Stories tagged with "blonde"
Food Porn
A couple spends a wild honeymoon in Paris that keeps getting better.
No one knew about the quarry. Well, a few people did. This was before the park to get over, and it became a focal point for the area. We used to go long before it became the park, as it is now, with canoe rental kiosks and families with small children and strollers. We used to go when it was still a secret tent with that little bit of danger. There were stories about the place and a girl murdered in the 1920s; her body tossed into the murky depths, stolen cars driven off the cliffs, all kinds that made the atmosphere thick and interesting. We used to go there on summer days to be alone. And we always were; I've always thought it was a beautiful place sacred and that the stories were just hyped to keep the bad kids away. Because here's the deal. When we went there and sat on those big boulders and looked at the reflection of the cliff and the trees on the water, it felt like our own private paradise. Kevin was daring. He'd walk from the car barefooted over the railroad tracks and down the little gravel footpath. I'd walk behind him looking at his slender bareback, just slightly tan, his old jeans, his fingers that held his brown leather sandals by the very tips. I remember one time, in particular, I followed him this way out to a special place on the boulders. He climbed to the top, tossed his sandals aside, and dove headlong into the blue Blackwater. I just stood there smiling, waiting for him to resurface. But he didn't. And I watched and waited and waited. And finally, I saw his blond-haired break through the water surface. He shook the water out of his hair the way a dog does, sending droplets flying in every direction. He to get into the water with me sometimes he called up to me. There are all kinds of interesting stuff down there. I could only imagine he knew I was afraid of swimming in there. Not that I was afraid of water, but afraid of the hundreds of feet of water beneath me. And the thought of cranes and other massive pieces of machinery down there waiting to grab hold of me and not let me go. Sometimes I called back to him. You don't have to dive in. You don't even have to get into the deep part if you don't want, he said as he climbed up over the base rocks. There was a little area on the other side of the quarry that looks like a pebble beach. You could wade into the water until it was waist-deep before it dropped off into nothingness when he climbed up to me. He took my hand and led me down the path through the honeysuckle and trumpet vine to another clearing. Come on; he said softly, urging me to follow him into the water. I kicked off my shoes and followed slowly, hesitantly like a frightened horse as though I'd never been their water before. But I followed him, feeling the pebbles shift under my feet, the water coming to my ankles, and then mid-calf, he let go of my hand and hurt his finger around mine to lead me further. That's all it took. That slights lead and his reassuring gaze, his allies looking at me from the blonde bangs beginning to dry and curl again. At that point, he sat down in the water and looked up at me, wanting me to do the same. It was mid-afternoon, and hot as blazes in the water felt good. I was still hesitant, but we weren't firing her sitting down, only brought the water to hit level. So I followed. I sat next to him in my sundress, letting the skirt of it float to the surface above my white legs. The sun was behind us. Warming my shoulders and the humidity was thick and heavy like a blanket. The water feels good, doesn't it? He asked us; he ran his fingers through the ends of my hair. I was sitting on my knees, bending my neck towards his hands, closing my eyes, trying not to notice where the water turns black a few yards in front of me. And then I felt him Kiss me. First my eyelids and then my cheek. Then his tongue parted my lips and wiggled into my mouth playfully. I pressed into him and felt his bare chest with my fingertips, tracing the contour of his pecs down his ribs and to his hip bone. Kevin was lanky, slender, but strong, and his long fingers weed through my hair to the back of my head. He pulled me into him firmly but gently, and I acquiesced, letting that warm moment wash over me sweetlips cast away my fear and apprehension. When he pulled away. I opened my eyes and saw him leaning back into the water, lying in it so that his head was on the ground and the water barely rose above his ears. The cicadas burst into like crazy frenzied pitch before trailing off into silence again. Undo my pants, he said and closed his eyes. I reached under the water and unbuttoned his jeans. He never wore boxers. So from beneath the button fly emerges gorge caulk porcelain and perfect like a sculpture. I caressed it under the water and watched it grow and Stephen so that the white head broke the water surface into the sunlight. Every time I saw his erection, I began to salivate. And that afternoon, I was salivating looking at him lying back in the water. His eyes closed, bare-chested, the sun sparkling on the water surface, making his body look like it was cold in tiny jaws. I bent down to kiss his words lips; he never opened his eyes, just smiled slightly as the cicadas began there humming. I continued stroking his penis until it became a massive erection. And then I bent over him. The ends of my hair dipping into the water as my lips touch the tip of him; I lowered my head down further, my lips and mouth envelop him deeper and deeper until I felt the water on my lips. I was halfway down the length of him. So I closed my eyes and went deeper. When my lips reach the base. My face was underwater, but I stayed there, holding my breath, letting my tongue spiral his shaft, my fingers dancing around the base of it. Then I came up for air. We were completely alone there at the quarry that day, and I'll never forget how beautifully looked lying there on the pebbles, half-submerged in the water, the sun, the cicadas, the blanket of hate his part, his lips parting further as I stroked him and the feeling of his skin on my lips beneath the water. I climbed on top of him, surprising him because he opened his eyes and leaned up on his elbows to watch me. When he entered my body, we both held our breath, and I felt his warm and massive erection parts my lips and slide into the depths of me as I dropped my weight down onto his body. We didn't need to move very much. I gently rocked my hips back and forth, slowly, easily on top of him. I felt him rigid, as far inside me as he had room to go. I remember the water lapping up my legs and over his chest as I moved on him that way, and before long, I felt the surge of him coming, and I remember the way it felt his hips thrusting and jerking in orgasm. His eyes closed again. And the cicadas were strumming up their favorite song as the last bits of afternoon sun debt beneath the tree line.
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