Moonlight
- 3 years ago
- 30
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The park around the mansion is only illuminated by an impossibly bright full moon, casting the gravel lane surrounded by cypress trees on which I am walking in a ghostly silver light. The moon's rays are so strong that only a few stars, far away from the silver orb, twinkle in the dark. Even if I knew the constellations, I couldn't make them out. There is no sound, save for the grsssh, grrsssh that my sandaled feet make on the coarse gravel.
I look down and see that I am wearing a chiffon dress. Strangely, down my front the gauzy material fits rather snugly while behind me long streamers of gauzy fabric billow in the wind, even though the air is still and silent. I notice I am naked underneath the dress, my nipples are sharp points where the chiffon strains around my bosom. It is not cold. The air is rather warm and humid; it smells of olives, thyme and rosemary. It reminds me of a holiday I spent on a Greek island a long, long time ago.
I look up and see that the cypress-lined lane ends in a large circular clearing. At the perimeter of the clearing are low white marble benches, each bench separated from the next by a white marble statue. There's a statue of a man, a warrior, on an armored horse. There's a statue of a satyr, that looks mischievous on his goat legs and that sports a clearly visible erection. There is statue of a frail woman standing in a big seashell. Inside the perimeter of benches are a number of broken Ionian columns, except in the very center, where a single gazebo stands gleaming in the silver moonlight. The gazebo has a perfectly round, hemisphere cupola and is supported by a six thin Ionian columns on it's rim. A tiny hemisphere is attached on top of the cupola; it's made of some kind of metal, because it reflects the moon's rays with that typical metallic luster.
I become aware of a faint throbbing in the air, pulsing like a heartbeat. The air is still here and the streaming fronds of chiffon of my dress descend and cling around my body. As I walk slowly towards the clearing, my sandaled feet still making that soft grrssh, grssh sound in the gravel, I get the feeling of attentiveness, of expectation of things to come. A whiff of ozone reaches my nostrils, briefly registering above the Greek island smells. On passing the statue of the satyr, the throbbing increases, both in intensity and tempo. As I walk away from the statue to the gazebo in the middle, the throbbing wanes, but I feel that I am being watched and that my thin garments are but a command away from being removed from my body.
In the middle of the gazebo stands a man, taller and more muscular than a mere mortal. His skin shines white and pale in the moonlight and I see that he is naked. I part my lips to say something but no words come out. That is most perplexing, because, as I entered the gazebo and left the gravel, the low heels of my sandals click-clack on the rough stone floor and I can clearly hear that, as well as the faint throbbing rhythm. He must have heard my footsteps, because he turns around to face me. I inhale deeply; he has every appearance of a Greek god come to life.
His proportions are perfect. Not an ounce of fat is visible, unlike my 300-and then-some pounds husband, who is doing his best to improve the impression of a beached walrus every day. To be honest, my husband wasn't always like that; he was much sharper and more sophisticated when we got married, no twelve years ago. Nowadays making love with my husband is an ordeal and we do it only rarely. Not much is lost in that department; I married him for his money and he married me to show off a pretty young wife to his business associates.
The man in the gazebo holds out his hand to me, palm upwards. I place my hand in his, softly resting on his skin. He is cool to the touch, hard and unyielding, yet also soft, silky and luxurious. I look at him again and notice that his chest and head are slightly oversized, but it is not unbecoming. He has strong and well-defined muscles without being excessive or exaggerated like one sees on bodybuilders. He is naked in his entirety; his penis is still flaccid and rather small with a small sack, as it would be when he is cold. He is not circumcised. If he has scars I can't see them. In fact, there's not a blemish to be soon, he appears smooth and perfect all over.
His hand, where I touch it, quickly warms up with my body heat. I feel warm and the faint throbbing increases again. I look into his eyes and he looks into mine. I lick my lips, albeit briefly, and he nods. I take the last step towards him and press my body against his, standing on tippy-toes to kiss him. My lips brush against his; they are also cold, but the touch of my lips seems to invigorate them with new life and they soon warm up.
Moonlight flooded the huge room, making the soft white curtains that danced in the wind look ghostly, giving the room a surreal other worldly feel. It highlighted the slender figure that lay under the satiny sheet, shining in the silky length of her black hair, glowing upon her pale skin. The sheet followed the curves of her body, clinging to her hips and breasts like a faithful lover. He stood in the doorway, his chest bare but for the light trailing of hair, a pair of breeches his only...
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"Well," she said, falsely bright, trying not to look too hard at Karen's luscious body. "Are we ready? Here, I'll help you into the bathroom." Karen propped one arm over Laura's shoulder, and they started slowly toward the hall. But they took only two steps before Karen gasped and started to fall again. This time Laura had to catch her with both arms. They were face to face. Their eyes burned together. Oh god, Laura thought. Before she knew it, her mouth was on Karen's, and Karen...
The crash when it occurred was total and catastrophic. I was staying with a school friend; whilst my parents were touring northern England on holiday and the truck that came round the bend on the wrong side of the road destroyed the car and killed both my parents outright. From being a happy only child, I was turned instantly into an orphan. After the crash, the friends with whom I was staying were kindness itself and allowed me to remain with them until after the funeral. However, it was clear...
Day One Billy, his mother Sara and sister Krissy, moved to the country, their new home was quite large but isolated. This didn't bother billy too much, living in the country with a forest beside the property sounded like a lot of fun. He was a bit of a computer geek, where as his mother, who managed to use the internet, really knew nothing about either. Nor did his older sister Krissy, so Billy was in charge of keeping the families computers working, he was quite good at it...