SHE LIKES HISW BIG DICK

Soon, meandering his hand to hers with a look and a shy glance downward, he led her toward the bedroom.
As they both disrobed and their garments fell forgotten to the floor, their eyes covered the surface of their bodies like a caressing, tight fitting new skin. Both self-consciously posing, their eyes lingered, and massaging each other’s body like falling rain, they both finally looked up and smiled.

He heard his air involuntarily escaping through his clenched teeth as he uttered a long and helpless; “Wheoooow!” Hungry eyes dined and drank thirsty in momentary stillness of their wide open examination of each other, up and down, drawing out desire into a thin line of greater lust and drama.


“You like what you see then?” She giggles and crosses her legs in mock timidity.

“I’ll say! I’ve never seen anything quite like you…..And your little goatee down there almost matches mine. Ha ha. But wait; I don’t see any tattoos do I…? What’s with that? Is that acceptable these days?” He’s grabbing at any wayward thought to break the obvious hypnotic spell with which her body had captured him.

Shifting her hips as alluringly as possible beneath a slight blush; “Yeah, well, I tried getting a little dolphin on my ribcage right below my breast, here, once, but the guy was drooling so much before he even got any ink in, I quit. Plus, I don’t know….Just made me feel uncomfortable. Giving someone else total control over my body. I learned that lesson a while ago. What if his needle slipped? I guess I just prefer to be in charge of what’s happening on my skin…….


….This is kinda fun,….just, watching”


Standing naked before each other, she examines him carefully back. His easy posture, like his body, are great Greek stones, piled one perfectly upon another in studious angles of symmetry. Smooth, rigid, precise and alluring; they halt her own breathe, seeking understanding and then twitch and quiver like an ambling river. His torso is like polished pieces of granite piled in precision upon each other by an expert stonemason.


As she crosses her long speaking legs absentmindedly, yet precisely seductive, she dips her thighs, and wets her index finger, rubbing it up and down onto the top of her vagina. She examines him relentlessly, her eyes devouring, descending, as is the movement of her fingers before stopping at his middle. She liked him poised briefly there, athletic and just silently digging his own virility.

Full lashes coyly blinking: “Ummm…, but my, my, whatever should I do with that big donkey dick of yours though?….You could probably fuck me in half with that thing.”

“Anything you want to I guess….”

For the first time that he could remember, he began getting hard from just looking, sans touch. Not ’statuesque’, she was as a bronzed, marble statue itself, her full breaking hips flushed out and magnificent in the middle of a garden. All distinct potential and towering above the surrounding green of grass, leaves, and branches blowing restlessly in the wind around her hesitant, still form. The silent garden of his lush bedroom even was hushed by its form.

He had never seen such large firm breasts. Perfect geometric hillocks of half-moons; again he flashes on statues of stone Hindu goddesses. Her nipples stood out like fingertips. He figured she had to have had some work done on them; but who could argue with perfection? Like an orchestra conductor, his dick rose in concert with her deep chest inhale, and the thrusting of her voluminous tits out and upward, while she continued staring and softly massaging her cunt.
*

Both of them had obviously spent nights of self love, being caressed and worshipped within mirrors. Those jealous mirrors!…. Such that the covetous, begrudging body within them mocks: ‘Who’s the mimic….Who’s the addict?’ Such that the body image, the reflection, is welded back to the mind-body of the other. Preening delirium, the secret self-giveback had so often been just a warm, solitary, solipsistic seduction. God’s perfect universe selfishly possessing itself and attempting to turn itself inside out. Only a masturbatory self-orgasm had at times been able to break the spell of that two-in-one self-sexual zen.

But just as all voracious gender mirrors broke, they simultaneously came at each other in their violent forgetting. Compressing their bodies in kissing so forcefully, clutching and pushing upon each other as if to try and occupy the very same space, revered previously only in mirrors. The selfish reflection-forgetting finally became touch, fully incarnate. Grabbing each other’s flexing biceps, they seesaw balanced for upright advantage.

Suddenly separating breathless, olympic hormones and both chests heaving, he walked across the room to the corner pristine white bed. Her eyes glued upon the bouncing spring of his pendulous member at his center, she gasped at first, felt her oven swell and ooze, and had a vision of riding a unicycle. He gazed at the rounded stretching of her swelling chest, and almost retreated with intimidation of the form’s proud self-sufficient perfection.


And soon enough, her suction pumping, beer guzzling, square, muscle-jawed bite has left no room for air leakage in the vacuum sealed piston-prison of her wet mouth . She grapples it; gobbles it; squeezing the shaft at the very bottom with a firm grip, wrapping the fingers of one hand at the base, then pulling the head upward forcefully with her other hand—stretching long taffy, before smacking it repeatedly like a rubber ruler into her palm.

With a one handed firm grip still clutching it at the base, and shaking it like a wand, he is trying to concentrate an opposite energy. Wetting his index finger, he slowly, carefully massages the tip of her swollen clitoris up and down with the lightest touch, while the rest of his body explodes .

The firm round heaving hydrants of breast are antiEuclidian geometric wonders above his penis. She is a satin circus symmetry. Her torso, stunning in its angular muscular articulation, every muscle sharpened and highlighted in its attachment to the bone. Rotating, they stretch, flex, and undulate like a river in shadowy definition in the low light. As she leans over his huge erection, her firm breasts bobble slightly on top of its head, more like a full bodega of wine than jello.

She sucks her breath in sharply, then emits a low scream to numb the shock as he enters hard, most of the way.

He envisions himself climbing up through her uterus, her kidneys, her liver…. her intestines. He realizes he doesn’t even understand female anatomy that much. She is an open, moist cul de sac. Lip lock, juice box, Chinese finger prison, anaconda squeeze, her cunt closes tighter around him each time he withdraws just a bit. His usual self controlled thrusting is supervised, dominated, and directed.


She balances atop the head of his penis while clutching a grip at his flexing pecs. His cupping hands across the rump of her ass, he lifts her and places her gently upon the bed. A shaft of silver slides across the sheets through the window from the pale full moon illuminating their every earthly pleasure. Soft dixieland jazz music continues from the forgotten stereo in the corner, soothing aural wall paper around their frenetic indoor explorations.


As he lays her down gently, she inches her fingertips down the ridges of his spoking spine. Using her finger tips as an extension of her sealed eyelids, she massages up over the slight rise below his smooth waist and buries her veiling face in the hollow of his shoulder.


The room begins heating up. The mirrors, so votive once, now so forgotten were so steaming they could not gaze back. His hard member thrust up inside her body; while being devoured himself each time he struggled to take more possession of her insides. Their slippery mouths exchanged rapid crescendoing breathes and stabbing attempts at kisses. Joined together twice, a 2-backed beast, Kukule’s benzene snake swallowing its own tail, a yin yang circle of life and death. Neither knew where one’s own body began nor where the other’s ended.

She concentrated on holding off and releasing her own pulsing climax at exactly the moment he was about to ejaculate. Her orgasm was like a rock thrown into a small pond—endless ripplets cascading and elevating upon their own heightening uplifting crests.


She rollicked beneath the dominance of his hirsute muscular body on top of hers, until she became too hot and excited and had to turn him over upon his back. The sleek prow of her bullying breasts smothered his protesting face. The peristaltic undulations of her taut lower spine wished his penis to remain permanently rigid, a new growing part of herself.

Separating, they seated together vertically; she on top, a bouncing ball of flesh and balance. He flexed upward and forward with equal strength that she pushed back down upon his torso. Almost levitating above the sheets it seemed, their pulsing, restrained, mutual orgasms vibrating as one beast right before consuming itself in screams of pleasure.


Finally they crumpled together into a second, sweaty screaming orgasm.
Completely aerobicized, his long glistening dick still throbbing and dripping, she licked its head clean, closed her eyes and smiled blissfully.