The Sea

Please forgive me for publishing something with such few words. I wrote it as part of a love letter. My Mistress like it so much she has insisted that I send it to you as well.

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Across the long grass to the sea. Down the steep path, me in flip-flops ('thongs' actually coz we are in Australia). Across the shingle with its pieces of wood, bleached white and those little bits of indestructible blue cord that you find on every beach in the world.

Behind an outcrop of sandy coloured rock, our secret cove. No-one but us would take the trouble to clamber this far over the unfriendly rocks but the cove has lovely big flat stones worn smooth by the wind and weather.

We undress quickly and, hand in hand, run across the sand and dive into the surf. Side by side, swimming out. Then, as if you heard a signal, you swim on ahead. Powerful strokes, the Australian crawl. Treading water I watch the tireless rhythm, your hands scything the water ahead of you and your legs powering you forward.

Back on the shore line, this girl sits on a warm flat stone and lets the sun and wind dry her pale skin. For me, you are someone who belongs in the open air. Some people are definitely indoor people, in the open air they look vulnerable and insecure. But YOUR place is definitely under the open sky.

Heading back to shore now, the woman I love. You reach the shallows and stand up, sweeping your hair back from your forehead, wet skin reflecting the sunlight. I hardly dare breathe. Striding through the surf you scoop up water and wash away the fine sand that clings. In the few moments before you leave the water I marvel at how well you hold yourself. This is a scene from a thousand movies, but although this is all real, you carry yourself as if you were being filmed. Nearer now and a passing cloud of anxiety covers my sun. What if I lost you?

Your smile evaporates all such clouds. The bright teeth, sparkling icy-blue eyes with their oh-so-eloquent eyebrows and the lips, oh the lips... the lips play such a big part in my life. I drink in the toned body, the dark triangle... but too late... you are here and I giggle as you spray me with droplets of the sea. YOUR sea.

What happens next happens very quickly. We make love but one at a time. You on me, then me on you. Sometime I like this better coz we can both concentrate of our own feelings. We come easily and quite quickly. On our flat stone I watch the sun move behind wisps of cirrus. I can taste the sea on my lips, sweetened by your nectar. Tiny grains of sand in my mouth. Our skin has acquired that lovely matt surface that comes from the sun and the seawater. It's too early in the season for the sun to be too harmful but it is time for us to head home. My legs still wobbly, like a new-born foal.

After our showers, me wrapped in a huge white towel, you in your gown (black!). The massage table is the chosen venue. I'm cocooned no more as you position me on my right hand side, right leg straight and my left thigh up against my chest. This is a very good position for what is about to happen... a thorough pelvic examination!

I tend to see Mistress as a complete entity. Of course I know her body as well as I know my own, better probably and if I possessed the skill I could make a sketch of her face from memory. But for me Mistress is a whole person whose elbows are just a lovely to as her breasts. Her armpit as arousing a sight as her quim. When I see her I just want to hug and be hugged... for ever! Also I'm utterly captivated by her delight in my individual 'parts'. I take extra care of myself knowing the pleasure they bring. Maybe it's because touching brings me so much pleasure and hurting them so much pain. And it is these 'local areas of interest' that are under close scrutiny now!

A table lamp nearby, the Sony DSLR camera is on its tripod, a few Q-tips and a little bottle of glycerine. The stage is set! Glycerine is often used by photographers to create that fresh dewy water droplet effect on flowers and fruit. What better then for my little petals and dewy parts. But right now it's my bum-hole, my rosebud, my anus, that is to be the subject of the photo. This part of the body is as individual as a fingerprint although it's unlikely that it will be used as a means of identification at passport control (but we can always dream).

I pull a cheek aside as you zoom in on our taboo and forbidden delight. I used to be worried that stretching it would make it look different 'in repose' but I'm more confident about it now. I can feel the q-tip turning in the tiny centre of our secret place. I know I go on a lot about my looks and it's true that am very comfortable with my bod, but of course there's a lot that's not perfect. There's a funny little lump of my shoulder, I get a rash sometimes at the bottom of my rib cage. I regularly get a rather spotty bott! But I think my little rosebud is very pretty. It's regularly and evenly shaped, the surrounding skin is a light caramel colour and generally it is lovely and neat and tidy. And right now it's ready for its close-up!

This is such a delightful experience for me, obviously it's stupendously arousing and I know that the usual signs and clearly visible. Later you will show me beautiful pictures of my juices leaking from my opening. We talk and laugh as your photoshoot continues.

As I straighten my leg and lift it high, your camera shutter clicks rapidly, I hold my ankle and keep very still as you record my 'secret parts' from every angle. And now to the classic pose, on my back, I pull my knees up and let them fall apart, my feet close to my bum. Once you have re-positioned the lights you begin snapping in earnest. A touch of glycerine on my outer lips, a gentle re-arranging of the inner lips and the little oyster is good to go. I pull myself as open as I can. Stretching pulling this way and that. From time to time you dab away the excess fluid that just keeps on coming.

Now I'm sitting beside you on the bed, my arm around your neck as we both stare at the camera's little screen. YOU are simply amazing! These pictures are simply lovely in themselves and I quickly forget that it's me. Every time a really good one comes along I kiss the side of your face and give you a squeeze. Never imagined my 'bits' could look so astonishingly beautiful. You are such a good photographer. I've tried but my pics look ugly and amateurish compared to these.

Later you will get them on to lappie and edit them down but in the meantime, how best to deal with a dangerously aroused girl who you've just made so happy?

I lean back on the pillows (all proud of myself) and watch you undress. I love that you turn away from me as you pull your jeans down so I can see your straight legs and your gorgeous bott. I like too that your bra is always the last garment to go. And now you are awesomely naked!

First I am pinned.

Your smile so wide!

Your gf so helpless!

The photo shoot has made you ravenous. I'm being devoured. There no attempt at a gentle overture.

I'm being POSSESSED...

I'm being HAD...

I'm being FUCKED!

It's as if you want to tear each and every climax from me. And you do, and you do and you do. Screaming your name only serves to spur you on and by the end there is no part of my body that doesn't have the indentation of your teeth (I'd be surprised if I even possess a perineum anymore!)

Like something flung by the storm onto the seashore, I lie on the bedroom floor abandoned, wrecked... as I watch the shadows on the ceiling and listen to my pounding heart. I don't remember you putting me to bed because I'm all snug when I wake, your arms around me. I can feel your nose pressed against me and for this girl, that's the most wonderfully protective feeling in the whole wide world.