On a Distant Shore

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A sensory overloading sexcapade with Incubus' frontman.
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We ambled aimlessly through the soft, crystalline blanket of white. The dreamy shroud of night obscured our visual perception, nevertheless, heightening our hearing. The rhythmic whoosh of water crashing against rocks soothed us. Brandon had finally shown me his secret place--the kind of place where people searched their souls, heightened their perceptions, and were reborn. No doubt, DaVinci had known about it, as well as Shakespeare, E.E Cummings, and so forth. There was a sense of sobriety and simplicity; we were unadulterated bodies listing towards self-comprehension, never taking form, yet always retaining form; here, we never were creations, though the concept of demolition still wavered over--in order to assure that we still knew to appreciate. It was the most beautiful place on earth, and we were the only two people on earth.

The place we were defied all logic. The skies glittered with unmatchable glory. There were other celestial bodies intermingling with obvious stars. Shooting stars raced silently across the sky, planets were in full view, plain sight all at once, and they wavered over us eerily like giant, intricate marbles, playthings of children. The clouds billowed sluggishly across the dreamscape, taking the shapes of flowers, shimmering bubbles, dolphins and other seaborne creatures transparently overlaying tints of soothing oranges, dreamy, star-riddled violets, and blushing pinks. The ocean was alive with blues and greens, ectoplasmic fluid replacing water. It sloshed against the land, sounding like busy hands slapping and tamping sloppy sand into potential castles. The atmosphere of this world was warm and tickly like the mild film of static on a playground slide in the summertime--as if it had a life all its own.

The world had a mind, it had a spiritual connection to those who dwelled there. The sky, which seemed like it could bare no more beauty than it had already shown, reflected onto the living entity of the ocean; the replica had a resolution far more breathtaking than the original image. The sand was like no other. It mounded under the arches of our feet and was so silky, with close comparability to powdered sugar, it seemed to be shuffling us forward. Rays of life affirming light from the sky shone onto it and made every granule twinkle independently like the scales of some exotic fish.

There were intricate, monstrous sandcastles whose creators remain unknown: soft, near-perfect likenesses of the Taj Mahal, Giza pyramids, the Sistine Chapel; they all had a soft glow around them, an enticing aura-- red, hot pink, gold, pale electric blues, soft pale yellows, or just hot white. We staggered down a hill, working as one to try to promote the likelihood of the other to make it down safely. "Nuh, put your foot there!" Brandon scolded jokingly. "What 'there'?" I hollered as I slipped down the silty decline. "Never mind," he said smoothly. We came to a rest under an enormous, old tree.

He plucked a fruit from one of the branches. "It looks kinda dry, you intend to eat that?" I asked curiously. He put the fruit to his mouth, as if to take a bite, but instead held it by the stem with clenched teeth. He pulled out some small white papers he kept in his tee pocket. He straightened out the papers, all the while his eyes flashed mischief up to me. Then, it came to me. He chiseled some of the fruit off into each individual paper, licked the edges, and rolled them up tightly. Then, he produced a lighter from his jean pocket.

The shroud holding the spark wheel was polished gold, and the wheel was that of a miniature ship. The top, visible only as a band and part of the fuel lever between the shroud and body, was ancient bog oak--a type of wood only produced by natural forces burying the wood in a peat bog for hundreds of years. The body was brilliant emerald cut diamond and, within the sparkling gas reservoir, you could see a small simulation of the lost city of Atlantis. Tiny merfolk wagged their tails and rose from the luxurious, shrunken city along with luminous jellyfish, small dolphins, and other striking seabound creatures that had already,in the real world, succumb to extinction. They rushed to produce a flame. The flame wavered in the wind, but had the lively resilience of the Greek fire that lights the Olympic torch. The container was afire with an inner glow, a calming, tantalizing pale electric blue that manifested inside.

"Everything's got an Inner Light that's just longing to make it's debut," he said, "after a while, after prolonged suppression, it becomes an unbearably discernible... burning (he waved his other hand over and through the flame,unharmed)." I looked into his eyes wonderingly the way inquisitive youths look to their idols. "Soon, your burdens will have burdens," he teased. Then his smirk half-faded, his gaze became distant. He clasped his hands together, accommodating the joint. He mused out loud,"then even that place of a thousand glows can't match that of your own."

He held the flame to the tip of the joint and let it catch, then brought it to his lips and sucked in the fruity fog. He exhaled and beamed a boyish grin and passed it to me. He sputtered, "gets you, like, a thousand times higher." I pushed it away, weakly. "C'mon!" ,he pressed, "Humor me!" I smiled, took the joint between trembling fingers, and sucked in the silly smoke. It took awhile to feel the affect. I spaced out. "It's good, right?" he asked, beaming.

"Brandon...?" I clutched for him desperately. He took me by surprise. He leaned in, maneuvered me towards him with one splayed hand ahold of my neck, and kissed me sloppily. He scooted back towards the big tree and sat against it, one leg bent toward his chest, the other lengthened; he had pulled me onto his accommodating lap by the arm--what a strong specimen, he was. I pressed tight against him, I could feel the lean, moist definition of muscle underneath his shirt.

Orgasmic heat circulated between us as we sat for a moment in an embrace. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he unzipped my fly and undid the button of my skimpy cutoffs which bunched up to reveal the cheeks of my thick ass. "Take me," I whispered meekly. He drew me into him as I let myself go languid. He had me pushed up against him so that I somewhat overlooked him, my chest meeting his gaze instead. Still under the haze of the warmth and mellowness of the meadowland, I began to untie the thin strings of my halter-top. I flipped down the top of the garment, strings dangling uselessly. The fabric gave into gravity and slunk down around my waist, freeing my dark brown almost black nipples from threatening to cut through the top they stood so erect.

A bead of sweat trailed down my sternum between my perky golden brown tits. "At last," he courted, "I embark upon tits as rich and as deep as two of Mother Earth's most perfectly formed mountains." I cracked,"Boy, you know you need to stop playin!" Him and his new age sexual deviancy. His shoulders and traps were solid through his tee, I had to feel his body without those pesky clothes. I began to carefully roll the edges of his shirt and lift it meticulously, when he took over and stripped it off hastily, throwing it into a swaying patch of overgrown pink grass blades. His hands firmly clenched and unclenched my cheeks.

He relinquished his grip and slid his hands up into my shorts. I could feel his heartbeat. We were pressed so the crotches of our jeans matched up, radiating heat onto one another. He scrunched the rim of my shorts and panties down and took me by the waist. I breathed in anxiously and put my hands on his shoulders. He looked down to the crotch of his jeans, his glossy tousled dark brown hair hanging. "Don't fail me now," he joked, still looking down. I laughed. He didn't have to worry about that, I could feel the massive bulge even through the thick denim of his jeans.

"Reeee-lax," he stressed with humor on his lips. This time, I leaned in and kissed him. He undid his belt and his pants and scrunched the rim of them a generous ways down. I sank into him, the steamy, hollow between us filled--a meshing of two humanoid puzzles. I slithered my hands down the inside of his thighs slowly. In one fell swoop, I had my fingers wrapped around his cock--tracing the eye of it with my thumb. With a sinewy arm wrapped round my waist, he pulled me downwards into his bucking hips. I could feel him glide inside me in one stroke.

I whimpered relaxed--barely audible. The only sound was our fused exhalations. I pressed my forearms to his chest, our bodies slapping against one another. I eased back a bit from the tight press I had against him. The sticky flesh of our torsos peeled apart, causing my breasts to ripple. He momentarily squeezed them together and let his tongue serpentine up their contours. He teased my sensitive nipples with the tip of it, letting his soft lower lip graze just below them. I closed my eyes, surrendered into him and found warm respite in his lustrous, crown.

His scent was intoxicating, it drove me wild yet soothed me . The exotic collaborations of light melon, citrus, ylang ylang, and vetivert oils over the smoky, masculine aromas of black pepper, sandal and cedar woods, made my eyes roll back in sweet olfactory orgasm. He tugged me into him callously by the hips, railing his rigid cock in me swelling my already sensitive clit even more. He yanked the waistband of my shorts and underwear until he was able to shimmy them down my legs and off. I tugged on the rim of his pants to get to a little more of him. I could tell his position against the tree no longer satisfied him. I shifted onto the grass and he climbed on top of me. He clasped my hands and pinned them to the ground, letting himself sink between my sweaty thighs, into me.

I moaned in absolute bliss as he pumped . I could tell he was enjoying it by the way he dug into and squeezed my hands, his viselike clasp grinding them to the ground, gliding the bones in my hands and wrists. He took his hands away from mine, but I kept them above myself on the ground. He kissed slowly down my neck and over my collarbone. He suckled my breasts one at a time, letting his lips envelop my dark nipples and areolas my breast as he lapped slowly. With his head to my chest, I gently combed my fingers through the thicket of his hair. He kissed down, slowly, caringly. Then, he came kissing his way down-- hesitating leisurely to build suspense (or piss me off).

"Brandon?" I called, anxiously awaiting the return of those soft lips. Even with his hair hanging down, shrouding his face, I could tell he was either holding back a smile or a laugh. Just when I started to rise, he immediately resumed, locking his lips with the drenched mouth of my vagina. He allowed his long tongue to slither up inside me. He ate deeper and, without coming up for air, exhaled heatedly into me while he orally massaged my clit with his talented mouth. He squeezed the inside of my thighs and pushed them further apart, allowing him to eat deeper into me. I called out his name and he loved it so much he rose up from my cunt and met me face to face for a deep, sloppy kiss. My own lubrication and that produced by his "salivary shiatsu" made it easy for him to reenter. He squeezed my thighs trying hard to restrain the raging beast that just wanted to explode inside me. I cried out as he rode me to nirvana, ultimate pleasure.

His hands had long freed mine and were digging into and uprooting tufts of earth, as he rocked into me--our heartbeats both somewhere between erratic and rhythmic. His tattoos flexed with muscle underneath. He backed his upper body off of me, into a kneeling position. I went languid he picked my legs up, putting them over his shoulders and sliding balls deep into me. My back pressed to the earth,as he assaulted my g spot. His pelvic thrusts were fluid and thorough, I melted with each one. He leaned in on his palms, closer to me to get more friction, more control. I felt the suspense of orgasm building in my pussy.

"Oooooahhh Brandon right there don't stop now almost there!" I howled as the pressurized juices of my orgasm spurt out, spraying Brandon and soaking his cock. He loved feeling my pussy squirt and spasm around his cock, he could no longer contain himself. In the savage fucking he gave me, my legs slipped off his shoulders and he kept pounding away. His thrusts became jackhammering. he wrapped the fingers of his right hand around my throat and buried his face in my chest as his hips slowed and gained more friction.

"Fuuuuuck fuck fuckkk it's readyyy," he moaned. His cock sputtered out a fat creamy load deep inside me and he let every drop trickle out before pulling out and collapsing alongside me. Afterwards, we laid in the hazy meadow, drifting in and out of sleep. Neither one of us would be able to walk back up that hill anytime soon.

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