I am in my hammock when you call to tell me you are on your way. My legs dangle on either side, the skirt of my black dress hiked up my thighs. My right arm reaches above my head, fingers twining in the purple rope. My left holds the phone to my ear, capturing your voice like the sea inside a shell -- hushed, distant, deep.
The August sun warms my skin as I wait, every aspect of my body tingling with excitement. A year ago, you helped me christen this house -- that encounter too fast, too brief. You brought champagne and paper cups. We sat in the sun on my patio, drank the whole bottle. I had been painting, my hair tied back in a bandana, no makeup, sweaty, but still you tried to devour me in my living room. I felt tiny in your arms. Yet, I had the strength to pull you upstairs to my unfurnished bedroom. We took off our clothes, quickly, as if time was of the essence. You slipped your fingers inside me, felt my thick wetness, my heat. I slid to my knees. You knelt behind me, slipped your long, thick cock into my dripping pussy, pumped into me, your fingers twining in my red hair, pulling hard. We could see ourselves in the wide mirror I'd removed from my bathroom, leaned against the closet doors. We watched my breasts swing with the rhythm of your thrusts -- fleshy pendulums noting each moment as it passed. I remember thinking to myself, "He fills me up," then coming hard, my whole body a ripple of waves. You pulled out and came on the new tattoo inked on my low spine, leaving a pattern of milky white on the dragonflies, the Gemini symbol. "That's so pretty we should take a picture," you said. "There's a camera in the closet," I said.
When we stumbled across each other two weeks ago, you sending me an instant message, blind to my identity, I remembered that photo. Me on all fours, back arched, pussy open and pink and worked. At full magnification, the pool of your semen shines in the flashed light like a pearly adornment.
I think of those minutes with you as I wait for you now, and my body is ready to be consumed again. I see your shadow at the front door and swing out of the hammock, sway my hips with desire as I walk to you.
"You're still in your church dress," you say, then lean down to kiss me. I stand on tiptoe to reach your mouth -- so soft and strong, tender and ravenous. Within minutes, our clothes are puddles of fabric on the carpet. I allow you to ascend the stairs first, knowing we will not otherwise make it to my bed. You will take me on the stairs, hard, from behind.
In my bedroom, you push your fingers into my pussy and work my G-spot until I cum, standing up, my cheek pressed into your shoulder. I shudder with pleasure, knowing that more is to come. "Are you going to do something with the bedspread?" you whisper, and I toss the pillows to the floor, yank the sheets down. You are inside of me before I know it, a slow push of flesh into flesh, not greedy, but savoring. Your cock is stiff and huge, filling me as I remember it. We play hard, my bed creaking, my orgasms blending into a chain as I wrap my legs around your legs, push my feet into your shoulders, thrust my hips up into you, make circles, sashay them side to side, each stroke cresting, falling. You almost cum, catch yourself with little puffs of breath. Start again until I am near exhaustion and ready for you.
"Where would you like the first load?" Again, a whisper in contrast to my loud moans of pleasure. I look you in the eye, grin, open my mouth wide. "Oh, you're a naughty girl." You flip onto your back and I move between your legs, kneeling, bending to take your cock into my mouth, lick, suck, open my throat and swallow you down. It doesn't take long. You don't want to wait. Your stomach muscles contract and your cock is deep in my mouth, your cum is sweet and clean as it slides down -- an oyster from the shell.
Later, we'll start again, your entire hand inside me, making me gush. You'll slide your cock between my breasts, cum on my neck, and I'll dip my fingers in, lick them clean. You'll taste of the sea, of beach sun, of the places you love. I will always think of that taste as adventure, my new beginning, my freedom.