Saturday, August 06, 2005

Meet Peitro

Ever wonder how the rain forest gets so steamy? Here's another excerpt from "Wetter Has Never Been Better."

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Without speaking, Pietro backed Stormy against a tree and playfully bit her bottom lip. Her hands slid easily down the back of his shorts and grabbed his smooth, rock hard ass. Stormy’s mouth watered. If all of Pietro was as yummy as what she now had in her hands, she was in for a real treat.

Stormy nearly drooled as she removed his sweatshirt to discover well-sculpted pecs and abs. Not that muscle bound body builder stuff; just lean and defined and absolutely scrumptious. Pietro’s chest was as smooth and as hairless as his ass, and she hungrily explored his flawless caramel skin. Like a kid in a candy store -- not sure what to taste next! However, the past three hours of teasing and flirting left Stormy in no mood for mere appetizers. She wanted her main course. Now.

There were times, and this was one of them, when Stormy focused entirely on the giving. When this happened, she wanted nothing more than to thoroughly satisfy her partner. Oddly enough, it often made her feel selfish – as though she denied her lover the opportunity to please her – although it was never her intent to engender an obligation to reciprocate. She’d rather a lover simply accept her gift in the spirit with which it was given.

Switching places with Pietro, she put his back to the tree and pulled on the drawstring of his shorts, further loosening it. Stormy’s fingers trembled with anticipation as she began to unwrap her entree. She knelt, wanting to breathe the musky air that had enveloped him before it was released into the jungle.

That first deep breath, that inhalation of intimate scents, was intoxicating. It filled Stormy’s nostrils as her tongue reached, of its own accord, for the single glistening drop at the very end of Pietro’s rigid cock. Delicately, with something approaching reverence, Stormy traced the corona with the tip of her tongue and took just the glans into her mouth. Only then did she finish pushing his shorts down to his ankles, allowing her hands to slowly climb back up the inside of Pietro’s legs.

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Friday, August 05, 2005

Stormy's Coming

The following is an excerpt from the lead story in fine flickering hungers entitled "Wetter Has Never Been Better." Join Stormy as she discovers the delights of the Costa Rican rainy season!

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Selecting the cinnamon massage oil, the attendant led Stormy to a small, secluded patio lit by four tiki torches. In the center was a padded table. At its end rested a small basket containing smooth flat stones from which steam rose as the rain struck it. He instructed her to remove her swimsuit, lie face down on the table, and drape the towel over her backside. Emptying the small bottle of oil over the stones, filling the air with its pungent aroma, he disappeared without another word.

Stormy quickly complied with his instructions and stretched out on the table. It was cool against her breasts and somewhat slippery. The rain itself felt like a percussive massage against her bare back – a multitude of pulsing, wet fingertips. Her hands, stretched above her head, hung over the edge of the table, as did her feet at the ankles. As she lay there, eagerly awaiting the massage, she fantasized that she was blindfolded and bound by silk scarves – at the mercy of a mysterious lover.

The rain baptized Stormy, fueling her fire rather than extinguishing it. It took a monumental effort not to writhe as her towel became soaked and rivulets of rain ran between her slightly parted legs, diluting her own plentiful fluids. If she moved, Stormy now believed, she would break the magnificently tormenting spell and her lover would not appear.

With her eyes closed, Stormy’s first indication that someone had arrived was the swish of soft fabric. She then became aware of a presence, moving slowly around the table like a predatory cat studying its prey. Stormy wanted to scream, “Touch me!” but she was completely immobilized by her own fantasy, unable to even open her eyes. Her nectar anointed the table between her legs.

A finger lightly traced the channel of her spine. A tongue teased the back of each thigh. Hands hovered, millimeters from her skin. She could feel their divine pressure, their heat. A single soft kiss on the nape of her neck left chills in its wake. Mystical. Magical.

Stormy fought to remain still, every second magnifying her ardor. She envisioned her dream lover: the one ever intent on their mutual satiety – attentive, sensual, exciting – the one knowing her every unspoken desire. “Come to me,” Stormy silently prayed. “Take me.”

“Estoy aquí,” whispered a familiar voice very close to her ear.

Stormy’s entire body shuddered involuntarily. Fingertips brushed her lips, which parted of their own will – yielding. There was no possible way she could resist.

“Sí,” the voice urged. “Entregate.”

Released from her self-imposed restraints by the imperative, Stormy turned onto her side and melted into Mia’s silky kiss. It was simultaneously fresh and familiar, novel and known – a mesmerizing dichotomy. Unlike the playful romp with Shelly and Bruce, this was the fulfillment of a deep yearning that had possessed Stormy for the past several years: to know and be known with a depth of understanding that only another woman could possibly reach.

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