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Erotic Story

  Erotic Books

Author: Noelle Snow
A Romantic Tale

Warmth bathes the side of her face, her arms, the backs of her legs, and she can almost see the sun, its glow penetrating her closed eyelids. Tranquillity washes over her, and she sighs softly, drifting in a state of deep relaxation and pleasure.

He moves above her, balanced on forearms, knees, and toes, shifting back and forth in slow, leisurely movements. Her hips rest on two pillows, lifting her toward him, and he slides in and out of her easily, smoothly.

She has lost track of how long they have been here, in the muted late afternoon sunlight, joined together on a soft cotton blanket taken from their bed inside the secluded cabin. Suffused with sensation, she has no need for time.

They slept late this morning, then ate a leisurely breakfast just before noon, feeding each other bites of cheese omelet and blueberry muffins. Afterward, they ventured outside to enjoy the light breeze of the early autumn day; to admire the multicolored leaves as they wafted down from the trees; to laugh at the geese playing in the water of the lake.

But inevitably, their focus turned from nature to each other.

Embraces, kisses, caresses followed in a natural progression, arousal building in gradual increments rather than sharp bursts. A contrast to their joining the night before, a fury of stunning power.

Now it is gentle rather than frenzied, and she turns her cheek more fully toward the sun's dying rays. She feels his shadow cross her face as he bends to touch his lips to her brow. Her legs shift involuntarily, parting a little further, and she braces herself on her lower legs and tilts her hips up to meet his gentle thrusts.

He drapes himself over her more fully, taking more of his weight on one strong forearm, and lifts his other hand to run the tips of his fingers along her jawline to her mouth. Her lips part, allowing him within, and she sucks softly, tenderly, mouth and tongue working in the same slow rhythm as his hips.

He draws his hand from her mouth and runs it down the side of her neck, down her shoulder, along her side, around her hip. Unerringly, with a sense of direction she imagines was honed by years of dreams and fantasies, he finds her center with his long fingers, stroking lightly but with purpose.

She moans then, a primal and unencumbered sound released without thought, only by instinct. His body responds to her call, his movements speeding and strengthening without his conscious consent as an answering groan escapes his lips.

Her breath escapes in a rush at his first hard thrust, and her head lifts from its pillow on her arms, her eyes coming open. Brilliant light floods her vision, and her mouth opens in shock and pleasure, her neck arching back, her face lifting toward the sky.

The world whirls and spins around her, and her eyelids fall shut against the sudden flood of passion that overwhelms her senses. She presses her forearms into the ground below her, seeking support; her fingers tighten and release reflexively, pulling at the blades of grass brushing along the edge of their blanket.

They do not speak as they climb toward completion, their gasps and moans mingling in a language all their own. Her head drops forward, hair curtaining her face, filtering the sunlight through a haze of red-gold. His fingers press harder, faster, pulling her inexorably toward her release.

Her back arches as the pleasure crests, and she cries out his name to the geese and the trees and the sun as her body quakes beneath his. She hears the echo of her cry as her name in his voice, and she feels his body seize and shiver as he finds his release.

They sink to the blanket together, drained and sated, warm and sleepy. He rolls to his side, pulling her against his chest. She feels the light again on her face.

And she opens her eyes to watch the sunset.

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