Heat consumes me. Even the lapping water feels like liquid flame,
and I vaguely wonder how badly my skin is burning under the hot
pacific sun. My tendency toward browning, inherited from my
Chinese father and Brazilian mother, should protect me at least a
little, but still I feel a blazing, almost feverish, heat from
around and within. His body above me shimmers with moisture and
As if summoned, the sky provides abrupt, heavenly relief. Rain, cool and soft, showers upon us. The addition of falling raindrops to the touch of his hands and mouth converges. His tongue rolls the grains of sand within my folds and on my clitoris as his finger continues its own magical confluence with sand and friction. The sun is so strong that closing my eyes against it does nothing to reduce its brightness. Throwing my left forearm over my eyes produces the welcome escape of darkness.
For it is escape that I seek. Escape from my mind, from these surroundings, from my body's sensations. Yet blocking off my sight only enhances the sensations. His lips home in on my clit with a merciless precision, sucking upward while he applies more downward pressure with his tongue. His finger inside presses hard in the same upward direction as his suctioning, making me feel lifted and almost floating. But its effect on my ever-increasing pace toward orgasm is devastatingly accurate.
I build, peak, and explode. Without realizing how or when we both moved into face-to-face position again, I find myself grasping and clawing at his back with such force that I'm sure I break skin and leave bloody streaks at least several inches long. I try to ignore the voice at the back of my mind telling me that any witness to our activity would see only a woman immersed in voluntary passion.
Incredibly, when I push on his chest this time he knows I'm not fighting him but just want him to roll over. He complies. My knees dig into the sand on either side of his hips and I impale myself swiftly and deeply, feeling his balls on the bottom of my ass. Now it's I pumping and plunging, now it's I using his body for my sole pleasure. I keep my eyes shut, irrationally feeling that it protects some last vestige of self that doesn't surrender or participate. For the briefest moment I steal a glance down at him. I wish I didn't. He looks stunned and euphoric and triumphant, and I'm jolted slightly back into the reality of my contempt and loathing. But my body is already taking over, starting its spasms from my core radiating outward, everywhere. I only slightly register his jets of cum flooding my walls as my spasms slowly recede.
I fall on my side onto the sand next to him, facing him, but with my eyes still closed. The heaviness in my chest threatens uncontrollable sobbing, yet it also seems inaccessible despite the bittersweet relief I know it would bring. Instead, I feel both empty and overwhelmed at the same time, though it's the emptiness that feels most prominent at the moment. I feel superficially devoid of any emotion whatsoever, even as my body still tingles with the most intense experience of my life.
After what just happened, I can't believe it when he's again above me, bathing my neck with kisses, caressing me everywhere with his hands. I instinctively know he's about to say something, and that, for now, I won't be able to resist whatever it is.
Reclining on my left side on the sand next to her I lean over her limp, almost lifeless body and glide my fingertips along the skin of her ribs and the side of her breast. I almost don't touch her, instead letting only the very tips of my fingers tingle the outermost reach of her skin's perception. I kiss her neck sweetly and rovingly, taking in her natural aroma that is ever present even through the salt and sweat and anguish.
My cock is satisfied for the moment but I know her body yearns still for more. She is teetering on a ridge, savoring her body's glow, waiting to see if she is going to roll back down to a lower elevation or continue ever higher. I want to lead her upward. It's possible she's never been here before.
In a low, soft voice, the sound of the waves accompanying my words in rhythm, I say to her, "Roselyn, I know you didn't ask for this... I think I know you'll always hate me... But you cannot stop what is happening to you... Don't fight me anymore... Just abandon yourself to me... I don't want you to say it. I don't want you to acknowledge it. It can be your secret that no one in the world has to know. Don't admit to me that you feel this glorious heaven. Just close your eyes and secretly let yourself be overcome."
I kiss her lips tenderly. She sighs lightly and silently and her lips remain parted. I kiss her again, tasting with my tongue the outer wetness of her lips. My hyper sensitive fingertips find her nipple and tease it. Her tongue reaches forward, timidly, like a small, scared rabbit and we meet. Her lips respond more passionately and invitingly. My right hand leaves her breast and I slowly trace the contours of her belly and lower abdomen to her mons veneris - her 'mound of Venus.' My eyes are closed as our lips trade hidden secrets back and forth, so I can't see, I can only sense her legs bending at the knees, her feet coming closer to her ass and spreading wide. I continue my hand's journey between her now spread legs. I feel her pelvis arch upwards and I gently plow my middle finger in the crease between her cheeks, finding her tight button. As everywhere, there are pebbles of sand here and I use them to swirl gentle circles around her opening.
I insert my thumb between her labia and into her other opening. She is slick and hot inside. It further excites me and I push the back of my thumb upwards against her vaginal wall in a pulsating rhythm - extend my thumb and push; relax and fall back; extend my thumb again; relax again - as I massage her tiny button. I bring her to a slow crescendo and fresh wetness coats my hand and fingers. Her mouth hungrily devours my own.
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