Veranda

The mid-summer heat fills the air. Even the sounds of insects buzzing between the leaves of the grapevines at the end of the yard seem muted, as if the insects themselves are as oppressed by the heat as we are, lounging lazily on the veranda.

We weakly fan ourselves, me slouching in the chair, you laying across the chaise-longue.

From time to time, we can catch a glimpse of local workers tending the vines in their white headscarves. They haven't paid us much attention since we got here, just another couple of tourists occupying the little house among the grapevines.

With my right hand continuing to fan warm air over my sweaty body, my left hand droops down over the arm of the chair.

At the end of this action, I notice that your bare toes are just a few centimeters away from my hand.

With a bit more energy than I thought I had left, I playfully reach out and touch the tips of your toes.

You look over at me, catlike, smiling with tired amusement.

Encourage by even this small response, I lean over in my chair and move the backs of my fingers over the tops of your toes, down the top of your foot and along the top of your calf nearest me.

You wiggle your toes, tickled by my light touch.

Teasingly, I bring my hand back to your foot and lightly touch the bottom of it, causing you to jerk your foot away with a small giggle.

I do this a few times in order to hear the melody of your laughing voice.

But before this can become annoyance, I move all of my fingers firmly up the bottom of your foot, and slide each of them between your toes.

I rest my palm against the bottom of your foot, holding your foot as I do your hand on every possible occasion.

I bring your foot down to its relaxed position and disengage my fingers, so that I may again slide them over your calf near me, enjoying the smoothness of your legs.

I can't help but notice that, with the little kicking, your skirt has fallen higher, just above your knees.

Somehow feeling refreshed by our play, I move from my chair to kneel on the floor at the base of your chaise-longue. Your eyes follow my movement like a cat trying to decide whether to pounce on the mouse that just interrupted its nap.

Leaning over next to the foot I was just caressing, I place the first kiss on the top of it.

And the second one a little higher.

And another...

And another...

My kisses draw a line up your calf to your knee.

With my right hand, I pinch a bit of your loose skirt and lift it up, pulling it higher on your leg.

And the line of kisses continues higher.

Daringly, I continue this little game until, the skirt having reached the top of your thighs, one of your hands finally is given the motivation to reach over and lightly slap mine.

You pretend offense and modesty, but I can see the mischief in your eyes. Nevertheless, I drop the material before it uncovers the delicate underclothes beneath.

But the line of kisses continues, unbroken, up to that point, just centimeters from more delicate areas.

When the kisses stop and I sit up on my knees in front of you, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position in front of me.

You lean over me, and I raise my face up to meet yours in a soft, warm kiss.

My hands move to your sides and I kiss you again, more deeply than before.

Almost unintentionally, my hands find the bottom of your loose shirt. Not at all unintentionally, they move under it to make direct contact with your skin.

It strikes me as odd that your breath and mine feel hotter than the oven-like air around us.

As our kisses deepen, my hands move higher up your sides, under your shirt. In short order, I touch the bottom-most part of your breasts with each hand, electrifyingly.

My fingers start to move over your soft breasts now, exploring, but not for long. Your arms raise themselves up, signaling for me what you want me to do next.

Obligingly, no EXCITEDLY, I reach to the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your head, breaking our passionate kisses momentarily.

With this interfering garment off, my hands return first to your sides, then soon back to the magnificent breasts the shirt once concealed. Meanwhile, my kisses resume, but not to your lips.

The first one is on your left cheek, but there is a new line forming now. Down your jaw, down your neck, down your shoulder...

My dry hands move over the whole surface of your breasts, not focusing on any one part, and also not pushing or pinching. Just brushing over them.

Suddenly, surprisingly, I stop all those activities and sit back on my heels again, but as I do so, your surprised face sees that my hands are now pulling my t-shirt up over my own head.

You move your hands to help me, unnecessarily, but as my hands strip away the tight-fitting garment, your hands come to rest appreciatively on my shoulders, moving down to my chest and my sides.

As you do this, your head moves close enough to mine that our lips find each other again, hungrily.

But your hands are not seeking to caress and touch only, they move lower still, to the top of my jeans.

My own arms, lowering to continue their attentions somewhere on your beautiful body, pause surprised.

Your fingers fumble aggressively with the top-most button of my jeans.

I know how difficult your job is, so I helpfully raise myself to my knees to give you a better grip on the material.

Even so, your hands struggle with the task. Now I move my own to help you work each button free.

When all the buttons have been undone, you push my jeans down over my hips. This I also help you with, but with me on my knees, there isn't far down they can go.

I start to raise myself to my feet, and as my body rises, it's impossible not to notice the pronounced bulge in the front of my white bikini-briefs.

Your eyes fix on it as I struggle to pull my legs out of the jeans. The bulge is not straight up, but slightly to one side, and it pushes the material slightly higher at its tip. The outline of the creature underneath is almost as clear as if there were nothing covering it at all.

Having finished the job of removing my troublesome trousers, my arms reach down to you and my hands cup under your upper arms. Slowly but strongly, I encourage you to stand in front of me.

When you are on your feet, my face moves downward. Though you quickly discover that it wasn't my first intention, the nearness of our lips begs for another sweet, passionate kiss.

But my head had originally moved lower only as it sits atop my shoulders. Shoulders which lowered themselves only so that my hands might reach the top of your skirt and begin to push it downward on your hips.

Like me, you quickly move to help me in my work, and the skirt falls to the floor around your feet.

Although I must confess that I hadn't planned the next step, you begin to take it for me, hooking your thumbs over the top of your underpants and pushing them down your hips after the skirt. I rush to help, but the work is already done.

And before I have the opportunity to appreciate the breathtakingly beautiful view of your delicious little body before me, your hands have moved to the top of my white briefs.

This time I do have the wit to help you as you push them downward. In fact, I know enough to help relieve that "little" horn catching at the top of the garment, preventing it from its downward travels.

As they fall to the floor, I stand tall again, only stooping to maintain the fury of kisses we are showering upon each other. But without looking, neither of us fails to notice that we are now standing face to face, with not a strip of clothing between us.

My hands move nervously around your shoulders and down your back.

You respond less gently, circling my waist and rubbing your hands strongly up my back.

The rush of excitement causes me to flex, pressing strongly from where my hands now rest, to bring you close to me in a strong embrace.

We can feel every centimeter of our exposed skin where it touches, and the result is like pure intoxication.

Our kisses no longer seem hungry, but thirsty, as if from a long desert trek!

Without conscious thought, my right hand sinks lower, to your left hip...

Lower, to cup your bottom pleasantly...

And then, a bit lower still, to the top of the back of your thigh.

With my left arm, I hold you to me a little stronger and I shift your balance more toward me.

Then my right hand circles inward, scooping the back of your thigh and pulling smoothly upwards.

Although caught off-guard, you realize what I'm trying to do. With my help, you raise your left thigh up and circle your calf around behind me.

My hand moves back to cup your bottom, but my arm supports your thigh next to my hip, and we both balance on the three legs now on the floor.

This position opens you a bit, and that added exposure adds to your excitement.

Your hands move over my back and the fingers of my left hand press into your back as our kisses become almost animal.

Breathless, I break from your sugary lips so that I may see what lies just around us nearby.

Lowering your leg for the moment, but not giving much more distance between us, I spin you around me so that we are facing the opposite direction.

In this way, your back is now to the grape fields beyond, but so is the low fence surrounding the veranda.

Pressed together with you, I move us back until your bottom is pressed against that fence, wooden and painted white.

Kissing you there, and running our hands over each others' bodies, we enjoy this raw contact for several minutes.

Then, surprising you with strength my body doesn't appear to possess, I lift you just a bit, so that you are sitting on the edge of the wooden fence.

With this as your new base, your legs are free to wrap themselves around me again, and they do.

The hard object between us has been obvious for some time now, but now even you have noticed the wetness at the top has smeared itself over your belly and mine, between which it was trapped.

At this point there is wetness enough to come to the surface of you too, though you know it and I do not.

Nevertheless, in this new position, there is an excellent opportunity for these two points, yours and mine, to meet...

With your arms wrapped around my shoulders and my left arm around your back, my right hand moves down.

First my hand brushes over the small patch of short hair that you keep between your legs.

Then the backs of my fingers brush downward, rubbing lightly over your sensitive pink lips, electrifyingly caressing your clit in passing.

A bit lower, I can feel your wetness now, on your lips there, but I move my fingers back upward toward the top.

Delicately with two fingers, I part your lips a bit more. Then a third finger probes carefully inside, just the insides of your lips.

Brushing up the inside of one, and then down the other, I can't help but notice the hard button just between.

For a minute or two, I avoid it teasingly...

But finally, eagerly, my fingers apply their attentions to that part as well. You gasp loudly.

Massaging the whole of your delicate flower this way, your passions begin to grow into a flame.

Your breathing turns into moaning, almost begging sounds with the pleasure of it. My mouth kisses yours when it can, and your cheeks and neck when you move your face away from me involuntarily.

Finally, the excitement is too much even for me to resist, and I hook a free finger around my cock to bring it into position.

Without stopping the fair treatment of those delicate lips and clit, the tip of my cock makes first contact with you, just below my fingers.

Carefully, gently manipulating its exact position, I gently test for a deeper place.

The sensation of the tip of my cock beginning to enter you is like lightning.

At this point, my head is smeared wet with both of our juices, and there is no resistance, but I make no sudden pushes.

But slowly, little by little, I move deeper inside you.

At some point, impossible to tell exactly when, I begin to move out and in, each time just a tiny bit deeper.

What started out quite slow gains speed steadily, and my fingers continue to massage those other parts between us, above where we are joined physically.

Without warning, your loud moans suddenly increase to cries, and your whole body starts to move.

Your arms tense and try to pull me closer. Your legs wrap more strongly around me, pushing me deeper inside you.

Your back arches toward me and your hips buck slightly, increasing the movement of me inside you.

Because of the closeness of our bodies at this moment, my hand cannot move to rub your clit, but it seems to be no longer necessary.

Now I can feel that your natural tightness is supplemented by the grip of your muscles there, squeezing my cock graciously, quivering orgasmically.

Under such stimulating pressures, and with your cries of passion in my ears, how can I not reach my own moment of climax within you.

I have no way of knowing what you may feel of it, but to me, it seems to explode out of me, once, twice, again, again, again. My own muscles, all of them, are now rock hard under your touch. My own breath bursts out of me in gasps.

It is more than a minute before I can see or hear anything, but only after that do my muscles begin to lose their tension, slowly, unwillingly.

Your body now seems to be draped around me loosely, exhaustedly.

I can hear your breathing beginning to return to normal, but the rest of your body seems without any strength at all.

As for myself, it takes at least a few minutes before I feel fully in control of my body, but I just hold you to me, waiting.

After another minute, trusting myself again, I circle your hips with my right arm, but I awkwardly move my left arm under your bottom.

With your arms still draped over my shoulders, I lean backward slightly and lift upward with my arms, taking you completely off the fence and holding you to me.

Carefully, always gently, I carry you like this just the short distance back to the chaise-longue where we started.

I feel that it's done shakily, but nevertheless carefully, I lower us both down until I can once again rest your bottom on the cushion of the long chair.

Your head moves a bit, letting me know that you are at least conscious, so I know that I can carefully lean you back onto the long cushion.

Disentangling your legs from around me is more of a challenge, but with care, I ultimately succeed in laying you out comfortably on the lounge.

Not wishing to be parted from you more than this, I sit myself on the floor by your stomach and lean onto you, putting my head on you not too heavily.

Your eyes are closed. I do not know if you're asleep now or not, but the expression on your face is of such contentment, I close my own eyes, keeping that image firmly in my mind, to rest our bodies after our lovely Tuscany siesta.