Moonlit Meadows

She sits in her college class one night a week after work. This is one of the classes that builds her career. She likes to learn. She is diligent and conscientious and does well. But tonight, her mind drifts. Blame it on a long day. Blame it on a dull topic tonight. But mostly it is because of him that she can't really focus tonight. He is always in her thoughts these days. Time has done nothing to dull her ardour. She has never loved anyone like she loves him. And her mind drifts to moonlit meadows...

The moon is nearly full. It is one of those magical summer nights where it doesn't really cool down. it is almost ten o'clock and the temperature hovers near 80 degrees. Intolerable, perhaps in the house but here in the meadow, in the moonlight, it feels like bliss.

They sit on a large plaid blanket. It's old and worn. Soft against their skin and tattered in places. The remains of an impromptu, late night picnic have been returned to the paper bag, a temporary picnic basket. A bottle of wine has appeared in its place. They have forgotten wine glasses and take turns with the bottle. They are not drunk. Not yet. But they both feel a little lightheaded and giddy.

Suddenly, she looks at him with all the seriousness, she can muster. "Oh my God," she exclaims, "Do you know what I forgot?"

He's not worried. Her face is too expressive. There is no crisis here. She is flirting, he thinks.

"What do you forget?" he asks gently, wondering where it's headed.

A wicked grin spreads across her face.

"Underwear," she says.

He raises his eyebrows.

"Is that so?" he asks, playing along.

"Don't believe me?" she asks. She takes his hand and places it on her leg, just above the hem of her sundress.

He slides his hand up her leg obligingly and sure enough, when he can go no further, there is only her lucious mound, already pleasingly damp. Sex is never a chore or an obligation for her. He loves that it takes almost nothing for her to be ready for him.

He begins to explore but she stops him. She moves his hand away, bringing it to her lips and gently sucking one fingertip.

"Hold that thought," she says, "I have something else in mind first."

Before he can ask what, she is undoing his jeans and sliding them down past his hips. He looks around anxiously.

"There's nobody around," she reassures him.

She pulls her hair back into a ponytail and goes to work. Her tongue swirls around the head of his cock. The she runs her tongue down his shaft, all the way to his balls. By the time she has all of him in her mouth, half the world could be watching and he wouldn't ask her to stop.

Her mouth encircles him. Warm and wet. His brain jumps back in time a few minutes, remembering the feel of the welcoming wetness under her dress. What she can't reach with her mouth, she strokes with her hand. She fondles his balls. She won't let him hold her head but one hand manages to caress a nipple instead. She isn't wearing a bra either.

He is so close to the edge. Yet he wants to finish deep inside her.

"Come here," he almost growls, voice thick with desire.

She slips her dress over her head and straddles him. She wiggles a little and leans down to kiss him, her tongue finding his. Then, he grabs her hips and thrusts hard. She moans which makes him thrust faster. All she can do is just hang on. She can tell as he's about to climax and tightens all of her pussy muscles. He explodes and for a moment, the entire world falls away.