Sunstroke

The sun is hot and I decide to spend a little time lazing in the garden. I grab a cold beer and a trashy paperback before wandering outside . . . only to be hit by a wall of dense, hot air. Almost immediately perspiration beads my skin - I figure that maybe I'll just stay outside for a short while after all, but it is a shame to waste the opportunity . . .

After what seems mere minutes the beer is starting to take its toll - the words on the page just don't want to stay still. Realising the futility of continuing, I fall back onto the grass with the book covering my face - light sleep is close behind.

As my body relaxes and soaks up the heat, my mind wanders on an exotic journey full of sensuality beyond my worldly experience. I'm in some moorish pleasure palace surrounded by deep velvets, silks and satins. The air is hot, spicy and carries half heard whispers and songs - words are hard to pick out, but there is a definite feeling of otherness - the foreign - to their rhythm. Slowly I start to try to stand up, my body is lethargic but energy soon returns. A little warily I try to orient myself, but my eyes are filled with lush colours, intricate geometric patterns and occasional flashes of piercing sunlight. Overwhelmed by visual stimuli, I try to fix on other indications of life and I single out a female voice apparently coming from behind wallhangings somewhere off to my left. I move in its direction, stumbling slightly on something colourful, eventually reaching the rich depth of the wallhanging. Drawn on by the lilting voice, I try to find a way through the folds of the fabric, gradually losing myself as my mind refuses to truly comprehend my situation. Still the voice acts as a magnet, leading me through the darkness and eventually out into a shaded corner of another room.

As my eyes adjust to the lighting level, I finally view the grail, the prize, the reason for my quest . . . a young woman lying on the floor facing away from me. Without knowing, I feel the need to stay hidden . . listening and watching. The woman seems to be singing, but the words don't make any sense to me - well actually, the words don't make sense but the song somehow does. I can't help but think of "Someday my prince will come" from an old Disney picture or something. There seems to be a longing to it's sound. As I watch her, she runs her hand through her long dark hair . . . I can almost feel it tumbling silkily through my fingers. Her hand moves idly to her neck where she starts a slow massage, her body visibly slackens at her own touch. Somebody seems to be enjoying themselves!

Her tune changes and the new rhythm has lost none of the longing - in fact there seems to be a great deal more of it. Except now there doesn't seem to be the innocence of its predecessor . . . it's now about the search for a lover rather than some chivalrous royal. Her movements start to betray the change in mood too. She gently rolls over to end up lying on her back . . .her eyes are closed and head thrown back as the song becomes more earthy. Her hips are starting to move with the rhythm of her voice and her hands . . . her hands are moving over her breasts, rubbing and squeezing through the thin fabric of her brassiere top. Subconsciously I note that her nipples are responding to the stimulation - the sheer fabric hiding little beyond her modesty. The effects are obviously deeper still, as her voice takes on a husky edge . . . her breathing picking up a harsher timbre. Her left hand now appears to be snaking lower before disappear beneath the waistband of her silk pants. Within seconds the song is lost upon the air - replaced with ragged breathing and low moans of obvious delight.

By now I'm reacting on a basic level to this scene - both physically and mentally. My hand mindlessly moves to massage my cock through my shorts, whilst my feet start to move closer to the wondrous vision of a woman searching for ecstasy. Her rhythm builds with a steady inevitability, whilst my feet carry me ever closer. I drink in her olive skin, flat stomach and painted toes - my lust rises with every detail. Before I know it, I'm almost standing over her - my cock throbs painfully below my hand, her breathing reaches for some sort of crescendo, her smell fills my nostrils, my lips feel dry, I gulp with excitement. Her eyes flick open, a look of shock and fear flashes across her face as her hand freezes between her legs. Before I can react, her body starts to quiver and a deep moan escapes her lips - helpless I fall upon her and kiss deep.

The paralysis of surprise and ecstasy quickly melts away, her lips pulsing with hot animal lust. Her tongue darts towards mine and quickly pulls back to rim my lips frantically, then it's back deep in my mouth. I try to pull my attention away from this flickering flame of passion to take in my circumstances. My mind is still fogged with heat and confusion, leaving me unable to comprehend the situation on anything beyond an instinctual level. However base instinct seems the perfect way to respond to the snakelike, writhing creature below me. My hands clasp either side of her head firmly, whilst my mouth and tongue start to explore more of her face - plastering cheeks, chin, eyelids, forehead with wet kisses. Her breathing has settled slight from its climactic staccato beat, but each breath seems to be ripped from the air with a joyous lust. Finally I start my journey down across the wondrous terrain of her body, tracing a path with wet kisses, tender nibbles and hot animal breathing. Her skin tastes salty and faintly spicy, her musky smell building to overpower the clean scent of a recent bath.

Reaching her breasts, I am faced with a decision that I am unable to cope with in my delirium - but the situation is resolved by a hand tugging my head towards the left breast. My left hand claws the brassiere away from the firm flesh underneath - I feel like a kid finding a beautiful stone or shell previously hidden by a rock. The nipple revealed by my search is smallish, but stunning in it's perfection - it resembles nothing so much as a pearl freed from it's shell. As my lips move to meet its hardness, I somewhere note that it even has the saltiness of its cousin - this sweaty tang is soon replaced by the delicate spices I am slowly coming to know . . . and crave. Meanwhile my right hand has freed its partner and is squeezing the flesh in a manner I would normally feel was too aggressive. In my present state such manners and courtesy fail to hinder me and the woman appears to be grateful for the vigour of my actions. By now her voice has returned and, whilst the words remain mysterious, their meanings are understood on a truly basic level. As I suck the nipple into my mouth, running the edge of my teeth gently over its hardened surface, the air fills with urgent cries - I quickly switch to her other breast, her exclamations increasing in tempo until finally words seem to trip over themselves in the rush to be heard and she trails off into some sort of growl.

Suddenly refocusing on the larger situation, I realise her body is slackening below me - our mutual tension had built subconsciously, only I am still searching for relief. As in response to my silent request, she stirs and rolls me onto my back. For a second all I can see is blackness as her body looms over me. Soon I start to be pick out details as the shadows retreat - the brassiere hanging limply around her midriff, the light glistening on her saliva coated nipple, her dark hair hanging around her face like a velvet curtain . . . I glimpse an impish smile, teeth glinting hungrily and then she seems to vanish. My sluggish mind soon catches up as I feel tiny nails clawing at my waistband and a shower of hair upon my stomach. Instinctively I allow my head and shoulders to fall back to the ground, languid in expectation. The next step rapidly follows as I feel my cock released from my sweatpants - my bum being jerked up and down as the pants are vigorously pulled down to my calves,

Just as I start to relish the air around my cock and balls, I'm startled by hot, moist breath playing on my glans. Before I think about reacting I feel her lips clamping around my girth and steady suction beginning. I grunt something about her going too fast and my meaning must be obvious as her mouth becomes still and a hand moves to tightly grip the base of my cock. This gives me a chance to regain a little composure and to hold back the pressing urge to cum immediately. I move a hand to her silky hair and comb my fingers through it, caressing the back of her head and neck. She takes this as a signal to revive her assault on my penis and self-control. As her hand remains tight around the base of my cock, I feel her lips and the light touch of her teeth moving down to meet it. Her tongue swirls around my cock, seemingly touching it everywhere with flickering heat.

My fingers knot into her hair as the tension returns, my body tightening with the building pressure and expectation. Intuitively, she reads the signs, realising that now I need this release. The flickering sensation fades to be replaced with the velvet pressure of her sucking - lightly at first and then with building pressure, her mouth travelling up and down my pulsing rod. Soon my hips are following her mouth, trying to hang on to the moist warmth for as long as possible. Her movements start to speed up, the gentle sensuality being replaced raw animal lust. We move from being well oiled components in a pulsing machine to become the epitome of two beasts rutting raggedly as though their lives depended on the urgency of the act. A strange, almost non-human grunt escapes her lips before I lose all control and feel my hot cum splash deep into her throat. Almost immediately she chokes slightly and moves her face a little further away from my pelvis to allow my spurts to fill her mouth. The relief washes over me like a torrent of cool water - my senses overloading momentarily before returning with renewed clarity.

As I look down my body to see her raise her head, I am amazed by the rich brown, almost black colouring of her hair that showers either side of her face as moves to look at my face. Her skin is has a definite hint of brown , betraying some exotic heritage, and her teeth are a shock of white as she smiles at me . . . a tiny speck of my cum escaping onto her chin. My renewed clarity floods my mind with data about my surroundings - a garden like my own, with high conifer hedges. As I start to realise where I am, she says, "so neighbour, I'm Ghita . . . what's your name?"

Before I can answer, her hand lightly touches my cock on the way to grasping my own hand. Then she moves to pull me up and lead me towards her flat . . .