The Photo

The Photo The Photo

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

A man has only a photo, so far, of the woman he fantasizes over.

Summary

A man has only a photo, so far, of the woman he fantasizes over.

Content

Submitted: January 29, 2012

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Content

Submitted: January 29, 2012

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The Photo--by Greg Stevens

(C) 2011 Greg Stevens

He stared in wonder at the picture. She was a beautiful woman, to be sure. The other photos had shown her to be quite attractive, but this one...he failed to find words for a long, long moment, sitting stunned at the image. This one went far beyond the others. It showed a beauty that the others had only hinted at.

What was not to love? She stood in full sunshine, the light shining from her hair and from that smile that told him so much about her personality. She was a lovely lady inside and out--it was quite obvious. How could she look so fetching in simple jeans and a sweater? Nonetheless, she did and he longed to walk directly into that photo and take her in his arms and never let her go.

Even the way she had one leg folded back and resting on the rail of the fence she was leaning against...it was sexy in some subtle, unexplainable way. The hands hanging at her sides were waiting to be caressing him, he felt; just as his wanted to show her how he adored her. He thought of little else when his mind was free.

The things she said to him only inflamed his passions for her. She wanted him, body and mind. She wanted his hands on her. His lips on hers and more, much more. Her words, which she had texted to him several times, expressing her desires, inflamed his own passions more than he had felt in such a long time. There was no denying it. He wanted her, too. He wanted her with a powerful desire that was with him every waking moment and many of those in which he slept.

As he gazed at the photo, he imagined walking with her in the pasture and then into the woods beyond, hand-in-hand and smiling at one another. His arm would slip around her waist and draw her near. He imagined that when they got out of sight of prying eyes, he would lean her gently against a tree and kiss her softly. His hand would cup and caress her cheek tenderly and his eyes and fingers would wander over and through her hair and the features of her face, taking in every detail and savoring it. He would be proud to have a woman such as this on his arm, in his life...in his bed. And after kissing her, he would take her to himself and hold her close, feeling her warmth and the softness of her body, the pressure of her breasts against his chest and perhaps her breath in his ear. It would feel as if he were floating in the clouds to hold such a woman. In fact, he would want to transport her to unearthly realms, cloudy heights and sunlit peaks of passion.

Later, he imagined, after they had walked and spoken of innumerable things, he would not want to be separated from her, even through the night. He would wish to stay with her, to please her in every way imaginable. And if she would let him, he would do so. He would spoil her for any other man.

He imagined dancing with her to some unheard soundtrack, making their own music and never missing a single beat of it as they wound their way around the floor. There would be candles all about them and they would whirl until they got dizzy and had to sit, side by side on the sofa, falling into one another's arms. And there they would lock eyes and lips and would begin in earnest their dance of passion and love. Hands would explore, lips would discover and the ocassional tongue would probe and excite.

A place would be cleared where she could lie down, her clothing removed, and he would then apply gentle, but firm pressure to her muscles with his confident and loving hands. From head to toe he would work her naked flesh in his hands, relaxing her and giving her a gift of self that would last as long as she wished it to. And now and then, his fingers would tease, taunting her with the possibilities and promising the options that might come to her if she would but ask for them. He would not press the matter, ever. She must do the asking and he would then comply with her every wish.

He envisioned how she would tingle and wriggle as his fingers massaged her inner thighs and come dangerously close to her womanhood. She would writhe with pleasure and seek to meet his touch each time, moving herself in subtle ways to allow him access to her most intimate parts. Still she would not ask...not yet. As badly as she wished it, she would hold back as long as she could, until there was no way she could humanly resist and would then beg him for release.

The oil on her skin would make it so easy for him to please her. His hands would be soft from applying the oil and would allow him to touch her center of pleasure without the slightest hint of discomfort. He would slip his fingers in and touch the trigger points he knew lay there. His tongue would soon follow suit, licking, sucking and teasing her until her hips lifted and bucked from the surface on which she lay. And just when she could no longer take the delays, the taunting, he would grant her an explosion of delight that would send her reeling through the cosmos and back again, only to be met with the next wave of orgasmic magic that would send her again into space.

As the anticipation would increasingly mount, his hands on her breasts and his kisses on her tummy, her labia and on her clitoris would be pure delight and nearly overwhelming, almost bringing on a state of fainting. And then he would suck between his lips her trigger of joy, causing several shattering explosions of ecstasy, after which he would deliver the ultimate wave. He would induce the most intense ecstasy of all, causing her to squirt her sexual fluids several feet into the air, bringing her to her absolute limit--a full body orgasm, spasming and convulsing uncontrollably, holding onto his hands, his arms, his shoulders and anything that came within reach of her passionate bucking and writhing.

When she finally would slow her spasms and begin to settle again, weak and drifting in wonder, he would insert himself into her wet and waiting tunnel of love and gently ride her to a different type of orgasm, proving to her that with the briefest of motions he could make her entirely his. They would reach this peak of the mountain together and there hover for several long seconds in one anothers embrace, holding onto the very ceiling of the sky above for as long as they could, until they slowly descended into feather-soft reality again. And as she relaxed and sobbed her gratitude to him, he would kiss her gently on her cheeks and forehead, then on the end of her gorgeous little nose and cuddle her to sleep on his shoulder. He would listen to her breathing until she slept soundly, whereupon he could sleep himself and have the dreams of a king for his queen.

All this he would do for her. All this he envisioned as he stared at her photo. All this for this one special woman. But would she have him? Would she accept such a gift from him? Would she understand how he thought of her and adored even from this distance? Until she could understand fully, he would continue to dream and admire her, with the only thing at his disposal. He had her photo and it was now a treasure to him.
 


© Copyright 2018 Greg Stevens. All rights reserved.

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