Author's note: This is #8 in the Helena series; written originally for my friend and muse here on Lit for the last few years, and my inspiration for this and other tales. I hope you enjoy it as much as she and I have in the creation of this story.
By the time we get back to the cabin from Cade's Cove, it has been dark for half an hour. You head off to one of the restrooms, while I go out and sit on the swing on the porch. I place a thin cushion on it before sitting just left of the center. We are having one of those Super Moon nights, and with the clarity of the mountain air, you can see the features of the moon even with the naked eye. Everything is bathed in the light it reflects at us, a white, almost blue light. A faint breeze wafts through, just enough to move the swing a few inches back and forth after the momentum of my sitting down has ceased..
And then you come out, and the moon...what moon? That envious moon, as Romeo called it? It does indeed pale before you. A simple white silky negligee, pearls...and that smile. I begin to rise, but your hand on my shoulder bids me stay, so I obey. You other hand goes to my other shoulder, and now both help support you as you climb on to my lap, facing me. One of your hands goes behind my head, the other caresses my cheek as you lean in and kiss me tenderly. My hands fall naturally to your bare legs, and now sliding my hands up and down, slowly, along the outside of them, brings a flood of passion over me.
This world holds nothing more precious in any bank or diamond mine than what I have in this moment.
Though my hands wander north, over the negligee, up over your hips, up your sides, along your arms...this transcends sex for me. I am literally holding beauty and loveliness and grace and passion in my hands. I feel it glide under my palm, my fingertips, just beneath the skin of my very soul. Down your sides again, squeezing slightly at your hips, down to your thighs, your knees, your calves; even your feet deserve more than my touch.
Back up again, slowly, as if my senses are memorizing every inch of you (they are) for any sad moments when you are not with me. My hands curve at your knees, this time sliding under the silk, and venturing behind you, to stroke and squeeze that bottom (That's no cereal box; that's a honeypot if ever I've seen one!) that teases me with every step and wiggle. They slide back to your thighs, stroking the tops now, softly, my thumbs just slightly inside the curve.
Your kisses...oh, Helena! There is nothing sweeter than your lips on mine! My eyes lost in yours, my heart full of you...I wouldn't take anything for this moment.
My hands slide to your breasts, stroking them through the silk. The pearls grace the back of my hands, and I feel your nipples stiffen beneath the silk as I caress you. One hand slides up, around you, fingers entwined into your short hair as I kiss you over and over.
My right hand relinquishes your breast and slides back down, over your hip again, down that thigh...then back up again. This time, the back of my hand slides along the inner thigh. Up...slower...slower...our eyes locked, STILL kissing, eyes to eyes...until the backs of my fingers...press, gently, into your heat. I stroke up and down, slowly, feeling the heat, the wetness...
Your eyes narrow to slits, and you moan lightly into our kiss. I feel your thighs clenching rhythmically, echoes of your internal clutching for something not yet within your grasp. You begin to kiss me to the same rhythm, and a smile pulls at your serene visage, shadowed by the moon behind you. My left hand leaves your hair, slides down to your right breast, teasing at the nipple, then gripping it just enough to make you have a quick intake of breath. Your mouth stays open for a moment, as you ride the stride of my petting below. Then you speak the first words we've heard since you stepped out onto this porch.
"Make love to me, John. Please..."
I want nothing more in this world, my Helena. My hands around your bottom, I rise, lifting you, and take a couple of steps over to the table, where I sit you down. I pull my shirt off, then, with you helping, unbuckle and unzip my shorts, shoving them and my underwear down my legs. That accomplished, I pull the negligee off of you and discard it, then lay you down flat, your legs coming up around my waist. Now you are bathed in that beautiful moonlight, pearls between your breasts. I've never seen a more gorgeous sight in my life, my Helena.
Leaning over you, I gently suck at your left nipple. As it stiffens again, bathed in the blue, I kiss it, then suck again, before moving over to adore the right. My hunger is building, though, and with a few moments I am kissing and licking a trail down your belly, kissing around your navel, and sliding down until I am face to face with your flower. I inhale of your heated scent; no rose ever smelled as sweet as this! I begin to kiss, then lick up and down, curling the tip of my tongue up, tasting, teasing. Your hips are bucking, trying to make more contact, and I oblige, sucking your essence up and bathing you again in it. My tongue swirls around your bud, and I hear your gasp and then a groan as I suck it gently into my mouth, forming a seal around it as my tongue worries it back and forth.
