Erotic Snapshots Of Them

These are erotic snapshots like a camera taking photos of their love making experience below:

Meeting. Vertical meeting of bodies. One, a man. One, a woman. Eyes meet eyes. One forrest green. One coffee brown. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

Touch. First touch on skin. Electric. Charged. Sends signals to the brain. Her skin smooth, silky, soft. His skin rough, rugged, right.

Lips. Lips make contact. Soft on soft. They depart only for a moment. Lips make contact again. They part slightly letting exhale and inhale in. Their essence starting to flow into each other. Lips depart again for the briefest of moments. Lips contact each other. A tongue invades inviting the other to play. The other tongue is hesitant, shy. The tongue pleads again. The other tongue agrees. They play with each other going around and around in their wet mating dance. Dancing. Dancing. Dancing with each other.

Anticipation. Erection swells, contained. Her insides moistens in anticipation.

Clothes. Clothes lose their meaning on their bodies. They rip them off each other like excited kids opening presents on Christmas day. The fabrics that covered their bare canvas skin become love-storm tossed over all the place. Six pieces on the floor (grey pants, blue shirt, grey boxer briefs, black dress, black lacy thong, and black lacy bra) with shoes (black loafers and black heels) and grey socks (his) haphazard on the floor leading to the bedroom like Hansel and Gretel crumbs.

Bedroom. No artificial light to illuminate their activities. Only the romantic moon shines through casting its ever loving soft rays through the window.

Knees. She on her knees. Her mouth filled with him. Tongue licks around and around. Salty goodness comes out just a teaser of what is to come. She releases him and she rises from her worship of him.

Worship. He kisses her mouth. Down. He kisses her throat. Down. He kisses her chest. Down. He kisses each nipple. Down. He kisses her stomach. Down. He kisses her little hill. His tongue becomes a slave to her demands of her mouth. Her mouth the slave master.

Fingers. Fingers play with her cave. One enters. Mouth of cave stays the same.Two enters. Mouth of cave slightly opens.Three enters. Mouth of cave fully opens. Three companions exploring. Feeling the softness of her. Feeling the vulnerable velvet walls inside of her.

Rough. Hard pressure against skin. Nails leave their ragged signatures. Red. Red lips caress each John Hancock lines. When soft red lips get to the end of each line, the wet velvet tongue licks up and down each of them as if apologizing for the harshness of the nails.

Horizontal. A flipping of bodies switching to horizontal. She on bottom. He on top. Bottoming from the top. Top bottoming from the bottom. Sheets twisted. Ripples all around. Pillows strewn, dotting the room.

Animalistic. Ivorys bite down hard on shoulder as he thrusts in her. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. She digs in to his back. Gasping of air. Groaning. Crescent red moons join the Hancock lines of his back. His back the canvas of their red, red hot passion.

Wet. Moisture flows between them like mini streams. Perspiration. Sensations of a dirty, dirty bath between them that only they can make.

Mounds. Her comfortable full pillows of her boobs rock back in forth with each thrust. Hot mouth aims for the bulls-eyes of her areolas. He leaves his irregular waxing crescents on them when he exacts his love mark. He releases for a moment. He locks down again. Suction begins. Suck. Suck. Suck. Tongue in mouth does short caresses around the little mountain. Massaging. Mouth, greedy. Desire to paint her areolas purple. Purple passion.

Music. Cacophony sounds. Sounds of the thud, thud, thud of the headboard on the wall. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Grunts. Slapping of skin on skin. A clock tick tocking. Heavy breathing, exhaling and inhaling.

Legs. Legs have him in a vise. Locking him to her. Her legs, the gate to keep him captive. He is hers. She is his. Slaves to each other.

Phallic. Jewels constantly wanting to nestle in her pink purse as he plunges his phallic. Phallic plunges. Phallic plunges. Phallic plunges. Phallic stretches her pink purse. Her hot pink purse needs to be filled, filled with his salty, creamy lotion.

A brief conversation laced with releases and sounds:

He grunt growls, "I want you to come, now."

Siren sounds off from her. Screaming her release. Salty ocean gushes around the phallic. Washing. Increasing all around.

She commands, "Come my love."

The hose releases its salty spray into her pink tulip coating it with nourishment. Spurting. Spraying. Spurting. Spraying. Spurting. Spraying.

The falling of the action:

Slow breaths, breath harmoniously. Satiation leads to sweet sugar dreams for them tangled in each other.