tagHumor & SatireBreathless Stargazing

Breathless Stargazing



Copyright Oggbashan March 2006

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.


As I lay on my back, with Mary pounding up and down on my erection, and trying hard to think of any else but the arousal she was inducing, I attempted to identify the stars visible through her flying blonde hair as she determinedly continued to prove her assertion that she could make me reach a climax before she did, yet the stars did not seem to be as distracting as her body, so I reflected on the events leading to the current scenario, particularly our meeting at the Conservation Volunteers conference when we had all agreed to monitor the Nature reserve during the week before and after Earth Day, to prevent poachers snatching the wildfowl for restaurant tables, and Mary and I had been assigned to this particular night, since we were the only people who weren't attending the special showing of the film 'March of the Penguins' because both of us has already seen it, separately with our now ex-significant others, who had both become ex-significant because neither had appreciated the film and had expressed reservations about our respective strongly-held commitments to nature conservation, and that had led to the arguments that turned our significant others into ex-others and Mary and I into sympathetic listeners to each other's unhappiness and now into a partnership of nature guardians and sharers of a double sleeping bag that contained Mary's impatient thrusting and my gritted-teeth resolve to hold back my release until either she had tired or had worked herself to an orgasm of her own, neither of which appeared likely at the present while her swinging breasts slapped against my torso, diverting my mind from the beginnings of our relationship, so I tried again to identify the stars, such as Spica, Arcturus and Bootes that should be in my view at midnight on Earth Day to the South of Polaris, if only Mary's hair wasn't lashing across my face reminding me that she was nearly as tall and well-built as I am, and possibly fitter as she showed no sign whatever of slackening her ferocious attempts to make me climax, and the stars seemed less interesting than the shadows in the planes of her grimacing face, nor as interesting as the scent of her perfume accentuated with the heat of her body that writhed over mine so sensuously, her legs entwined around mine, her arms supporting her weight above me until she suddenly dropped her breasts to my body, her lips seeking mine and her tongue ruthlessly probing between my teeth, driving all thought and sight of the stars from my mind and making me believe that I was about to lose the wager in the next few seconds unless my mind could discover some other deviation from the arousal she was almost certain to achieve in the next few seconds, but the word 'deviation' made me think of possible scenarios for the plot of a short story about Earth Day that would combine nature conservation with a sexual encounter, possibly the sort of sexual encounter that I was now enjoying with Mary, and that thought detached me from my unresisting body almost to the extent that I felt as if I was looking down at the wriggling sleeping bag from an elevation high in the trees above us, a viewpoint perhaps of a curious owl or other night creature who would be wondering what we humans thought we were doing in the cold woodland at midnight on Earth Day, if an owl thought that Earth Day was any different from any other day which it probably didn't because I doubt that even the most advanced owl has any concept of the idea that Earth Day has any relevance whatever to its nocturnal task of hunting food to keep the owl alive, and that thought reminded me that Mary and I were supposed to be guarding the wood from the depredations of known poachers at which task we were manifestly failing because any poacher would hear our coupling form a considerable distance and divert to another part of the wood to pursue their illegal activities undisturbed by the distracted so-called watchers, because whatever Mary and I were doing it could not be described as watching or protecting any wildlife whatever, rather frightening it away or disturbing its sleep with our, or rather Mary's energetic activities, and that thought unfortunately returned my mind to her pressing lips, her probing tongue, her thrusting hips, her clutching arms, her warm cunny, her soft seductive breasts, her enfolding perfume, her caressing hair, her silky skin and with those images I lost the wager.

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by Anonymous

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by King_Willie11/28/18

You are a very bad man. :)

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