Caution: adult material. Suggestive scenes and strong language. Not recommended for minors The author reserves all rights and any resemblance to characters, people or places real or imagined are purely coincidental and is not in any way meant to depict events past, present or future, real or imagined. If, on the other hand, you are willing to partake of potentially similar situations, settings or actions, please apply directly to the author as tranmittor of this email and disclaimer.
End of narration.
A boy and a girl are walking together; hand in hand.
They are dressed casually and strolling leisurely
along the pedestrian path that leads around the Stanley Park seawall .
It is a cool, moist day, and a hint of spray is in the air as they walk along
A typical wet winter afternoon in Vancouver.
He points out the sights and makes comments, witty and historical.
She smiles and laughs at each one, grasping his hand.
turn the corner and a beautiful expanse of the sea lies open before them.
There are a few ships in the harbour and a few joggers and cyclists in the distance.
They both survey the scene and he is about to say something
when she turns and reaches up, kisses him fully.
He is stunned for a moment.
She pulls his head to her lips and their eyes close.
It is black.
They can feel the soft ridges of the other person's lips on their own.
The changing intensity of soft, almost dismissive touches,
to the firm pressing of lips and the swirling of tongues in each other's mouth.
Their mouths stop moving as their concentration is focused on the slow, deliberate moving of the tongues - tips, the smooth undersides, the rough top.
She can feel something stirring within him.
Soft moans belie a spring being compressed.
Her hands feel the firm muscles of his shoulders and she can feel him beginning to tense.
He is aroused.
His hands drop from her waist, but not before he gives her hips a firm squeeze.
To remind her body of the firm grasp of lovemaking.
They travel down and feel the warm, smooth curve of the buttocks.
Feeling the line of her panties against her pants.
He hesitates, unsure, and moves his hands back to her waist.
She is disappointed.
Her body is pressed up against him.
Her soft breasts crushed against his chest.
Still the tongues continue their twirling dance, covered in the joined mouths.
Then suddenly the lips part.
He feels the moist reminder on his lips.
The taste of her lips is intoxicating.
Sweet. Soft. Seductive.
He opens his eyes and sees her smiling.
He has no thoughts now;
but to put an arm around her waist and pull her body to him.
He other hand cradles her head.
Lips moistened as they touch hers.
He is surprised.
Her tongue is aggressive. Insistent. Invading.
Pressing into his mouth and shoving his aside.
The aggressor is being violated.
Even as he hovers over her, it is her tongue which is forcing into his mouth
strong, muscular, potent.
He tries to regain control but her hands circle him in mirror of his own.
He can't move.
The tongues thrash around in a wet, probing battle.
He wasn;t ready for this.
He is aroused.
And presses firmly against her leg.
She can feel him, and her tongue relents.
They breathe with locked mouths;
feeling the blast of wam air on the side of their cheeks.
And they part again.
They are both dizzy.
He more than her.
The air is cold.
Their bodies are warm.
Their lips wet, warm and impatient.
She rests her head against his chest and can feel the drum-like beat of his heart
as it pounds the blood.
Her hands drop and clasp his, as he rests his chin on her head.
She can hear his quickened breath
and feel the pulsating, throb of his loins.
Almost shaking as the body prepares.
He fancies that she is moist.
Ready and willing.
His mind dances - from dizziness,
and from images of a long afternoon
of a moaning, groaning, sweaty, thrusting, gasping
fuck.
She squeezes his hand.
They are in public and miles away from home.
He is still dazed and miles away.
His narration of the views
end.
She is happy.
A peaceful afternoon to enjoy the views.
In quiet reflection.
