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Published by zanna
A delightful afternoon not too long ago.
A delightful afternoon not too long ago.

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Published by: zanna on Jul 06, 2011
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved


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It was a lazy afternoon. We were on the wicker couch on our back patio. The summer day was still and hot, but we had the overhead fan going. It seemed to be struggling, and the hot air falling on us really did little to cool us down. He was sitting, leaned back with his feet propped up on the matching wicker coffee table with a dirty glass top. I was laying with my head on his belly, turned to the side and looking out at the yard. The yard was essentially lifeless, and my gaze kept drifting back to his shoes. They were maroon leather dress shoes. They weren¶t fancy or expensive by any means, but he liked to wear them, even when they didn¶t match the rest of his clothes. My legs

dangled over the arm of the couch, and I would catch my feet rubbing each other every now and then, almost like they were under their own control unless I happened to catch them. I had still been wearing my heels when I came out, black suede three inch Sarrinas, but I had let them dangle and then fall to the tile below. I lifted the cigarette to my lips and took a long pull, turning my head to blow the smoke in his face. He loved that. He didn¶t smoke, but he loved the scent, the taste of my smoke. Sometimes he would have me smoke during sex because it was so enticing to him. I knew it wouldn¶t entice him now. He came home in a good mood and didn¶t want sex. I knew that meant he had found it somewhere else. I knew he did it, and I wasn¶t happy about it, but I was glad he still came home to me afterwards. I would get worried if he ever

stopped coming home afterwards. I knew he was safe about it, so I didn¶t even bring it up anymore to him. He was drinking straight Jack Daniels from a small glass tumbler. He didn¶t like ice in his drinks, but he kept the liquor in the freezer, so it was usually chilled enough. He held the glass above me with his left hand and let the condensation drip onto my pubic hair. The first few drops chilled me, but now I was used to it. He would brush the glass against my thigh every once in a while to give me goosebumps. I always accompanied them with a brief shiver and clenched my teeth together. I finished the last of my cigarette and put it out on the tile, then reached up and held his free hand. It felt good just to sit on the porch, doing nothing. The world was doing nothing, we were doing nothing. It was so totally relaxing and peaceful. I

didn¶t want it to end. He finished his drink and handed me the glass to sit on the ground. We hadn¶t spoken a word to each other since we came out here. I think we were both taken in by the peacefulness of the day. I was lying with my head up and my eyes partially closed. He would look down and smile every once in a while as he fondled my tits. Our neighbors were quite a way back from our house, but we could see an upstairs window. I assumed they could see us if they looked, but they would probably have to have binoculars to make out too much of what we were doing. His hand continued playing and eventually made its way to my small patch of pubic hair. I had grown it just for him. He liked to play with it, he liked pull it sometimes, he liked the contrast of colors when he came in it. He was artistic like that, and I really liked that about him.

I had been aroused when he got home, kneeling by the door in my heels, but now I was there again, and I wondered if he could tell how wet I was. He hadn¶t touched me there yet, but my scent was already lingering in the stale summer air. He kept his hand running through my small carpet, rubbing with more and more pressure, getting closer and closer to where I wanted him to go. When he got there, I gave a light, nasally moan to let him know. He rubbed at the outskirts for just a few moments before working into me. He used his first two fingers, and that was plenty for me. They probed in, taking small forceful strokes until they had fully penetrated. Then he used long strokes that ended firmly before changing direction, so that I knew he would go further if he could. I was soaking wet now. I kept my eyes closed and my breaths were small moans of pleasure. His thumb began

to tease my clit and I felt one of his other fingers rubbing against my asshole. My hips were moving involuntarily and I noticed that my legs had spread much wider than before. I reached down and prodded his finger into my asshole on one of his strokes. It felt amazing. His other arm was cradling my head as he played with my tits, and I felt him stretch one toward my mouth. I bent my head down and leaned to get my nipple into my mouth. I knew he loved watching me do that. He was going faster now, and I was a wet, sticky mess. I reached down and pulled his hand hard into me as his palm dug against my clit. I moaned deep under my breath as I came, my feet now on the arm of the couch, and my hips slightly up in the air. He held his fingers firmly inside me as I stopped bucking. I lowered back to the couch as he pulled out of me and brought his fingers to my mouth to clean. I licked as he

allowed me, and he loved to watch me do it. I loved the way I tasted; it was almost like silk, if silk was a taste. We sat out on that couch and watched the sky change as the sunset. It was a peaceful, beautiful end to the day.

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