Under The Oak

Unable to resist my lover's contagious lust I lap faithfully, my hands upon her hot skin as hers, fruit stained still, clutch my crown and guide me down. She is hot, damp though not from the pond, ready, eager to feel my touch, she opens up before me, I taste her heady tang and she responds favourably, her body squirming above my lowered head and tightening as if readying itself to strike. I savour the delicate petals, taking each under my tongue in turn, drawing it back between my lips before abandoning it to make a brief tour higher. I raise my head a fraction to tell her how delectable her body is, particularly this forbidden corner of it. She replies with a throaty groan and clutching fingers in my hair returning me to the feast. The flat of my tongue covers the wet width and with savouring dawdle I draw it up, its tip turning to probe between as I go until my own lips close upon her apex, drawing on with increasing pressure, her body rising on arched back until I release her. That emerging nub, the hopeful peak, begging for touch, to be plucked, it is ripe, its opulent glow beckoning. My tongue flicks, withdraws, returns and swirls, eliciting cries that send ripples across the pond and throughout the glade. Those long legs rise about my worshipping head, knees bent, hips rising to meet my mouth's caresses.

The cavity in woodland noise that surrounded us upon our arrival is no more. The wood has seen us and recognises our animal instincts: the organic slap and suck, the beast grunt and howl, we are part of this, just another creature in the cacophony. There is a battle back and forth, a tussle of who controls who, two parts of the same creature vying for the sensuous sensation of the other moving to their whim. Is she puppet upon my tongue or am I bowed slave serving my mistress?

The wood had a smell of growth and fruit, of bark, of leaf and moss. Now my nose is filled with the thick scent of this stranger's dripping desire, humid and lush, her musky nectar as dew upon the tip of my tongue. I lick, I lap, I prod and probe, I tease, then I tunnel, boorish, moreish, hungry to taste her darkest depth, plunge until she fills every of my senses, possesses me complete and pirouettes upon the point of perfect light I ignite in the blackest reaches of her hidden abyss.

Her hands once desperate to control now clutch the wet flesh of her thighs, nails pawing at skin as she pulls her legs higher, wider, back arched, chest thrust until at my glimpse it seems as though each point of her breasts will rip her dress asunder.

My tongue withdrawn I centre it upon that throbbing hub of her pleasure, smothering her there with firm attention and closed lips. Creeping fingers quickly alight at her vacated entrance, teasing briefly about the curled lip before easing in through its overflowing foyer. She gasps at this, the second coming of digits within her in the hour, crossed, uncrossed, finding their own rhythm at odds with my mouth. Just as her body enchants me I feel as though her spirit falls terminally to my dominion. She pants and grunts, hips bucking, her song at once pleading for release and determined that the ecstasy should exist forever, until at last her voice reaches pitches beyond comprehension, my head rising as she lifts the most of her figure clear off the woodland floor and wets my chin and hand with the sudden release of her realised bliss.

About my mouth and fingers her body trembles, shuddering, thigh muscles quivering and voice punctuating the forest chorus with blunt exclamations. Throughout I maintain management of her pleasure so that even as she finds her zenith she continues to whimper with the approach of a following crest. Her body sinks back ground-wards, albeit briefly, as no sooner does the sweat upon her behind touch the cushion of grass it is returned up with renewed need. I begin to discern her pattern and on her fourth rise I pull away, leaving her desirous for more, begging through exhaustion for a final touch to complete the cycle a final time. I relent and apply myself once more with previously unknown vigour and immediately find my head held fast between these sodden thighs, tongue delving through the hot raw meat of these lips and revelling in the abundant nectar it finds there.

At the following descent I make to caress this enchantress's bulging peak once more but with uncomfortable shudder she pushes my advance aside, expressing a tenderness formerly foreign.

We lay upon the ground momentarily, staring through the haze of our union and absently taking in the ageless forest surrounding us. Occasionally she shakes beside me, her legs suddenly clamping together, her mouth issuing a soft moan before relaxing again. For my part I remain violently unresolved, aiming skyward, a raised flag to show the undefeated of my regiment. I feel the clinging touch of her fingers upon my forearm and then gently at my hip. I suspect that this may be the beginning of her casual trail towards taking on my desires, but her hand lingers about my thigh and moves no closer. Presently my urgent need subsides and my frustrated density softens and descends.

The rising and falling of my lover's chest beside me remains in the corner of my vision until her breathing evens, at which she rolls on to her hip once more and begins her fingers walking towards my dormant part. I turn my head to look her way but find only the shy dart of her eyes away from mine. It comes as little surprise that my need quickly reasserts itself against the warm soft palm. I enjoy her murmur of delight as she tests its rigidity in her clenched fist. It takes only a few slow movements of her hand before that clear spirit emerges from my engorged crown and it is with unbidden gasp that I watch this wanton woodland priestess move herself on to her knees and extract a thick thread of silk from my bulbous head. Pulling the silver string upon her tongue she twirls it about and lowers it back to its source, utilising it to ease the slow circumference she traces about the tender girth of the dome. The torturous circuit completed she puckers her lips and presses them about me, kissing softly at first before parting them enough to suck at just the swollen summit.

My hips involuntarily press my pillar skywards, hoping to feel the warm oral embrace descend its length, but giggles and sighs move with me, keeping contact with just the tip. At my grunt of dissatisfaction she takes pity on me and sweeps the flat of her tongue across the sensitive bulk of my glans, eliciting a rumbling groan. She expresses her pleasure at instilling so much of the same in me and moves around again to repeat the action. My fingers dig in to the grass beside my body, pulling it out by its roots as she torments me, slick tongue now traversing the lower length, lingering about my glans with pinpoint accuracy to raise my desire tenfold, then enveloping half my whole with the entirety of her mouth. She commits this cruel act over and over, never providing quite enough to tip me beyond the edge of the canyon, just maintaining my precarious balance while my visceral groans intensify.

Her thumb and forefinger in incomplete ring around my base, salacious smile across her face as her tongue dances its tip over the domed peak of my column. That marble pillar, ancient architecture amongst trees, drenched and glistening, the sunlight flitting across it through the breeze-blown leaves, a thousand stars picked out in my lover's saliva and the copious moisture she coaxes from me. With lusty groan she lowers her head, flicking against the thick trunk and lower to the soft skin, pressing me to her cheek with her hand, smearing a viscous mess before engulfing me. She closes her lips about me, suckling lips and dragged mouth rising skywards until nothing but my engorged acorn remains covered, this she assaults once more with ferocious tongue. I feel spirit rise rapidly, every touch raising it, a raging need to reach a crescendo to this divine performance. Upon which moment, when the slightest of caresses will instigate a violent eruption, the mischievous puppeteer abandons me, that hungry snake bobbing ineffectually in the breeze, behind it the grinning face of she who knows how sweet denial can be.

She touches my hand as I instinctively reach down to release that need, a look on her face promises a far better conclusion if I am patient. I watch the kneeling angel raising her dirtied dress over her head and see it discarded, her naked form perfect as she crawls across the grass and moss, lowers her mouth to mine and without a word promises that she'll deliver all that I want. Between our bodies her breasts hang, full and voluptuous, ripe, ready to be plucked. She moves to feed one to my mouth, sighing in content as its point is caught between my lips and drawn down. Her voice is soft but edged with a dark urgency as she first asks and then begs for me to nurse upon her. My hands cup the weight of her fruit, testing their firmness as I feast upon first one and then the other, wetting them in turn and making gentle attacks upon each teat with soft bites and firm tongue.

My own lust is not forgotten and at the touch of her wet thigh to my throbbing pillar I feel the climb towards that summit reignite with a vengeance. She slithers her figure on to mine, the feather caress of her engorged lips about my crown is almost enough that when with grunt of simultaneous effort, intention and satisfaction she envelopes me complete, an eruption occurs in an instant without further action. She expels my spirit, a furnace gush deep within her as I feel my body tighten beneath hers, the clamp of her clever internal fingers surrounds me and seems to massage, demanding endless warm pour of need fulfilled. My back arches, my hips lifting this temptress from the ground as the reserves of my will are depleted entirely. I smile in satisfaction as the image of my lover shudders to focus upon me once more, sitting calmly, almost demurely astride me, hands casually resting on my chest. And then she shifts her weight, grinding herself against the tenderness of my raw column. A wicked smile appears across her features and as she witnesses the realisation on my face she lowers her chest to mine, joining them with combined sweat, and signals that I am hers and she is mine, and we'll stay like this for all time.

Here amongst the trees, beside the pond and below the oak, my wandering is finished, my body and spirit now subsumed by sensuous beauty. The wood goes on, its living hum surrounds us, our coupling watched by all from bumblebee to rising buzzard, writhing forms upon the bank, caught in constant copulation.