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                      Night Breezes
.
    Slowly she slipped into the water, her loose blouse billowing out
across the gentle waves like seafoam riding the surf.  Her feet felt
the warm sand caressing each toe, and the gentle lapping of the tide
caused tingles deep within her aching loins.  She looked up to see the
moon, swollen, and dreamt of what that pale, engorged body would do if
given life to meet hers.  As she crossed around a dune, the moon was
lost to view, but she soon heard . . .  footsteps, crunching on the
sand, coming toward her.  She leaned into the shadows, waiting to see
who it was.
    Suddenly, around the dune came a man dressed in nothing more than
night breezes and moonlight, the dappled darkness glistened along the
hard length of his body, and shone on the engorged evidence of his
lust.  Her eyes glazed as she saw the way his shaft dipped and bobbed
as he walked, unerringly, toward her hiding place.  He stepped into
the water and waded toward her.
    She could feel herself growing moist, wet, and from the heat, she
knew it was not seawater parting her nether lips to float away.  He
reached her.  He grasped her head in his hands and tilted it back,
forcing her mouth open to accept his tongue, hot from the internal
fires of passion.
    She ran her hands along the muscles of his body, reaching between
his legs for the throbbing lance of manhood that beckoned.  He was
hard, and she was ready.
    She raised herself on her toes, thankful that the water aided her
motions.  As she lifted herself in preparation for the penetration,
his hands undid her blouse, and he tasted her breasts.  Exposed to the
air after being in the water -- they were so cold, his mouth, so hot.
She looked into his eyes as she slid onto his shaft.  Along the
length, easing the ache inside her.  Her eyes closed as the feeling of
fulfillment hit her.  She opened her mouth to his kisses, his tongue
supporting her as much as his legs and hands.  They moved in the rythm
primeval, a lustful, wonderous dance of hips and teeth and moans --
both seeking, and giving.  Soon, all too soon, she became aware of a
building, driving need for release.  Her breath came in pants and
heaves as she clung to his frame, seeking the ultimate fulfillment --
he held her at the waist, tight, clinging as he drove forcefully into
her body . . . a shaking, a scream of passion tore the night -- she
felt his seed pouring into her, as she clenched around him.  She held
him as the tremors passed.  He smiled at her, and she realized, she
had not heard him speak.
    He withdrew from her cavern, and walked toward the beach.  On the
sand, he looked back once, then turned, and rounded the dune.  She
moaned with release, and with an aching longing.  As she left the
water, she shivered.  She was cold.  Night breezes caressed her body,
and she looked up, to see the moon.
.
.


 
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