The Peak. The day down below had been sunny and humid; on the Peak it was fogged in. We had taken the tram up, bemused by the steep angle of ascent. Now up at the Peak, through the fog, we had glimpses of expensive cars, the houses of the very wealthy. Many tourists, like us, were milling around, making the best of a disappointing situation. The sun occasionally suggested itself as a faint bright dot in the fog. Later, I was fucking her ass, she was spread-eagled on the bed and my hand was wrapped under her, fingering her clit. It was one of her favorite positions. I love to feel the contraction of muscles inside her ass when her orgasm erupts. Her gasps and cries when she came were muffled into the pillow, and I suddenly thought again of the fog, as if the guttural animal sounds were coming to me through some dense cloud, and I couldn’t see anything, and only knew it was her because of those familiar tremors from some deep volcanic part of her.
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3 comments:
That kind of familiarity can be very erotic -- knowing the moves, the responses -- as long as it's mixed with the unexpected.
I've always wondering what it felt like for the man on the other end while I was coming. ^_~
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