Nanban Kozhutha Mallu Athaiyai Oothen 8211 Part 2
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It's All In The Wrist - Chapter 1 free porn video
I splashed into the tumult feeling like a jackass and just managed to snag the tip of my rod as it was going under for the last time. It didn't help one bit that you were doubled over laughing a few yards down the bank. I bristled, but then grinned. The trout were no doubt laughing, too.
Fishing conjures up visions of calm serenity; of early mornings on the lake with waters like a mirror whose only purpose was to reflect the glory of the gathering dawn. An afternoon at the beach laughing among friends while keeping a steady hand on the pole and an eye on the line. A sunset-filled evening by the pond as the day quiets in time with the lazy bobber nodding drowsily among the reeds.
Fly fishing is more like batting bees with a belt.
"The wrist, Sara! It's all in the wrist. Let the rod f-l-o-w in your hand, like this." The fly on the end of your line danced enticingly across the top of a little pool and suddenly there was an explosion in the water and yet another trout was added to your haul.
"Not bad for the first day," you said with satisfaction. "We did well."
Meaning you did well. At least we weren't going to starve on our first day in the mountain wilds of Idaho. I was not sorry to leave the boulder-strewn stream behind as we picked our way up the slope to the cabin perched on a shoulder of the looming mountain. Suddenly, you stopped and grabbed my arm. As the sun slipped behind the rim of the mountain opposite, a single beam of light had found our cottage and it was glowing in the gathering gloom like a fairy-home.
"Oh," I exclaimed, and we stood a minute admiring your handiwork framed in the blazing crimson and gold of the autumn foliage with the purple mountain as a backdrop. Again I wondered how you had managed to build it in this canyon so far from the nearest road. "A labor of love," was what you'd told me, and I believed it.
It was only yesterday that we'd met for the first time, yet it seemed like we had known each other forever. What had started as a chance encounter over the internet had grown into something much more. We had shared secrets about ourselves that even our spouses did not know, and in many ways we'd become as intimate as lovers, although we had never met - until yesterday.
I was nervous as I made my way through the concourse towards the gate, hoping desperately that you would not be disappointed and come to regret your invitation. At first I thought you were joking when you suggested that I accompany you on a fishing trip to Idaho. Why, we had never even met face-to-face! How did I know that you would like me? How did I know that I would like you? I was a prig - a prude. I could never be so reckless.
Yet, here I was on the edge of a great adventure - not on a girls’ holiday in New York as I'd told my husband but about to make my first foray into a world that had previously existed only as fantasy. For once in my life I'd thrown caution to the winds.
There you were: I recognized you immediately from your pictures. You glanced appraisingly my way as I walked the long concourse, followed by startled recognition and a delighted smile as you rose to greet me. The awkwardness of a first meeting soon melted away, soothed by your warmth and eagerness.
I feel different with you. More open. Free. How do you bring that out in me?
The Grove Hotel in Boise was simply magnificent. For our first night together you had chosen the perfect mix of sophistication, luxury and warmth before trekking into the primitive wilderness. Our room was more sumptuous than I thought possible. Pastel blues spoke of clear mountain skies and rich woods and lustrous marble were reminiscent of the trees and granite of the canyon where you maintained your retreat. How wonderful it was going to be to slip into bed with you, nap away the exhaustion of the long flight, and awake refreshed ready to begin our adventure together! A quick glance out the window overlooking downtown and you disappeared into the bath to clean up.
I took a deep breath, hand on the door handle listening to you splash in the marble garden tub. One more glance in the mirror and I stepped suddenly and irrevocably into the white glare of the bathroom.
Startled, you looked up. I had caught you soaping your strong arms and my stomach flip-flopped when I saw your taut body for the first time. I smiled shyly and strutted a little, arched my back and thrust my chest out. Could you tell that I was naked under the thick terry robe?
You hastily dropped the wash cloth into your lap and I smiled to myself, gaining confidence. Slowly I pulled the sash, loosening the slip knot, my eyes locked on yours, watching your reaction. Still you had not spoken. You seemed mesmerized by my hands, by the slow undoing of the cinch at my waist. I felt devilish - pleased that I had caught you by surprise. For once your cultured, controlled veneer fell away and I could see the schoolboy that lived inside you. You swallowed and parted your lips as if to say something, but the words did not come.
The sash fell away and I teased a little, letting the robe slip past my shoulders, baring them to your greedy gaze. I turned my body first one way then the other, showing off playfully, holding your eyes with mine although I could tell you wanted nothing more than to ogle my cleavage while my enticing hands fiddled with the knot at my waist. I shrugged off the robe and stood revealed in all my naked glory.
"Good God!" I heard you exclaim softly. Your eyes roamed everywhere at once and I felt absurdly proud of the reaction my little striptease had provoked. I turned so that you could see me completely.
My boobs aren't large, but they're very firm - athletic, as someone described them. I like my breasts and I so wanted you to like them too. Did you notice that my nipples were erect? My areolae are pale, almost the color of my skin.
"Stunning," you muttered distractedly.
Your eyes dropped compulsively and I knew what you were staring at. I blush as I remember how exposed I felt then, without even a wisp of pubic hair to conceal my nakedness. It took all my willpower not to lock my hands in front of me to modestly hide my secret place from your lust. Modesty was not why I was there. I wanted you to see me. All of me. I wanted to be open to you and shed this stifling prudishness. I forced myself to stand still, legs slightly parted, hands at my sides. Look your fill, Michael. Know my secrets - all of them.
Finally, you managed to croak, "My Sara! You are so beautiful. Come to me." And I obediently stepped into the tub and lowered myself into the water facing you with my calves straddling your thighs. I smiled nervously. It took only a moment for you to regain your composure and once more you were in command.
"You must be exhausted after that flight. Let me wash you."
You lathered the wash rag and took my hand in yours. I was surprised at how deftly you washed it. Not clumsy or rough like a younger man, but sure, confident, gentle and sensuous. You delicately explored the palm and fingers of my right hand, then with firmer strokes washed the rest of my arm. I reveled in your touch, willing to be led. My left arm was next. I felt your hands tremble slightly and I could sense how aroused you were, yet you remained completely under control.
You washed my face delicately, as if I was made of rare porcelain that might shatter under a coarser touch. The rag wandered to my neck, your finger traced the hollow at the base of my throat. My breasts were engorged, my nipples taut. How I desired your touch. How I wanted your hands to cup them - to squeeze them - to make me cry out in pleasure. I took your hands then and guided them downwards until the rag engulfed my swollen bosom. It was so luxurious to be washed this way, the water steaming and the lather rich and thick.
"Turn around," you breathed into my ear. I obediently presented my back to you, sitting inside your legs my body close to yours. A jet of warm water caressed my hair as you wet it with the nozzle. Your strong hands soaped my back in circles and I slumped gratefully, almost purring. Too soon you rinsed my body, then opened the shampoo and I felt the cold, viscous liquid spreading on my scalp. Confidently, yet gently, your fingers worked it in and I melted under your touch.
It took nearly the whole bottle, but finally my hair was buried in a mountain of luxurious, thick lather. I loved for you to handle my hair, to feel your fingertips massage my scalp. I felt like the old Sara was being washed away and someone new was emerging, and I was content to let it happen, to allow you to minister to my body.
I stole a glimpse at the mirror and was taken by the expression on your face - a mix of affection and trembling excitement, your movements barely controlled. I suddenly wondered - were you aroused? Had I excited you? I sagged back into your arms impulsively and, as if by instinct, you enveloped me. I could feel you then. I could feel your phallus trapped between our bodies, like a hot, rigid rod of iron burning into my skin. I wriggled a little as if to settle into position, and felt it jump and pulse at the unexpected contact. My belly seemed leaden, my womanly parts swollen and heavy, dully aching. I cupped your hands around my breasts and breathlessly turned my face to kiss you, searching out your mouth.
As your lips found mine your hands began to squeeze and massage kneading my breasts like bread dough. A moan escaped my lips and your tongue touched mine. Oh, Michael! Did I please you? Tell me that I pleased you, that you desired me, that you wished to ravage me. I wanted you to be impulsive. To be impatient. I did not want to be caressed any longer. I wanted to be taken. I wanted you to impale me with your proud manhood, to plunder my body, to take possession of me.
I pressed back into you and the full measure of your shaft pressed back. Your tongue wrestled briefly with mine, then abruptly you stood and pulled me to my feet. As I rose, turning to face you, I was struck by the savage lust in your face. My eyes were drawn inexorably downwards to your magnificent jutting member and I was transfixed. Oh, Michael, you were so perfect. I longed to touch you, to pet and caress you, to take you into my mouth.
But you were in a hurry. You snatched a huge, fluffy towel and engulfed me in it, rapidly daubing the clinging water from my body. I squeezed the water from my thick hair and wrapped it in another towel, as soft as a cloud. We stepped out of the tub and you embraced me, body to body, skin to skin. Your pestle prodded my belly, so large, so firm. I wanted you. I had so wanted you!
Quickly you pummeled me, patted my belly and pubis, then turned me to dry my back. Again you pressed up against me and kissed my ear, your penis parting the globes of my bottom. I couldn't wait much longer. I needed you inside me, not teasing me. A quick pat-down of my bottom and my legs and then it was my turn to dry you.
I was gentler than you but no less hasty. Normally I would have wanted to explore, to tease, to thoroughly sop up every drop of moisture. But you had inflamed me and caused me to rush. I swathed you in the towel, drying your broad shoulders, your firm chest, then down your taut belly to the object of my desire. I wrapped the towel around your shaft and petted it a little, stroking you with the soft roughness of the material. The sharp intake of your breath and little jump you made betrayed how much you liked it.
Next, I delicately daubed your wrinkled sack. Then I turned you, passing the towel quickly over your back and your oh-so-delightful bottom. How firm it was! I made you spread your knees a little so that I could dry your crack and around your bottom hole. You liked that, didn't you?
As I took care of your legs, your penis bobbed obscenely in front of me, inches from my lips. I swallowed, my heart beating. I couldn't resist. It was so strong, so handsome, so the center of you. As if under a power not my own, I felt my mouth open and engulf your spongy swollen tip. I distantly heard you moan and felt your hands on the back of my head as my senses swirled.
Your glans surprised me with how large it felt in my mouth. I squeezed it a little with my tongue, learning the texture of you, the taste of you, clean and fragrant from the bath. I explored you with my tongue, tracing the furrow underneath the head, tasting the fluid oozing from your tip and playing with the little opening there. My hands were busy as well. One grasped your shaft, and the other cupped your swollen testicles, caressing them, squeezing them lightly.
"Sara..." you moaned, and pressed my head more firmly into your body, willing me to take more of you into my mouth. And I complied. I pressed you against the roof of my mouth with the flat of my tongue, sucking on you, feeling you expand. Oh, God, I loved that.
I began stroking you with my tongue, my hand keeping time on your shaft, slow and firm at first, so very firm, then faster and lighter, varying the rhythm of my caresses. I wanted so much to please you, to find what pleasured you the most. You stabbed at my mouth in your ecstasy and I had to restrain you or risk being choked. "Just like that, Sara! Don't stop, don't stop," you moaned, and another jolt passed through my belly.
Moisture seeped from my body and ran in rivulets down my thigh. Your excitement was peaking. Your manhood swelled and I knew you were close. Frantically my hand stroked you, my mouth and lips suctioned you, concentrating on your furrow. Your scrotum tightened, and I could barely feel the orbs within so tightly were they drawn up to your body. Your fingers were like iron at the back of my head and you thrust convulsively at me. "Sara! Stop, Sara! I'm going to explode... I... I.... "
Your protestations were lost in a primal cry as you gathered yourself... so near! Soooo near...
"Yes, Michael," I thought. "Yes, please give me your gift." I wanted so much to know that I'd pleased you. Oh, yes, you are so near... so close. Do you feel it rising? Do you feel the crescendo inside? Think of your throbbing erection in my mouth! My warm, moist, sensuous mouth; my lips stretched around your shaft, the flat of my tongue lapping you, stroking you, willing you to come - to come Michael. Yes, I want to taste your essence, to know that I've completed you. Please, please...
And ,with a final cry, your body stiffened and gathered itself. My triumph was at hand. I took as much of you into my mouth as I could and molded my tongue and lips to you, holding you, caressing you as you soared upwards, upwards, upwards...
"Uuuuhhhh."
Your first spurt exploded into my throat and I hastily swallowed. My hand was a blur on your shaft. Another spurt. And another. I stole a look upwards - your head was back, your loins thrust forward, your mouth wide in a silent cry to the heavens.
I was overcome with gratitude, that you had allowed me to pleasure you like this, that you had trusted me with your most private part, the soul of you. Spent, you slumped, then raised me to my feet and kissed me deeply. I was yours from that moment, Michael. I am yours.
Leela
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