-You'll have to excuse my English; it's not my first language. I don't think it'll cause you big problems to read, but you'll certainly find some mistakes. -
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-The Second Interlude of the Castle Series-
After the Gong sounded midnight, a silence fell across the room: we were at Midsummer. And for some reason, in this Castle lost in mountains and forests, it meant a great deal. Don't know why yet, but it does. But when everybody started to get up and leave the room, Lucia took my arm and took me to her room. When I turned back from closing the door, still mystified by all this, Lucia was letting her slip fall down around her ankles. The thin robe she had been wearing was now in a soft puddle underneath the slip.
I don't know how many hours I've spent looking at, touching, tasting and even smelling Lucia's body. But even now, exhausted by Roxanne, I realize that my pulse quickens when I look at her. Barely conscious of my staring, she frees her midnight-black mane from a simple ponytail and plays with her hair to loosen them up. Swinging in rhythm with her arms, her breasts seem to laugh and dance, a promise of youth fully realized. More subdued, the flare of her hips is nothing now but an invitation to slide my gaze down towards those impossible legs. Lean, tight, half an inch from being too long... As I look slowly back up, Lucia turns around a bit, revealing her equally impossible buttocks. But the black locks dancing just above those inviting curves catch my eyes and hold them.
Slipping her opened fingers around her neck and up over her scalp, she pulls most of her hair up before letting them fall back down. After that she whips her head left and right, making her hair tango from one side to the other. The rhythm changes as she slides her hands from her forehead all the way back to her nape, massaging her head slowly. Wisps of hairs fly around, locks shift from left to right, slip around from her back to lick her breasts, come back from those curves to fall back down along her back...
When she tilts her head backwards, the tips of the longest strands come all the way down to cover her buttocks. With slow, deliberate movements, Lucia turns her head from side to side again. From the top of her head to two or three feet lower, her hair smoothly whips left and right, teasing me with flashes of skin and their own mysterious, flowing darkness. After bringing her head forward again, she twists two huge locks of hair into a soft braid. Seconds later she whips it apart and I watch, amazed, as the locks fade back into her full mane.
With her hands at her nape, she pulls her hair all the way up until she holds it on the top of her head. Still in awe, I loose myself in this sharpened, this raw nudity. This is not the weak, blossoming body of a girl: this is the full-grown body of a woman, albeit young, a woman who is fully conscious of what she is, of what she has. Lucia is not the mere promise of womanhood, she is that promise realized, fulfilled beyond anything I could have imagined or hoped for. Heavy with beauty and lush with sensuality, her body is a flawless dance.
Turning her head sideways just a bit, a hint of a green eye showing, she smiles and says: "Will I have to cut them off to feel your arms around me?" Unable to come up with any kind of answer, I quickly get out of my pants and shirt. When I walk behind her, she lets her hair fall back down between us. Bending down a bit, I bury my face against her nape and the back of her head. Taking a deep breath I manage to reach the elusive, intensely intimate smell that's hidden by and in the veil of her hair. Incapable of resisting, I take another one before planting a kiss through that veil.
When I straighten back up and pull her against me, we both clearly feel my cock, rock hard, pressed between the cheeks of her ass. She laughs while I cup my hands around the two full-bodied nymphs on her chest:
"You're impossible you know! How can you still be hard after that afternoon with Roxanne?"
