Just now….
A corner of the orchard steeped in sunlight, the blossoms budding on the trees, and the insect life beginning to emerge and scout for pollen, although it’s too early yet. Two of my cherry trees seem to think it’s warmer than it is and have pushed out some blossom, enough to attract early Foraging bees.
The bird song from the woodland is riotous. Birds seeking mates, building nests, ensuring the survival of their species.
And me, in a thin cotton summer dress, sitting on the grass, leaning back against an apple tree with my eyes closed, just taking in the sounds and smells of spring. The gardener cut my meadow yesterday and the scent of freshly mown grass hangs in the air. For some reason it reminds me of sexual arousal. Later, during a summer cut, wild flowers will tint the scent, and the similitude between the meadow and my moist panties will be strong.
The thought turns my attention between my legs. I feel my clit pulsing and the realisation of that causes a flood of wetness. I love that first expulsion of wetness. I love it because only a vaginal contraction can cause it. I feel it soak into my panties, and I spread my legs, drawing my feet up to my bum and letting my knees flop apart.
Instantly, I feel the sun on my crotch. Gently, I run a finger up and down the moistness and I feel my body answer my touch by hardening my nipples and breasts. My heart rate increases, and more wetness leaks from me.
A frown passes over my brow. Something isn’t quite right. Ah….I know. I need to be fully exposed, so I tug the crotch of my panties to one side, and the sun kisses my wet labia more gently and sensuously than any lover. Panties to one side…..my first fuck. I loved the urgency of it, the naughtiness, the secrecy. Everything about it said “let’s do it quickly.” And he was quick. He came so fast, but then, so did I.
Nope…no good. I have to do more. I raise my bum up and hook my thumbs into the waistband and slip my panties off before resuming my spread-legged exposure. Now it’s my clit that demands attention. While stimulating her, I briefly muse on how I am sometimes a clitoral masturbation, sometimes purely vaginal, and sometimes both…..hell, sometimes im clitoral, vaginal and anal.
But not today. Today I worship my clit. I imagine Emily’s tongue as she plays me like she does her flute, expertly…exquisitely, and my stomach tightens in anticipation of the inevitable.
The scents around me seem to morph into hers. My mind plugs my face between her legs as we 69 one another. Oh her tongue! Even the straightest of straight girls would cum in her mouth. Fuck, she knows how to kiss a girl off. I find myself pushing, wanting to squeeze every drop of my dew into her ready, willing mouth.
My mind recalls her words the first time we had sex. “Tongue fuck me, while you cum your load into my mouth.” The memory, visually accented, causes my release, and I orgasm loudly into the afternoon. I feel myself squirting as I did then. I even feel my face wet as she squirted on me. Her taste….that musk filling my mouth.
I yearn for the orgasm to keep going….i want to cum and cum until my stomach muscles scream for me to stop.
Eventually, as all good things do, the orgasm fades…..and rolls off into the distance like thunder.
I wish Emily could feel this. I wish she could know I have just cum to and for her. I wish she was masturbating along with me.
Ah, but perhaps, she is.
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