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Hold your breath

Administrator — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 17:29:41 +0000

"Is there any place else you need to be cooled?" You ask as you retrieve another ice cube. I just shrug casually, but I watch intently as you bring your hand toward my abdomen. As the first drops of water hit my skin, I gasp slightly, but I want to feel it - where will you touch it? Meanwhile, further south I can feel increasing warmth and swelling. You take your time, letting drops fall to my skin. The water begins to pool at my navel, then rivulets roll down my side. I close my eyes and enjoy the delicate tickle of the cool drops, as you guide them downward. Then ... I feel a light touch ... Involuntarily, I jump, but with pleasure, not shock. I realize it's not ice I feel ... cold, but not that cold. Your fingers - inside my left thigh, near the crotch. Gently, your touch glides upward to the crease, then up and down along the crease. I let a soft sigh escape. Edging slowly inward, you stroke the skin, then the curly, trimmed hair of my bush. It dawns on me that my hands are tightly gripping the arms of the lounger; I'm holding my breath. I consciously force myself to breathe slowly, deeply. I can't quite relax my arms, resisting my urge to press against your hand. As you reach the denim, and a solitary finger slips underneath to find the wetness, I again catch my breath with a whimper.

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Administrator — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 15:26:02 +0000

"Hmph! You _like_ having ice on your skin?" I nod as you reach into the tumbler of iced tea you're holding and fish out another piece of ice. I can feel my crotch start to warm with anticipation. Playing the game, though, I try to change the subject.... "So, how was your ride? How far did you get?" I ask as you begin tracing the top curve of my breasts above the fabric with the ice. "Not more than 10 or 12 miles. Dave's bike got a flat and we didn't have a spare." You have some trouble keeping your voice even as your eyes watch my breasts twitch from the cold. My top is now soaked down to my nipples and the cloth clings tightly to my skin. Another breeze passes and a delicious shiver runs through me, so I lay back to steady myself, not really meaning to pull away from your hand.
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My nice lover

Administrator — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 12:25:02 +0000

I knew you would enjoy this view, and your expression and straining shorts verify that fact. After a significant pause, during which I pretend not to notice you staring at my body, you close your mouth, recompose your face and look up to my eyes. "What other lover?" you repeat. "I'm nice to you." I grin at you like the imp that I am and reply, "You're not my nice lover, you're my nasty lover!" "Is that so? What's the difference between nice and nasty here?" "Well, while you try to shock me by putting ice down my pants, or tickling me, my nice lover would cool me when I'm hot and caress me with gentle touches."

A contradiction

Administrator — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 16:34:07 +0000

"BRR! Now I'm cold!" I fib, scowling, but enjoying your pleasure to my body's reactions. I sit up, placing my feet on either side of the lounger to rise, but you sit near the foot of the chair, sideways to me, placing your hand on my bare thigh to keep me seated. I watch your face, your eyes, as you appraise me - my tank top rolled up to my breasts, my cut-off jeans unzipped and opened to allow the sun to touch as much of me as possible without actually digging out a bikini. These are my SHORT shorts. I don't wear them in public. Sitting as I am, I know without looking that my bush is quite visible between my thighs, the denim hiding only the pinkness of my sex. I never wear panties with these shorts - that would be a contradiction! This is the first time you've seen them.

Indian Cutie Recieves a Facial

Administrator — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 12:22:49 +0000

"Oh, hi! It's just you." I say with a smirk. "I thought it was my other lover." (Oh how I love to tease you!) "What `other' lover?" you demand playfully, as you run the shrinking ice cube across my chest with your finger. The cold wetness has caused my nipples to harden, quite obvious through the thin, soft cotton of my top. "You know ...," I chide, "My other lover who does _nice_ things for me." "Oh REALLY? Who is this guy?" My top is getting very wet from my sweat and the melting ice. A sudden breeze blows across me, causing me to shiver involuntarily. I see your eyes sparkle with delight as you watch my breasts jiggle and my nipples grow even harder.

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Administrator — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 14:09:36 +0000

Ah, yes. Of course. Ice - on my chest (because my back is against the lounger). You expect me to jump or scream, but I don't. I won't. Instead ... "Mmmm ... feels good." Actually, it _does_ feel good; the cool, wet ice against my baking skin. As it melts (quickly) and trickles down my cleavage, I shade my eyes with my hand to look at you, as though I'm not sure who you are.
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Bushy Indian Cunt

Administrator — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 10:31:55 +0000

I can't believe I have time to relax! I'm sitting here in the sun, in a tank top and shorts, feeling those nasty ultraviolet rays warming my skin. Skin cancer? No way! I don't spend enough time out here to be at risk. I wonder if I'm even out enough to maintain my vitamin D levels! Mmmm. It feels so good! I close my eyes from my book and tilt my face up to the sun. I can hear you walk up quietly, but I don't react. What will it be? I know you well enough to expect a "sneak attack." Why do guys do this? (Well, I guess I'm guilty on occasion myself.) Just when I'm relaxed, reclined, letting the world disappear, somebody insists on tickling me or dropping ice down my back! With a mental sigh, I brace myself.

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Administrator — Wed, 28 May 2008 10:36:07 +0000

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"Oooohhh yes, fuck me with it, fuck me with it!" she was wailing. I didn't know how I was going to get my hand back out, but now that it was all the way in, I figured we should make the most of it. I worked my hand back and forth in her cunt, no more than a quarter of an inch in either direction -- but her pussy was so thoroughly packed that the slight motion was having a powerful effect. She screamed and came and then began rocking back and forth, trying to widen and deepen the movement. She took still more of my hand into her, got it right to the bones of my wrist and only then did it seem I had touched bottom. With my free hand I caressed her abdomen (from the outside -- for variety). It was as hard as steel and as I moved my hand within her, her belly rippled and flexed and she screamed and came again. I flexed the hand within her and she came even more powerfully. Carefully, I folded my fingers under, then my thumb and slowly made and clenched my fist. I felt the walls of that more open place suddenly close about my fist and then she went absolutely apeshit. To this day, only once have I ever seen anything to rival the way June came with my fist inside her.

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Administrator — Sun, 18 May 2008 13:57:13 +0000

She turned her head partially toward me and said, voice quaver: "Fuck me with your hand!" "It's too big -- " "Fuck me with your hand -- all of it -- spread me -- fuck me!" "It'll hurt you -- " "Do it! Hurt me! Fuck me!" I ducked my head forward and licked the base of my thumb, then wrapped my free hand around her thighs. "Alright, you weird, perverted little cunt -- you're going to get what you've been asking for!" "Yesssss...." she wailed. I twisted and turned my hand, forcing my fingers into rough alignment within her pussy -- and pushed. She gasped and I knew it had to be hurting her, but: "Yes-- fuck -- fuck -- fuck -- " She grunted it rhythmically, almost a chant and slowly, the fattest part of my hand slid into her cunt. I could feel the ring of her pubic bones through her tortured flesh, but she was pressing back against me as hard as she could, so hard that her legs and arms shook with the effort. Bit by bit, my hand slid into her cunt, until it was almost to the wrist. My fingers were well into that wider, open part of her inner cunt and her labia were closing on the narrower base of my hand.

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Administrator — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 04:46:48 +0000

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