The Night Poet
"The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets." -
Poppy Z Brite
Nelly's body glowed like a piece of polished marble in the moonlight pouring through the window. She lay naked on her stomach near the edge of the bed with her knees bent, gently rubbing her feet together in a slow caress. The silky strands of her ash-blonde hair blurred seamlessly into the milky whiteness of her skin.
Her beauty was magic.
I reached out and cupped my hand over the soft warmth of her behind. Her back arched as she propped herself up on both elbows. Creamy white shoulders pushed forward, her breasts swayed from the movement. I swept my hand over the roundness of her rump then down the back of her tender thigh.
"Mmmmm, that feels good," she cooed.
I worked my hand back up to her behind then caressed the other side.
"You're so soft, you know that?"
"Thank you," she replied in a voice embellished with innocence.
The ends of her hair glimmered in the lunar radiance that filled the room. Her face had the soft roundness of a China doll. She was half Swedish and half Dutch, and I was trying to discern which parts of her came from each side. Round face-Dutch; gentle slope for a nose- Swedish; ashen blonde hair-both; creamy white skin-Dutch; curvy lips-Dutch; ice blue eyes- both. She was not athletic, but not flabby either. Her medium-sized breasts filled my hand. Soft pink nipples that hardened only slightly when aroused. Her hair always gave off a sweet, flowery smell, even after sex when the rest of her did not.
My hand travelled over the curve of her rump then up into the valley of her lower back. Here the flesh was harder, the skin tighter.
"Keep going," she begged softly.
"You like that?"
"Very much."
"So how did you learn to speak such good English?" I asked. Her English was delivered with the intonation of any typical 19-year old American girl.
"I don't know, we lived in Chicago for some years when I was like ten years old."
"Your parents move there for work?"
"Yeah, my dad. He's some kind of international finance guy. Not sure what he does, exactly. Has to do with banking. Since we moved a lot, I guess I inherited a wanderlust. I'm still trying to find my place in this world."
"Well, you seem pretty grounded to me. You're very mature for your age," I replied, moving my hand up her back then down to the soft mound of her buttocks. "You know you got a really nice ass."
"Don't embarrass me," she replied with a slight giggle.
"Sorry, didn't mean to. It was intended as a compliment."
"Okay, I'll take it."
I slipped the end of my pinky into the cleft of her bum as I ran my hand up and down the fleshy globe. Her stark white butt reminded me of two scoops of vanilla ice cream. There was a long moment of silence as I continued to caress her velvety skin. Our lovemaking had been intense. For a nineteen year old, she had an adept awareness of her body that was beyond her years. She knew exactly how to sync our rhythms, when to lead and when to follow. Our bodies melded together into one, riding each wave of pleasure until its climactic end.
Then she broke the silence, "Wanna be my favorite person and give me a back rub?"
"I'll try, but I'm not sure about how good of a masseur I am."
"Well, if you're only half as good at giving massages as you are at making love to me, then I'm in for a treat."
"Okay, so now I'm the one who's embarrassed."
"Good one," she shot back.
I laughed.
She scooted over towards the center of the bed and I swung a leg over her and sat on the backs of her thighs. My softening member poked harmlessly against the upward slope of her rump. Wet drops of semen from my recent ejaculation dabbed her skin like a magic marker. She offered no reaction.
My head was spinning from our previous exertions; images of our most impassioned moments flashed through my head. I vowed to memorize them. My line of sight was now at the same height of the window and I looked out into the blue night. Tiny specs of snow sparkled in the moonlight as they spiraled in the wind. A few of them glanced against the cold glass as if trying to get in.
"That feels so good," she moaned as I started to rub her upper back.
"Hmm, I want to make you feel good."
"You're doing a wonderful job." She lay with her head turned to the left, her right cheek pressed into the mattress. Her eyes were closed.
I pressed my fingers harder into the muscles of her back. She purred gently with each depression.
"Oh God, don't stop."
I worked my way down the center of her back then pressed my thumbs into the long muscles running along her spine.
"Oh yes, just like that....You really are a pro at dispensing pleasure, " she murmured.
I bent down and kissed the side of her face. Her hair tickled my nose. I studied the delicate upward turn of her nose.
"Dispense, now that's a curious word," I remarked.
"W-h-a-t-t-t...Are making fun of me? DId I say wrong?"
"No, not at all. It must be the poet in you."
She giggled. "I guess, I love beauteous words."
"Is 'beautious' a word?"
"It is. It's not common, but it's a real word."
"You sure about that?"
"One hundred percent."
"Okay, you're the poet."
The conversation drifted off into silence as I continued to massage her back. The feeling of her supple skin against my hands started to get me aroused. I looked down at my growing prick. It rubbed up and down her ass every time I pushed my hands into her back. The motions nursed it back to life. I reached down and gave it a few strokes.
"What are you doing?" she asked, turning around.
"You're so beauteous," I whispered.
"Oh my God, you're mad, you know that?"
"I know."
She raised her hips slightly then opened her legs. The musky fragrance from her garden rose and filled my nostrils. My prick was now fully alive, I grabbed the base of my throbbing erection then rubbed it up and down her moistening slit.
"Eat me first."
I let go of my piece of engorged flesh then sunk my head into the searing wetness of her valley. Burying my face into her, I lapped away at her swollen labia.
"Oh my God, Casey...yes, eat me! I've wanted you to do this to me for so long."
Encouraged by her reaction, I took the flap of one of her outer lips into my mouth and sucked on the jelly-like flesh then found the swollen nub of her clitoris. Juices oozed from her center and I licked them up with my fluttering tongue. The taste of her was intoxicating and I wanted more. I swirled my tongue up to the flower of her anus and flicked the tip across her rigid opening.
"Fuck, that feels so good"! She cried out. She rarely swore, only during sex.
I stiffened my tongue then thrust it up into her puckered hole.
"Fuck!"
"Do you like that?"
"Oh my God, yes! Keep going."
I complied with her wish and proceeded to tongue-fuck her ass. She had managed to spread her legs wide allowing me to work my face between her legs. I grabbed both cheeks of her ass and alternated between tonguing her gaping anal tunnel and delivering pleasure to her gushing vulva. My nose and cheeks were burned raw from the course pubic hair. I pulled back to gulp at some air. Her pungent juices covered my face. I wiped my chin then returned to her honey pot.
Nelly then lifted up on her knees and looked back at me. "Make love to me. I want you inside me." She was in such a state of arousal, she was almost crying.
I got up on my knees while she raised her hips. Accepting her offer, I sunk into her with a plop like an anvil being dropped into a river.
"Unhhh," she crooned.
I grabbed her hips and pressed deeper into the searing wetness of her lubricious slit. Flesh met flesh. Our movements synced. Passions escalated. She met my every thrust with a crashing recoil that begged for more. I pumped harder responding to her demands, offering her everything I had. Although I was in the dominant position, she had the ability to take over and lead me to where she wanted to go; modifying the tempo with a subtle skillfulness I had never experienced before. A poet. Her lovemaking was pure art. The straight line of her back curved slightly as she turned her head to look backwards.
"Take me, Casey! Take me!"
I pumped my hips harder. The raw smack of skin against skin echoed throughout the room. Moonlight screamed through the window and seemed to join forces with the high-pitched shrieks now coming from Nelly.
"Come inside me!" she huffed.
Her head convulsed wildly, waves of blonde hair tossed in the shimmering moonlight. What happened next, I will never forget.
Her head thrust backwards. She let out a quivering scream. Like an animal. "Oh God! Come with me!"
I had been holding back, trying to make this incredible experience last as long as I could. Her insides spasmed. I burst like a dam. A torrent of liquid spilled into her. A violent explosion that came from deep inside my body as much from my loins. She let out a deep beastial howl, then buried her face in the mattress. Her insides relaxed for an instant. Finger-like streams of her juices trickled down her thighs. I pushed back into her and convulsed one last time. This time her reaction was a soft, muffled whimper.
I withdrew my spent member out of her slowly, like an eel being pulled from a dark, underwater hole.
About an hour passed. It was the cold that woke me. We had collapsed into each other's arms and lay in virtually the same position where we fell. The night outside was thickening, but the moon still raged. I grabbed at the covers at the foot of the bed and started to pull them over us.
"Wait." Nelly's voice.
"Aren't you cold?" I asked.
"Yes, but hold on for a second. There's something I gotta do first."
I was expecting her to head into the bathroom to pee, but instead she pulled on a dark red robe and headed to the window. There was a small notebook and pen sitting on the window sill. She picked them up and fixed her eyes on something outside.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"It's something I do every night."
"And what is that?"
"I look out the window every night before going to bed and write about what I see."
"Don't you see the same thing every time? I mean how much can it change?"
"You should try it sometime. You'd be surprised about what you learn."
"About myself, or about what's outside?"
She looked at me and smiled. "That's up to you."
"So it's a kind of poetry?"
"In a way. Shhhhh...give me a few minutes to write. We'll talk more about it later."
I lay back and let her write, trying not to watch her thinking it would interfere with her process. The sound of her pen scratching across the paper with the moon falling across her face had a kind of magical effect. I closed my eyes.
The mattress jiggled, I felt her warmth.
"Sorry, I fell asleep," I mumbled.
"That's okay," she replied as she pulled the thick covers over us.
"So how did it go?" I asked.
"Good, I suppose."
"What do you mean, 'I suppose'?"
"I never think of my writings as either good or bad. They just are."
