Night Songs
The clearing is small but the carpet of grass is thick and
lush. The stream is narrow and only a trickle in the late
summer moonlight.
The pool is barely long enough to lie in and the water only
covers our bodies. A large white owl calls across the meadow
to his mate. The only other sound is the gurgle of the stream
and the sighs of the east wind in the tops of the cedar trees.
The water flows around our bodies and soaks away the trail
dust. It drains away the aches and fatigue of the day. The
horses are quietly cropping grass at the end of the meadow
while the hounds keep watch.
As we dry off before the tent door the firelight casts a golden
glow on your beautiful lean back. In my arms your nipples
grow firm and hard; your breath comes in sharp gasps.
The furs on the bed always excite you. Tonight's moonless
sky with it's myriad if bright stars has kindled more heat
in your loins than our small fire and flagon of wine ever
could.
As I cup your full breast in one hand my other begins to stroke
the moist folds of our favorite flower. My tongue explores
the hidden places of your neck and ears; the soft hollows
of your throat. As my fingers stroke the moist folds of the
slippery lily your body shivers with delight at the first
climax. In the distance a wolf pack has begun the hunt. The
symphony begins across the mountain ridges, floating
on the breeze's wing. The music of the night.
The things you have taught me come to the surface like a trout
in a still pool. The ripples of delight spread through our
heated bodies as droplets of sweat drip run down your side
to make rain drop patterns on the bed's leather covers.
We kneel, face to face, in the tent's door flap to let the
cool night air wash over our heated bodies. Is it the cool
air that makes you tremble so? Your lips are soft yet firm
as they glide over my neck and shoulders. So gentle and tender
that I do not feel your finger as they open the clasp on my
belt or your hand until the long fingers wrap around my shaft.
The rythmic stroking brings my root to life. Your breath
catches as my staff swells in your hand. Your other hand
slides under my buttocks to grip the twin globes with tender
strength .
As I press you gently back into the bed of furs, your legs
wrap around my neck, your heels rubbing my shoulder blades
as my tongue flicks the head of your slippery lily. Your
hips thrust and quiver. Your back arches and bucks the way
your mare did the day she first felt the saddle on her back.
There is no pain as your fingers tangle in my hair, pulling
my head into that warm moist place. The musky scent goes
to my head like new wine. My hands lift your buttocks and
raise your cup to my lips where that sweet spicy nectar is
an eagerly awaited treat. Your flower releases a sweet
potion that drips from your lips onto mine adding to my intoxication.
On my back now I gaze out the open tent door, catching my breath.
Your breasts on my full manhood take my breath away again.
How soft and wet your mouth is. It makes me swell even more
until my fingers in your hair lift your head and invite your
wet lily onto my root. My thumb slips into the wet folds and
caresses the sweet spot that is the key to your release.
Your rocking motion is like riding your bay stallion on
sweeping fields of tall grass. My thumb caresses that hard,
wet spot until in a shudder of ecstasy you sprawl spent across
my chest.
The moon has crossed the sky and is overhead as I wake to find
you with your mouth around my shaft. Both of your hands,
wet with saliva, stroke it rapidly up and down. Faster and
harder you pump your hands; the same way your hips move when
we couple. I can hear your squeals of pleasure and feel them
as I touch the back of your throat.
As my body explodes in waves of lust I can feel your hands
milking the last drops as you suck me dry. As sleep overcomes
me I tell you that I love you. The last thing I remember is
that we said it together.
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