The Blooming Apple Tree

Gentle breezes loft dandelion tufts over flower-dotted waves of wild grasses. Nestled within this verdant field, a man and woman lounge upon a vast red and white plaid blanket beneath a lone blossoming apple tree. The woman's airy sundress billows in the playful breeze; Its immaculate whiteness stands in stark contrast with her sun-kissed skin. The man by her side runs his hand over the sheer fabric. His delicate touch gradually winds its way up from her thigh, over her soft belly, and finally to her considerable breast. He cups it gingerly.

"I could lay with you forever, my sweet Lydia," the man says as he places his lips on her freckled cheek, leaving behind a tender kiss, "and it would still not be time enough for me to describe for you the depth of my love."

Lydia places her hand over her partner's, affectionately squeezing it.

"Since we do not have forever, my dearest Andre, save your words. Show me how deep your love is, here and now."

A confliction of emotions shows on Andre's face as he stares into the hazel eyes of his would-be lover.

"You know I cannot, though it wounds me to have you so near and to deny my feelings. If your father were to find out, he-"

Andre attempts to lift his hand from his beloved's chest; She halts him and places it firmly atop her breast.

"He will what, my dear? Take your life? Keep us apart in the midday of our love? He is already stealing you away from me, sending you to die in some far-off land." Glistening tears spill down her cheek, dripping onto the blanket below. "Please, if you truly love me, do not leave me without the memory of your affection. Take me now while our time grows short but still belongs to us!"

Andre drapes his buxom paramour with arms shaped by a life of arduous work over his brawny, simply-garbed chest in an amorous embrace. Their mouths meet, and between their lips, their tongues dance with fervor. Inexperienced hands explore familiar bodies with a new purpose; Their touch fans the sparks of their desire. Lydia feels her love's lust rising beneath her and caresses it through the meager fabric of their dress with the velvet mound it seeks.

The soon-to-be lover's concupiscent breaths join the vernal chorus of chirping birds and buzzing insects. Lydia rises to perch upon Andre's thighs. Her auburn hair flows around her head as she beams down at him more brilliantly than the afternoon sun. Her hands, placed on his chest, tremble with nervous excitement. One by one, beginning from the neck, she unfastens the buttons of Andre's ecru shirt. Where each button lay before she plants a light kiss.

Lydia pauses uncertainly, her hand resting over the next button she must release. Andre gently strokes her thigh in encouragement. Her nerve renewed, she undoes the button that releases his engorged manhood. It springs forth, unbound from its cloth captivity, and rests against Lydia's ample left thigh. The turgid redness of it pressed against her emboldens Lydia further. Grabbing the hem of her gossamer dress, she lifts it overhead. The balmy breeze accepts her gift, and it sails through the air before drifting down to join the fallen apple blossoms.

Branch-filtered sunlight dapples Lydia's tremendous breasts; The engorged shaft juts resolutely into the air as if drawn by their aphroditic beauty. Clear fluid beads on the bulbous tip, then flows down its length.

Using one hand, Lydia grasps Andre's eager iron rod. She pumps it, tentatively at first, but as it trembles in her grip, her pace quickens. Simultaneously, her other hand passes through her patch of auburn fuzz and slips over her dampening sex. She parts the pale rose folds before inserting a single finger between them.

Guttural moans of pleasure escape from Andre's throat, and the dense muscles of his torso clench as ripples of pleasure radiate from his groin. Carnal longing overtakes him, and he lurches forward. Effortlessly, he lifts the object of his desire. She clings to him, eyes wide with surprise. Her back meets the soft threads of their gingham blanket as his supple lips press into hers.

The libidinous young man guides himself towards Lydia's lust-moistened lips with an unversed hand. He pushes his swollen hardness against her soft femininity; She shivers in anticipation but breaks the hitherto wordlessness.

"Please, be gentle."

Heeding her plea, Andre gradually penetrates her for the first time. The act pains Lydia, but only just. She forgets the negligible pinch as a wave of pleasure crashes over each of them. One thrust begets another as a fervor overtakes their inexperience. Every movement of their bodies is another declaration of their love for one another.

Hands and lips explore familiar and unknown terrain. No part of their bodies remains untouched. Quickly, Lydia's bountiful chest becomes their focus. Kneading hands and needful mouths descend on her bouncing breasts, releasing soft coos from her lips.

Youthful enthusiasm drives them on as they pursue the other's satisfying release.

Lydia wraps her plump limbs around Andre's hard-muscled body, pulling him deeper into her needful depths. In response, he presses into her more vigorously. Her feminine fullness jiggles from the force of every blow. Soon after, their goal approaches. Just as in the multitude of stories and poems Andre had read to his sweet love on countless nights, they orgasm together. They cry out as bliss overwhelms them.

With ragged breaths, they collapse beside one another under the blue spring sky, hands still gently exploring anything they can reach. They lay there, basking in the warm sun and afterglow of their intense nonverbal conversation, and watch the clouds leisurely drift by. Tomorrow will come, eventually, but for today they have each other. And that is enough.

Their love lays bare for each to see upon the soft blanket beneath the blooming apple tree.