My fingers left her hair to gently cup her jaw, softly turning her face toward me as I slipped down the bed, our lips meeting somewhere in the middle. It's funny how in memories there is no hint of morning breath, no sudden need to pee. But maybe it was like that. Maybe what we had was really that pure. Because when I kissed Jenny, there was nothing but her. There was no cabin, no chill mountain air that was slowly being pushed back by the crackling fire. There was only her lips, the way the caress of her nipples on my naked chest made my breath catch in my throat, as if I was afraid that breathing would send her scattering like a reflection of a perfect summer sky scattered by a splashing stone.
We kissed, our arms and legs slowly entwining, our bodies rediscovering how they fit together. My fingertips traced lazy circles over her naked shoulder blades and spine. Her lips would leave our kiss to find my neck; my chest; her eyes dancing with delight as my back arched, as I softly moaned. I teased her nipples between my lips, my mouth working lower, my heart racing as her fingers tangled in my hair and she gasped as my tongue first found her wetness. I would breathe the length of her labia, teasing her with my breath, stroking her with the warm air that slipped from between my lips. She would open her thighs, welcoming me, beckoning me, and I would savor the moment, the anticipation of when my tongue first tasted her wetness.
The first stroke would be long and slow, gentle and light, little more than a hint of what my breath had promised would come. I would softly lick her, over and over, teasing her, tempting her, letting her sensations slowly blossom to life. When she began to writhe, when her hips began to move to meet my tongue, I would know she was ready for me.
Slowly, firmly, I would lick her. Not hard, but a tangible sensation, a release in its own after the delicate ministrations that had awoken her senses. In a way, it was like a tiny orgasm. Her body would tremble, her lips would part, a whispered, "Yes," escaping into the morning air. I would slip my naked shoulders beneath her thighs, relishing the feel of her skin against mine. My fingertips would lightly trace their way across her hips, her belly, her legs, their touch harmony to the melody of my tongue. Her hips would slowly take on a life of their own, an almost imperceptible rhythm shifting them against the mattress, as if she was making love to my mouth, my tongue matching her speed. I would tease her clit, my fingertips moving through her tiny patch of well-trimmed hair, gently massaging her outer labia, tracing their length to the rhythm of my tongue.
She would gasp when I slipped a finger inside her, slowly, an inch at a time, moving inside her in the same way she welcomed my hard cock. Inside her, my finger would join my tongue in a duet, teasing her, feeling her build. Jenny's thrusting hips would become more demanding and I would answer their plea, letting her build until she called out my name, her legs stiffening into rigid limbs across my shoulders, her hips lifting off the bed as she cried out again and again.
I'm not sure if she ever realized that I still listened to her body even as she came, slowing my tongue to keep time with the shudders of pleasure that wracked her body, backing off the pressure as her orgasm faded, pulling away only when she began to tremble. Somewhere in the afterglow, she'd realize that she was in my arms, that I was holding her close and gently kissing her hair as I told her I loved her.
Somehow I would end up between her legs, her fingers wrapped around my throbbing cock. Even now, I'm nearly breathless remembering the anticipation. She would tease me, the wetness of her body an elixir to the burning heat of my erection. Slowly stroking herself with my penis, she'd let my anticipation build until, by some unseen signal, she would lead me inside of her. It was always a blur what happened next. Our lips would suddenly find each other, our hips moving slower than even my exploring tongue had dared to tease, arms and legs moving in an ever-shifting tapestry of skin.
I would slowly withdraw, a dozen heartbeats passing while I pulled out of her until only the head of my cock was left inside her body. Without pause, the journey would reverse, slowly melding us together, savoring the sensation of my rock hard cock slowly slipping deep into her warm, wet embrace. Over and over, like the glorious haze of some wondrous drug, we'd move in our own private dance. We'd explore all of the themes that had filled our relationship from the very first. Our hips slowly moving, we'd gaze into each others eyes, tracing a jawline with a fingertip or softly caressing a cheek.
In my memories, I never remember orgasming myself, but I know I did. All I remember is the perfect union we found together. Maybe that's why, even now, my own pleasure is never at the forefront when I make love. I was spoiled. Not ruined, just shown something so wondrous that even now I can feel her beneath me, our bodies slowly moving together as we made love.
Author's Note: This story is entirely true. Only the names have been changed to maintain anonymity of the aforementioned individuals. A special thank you to my Jenny. Years may change people, but you forever blessed me with a little bit of your magic.
