The Quietness of Twilightbyshy slave©
The pub garden had been busy earlier, but as the evening drew in, people moved indoors to stand at the bar and talk about whatever came to mind.
The couple remained outside; the wooden picnic bench was near the side of the pub, fields, rich, with late summer wheat, stretched out away from the muted laughter and music coming from inside the walls behind him.
Her view was of him, the blank wall behind him ensured she had no distractions, all other thoughts, without a means to cling on in her mind, slowly dissipated leaving her attention, thoughts and focus purely for him.
He could see the few stragglers near the door, smoking and enjoying the fading evening light.
He could also see the car park and those who had other lives to attend to disappear in waves of kisses, headlights and goodbyes.
Throughout the day they to, had talked and laughed, but were now silent. As the evening settled, so did the need for conversation.
He regarded her, his soft eyes slowly assessing, watching how her eyes were softened in the fading light, her hair coming loose from the clip that held it back, strands drifting over her forehead and around her neck. Her lips were full, some lipstick, painted on with a tremor of anticipation and nervousness earlier in the day, was now losing some of its colour. She unknowingly bit her lip; he could see the tip of her teeth white and gleaming, as they nipped at it, worrying away the last of the lipstick. A sure sign her nerves were returning as the silence between them matched the drawing out of the evening air.
He continued his perusal of her individual features, capturing each in his mind as a separate thought, a mental camera to explore again later at his leisure. As his gaze moved across her face he noticed her cheeks, which had already had a pinkish tinge, increase in colour at his steady, calm, continual appraisal. She dipped her head slightly, becoming shy, her eyes cast downward, as her mind searched for ways to stop a situation she did not understand, and yet had started long before the silence had begun.
Her nerves heightened, she continued to avoid his gaze. Sipping her drink through the straw she was unaware how beautifully erotic she looked. Tendrils of hair fell around her face, framing it perfectly, the pout of her lips wrapped around the straw of her drink with her hands mimicking the gesture as they wrapped around the glass. Beads of condensation gathered, rolling onto the edges of her fingers making them glistening wet; all this combined to make his groin tighten.
Quietly he spoke into the silence, his words barely audible, as if his breath alone would shake he wheat stalks and draw attention to this quiet couple hidden in darkening evening.
"Undo your buttons."
For a moment in time her fingers seemed frozen to the glass. She unpeeled them as if she was a letting go of a life preserver and without it she would be adrift with only his voice to guide her safely back to her own known mind space.
Her nerveless, damp fingers slid on the buttons as she undid the first second and third buttons.
Her fingers stopped mid-motion on the fourth button. He could see the lace edges of her bra, titillating and sweet as it cupped around the pale flesh it encased. The light was now too poor for him to see the beautiful soft pink colour of the lace, but she knew it matched her blushed cheeks.
He smiled, softly across at her, his gaze in place until, discomforted; she looked up at him, finding his gaze holding her eyes firmly for a brief second, she dropped them again. Her hands fluttered briefly for a second, uncertain of what to do, before settling again on her glass, the condensation making her palms wet and cold.
He flicked over her hands thinking of the wetness on her palms, knowing the white fingertips were not from cold, but from the not knowing of what may come.
He allowed his gaze to move across to her cleavage, imagining what she would feel like should he touch it, certainly soft, but would her flesh instinctively beg with its own warmth and beauty to be caressed further?
"Take off your bra, leave your shirt on."
She moved more swiftly than she had before. As she reached around to unclasp it, her breasts jutted out, the nipples brushed against her cold glass. Reacting almost violently, they instantly hardened beneath the thin fabric of her clothes. They looked perfect, large and swollen, with areoles darkening with puckered skin the wetness soaked into her bra.
As the bra came off her movements caused her breasts to move and her unwitting display of lust was gone.
He put his hand out and took the bra placing it on the wooden table, in view should anyone realise what it was.
Stretching across the table, she thought for a moment he was going to take her hands in his.
He took a nipple between each of his thumb and forefinger, gently pulling them. Her breasts stretched out from her, the underside scraping the wood without pain.
He pulled further stretching them away from her; she remained seated upright as she felt each breast drag on her chest. A slow fire built in each nipple as he continued to hold them fast. He brought his hands together, nipples close enough to touch, breasts pulled inwards to give a deep cleavage. His groin, already tight, began to demand attention. He ignored his immediate desires as he slowly twisted her nipples towards each other.
Her mouth opened slightly as the slow burn of pain increased, despite the poor light he saw her pupils dilate as she fought an internal battle to keep control of the pain. Further and further he twisted and stretched, the pain clearly showing in her eyes before finally she made the quietest of sounds, unable to hold it in any longer.
He continued to use the pain to work her mentally upwards to a place where she had no control over her own thoughts and actions.
"Quietly. Enjoy this, it's for you. Giving you pain gives me such great pleasure. Do you want to give me pleasure?"
Unable to articulate words, she blinked slowly, staring at him when her eyes opened.
"Good, you are good. You know that there is only my pleasure, and you please me by taking all I
wish to give to."
As he spoke the pressure increased on her nipples and he twisted more deeply than before, first one way then another.
The pain was starting to burn holes in her brain, delicious whispers that she never wanted to end. She was unaware that the moist heat between her legs had become a wetness so great it had soaked her through her underwear.
His calm voice continued, she picked up stray words as the tone flickered through her ever spiralling mind.
Suddenly finding her own voice she whispered nonsensical words as a means of pleading with him.
"You want to finish?"
Again she blinked a slow blink but was too far gone to look at him; her pupils were fully dilated and no longer capable of seeing anything.
The pain was blooming destroying every thought and memory as she drifted out into space, a world away from the reality of the moment.
"You may come."
Her back arched as her facial features tightened, allowing her to be completely lost in her own orgasm. Sensual and erotic he watched enjoy the display of lust and emotion pouring through her. As it reached its peak, he, one smooth motion pulled hard on her nipples sending her further into a place of purity.
Soft sounds issued from her mouth, her tongue just visible as she pushed her head back, unwittingly causing a fresh wave of pain to shoot through her as her breasts were stretched by her own actions.
Gently the waves diminished and slowly he released the tension in his fingers whilst keeping hold of her nipples. As her face relaxed and her body softened, he moved her breasts closer to her body. As her senses returned he gently let go of her nipples; briefly stroking her breasts before allowing her a few moments to fully recover.
He watched as she came back to herself, saw the flickering thoughts across her face, her underwear soaking but untouched, the night sky had fully appeared, the undersides of her breasts were scraping the wood of the table, and people were still smoking and talking at the pub door.
All remained the same, and yet everything was different. As her composure grew she took a sip of her drink. He was not yet ready for her to fully return to a state of open ordinariness.
He looked at her eyes, holding them in his gaze as he had before. Briefly he flickered his eyes downwards and her gaze followed his.
Without words she slid under the garden table, wriggled with effort around the wooden struts until she was kneeling awkwardly at his feet. She could feel the soft earth on her knees and legs, the ground damp with the night fall.
He had opened his jeans in readiness for her.
His cock, ignored for so long, was eager for her attention.
Hard and erect, she put her tongue to the shaft, the wet salty taste a testament to the time it had waited to be served. Her hands cupped his balls, circling around the bottom of the shaft, feeling the way it seemed to harden further as his balls became even tighter. The ridges deepened as she firmly stroked her fingertips over them, glowing with the knowledge that this was the result of taking his pain and giving her mind over to him.
Her tongue continued long strokes up his shaft, at the top she ran it around his foreskin, feeling him stiffen as she hit such sweet spots. Her tongue continued over the head of his cock, the opening spreading for her as her tongue tip delved for the taste of him.
This was for her pleasure, the slow firmness as she enjoyed him. She knew he would not want this for long; it would be a temporary indulgence to let her explore his beautiful cock. She could feel the heat from it on her face. The way it pulsed and twitched as her hands now followed her tongue up the shaft and around the head, an endless figure of eight; the symbol of eternity; played out to her tune.
His hands moved from the table into her hair. Gripping his fists tightly into the roots, he allowed her a few more moments of sweet, wet indulgence.
He then took control and moved her mouth over the top of his cock. She kept her lips small, as though a tight female, allowing him to push through past her teeth, over tongue.
It proved to be a warm, wet cave for his cock into which his cock fitted perfectly.
He set a rhythm, steady, hard and fast, as he pushed her mouth up and down his cock. Her hands now gripped his thighs, her knees sank deep into the mud as he drove her harder and deeper with each thrust. His legs were rigid, each muscle beneath the denim clearly felt against her hand, he leaned back, the angle pushing his cock deeper.
Her gag reflex hit, she struggled briefly, afraid of choking. Undeterred, his cock, with a life of its own pushed hard hitting the back of her throat.
Her mouth closed around it, trapping him in a wet column, she felt it thicken and grow wider filling her mouth completely. Her senses were full of him, his every movement, the slightest of changes, recorded stored, as a knowledge to give even greater pleasure another time.
His fists gripped harder, bruising her head, he was close, close to a loss of control he had held firm until now. The tempo increased, his breathing ragged and sloppy as she struggled to keep up with his demands,
His hips jerked upwards as the first splash flooded her mouth, trying to swallow it all, the next hit poured out the sides of her lips, and down her face streaming towards the breasts he used earlier. With a brief cry he pulled his cock from her mouth as the third shot hit her lips and face, instantly smearing over her cheeks and nose, it felt wonderful as if a gift had been given so willingly and with such care.
She sat in the grass and mud under the table, uncaring of anything other than being close to him. As his breathing returned to normal and his fists loosened in her hair, she briefly licked the head of his cock aware of its' sensitively but still desperate for just one more taste of him.
He moved her head to rest in his groin, her face close to his softening cock and relaxed balls. She breathed in the scent of him as he breathed in the calmness of her. The silence between them complete, it held their own thoughts and entwined them without a need for words or movement. They could hear the last of the drinkers leave, voices on the wind that did not stir the air between them.
Time enough for reality to intrude, in this moment there was only the being with each other.