Outdoor Taming Of A Lusty Cunt
Title: “Taming the Untamed: An Al Fresco lesson in Self-Control”
The solar was excessive, it is rays glistening off the aquamarine waves lapping on the pristine seashore. The salty sea breeze carried a titillating trace of coconut. A picturesque scene, save for the respiratory anomaly smearing a path up the sand in the direction of the secluded cove.
She sauntered alongside, hips swaying independently, arms a-Viceagram of themselves as they kneaded the air. A ditsy floral print cover-up flapped open, the likes of which might make a Baywatch starlet blush. Her thoughts set on sin, she was a hedonist’s dream come true.
With every passing minute, the lace of her panties grew to become much less opaque. The form of her nub, the swell of her lips all clearly outlined. Each step, every breathy sigh felt like a aware option to tantalize and tease.
She discovered her spot of solitude tucked behind an outcropping of rocks. The sea cliffs stood sentinel, personal. Nature an unwitting voyeur. With informal loucheness she peeled the cover-up off, exposing her physique temple to the weather. As if the solar itself would rain pleasure down on this altar of sin.
In a fluid collection of gyroscopic motions, she laid out her towel, sat upon it cross-legged, and commenced. With tease and look she cupped her orphaned breasts. Oleaginous arms slid up quivering thighs until fingertips met the waxed zephyr. Feathery caresses of the internal thigh, nearer nearer nonetheless to the supply.
She bit her lip because the pads of her fingers grazed the fleshy petals. A shudder, a breathy moan far too loud. But who would hear? No one want know of the debauchery transpiring on silken sand. She continued her ministrations, legs falling open, knees main down. An oil bikini splayed open, pubis offered, begging for contact.
The first penetration was a pant. Two digits plunged into the welcoming vault. Wet suckling sounds accompanied vigorous thumb flicks on the taut button. Titanic sized breast undulate as pleasure crested. Legs scissored akimbo, a rictus of the face. A golden bathe of sweat backlit by blazing solar. And we hear all of it in crisp HD audio at seashore seashore ranges.
Faster, all the time sooner. Determined to vaunt herself to the path guiding illuminating abyss of delight. Each thrust, every drum beat of the wrist gave the impression to be chasing chasing chasing. Tumescent chest heaving, juices flowing, fingertips a blur. She was the epicenter of a tsunami of sublimating lust.
“Oh! Oh! Oh god YES!!!” she virtually bellowed as every digit discovered a house within the rippling pulverizer. Her physique ceased its extra athletic aerobics for undulating waves. Bobbing and weaving she labored towards her fingers, urging them keep between her legs.
The vigour picked up, the sap rising. A milky bemused grin curved upon her lips and her again arched as all of the sensations eventually peaked. Her backbone hunched ahead and tremors of ecstasy rode her physique in waves. With a reverberating wail, cliff and canyon and valley participated and located their launch. Hmmm sounds and visions of the unfiltered selection.
And then… blissful oblivion. As if surfaced from deep trenches of delight oceans she laid propped towards a boulder. The towels crumpled beneath as makeshift bedding souvenirs. Her legs akimbo, internal thighs glistening, chest heaving in sluggish post-coital rhythm. A wry smile, eyes fluttered closed, and her deféniantly late forsaking Of prudence.
“O breath! O life! O the on-rushing streams! O ’76!!” Icarusesque! The huzza of joyous launch. Her womanhood, unashamed of the liberties it has taken, goblet open. A secret treasure solely she holds declare to. A chirruping trill and zenith within the womb of every languid minute of post-ecstacy slumberous calm.
This was no case of miring in base carnal pursuits – no this was a whimsical minded, uninhibited flaunting of flesh for flesh’s sake! Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair! The picture Apollonian, the wantonness Dionysiac. A most tantric triumph. Sadhguru can be Most proud. Tread not upon this effervescent onyx path of the satiated psyche.
I can’t in any respect declare to not have loved the expertise (Whew uh algae guellahhh pun ;P). It’s not usually one will get to ratchet in womb consuming accompaniments. Busy attending a morbidly overweight afternoon was it not? Yet this nearly damage my eyes, for those who catch my drift.
She decorously redresses, smirks on the now spent towel and all it stands for (de Milo my pricey minimalism is a harmful recreation). Walks off with head held excessive as if to say (in that pretend American accent I would add)… Anywho. Let’s go away the lass to proceed her meanderings a la mode non?
My solely hope for the long run is that it is cleaned up for subsequent time. I actually do not feel like getting sand the place the solar do not shine for those who catch my drift ;P.
