed, actually fucking the nozzle as he emptied it into her. She could no longer stand and slipped to the floor with him. He then proceeded to lick and suck each sweet ounce out of her as they bucked and skidded across the floor in a delirious sixty-nine position that resembled two spoons caught in the grips of the mental powers of a crazed magician. They melted together in a feverish daisy shaped chain. There bodies were covered with spots of Reddi Whip. Soon they were pulling out a number of things from the fridge, alternating sweet and spicy extracts across their bodies. They first painted each other's bodies, and then slowly and deliberately cleaned one another with hungry mouths. It was a true movable feast as they writhed on the kitchen floor making a mess with the groceries he had bought earlier, but giggling like teenagers that discovered a new hobby. Suddenly she had had enough playing with food and pushed him to the kitchen floor as intense need took over her faculties. She moved her smooth flesh on his swollen cock, stroking it with the pink pillow within. She did not let his enter her. She let her labia purse around the underside as she pushed his rigid cock back against his belly and slid back and forth on it. His hands grasped the curve of her hips and brought them forward. The soft lips made a wet kiss on his stomach, and then she drew a sticky line as he moved her towards the tip of his shaft. She continued to tease him by only brushing his lower body with her wet pussy, never actually mounting him. He grew impatient and she laughed when he lifted her by her gyrating hips and placed her lap over his throbbing erection forcefully. A sudden, sweet, velvety thrust joined them. She took to the task of riding her full hips on the head of his firm penis. Her sex circles slowed, and she lowered to sit completely on his cock without bruising her tender loins. Fully seated, she rested her motion to allow her beautiful sex to be stretched. Then, with little motions, she rocked side to side. He was in ecstasy as she began to make the ripple of her vaginal muscles hug his erect scepter. Full pumps of her thighs sent her vagina complete up and down the shaft. Her precious design manipulating the glans to it own epitome. Soon he would have to stop her and fuck her at his own rate. But for now, he enjoyed getting to the point near hypersensitivity. The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. With a low groan he took hold of her. He brought her hips down as he thrust himself deeper within. Her breasts shook and dance at the percussion of his grind. They scooted about the tile that was now covered with streaks of jam, cream, milk, caramel, chocolate, honey, peanut butter, and a number of things that were no longer identifiable. Careless touches and licks were passed between them. This fevered pitched sung out. Her large breasts caressing him, crushing him when her arms wrapped around his head; firm wet thighs working against one another; loud sound kisses on his chest and face. Her climax peaked; each ring of her sweet cleft vibrated and shook, tugging at his rigid cock. He, however, was not ready to slow. He alternated between bucking and making little circles with his hips slightly off the seat; his penis rubbed new delightful sensations against her rippling walls. Her back muscles trembled and relaxed. She muffled her sigh with a mouthful of his shoulder, biting and sucking fiercely on his trapezoid muscle as her body was wracked by a powerful spasm. He winced at her lover's bite. She trembled and shuddered with one more forceful orgasm and fell down against his still bucking body. She lay with her head at his chest, still enjoying the pleasurable little waves of orgasm. With a light peck and a gesture, he motioned for her to leave the kitchen and find the bedroom. She nearly got to the bedroom door when his hands seized her. "Here." His hand went up her spine from her curvy bottom, directing her torso across the arm of the sofa. Now, her full pink lips, now flushed and crimson from the sex, were presented to him. His hand stroked his penis while he watched the glistening hair move as she pressed her legs together. "Open for me." She widened her stance a little, tipping up her hips to receive him. He squeezed into her, slowed by the swollen engorgement of her vagina. The new friction recapture his full erection, and he felt the familiar ache that he was looking for. His hands reach to the front of her thighs, gripping them while she returned every thrust he gave. Their rhythm was perfect. Beads of sweat ran tiny streams down his face and back as she rolled her nipples between her fingers. The spanking pats of his hips against her bronze moon spurred him on. He struggled to watch the pink flesh piston into her. His arms stretched to fondle her fleshy rosebud until his white explosion ended. He let his full weight rest on her across the sofa, their legs dangled haphazardly off the side. He woke to find her nearly free from beneath him, then again at the touch of a warm cloth around his cock. She bathed him with great care and attention, her body still damp and wrapped in a towel. He tried to continue to sleep, but found himself looking in awe at this woman. "What am I going to do with you?" She smiled, "more of the same, I guess." It was not long before her tawny frame warmed his skin to slumber until day. If he wanted to keep this secret, he would have to work hard to hide the dark red mark on his shoulder. He had been through similar snares before, and figured that his wife would be oblivious to the little signs of indiscretions. But then, he had never let it go this far before. The other times were when the marriage was still new and a great deal of alcohol was involved. As long as he did not "fuck" a woman, he did not consider himself cheating. In his twisted rationalizing of his scruples, a blow-job was the same as a kiss, just lower. And he always kissed his female friends, at one time or another. This, sex, was a lot more risky. Women tend to get caught up in the "what does this mean" part. Not to mention the fact that he had not used a condom in 10 years. At least she was married. She risked her family too. He looked at the clock, 12:28pm, damn. He was sure that his wife had called his room by now. He searched for an answer: went out for lunch, breakfast, whatever, all day. If he bought some gifts, that would cover the morning and afternoon. However, if she called last night.... He dismissed the possibility, " she won't look for something she was not ready to find." And with that, he thought no more about home for the rest of the day. She handed him a glass of juice and his pants. "Good morning, or afternoon..." her cheery face was ginger red. Zipping up, he caught her staring at his hips. "You are red. Are you blushing?" She laughed. He let his body do what came natural. His arms hug her waist, and pull her down on his knees as he sits. His lips press on hers. Their tongues work like two horny teenagers while his hands invade the narrow space between her bra and skin. Her silent protest fades quickly and soon she removes all the clothing on her breasts. The perky nipples feel like gumdrops. The tiny textures around them contract in his mouth. He lifts a tan orb in each hand to appraise the fullness...he would never complete the task of licking every inch of her breasts. Instead, he focuses on the crowns. Every so often enjoying the sweet liquid taste that sprinkled from the centers on their pink tips when he nurses. She is much more vocal than last night, each moment; she lets go of more of her inhibitions. The effects of his oral talents are felt within both of them. Soon she is between his legs, her body arced to kiss him and press her belly against his bulging crotch. Her hands work at his pants, and, once again, he delights in the feel of her face on his waking prick. This time she works efficiently. Her pointed tongue dance on his scrotum, licking hot wetness on the thick tubule passage found under them. Her left hand pumping his large stem, bringing the slack fold over the rim of its head. He did not need to be worked from flaccid; he woke up nearly ready for her. He was hard enough to enter her, and this time, he was intent on wearing her out for a while. They can always dive later.