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The Night

Posted by: Author: Age: 27 Posted on: 0 comments
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This is as it happened. Only the last paragraph is what I learned later.


The night is almost tangible. The darkness around me is like soft velvet and my senses, aroused as they are allow me to raise my hand and feel the subtle changes in temperature of the air around me. It is hot, the tropical night heavy and dense around me. I kick the sheet from my body and feel the night lean forward to kiss me.

I arch my back, deeply aware of the need burning between my legs. I allow my legs to part and the night, my lovely night seems to breath on my sex. But it does not cool me. Instead, my clitoris yearns to be touched.

I look across at her lying in the next bed. She has no idea, not the faintest notion of my desire. She does not know how much I love her; have always loved her since we were both 13. No. She has no idea of the nights I have masturbated wishing she were with me, nor how often I have wanted her to bind me and use me as her slave.

She lies there, her own sheet almost off her body. I can see the roundness of her hips and the subtle swell of her belly and those perfectly formed, almost pubescent breasts. Claire sighs in her sleep and the sheet moves. She is tantlizingly close to being naked now, and, as she sighs again, I discover the hairless smoothness of her sex. Is it a cruel trick of the night or merely my imagination that makes me wonder if I can smell her vagina on the soft eddies in the room? No matter, I know, much to my regret, that she is straight. But I also know that even my own dislike of men would not prevent me tasting the benediction of her lover's sperm from the cathedral of her sex if she asked me to.

My hand traces down my body and to the hard, demanding bud nestled in the moist folds between my legs. But I must be careful. The small cabin we share will not permit the wreckless abandon with which I usually masturbate. I touch myself. I imagine it is Claire touching me, or even me watching her touch herself.

My middle finger dips inside me and I arch my back. Oh, how I wish it was her finger. My thumb begins a seductive dance with my clit ring. (Making me glad I had it done. The pain of the piercer's needle brought me to orgasm, and it has given me so many siince) As my arousal increases, the clouds part and allow the moon to be my audience. But the blessed moon bestows an unexpected gift to me. There, lying on the floor between our bunks are Claire's knickers. I reach out and collect my prize.

Immediately they are in my hand I feel the bud of my arousal begin to open into the rich blossom of orgasm. I bring her to my face and inhale just once before placing the very tip of my tongue where her sex nestled.

The orgasm washes me. It cleanses me with every contraction and I feel the familiar wetness spray onto my thighs.

Across from me, the object of my love rolls over with her back to me. As she does so,her eyes open and after feigning sleep for so long, she smiles.



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