Mojitos

The warm summer sun sets along the glowing horizon of the Florida gulf coast. We are sitting on a balcony, alone, drinking Mojitos and enjoying the final light of an amazing day. We don't get to meet often, but when we do, like today, it is a fulfilling day of friendship, companionship and lust.

Though I have seen your body, tight and curvy, in any number of things over time, the look of you now burns into my mind. My eyes drink in the sight of you in a tight black dress which generously enhances your breasts and teases me with your lovely legs. Legs lightly clad in a pair of dark stockings, of which I can only wonder where the stocking ends and the tight flesh begins. Legs topped with a pair of delicate and strappy heels, which you playfully swing as you catch my eyes peering at them. My eyes are drawn inevitably towards the rich valley of your breasts, descending down into your dress, teasing me. And between those mounds of flesh, slowly heaving up and down with your breath, sits a delicate silver heart on the end of a long silver chain, the bright, shiny contrast of your hot body and the cool white of the silver necklace dances in my eyes as it rises and falls with the flow of your chest.

Yet, as wonderful as your chest and legs look, it is your face, framed by your dark hair, which pulls me towards you. The fading light, accented by the liberal collection of candles around us, reflects in rich highlights off your dark hair. Your eyes, darker and more erotic in the candle light, glitter and sheen as you look at me. And your lips, luscious and looking oh so lonely, delicately sip on your drink; a drink wrapped lightly in your hand, of which I am drawn to the contrast of your dark painted nails and your delicate fingers. Your hands and fingers -- thoughts of where they have been, what they have done today -- my mind races and my pulse quickens.

Lost in my thoughts and the vision of you, I have neglected the conversation and you have noticed now. You look at me and smile; a crooked, devilish, wicked little smile. The one I can't stand to see. The one that makes my blood boil. You set your drink down and stretch your hand across the small metal table between us. I reach out to touch you, taking your hand in mine, your fingers wrap around my palm and I look upon your painted nails against my skin. I feel warmth in your touch, a contrast to the cool night breeze that has come up after the passing of the day's sunlight.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" you ask.

"Of course, babe. Did you?"

You smile and laugh and I know that your response is going to be wicked, "Dinner was good, but I am most looking forward to dessert." We laugh together and I squeeze your hand in mine.

"Of course you are. I hope you like cheesecake," I reply. I laugh as I see a look of disappointment spread across your face. You look at me and slowly bite your lip.

I pull your hand to my mouth and softly I kiss your index fingertip with my lips. Your lips part slightly and I notice your breasts rise and hold as you breathe in deeply. My mouth kisses your fingertip again, slowly parting as my hand guides your index finger between my lips very slightly. I suck the tip of your finger between my lips and flick my tongue against it. My eyes close as my head moves forward, pushing your finger deeper inside my mouth. The flat, thick of my tongue wraps around your delicate finger as I taste you. I open my eyes as I feel you moving towards me. Your body sways as you make your way towards me, finally settling yourself delicately across my lap.

My left hand finds itself on your stocking-clad leg as I continue to suck your finger between my lips. I squeeze your thigh, just slightly above the knee, in my hand. Then I begin to move my hand slowly up your leg. Under the hem of your dress, following the silky smooth flow of stocking. Your finger pulls itself from my lips and I look up into your face as you descend upon me in a delicate kiss. You take my face in both your hands and kiss me. Our short soft kiss is followed by another longer, deeper kiss. Lingering against your lips, I open my mouth to yours and feel your lips sliding across mine. I taste the subtle hint of your mint lip gloss with my tongue. I breathe you in deeply, the aroma of your perfume mixed with our passion filling my senses. I take my right hand and place it behind your head, my fingers in your hair, pulling you into me as we kiss.

Your eyes close.

My eyes close.

My left hand, led by my fingers, finds the tightly wrapped end of your thigh-high stockings. The transition from silky smooth to the hot and flushed touch of your bare skin intrigues me as I play my fingers back and forth on the sensation. Wrapping my fingers into your thigh; I squeeze it -- first the silky part, then the bare part. I feel your body move against my lap as I do so. Your mouth opens slightly as you gasp softly. Soft enough that I cannot hear it, only feel the expulsion of breath against my face.

My left hand inside your dress, I pull your hair softly. Pulling your face away from mine, exposing your neck to me. I move to it. Drawn to it like a moth to the flickering heat of a candle's flame. I smell you on it. Smell the beads of sweat now appearing along your neck. The heat of our passion manifests. I lean in and slide my tongue, thick and hard, along the curve of your neck and up your chin. I leave a thick line of wetness. Your sweat mixed with my mouth, a combination of our heat. My mouth hovers over you, blowing along the wet line. The night air, cool now in the absence of the warming sun, glides across your neck. Goosebumps pop up as I feel you press your body against mine harder. I feel your nipples through the tight material of your dress and realize you are not wearing a bra. This thought thrills me as I press my chest against yours in response.

Your hands are wrapped around my forearms, locking us together. Focusing my attentions on you as your body responds to me. My left hand has slid further up between your legs, along the bare and hot skin of your thighs. To my surprise, your groin is as bare and accommodating as your chest. My fingers slide playfully along the swollen and now pulsing mound of flesh. Hot to my touch. Your hand, your fingers; they grip into my left forearms tightly as I touch you softly. You put one leg on the ground next to my chair, steadying yourself; parting your thighs and opening yourself to my hand as you do.

Unable to resist, my mouth opens to your neck. I take your neck between my lips and taste you on my tongue. Hungry with desire, I suckle your neck with my mouth. Sucking harder and harder, I run my teeth along the tight skin. I feel the quick, sharp pulse of your heart in my mouth -- pounding rhythmically. I focus on your pulse, matching my movements to it, matching your body beat for beat. I put my right hand behind your back and lean you back away from me. Using my nose, my mouth, my teeth; I free your right breast out of your tight dress. The flesh spills out from inside the dark fabric. Your hand is there to help; helping me pull it free. You cup your breast in your hand. I look into your open eyes. Unspoken you know and offer your breast up to my face. I hold you in my arm; you hold your breast to my mouth. I push my tongue against your hard nipple. The heat of your passion has covered your breast in sweat which I taste on my tongue as I lick you hard and slow.

My left hand has found its way between your soft lips. I touch you; I rub you. I feel hot juices leak from inside you. I press my long middle finger against your tight hole.

I bite and nibble on your breast in my mouth. Then I open my mouth as wide as I can and take as much of your breast as I can into it. I bite you harder.

My finger dips quickly inside you. Wet and slick, you accommodate me easily.

My right hand presses against your back, pushing your body against my mouth.

My finger begins to stroke in and out of you -- gentle, short little strokes into your tight, tight pussy.

My mouth suckles your breast. Your hand is feeding me.

My finger increases its pace as you begin to move your hips against me. Your hips grind the growing hardness below your ass. My finger grinds inside you against your hips.

The world fades away. The night air, cool in reality, is hot and thick around us. The night, dark and silent, is bright and shiny between our bodies. Shadows of our heat dance in the candlelight. The night is pierced with your voice as you cry out my name, once as a scream, then once more as a breathless sigh.

Your voice, in the silence, consumes me. My mind races as I lose control. My hand drives my finger into you frantically. My mouth bites and suck on you with renewed vigor. Your ass grinds against my swollen manhood. I pound you endlessly until, in a fiery explosion of body and soul, you explode against my hand. I feel your pussy convulse and throb. Your juices squirt out around my finger. Your body spent, your mind destroyed, you collapse against me. I hold you against me in with my right arm. I support you. Hold you. Contain you. I pull my finger from you, but do not leave you alone. I cup your pussy in my left hand, keeping it warm inside my palm. I touch you softly, not to excite, but to soothe.

I place my cheek against your neck. I feel your life force as it pulses beneath your skin; feel your heart slow, pump and pump. You try to speak, but I stop you. I hold you against me in the silence. The night air returns to its cool state. The light of our fire fades as the soft focus of candlelight seeps in to replace it. The focus of our minds on each other fades; the silence of the mind breaking; making room for other sounds -- the sound of waves crashing on the shoreline and the muted sound of traffic somewhere in the distance. Mixed in with these are the soft tones of music playing in the room behind us, cocooning the bed we will soon share.

I take your neck in my mouth and kiss it deeply. I feel your heart pulse against me, quickening, then softening, then quickening once more.