Helena Ch. 08: Magical Moonlight

Author's note: This is #8 in the Helena series; written originally for my friend and muse here on Lit for the last few years, and my inspiration for this and other tales. I hope you enjoy it as much as she and I have in the creation of this story.

By the time we get back to the cabin from Cade's Cove, it has been dark for half an hour. You head off to one of the restrooms, while I go out and sit on the swing on the porch. I place a thin cushion on it before sitting just left of the center. We are having one of those Super Moon nights, and with the clarity of the mountain air, you can see the features of the moon even with the naked eye. Everything is bathed in the light it reflects at us, a white, almost blue light. A faint breeze wafts through, just enough to move the swing a few inches back and forth after the momentum of my sitting down has ceased..

And then you come out, and the moon...what moon? That envious moon, as Romeo called it? It does indeed pale before you. A simple white silky negligee, pearls...and that smile. I begin to rise, but your hand on my shoulder bids me stay, so I obey. You other hand goes to my other shoulder, and now both help support you as you climb on to my lap, facing me. One of your hands goes behind my head, the other caresses my cheek as you lean in and kiss me tenderly. My hands fall naturally to your bare legs, and now sliding my hands up and down, slowly, along the outside of them, brings a flood of passion over me.

This world holds nothing more precious in any bank or diamond mine than what I have in this moment.

Though my hands wander north, over the negligee, up over your hips, up your sides, along your arms...this transcends sex for me. I am literally holding beauty and loveliness and grace and passion in my hands. I feel it glide under my palm, my fingertips, just beneath the skin of my very soul. Down your sides again, squeezing slightly at your hips, down to your thighs, your knees, your calves; even your feet deserve more than my touch.

Back up again, slowly, as if my senses are memorizing every inch of you (they are) for any sad moments when you are not with me. My hands curve at your knees, this time sliding under the silk, and venturing behind you, to stroke and squeeze that bottom (That's no cereal box; that's a honeypot if ever I've seen one!) that teases me with every step and wiggle. They slide back to your thighs, stroking the tops now, softly, my thumbs just slightly inside the curve.

Your kisses...oh, Helena! There is nothing sweeter than your lips on mine! My eyes lost in yours, my heart full of you...I wouldn't take anything for this moment.

My hands slide to your breasts, stroking them through the silk. The pearls grace the back of my hands, and I feel your nipples stiffen beneath the silk as I caress you. One hand slides up, around you, fingers entwined into your short hair as I kiss you over and over.

My right hand relinquishes your breast and slides back down, over your hip again, down that thigh...then back up again. This time, the back of my hand slides along the inner thigh. Up...slower...slower...our eyes locked, STILL kissing, eyes to eyes...until the backs of my fingers...press, gently, into your heat. I stroke up and down, slowly, feeling the heat, the wetness...

Your eyes narrow to slits, and you moan lightly into our kiss. I feel your thighs clenching rhythmically, echoes of your internal clutching for something not yet within your grasp. You begin to kiss me to the same rhythm, and a smile pulls at your serene visage, shadowed by the moon behind you. My left hand leaves your hair, slides down to your right breast, teasing at the nipple, then gripping it just enough to make you have a quick intake of breath. Your mouth stays open for a moment, as you ride the stride of my petting below. Then you speak the first words we've heard since you stepped out onto this porch.

"Make love to me, John. Please..."

I want nothing more in this world, my Helena. My hands around your bottom, I rise, lifting you, and take a couple of steps over to the table, where I sit you down. I pull my shirt off, then, with you helping, unbuckle and unzip my shorts, shoving them and my underwear down my legs. That accomplished, I pull the negligee off of you and discard it, then lay you down flat, your legs coming up around my waist. Now you are bathed in that beautiful moonlight, pearls between your breasts. I've never seen a more gorgeous sight in my life, my Helena.

Leaning over you, I gently suck at your left nipple. As it stiffens again, bathed in the blue, I kiss it, then suck again, before moving over to adore the right. My hunger is building, though, and with a few moments I am kissing and licking a trail down your belly, kissing around your navel, and sliding down until I am face to face with your flower. I inhale of your heated scent; no rose ever smelled as sweet as this! I begin to kiss, then lick up and down, curling the tip of my tongue up, tasting, teasing. Your hips are bucking, trying to make more contact, and I oblige, sucking your essence up and bathing you again in it. My tongue swirls around your bud, and I hear your gasp and then a groan as I suck it gently into my mouth, forming a seal around it as my tongue worries it back and forth.

"John! Make love to me! Now, please!" Your hands on my face bid me up, and I rise. What kind of man wouldn't oblige a lady?

I rise, pulling your legs straight up my torso, your ankles ending up by either of my ears. Grasping my cock, I stroke it a couple of times, just to remind the fellow that I have not forgotten him. He rises to the occasion; he is always eager to spend time in his favorite place! I slide my tip up and down your, gathering of your wet essence on my head, before I lower it and lodge it at the portals to heaven. I smile at you as I push myself in, feeling a tightness just inside you then continuing to bury myself until you have all of me.

I rest there but a moment, then begin to establish a steady, slow cycle of full strokes and withdrawals. I gently lower your legs, and you wrap them around my lower back, heels goading my butt with each stroke. My right hand lowers to your belly, then slides down, until my thumb rests above your clit. I begin to circle it, and I am rewarded with a tightening inside of you, and a sexy groan from your lips. I slowly increase the tempo both of my pistoning in and out of you and my thumb's caressing of your button.

A minute or two into this, I suppress a laugh into a smile as you push my hand aside and begin to stroke yourself. You quickly move to a faster pace, frustrated by my slowness. That's okay, baby, I think to myself. I love to watch you please yourself! As your efforts pick up speed, I begin to pump harder, faster in and out of you. I don't know how long I will last like this; I should probably try to focus on remembering Super Bowl champions or baseball statistics...but what man in his right mind could focus on anything but this sexy creature writhing on their cock??

Fortunately, I'm not the only one on the edge of ecstasy. I watch your face as it begins to transform into the face of beautiful agony and pleasure.

"Please! Don't stop! Don't stop! Oh, please don't stop!" you plead. As if I could? Your sweet, wet pussy is pulling, pulsing, squeezing along my cock as you approach your orgasm. It is all I can do not to cum yet, but I am not about to stop now.

Your first cry as you peak seems to echo off of every mountain within 50 miles...or perhaps it is only in my mind that it reverberates so powerfully.

"YES! YES! Oh, YES!" you speak your agreement to the universe, which is watching our coupling in great envy. "Fuck me, John! Fuck me! I'm cumming!"

At that announcement, I relinquish my thin thread of self control, and with a roar that would make Barry proud, I begin to thrust wildly as I fire volley after volley of my seed deep inside you, painting you with my passion. Your body is spasming, and between us, I feel your right hand still circling your clit, albeit slower and slower. My cock, which I finally sheath within you and stop, is bathed in our combined wetness, and relishes every spasm, every squeeze you give it.

Leaning over, I pull your head up to me, and kiss you. Then I kiss you again, then again, as our heartbeats come down from the mountain top.

Gazing into your eyes, I cannot help myself. I try to, but I simply cannot. This moment, the passion we have just shared, the depths of the feelings I have developed for you, not just in the last few days, but since we first communicated. Some things just need to be said.

And so, looking deep into your eyes, I ask you...

"Do you want some ice cream?"