Live Together (Illustrated Version)

Dear readers,

I'm pleased to share with you this edited version. I hope you enjoy it.

This reading passage has its background based in Ecuador cities and its culture. It might not appear familiar to the Anglo-Saxon life style. All the characters are over 18 and all plots are fictitious. Likeness with reality is coincidental.

Thanks in advance for the time you take in order to read my story.

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I couldn't stop. Some syrup flowed from her delicious flower of pinky flesh and its chubby clitoris. We had been doing it for five minutes. I had my face below her vagina, and she enjoyed it so much that, for seconds, she closed her eyes to quiver in ecstasy.

My hands have taken control of her thighs. Her smooth skin felt like reaped from milk. It was white and her softness felt like a delicate Chinese pottery. My tongue and her clit made love without doubts. In fact, I felt my chin muscles ached.

This battle started when I got to the apartment. I found her with tight-fitting black jeans, and she wasn't wearing a bra under her white top. She was in the bedroom, bended aside the bed, looking for something. I wore silent sport shoes, so she didn't notice I was there. When looking at those insolent big hips, I slammed them with my pelvis. Because of the strength of my push, she fell flat on her face. Surprised, she tried to find out what had happened. She saw me when picking herself up from the floor. She took my cheek with her fingers to compel me lay on the bed.

On that enormous square which forms the king size where we both sleep together, she pounced on me. She gave me a tender kiss, of minutes, of seconds, of an eternity that whirled in her rubs. Our breasts urged for seeing each other. Synchronized, we undressed, throwing our clothes like streamers in a party. Jeans, tops, my bra thrown like water on a multitude in a burning summer afternoon. We embraced each other until our bodies shaped a drop which shook, furious, savage. It revolved like a wool ball on the bed. She was above I was beneath. She gave me fond kisses; I imposed on her sumptuous licks.

At least an hour has passed by since all this started. I tried to swallow that juicy labia, but she reacted like satisfied, or not, because she stood up on the bed. My tongue asked for more, though my chin was thankful for that brief break. Hypnotized, she stared at my nudity. She seemed to examine every arm, rib, and my soul included. I glanced at her. She seemed a park statue, voluptuous, silent.

Emma had a perverted leer. I covered my breasts and my Venus with my hands. She continued to scan all the flesh my body offered. She didn't know where to start her lunch. I took the white pillow to cover myself. We grinned together, but she threw away my improvised cloth. Then, she got comfortable to start a new position.

It wasn't something from beyond. She opened up her thighs and sat on my bush, which was sticky and with tiny curled hair. The exercise, this time, was slope against slope. We hammered with a lot of strength to make our pink bottoms prickle, electrifying each cell of our bodies. Sharp hits spilled all over the room. They were watery snaps because of the flood, which soaked our thighs, hips, and crotches. We moved our butts in sinful harmony. We have made up with a new sex game in which she drew juicy rings with her pussy on mine.

She halted again. She didn't want the encounter to stop. Moaning and quivering, we got up naked from the bedroom to stare at the entire city through the large window. The afternoon, and its stifling sun, converted us into anonymous sex ladies. We embraced each other. She caressed my hips while I entertain myself, tangling my fingers in her hair. We have made love with opened wide curtains. We were actresses at the stage, without a selected wardrobe. Sweating skins sufficed, because we felt the public stood up for clapping euphoric. We wanted to make kinky men howl, and torment prudish ladies, making a gruesome duel of four tits and two vaginas.

Time to resume the activity. In fact, she dragged me toward the bed. Upon laying down on me, her face was exploring me there at my bush; there where blood and life flow. I embraced her by her waist. Her weight didn't let me breathe. Her hips, her waist, were in my hands. And that sort of mouth, her wide opened labia compelled me to lick. Forcing me to suck, with an unexplainable pleasure, withheld deep inside my cleavage.

Anxious, my hands grasped her butt. While she used her tongue to defy my clit, my eyes saw in ecstasy her pussy glowing. Drooling and melting like strawberry ice cream in the summer sun. That labia seemed to talk to me. My thoughtless mouth tried to mute them while my hands petted her softness hips.

Thus, her vagina and my mouth were two magnets. Those daring movements bring about an unexpected mutual quake. It made us feel exhausted and shivered.

Now Emma naps like a stone.

Without a previous plan, we celebrated the end of the tiring semester I lectured. Emma was one of my students in Financial Management. These are the most wonderful five months. We already live together.