Wolfman124
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Well, that just got interesting! 
Whispers from Mossy Grove
- Thread starter Sweet_Lara
- Start date
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
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Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2018
- Posts
- 11,481
Rosy sighed and held the handwritten note to her breast. His words, so close to her heart, seared her flesh with urgent need.
She was with him, he on top of her, his hand at her privates exploring her like no man had ever. He, a little bit older, had taken his time with her, loving her mind, her words, her playfulness, before asking her permission for a kiss.
The kiss eventually would lead them, naked of any clothing and all inhibition, to her oversized bed with white linens, making love that lasted well into mid-day. His sex was a snug fit into hers, his hands were warm waves that teased her privates sending her to intense highs she had never experienced before but wanted more of.
He told her often how much pleasure she brought him in every way. She knew she pleased him physically.
She craved the soft growls he breathed into her ear just before his ravenous urgent grunts of release. He coaxed moans from her and encouraged her to let go and sound her own cries that could be quite loud.
They were just as eager to explore the world.
He would guide her on horseback — his black stallion leading her champagne mare — through trails of lush green countryside and then over brilliant white sands under towering cliffs on which heather grew in abundance.
As the horses grazed on the occasional beachgrass, nudging each other necks often, the couple walked hand-in-hand, her barefoot, in the sand.
Once, a flash caught his attention at the edge of a small sand pool. From the stubborn wet sand, he pulled a shell, which spilled its remaining bit of silt back into the shallow water.
Handing her the shell, she immediately put it to her ear, hearing the call of the sea as well as his intimate dirty whispers. She tucked the shell under her bodice, feeling the heat against her left breast and in the organ underneath, beating only for him.
As the couple fell in love, the stallion seemed to claim the mare as his. On the nights when the couple lay apart, the stallion could be heard whinnying for the mare, calling from the stable.
It was creation that destined Rosy and Randolph for a future together. It was the winds of man’s war that blew that future apart.
Rosy, sitting against the shade tree at Mossy Grove, pressed tightly to her naked breast the notes of love her soldier had written. She whispered his name through lips so dry from the salt of tears.
The champagne mare, grazing nearby, lifted her head and whinnied.
https://youtu.be/DhLsC2FpDZk
She was with him, he on top of her, his hand at her privates exploring her like no man had ever. He, a little bit older, had taken his time with her, loving her mind, her words, her playfulness, before asking her permission for a kiss.
The kiss eventually would lead them, naked of any clothing and all inhibition, to her oversized bed with white linens, making love that lasted well into mid-day. His sex was a snug fit into hers, his hands were warm waves that teased her privates sending her to intense highs she had never experienced before but wanted more of.
He told her often how much pleasure she brought him in every way. She knew she pleased him physically.
She craved the soft growls he breathed into her ear just before his ravenous urgent grunts of release. He coaxed moans from her and encouraged her to let go and sound her own cries that could be quite loud.
They were just as eager to explore the world.
He would guide her on horseback — his black stallion leading her champagne mare — through trails of lush green countryside and then over brilliant white sands under towering cliffs on which heather grew in abundance.
As the horses grazed on the occasional beachgrass, nudging each other necks often, the couple walked hand-in-hand, her barefoot, in the sand.
Once, a flash caught his attention at the edge of a small sand pool. From the stubborn wet sand, he pulled a shell, which spilled its remaining bit of silt back into the shallow water.
Handing her the shell, she immediately put it to her ear, hearing the call of the sea as well as his intimate dirty whispers. She tucked the shell under her bodice, feeling the heat against her left breast and in the organ underneath, beating only for him.
As the couple fell in love, the stallion seemed to claim the mare as his. On the nights when the couple lay apart, the stallion could be heard whinnying for the mare, calling from the stable.
It was creation that destined Rosy and Randolph for a future together. It was the winds of man’s war that blew that future apart.
Rosy, sitting against the shade tree at Mossy Grove, pressed tightly to her naked breast the notes of love her soldier had written. She whispered his name through lips so dry from the salt of tears.
The champagne mare, grazing nearby, lifted her head and whinnied.
https://youtu.be/DhLsC2FpDZk
Last edited:
Sweet_Lara
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The lilting sound of the piano concerto began to float on the air at Mossy Grove, the music particularly caressing Rosy as she leaned against the massive shade tree.
If the veil between the heavenly and earthly realms had lifted, an onlooker would have seen all sorts of musical notes trailing from the churning waters of the muddy bog and leading to the weeping woman.
Rosy ceased crying, turned up her bowed face to look at no-one. She strained to hear the music, which was becoming louder and more defined. She lurched forward, her heart leapt. She knew the music, the piece well.
Her well-traveled Randolph had introduced her, happily playing the recorded music for her on his gramophone. The first time, he kissed her. The second time, he touched her privates. The third time, he entered her. The fourth time, she shared her first climax with him, just as the concerto reached its own peak.
Rosy leaned back against the tree, freeing her breasts from her bodice. Her nipples already erect, she felt her cheeks blush with heat. Her privates igniting, she wiggled out of her panties and spread open her legs, feeling a wash of cool air collide with the heat from the place her Randolph had touched often. She closed her eyes, letting the music swell inside her while her flesh lay bare to the desires of her soldier.
The bog, unsettled, continued to send gentle waves of music toward Rosy, seducing her mind and flesh with her own memories.
Rosy was back with Randolph, her dress garments cast aside, her breasts heaving as his tongue explored her sex as no man had ever done. His tongue lashed against her unfurled bud, sending waves of pleasure throughout her valley, drenched in her own scent mixed with his spittle.
He pressed his fingers on either side of her clitoris, drawing out the fleshy bud while deeply massaging its glands underneath. He licked her clitoris, her thighs drawing tightly against his head, the pleasure almost unbearable.
Diverting attention away from her sensitive clitoris, he separated her folds with his tongue, taking his time to suck her engorged lips, pulling on them with his teeth while his fingers roamed her body and settled on exploring the depth of her valley, his fullness and rhythmic motion fulfilling her need to be entered and be made complete.
Making his Rosy gasp, he traced his fingers over delicate parts that one didn’t mention, let alone think of, in polite company.
Her flesh writhed in ecstasy under his touch, her desperate moans answering his dirty whispers, his name escaping her lips, his own sex, hard and pulsating against her flesh.
Climaxing, her cries drowned out the recorded music as her body thrashed in orgasmic bliss and shuddered uncontrollably. Her eyes half open, she watched him as he watched her.
He lifted his face to hers, kissing her fully as she came down from her high. Randolph held her as she whimpered, gaining back control, and placed his hand protectively over her sex as they laid, their flesh one.
Rosy, released from her memory by the whinny of the champagne mare, opened her eyes and sighed. She was cupping her own sex, her flesh still heaving from orgasm.
She leaned her head against the tree and closed her eyes. Randolph, she whispered, recalling how he delighted in bringing new experiences to his Rosy, especially the sexual ones. Afterward, he would explain the hows and whys of it all. He was a biology teacher after all.
The music at Mossy Grove had ceased. The bog was still, its occupant now settled contentedly at the bottom.
The champagne mare lifted its head from grazing and whinnied again, then stopped and began to listen as the steady sound of snapping twigs became louder and louder.
https://youtu.be/yJpJ8REjvqo
If the veil between the heavenly and earthly realms had lifted, an onlooker would have seen all sorts of musical notes trailing from the churning waters of the muddy bog and leading to the weeping woman.
Rosy ceased crying, turned up her bowed face to look at no-one. She strained to hear the music, which was becoming louder and more defined. She lurched forward, her heart leapt. She knew the music, the piece well.
Her well-traveled Randolph had introduced her, happily playing the recorded music for her on his gramophone. The first time, he kissed her. The second time, he touched her privates. The third time, he entered her. The fourth time, she shared her first climax with him, just as the concerto reached its own peak.
Rosy leaned back against the tree, freeing her breasts from her bodice. Her nipples already erect, she felt her cheeks blush with heat. Her privates igniting, she wiggled out of her panties and spread open her legs, feeling a wash of cool air collide with the heat from the place her Randolph had touched often. She closed her eyes, letting the music swell inside her while her flesh lay bare to the desires of her soldier.
The bog, unsettled, continued to send gentle waves of music toward Rosy, seducing her mind and flesh with her own memories.
Rosy was back with Randolph, her dress garments cast aside, her breasts heaving as his tongue explored her sex as no man had ever done. His tongue lashed against her unfurled bud, sending waves of pleasure throughout her valley, drenched in her own scent mixed with his spittle.
He pressed his fingers on either side of her clitoris, drawing out the fleshy bud while deeply massaging its glands underneath. He licked her clitoris, her thighs drawing tightly against his head, the pleasure almost unbearable.
Diverting attention away from her sensitive clitoris, he separated her folds with his tongue, taking his time to suck her engorged lips, pulling on them with his teeth while his fingers roamed her body and settled on exploring the depth of her valley, his fullness and rhythmic motion fulfilling her need to be entered and be made complete.
Making his Rosy gasp, he traced his fingers over delicate parts that one didn’t mention, let alone think of, in polite company.
Her flesh writhed in ecstasy under his touch, her desperate moans answering his dirty whispers, his name escaping her lips, his own sex, hard and pulsating against her flesh.
Climaxing, her cries drowned out the recorded music as her body thrashed in orgasmic bliss and shuddered uncontrollably. Her eyes half open, she watched him as he watched her.
He lifted his face to hers, kissing her fully as she came down from her high. Randolph held her as she whimpered, gaining back control, and placed his hand protectively over her sex as they laid, their flesh one.
Rosy, released from her memory by the whinny of the champagne mare, opened her eyes and sighed. She was cupping her own sex, her flesh still heaving from orgasm.
She leaned her head against the tree and closed her eyes. Randolph, she whispered, recalling how he delighted in bringing new experiences to his Rosy, especially the sexual ones. Afterward, he would explain the hows and whys of it all. He was a biology teacher after all.
The music at Mossy Grove had ceased. The bog was still, its occupant now settled contentedly at the bottom.
The champagne mare lifted its head from grazing and whinnied again, then stopped and began to listen as the steady sound of snapping twigs became louder and louder.
https://youtu.be/yJpJ8REjvqo
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
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- Sep 7, 2018
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Rosy stood and tucked her bare breasts back into her bodice, pulled up her panties and shimmied to straighten her skirt. Her privates were still buzzing from her orgasm.
A pair of muskrats busy building an underwater den caught her attention. They would poke their heads above the bog surface, quickly disappear only to present themselves a few feet away.
Rosy smiled, even letting out a quick laugh when one whiskered face had a slimy waterlily stalk draped over its nose.
Rosy looked over the water’s surface, trying to understand how the sounds of the piano concerto she heard a bit ago had sprang forth from the waters. Instinctively she knew they had. But how could that be, she thought. The music was so alive with Randolph. His touch was so real. The wet patch in her panties was proof.
She longed for her Randolph and willed the music to begin again, to flood her senses with his presence. She determined she would come to the bog every day in hopes she would experience him again. She needed more time with him, if just one more time to feel his flesh on hers.
A flash of light at the shoreline jarred Rosy from her thoughts. Stepping closer to the water’s edge, Rosy gasped as she looked down on a shell, a red whelk. Larger than the one Randolph had pulled from the shallow pool on the sea’s beach near the cliffs.
The shell’s aperture was tall and open, its long outer lip curving to join the inner lip. Rosy kneeled and placed her finger on the edge of the shell’s lip, tracing it until it met with the inner lip. Just as Randolph had done while she watched, explaining how the whelk shell in its very form was much like the anatomy of a woman.
Rosy blushed, her finger lingering on the edge of the pronounced lip, recalling how Randolph took his time tracing her own, first with his finger and then with his tongue.
While touching her flesh and prompting all sorts of tingles, he would use words like whorls, lids and operculums, causing Rosy to laugh at the most inopportune times especially when he was seducing her. Rosy adored his lessons and was an eager student.
Rosy picked up the shell and held it to her ear. The sound of the sea was joined by the whinny of a horse. Rosy turned to see the champagne mare had stopped grazing and was looking over to the forest’s edge. Rosy followed the mare’s gaze.
A black stallion with a rider emerged from the shadows. The rider was dressed in military uniform, a red wound stripe over the top pocket of his jacket.
Rosy stood, holding the shell to her breast, as the rider’s face became illuminated.
It was her Randolph, his perfect complexion blemished by a thin scar — still red — that trailed from the outer corner of his left eye to his cheek.
A pair of muskrats busy building an underwater den caught her attention. They would poke their heads above the bog surface, quickly disappear only to present themselves a few feet away.
Rosy smiled, even letting out a quick laugh when one whiskered face had a slimy waterlily stalk draped over its nose.
Rosy looked over the water’s surface, trying to understand how the sounds of the piano concerto she heard a bit ago had sprang forth from the waters. Instinctively she knew they had. But how could that be, she thought. The music was so alive with Randolph. His touch was so real. The wet patch in her panties was proof.
She longed for her Randolph and willed the music to begin again, to flood her senses with his presence. She determined she would come to the bog every day in hopes she would experience him again. She needed more time with him, if just one more time to feel his flesh on hers.
A flash of light at the shoreline jarred Rosy from her thoughts. Stepping closer to the water’s edge, Rosy gasped as she looked down on a shell, a red whelk. Larger than the one Randolph had pulled from the shallow pool on the sea’s beach near the cliffs.
The shell’s aperture was tall and open, its long outer lip curving to join the inner lip. Rosy kneeled and placed her finger on the edge of the shell’s lip, tracing it until it met with the inner lip. Just as Randolph had done while she watched, explaining how the whelk shell in its very form was much like the anatomy of a woman.
Rosy blushed, her finger lingering on the edge of the pronounced lip, recalling how Randolph took his time tracing her own, first with his finger and then with his tongue.
While touching her flesh and prompting all sorts of tingles, he would use words like whorls, lids and operculums, causing Rosy to laugh at the most inopportune times especially when he was seducing her. Rosy adored his lessons and was an eager student.
Rosy picked up the shell and held it to her ear. The sound of the sea was joined by the whinny of a horse. Rosy turned to see the champagne mare had stopped grazing and was looking over to the forest’s edge. Rosy followed the mare’s gaze.
A black stallion with a rider emerged from the shadows. The rider was dressed in military uniform, a red wound stripe over the top pocket of his jacket.
Rosy stood, holding the shell to her breast, as the rider’s face became illuminated.
It was her Randolph, his perfect complexion blemished by a thin scar — still red — that trailed from the outer corner of his left eye to his cheek.
Last edited:
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
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Rosy and Randolph lay together on the bed of soft moss under the pine, his arm wrapped around her, holding her tightly against his flesh. Her breasts still heaving from orgasms they had shared together.
She took his cock, well spent, into her hand, holding it, not wanting their intimate circle to be broken. His lips nuzzled her neck and every so often whispered her name.
Lovers together again after they thought they had been lost to each other forever. They delighted in rediscovering each other’s bodies, reigniting each other’s pleasure points, hearing each other moan. They kissed and touched, taking their time, which was forever in the magic of Mossy Grove.
Randolph had been especially attentive with kisses to Rosy’s face and body, his lips sometimes quick hits, other times locking long and hard. He lingered on her body, enjoying the saltiness of her skin and the tastiness of her privates.
His passion was fueled by Rosy’s touches to his flesh, lingering on his cock and balls with ample attention to his nipples and that place just below his ear. Randolph gasped when her fingers sought that place below his balls making his cock rock hard.
He needed to fill her. He needed to feel her.
He lifted from her, spread open her legs and gazed at her perfect pussy, pink and open, just as the red whelk shell. One lip more pronounced than the other. Her opening glistening with moisture. She moaned in anticipation of his erect cock filling her with his essence, his desire bringing forth her own.
Fuck me, Randolph, she murmured, grasping her breasts and pinching her nipples.
Nearby, the black stallion, grazing on fiddlehead ferns, raised his head and gently bit the neck of the champagne mare.
Randolph plunged his cock halfway into his sweet Rosy’s pussy, with deliberate short strokes, his cock lubricating itself with both their juices.
Her hips thrusting up to meet his, Randolph slid his cock fully inside, filling her and settled into a rhythmic motion, his cock firmly inside. He leaned forward, kissing her lips, his steady movement gliding over her clitoris.
Slow and steady he fucked her. Her hands on occasion grasping his ass and pulling it toward her, sending his cock even deeper. Her fingers sought the place deep between his ass cheeks, causing him to rise off her, and arch his back in sudden bliss.
His rhythm grew faster, his groans louder and more urgent as were hers.
His seed spilled inside her just as she cried out her orgasm. Their bodies spasmed together in unison, under the moon, its brilliant shine lighting the sky with the help of some fireflies.
https://youtu.be/OVN-2qoquyE
sunshine and the seventies. sigh.
She took his cock, well spent, into her hand, holding it, not wanting their intimate circle to be broken. His lips nuzzled her neck and every so often whispered her name.
Lovers together again after they thought they had been lost to each other forever. They delighted in rediscovering each other’s bodies, reigniting each other’s pleasure points, hearing each other moan. They kissed and touched, taking their time, which was forever in the magic of Mossy Grove.
Randolph had been especially attentive with kisses to Rosy’s face and body, his lips sometimes quick hits, other times locking long and hard. He lingered on her body, enjoying the saltiness of her skin and the tastiness of her privates.
His passion was fueled by Rosy’s touches to his flesh, lingering on his cock and balls with ample attention to his nipples and that place just below his ear. Randolph gasped when her fingers sought that place below his balls making his cock rock hard.
He needed to fill her. He needed to feel her.
He lifted from her, spread open her legs and gazed at her perfect pussy, pink and open, just as the red whelk shell. One lip more pronounced than the other. Her opening glistening with moisture. She moaned in anticipation of his erect cock filling her with his essence, his desire bringing forth her own.
Fuck me, Randolph, she murmured, grasping her breasts and pinching her nipples.
Nearby, the black stallion, grazing on fiddlehead ferns, raised his head and gently bit the neck of the champagne mare.
Randolph plunged his cock halfway into his sweet Rosy’s pussy, with deliberate short strokes, his cock lubricating itself with both their juices.
Her hips thrusting up to meet his, Randolph slid his cock fully inside, filling her and settled into a rhythmic motion, his cock firmly inside. He leaned forward, kissing her lips, his steady movement gliding over her clitoris.
Slow and steady he fucked her. Her hands on occasion grasping his ass and pulling it toward her, sending his cock even deeper. Her fingers sought the place deep between his ass cheeks, causing him to rise off her, and arch his back in sudden bliss.
His rhythm grew faster, his groans louder and more urgent as were hers.
His seed spilled inside her just as she cried out her orgasm. Their bodies spasmed together in unison, under the moon, its brilliant shine lighting the sky with the help of some fireflies.
https://youtu.be/OVN-2qoquyE
sunshine and the seventies. sigh.
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
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The lovers stood at the edge of the bog as soft sounds of a piano concerto rose from the water and carried on a light wind throughout Mossy Grove.
Light from the moon illuminated the couple as they stood, him behind her, his flesh pressed into hers. His arms wrapped around her waist, her backside resting against his swollen cock.
His hands on occasion would lift to her full breasts, no longer covered by the wrap loosely around her shoulders. His fingers on her nipples would send a rush of pleasure to her privates, prompting her to open her thighs, willing him to enter her from behind.
His mouth whispered dirty thoughts against her neck as she stood mesmerized by the Milky Way, a broad swath of clustered stars and gases, a mixture of brilliant purples, golds and greens.
Randolph raised his face from her neck to witness with her the beauty of the night sky, a topic they had discussed in length many times over.
I have loved the stars too truly, he quoted the English poetess, to be fearful of the night.
Rosy smiled, and turned her face toward his, intent on kissing his handsome face, his enticing lips. Her gaze though hung on the facial scar, so prominent in the moonlight.
A wave of sadness washed over her heart, and she felt her own tear trailing over her cheek. She raised her hand, tracing her finger on the thin red line that extended from the corner of his eye to his cheek. Damn war.
He hugged her tightly, then wiped the tear from her cheek. He turned her face toward the sky and whispered, pick a point of light.
Rosy cast her gaze on the brightest star she could find and watched as he held his finger over it and wrote in starlight.
I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.
Tears streamed from her eyes as together they watched the words of the message slowly dissipate and disappear from the slate of the night sky. His words, though, just as his scar, were now permanently etched on her heart.
She turned toward him, her mouth seeking his, her flesh seeking his. They hugged each other tightly, her naked breasts pressing firmly against the puncture wound over his heart.
https://youtu.be/gBi7S7Gjk5s
Light from the moon illuminated the couple as they stood, him behind her, his flesh pressed into hers. His arms wrapped around her waist, her backside resting against his swollen cock.
His hands on occasion would lift to her full breasts, no longer covered by the wrap loosely around her shoulders. His fingers on her nipples would send a rush of pleasure to her privates, prompting her to open her thighs, willing him to enter her from behind.
His mouth whispered dirty thoughts against her neck as she stood mesmerized by the Milky Way, a broad swath of clustered stars and gases, a mixture of brilliant purples, golds and greens.
Randolph raised his face from her neck to witness with her the beauty of the night sky, a topic they had discussed in length many times over.
I have loved the stars too truly, he quoted the English poetess, to be fearful of the night.
Rosy smiled, and turned her face toward his, intent on kissing his handsome face, his enticing lips. Her gaze though hung on the facial scar, so prominent in the moonlight.
A wave of sadness washed over her heart, and she felt her own tear trailing over her cheek. She raised her hand, tracing her finger on the thin red line that extended from the corner of his eye to his cheek. Damn war.
He hugged her tightly, then wiped the tear from her cheek. He turned her face toward the sky and whispered, pick a point of light.
Rosy cast her gaze on the brightest star she could find and watched as he held his finger over it and wrote in starlight.
I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.
Tears streamed from her eyes as together they watched the words of the message slowly dissipate and disappear from the slate of the night sky. His words, though, just as his scar, were now permanently etched on her heart.
She turned toward him, her mouth seeking his, her flesh seeking his. They hugged each other tightly, her naked breasts pressing firmly against the puncture wound over his heart.
https://youtu.be/gBi7S7Gjk5s
Last edited:
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
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His arm extended, her hand in his, they danced, their path illuminated by fifty shades of red of the early dawn.
He guided his Rosy over the earthen dance floor in an effortless glide, as notes of the piano concerto drifted through the air. Her breasts rested against his chest, her flesh desperate to feel his heart beat.
Randolph stumbled, and they stopped. Rosy opened her eyes and followed his gaze downward. A whelk shell, still wet, awash on the shoreline of the bog next to Randolph’s foot.
Aha! Randolph exclaimed, looking downward, his arm still extended, his hand still holding Rosy’s. Turning his gaze from the shell to Rosy, he smiled broadly and winked at his lover.
Randolph let go of Rosy’s hand and pickedup the shell, shaking loose its silt back into the water.
Rosy immediately noticed the shell’s outer lip, prominent, its vertical line following the rosy pink opening. Her mouth turned upward in a short smile as she felt pleasure spark in her privates, a bubble-like feeling of wet ready to escape the opening of her well.
Randolph, holding the shell securely against his chest with his left hand, took Rosy’s hand and led her into the meadow to the huge oak.
Mossy Grove stirred as the pre-dawn sky was giving way to a brilliant sunrise casting warm light on the landscape. A trio of white-throated sparrows chased one another through the flower tops, looking for early seed and establishing dominance.
Randolph picked a few honeysuckle blooms from a shrub, holding them under Rosy’s nose. The sweet scent of the blooms were intoxicating. Rosy breathed deeply, each intake bringing the scent to her core. Randolph delightedly watched her ample breasts heave, her nipples erect from the cool of the dawn as well as from anticipation.
He touched her left nipple and watched her areola pucker, her glands become prominent. He lowered his mouth to her left point and sucked. Rosy gasped, the bubble of pussy juice fully lubricating her privates.
Randolph, still holding the shell against his chest, lifted his mouth to hers. His flesh against hers, Rosy felt the shell pressed between them. And then the vibration.
The earth began to move under their feet.
Now, Randolph, now, she whispered.
Randolph guided her to the ground, and opened her legs wide. Her pussy pink and wet as the shell. He held the shell, vibrating from his energy, to her clitoris. Rosy moaned as the vibration ignited the pleasure her flesh.
Randolph traced Rosy’s outer lip with the shell, vibrating her pussy as she writhed and moaned with each pass. He watched as her bud became erect, released from its covering. He knew when to ease the intensity, allowing Rosy to savor her rise toward orgasm.
Her hips gyrated in a rhythmic pace as Randolph touched the shell just to the side of her clitoris, pressing it so the vibrations connected to the organ deep within her pussy.
He knew she was near. Her short gasps. Her facial grimaces. Her eyes closed, this time.
Rosy climaxed, crying out as her pleasure peaked and radiated throughout her body, twitching in short bursts of involuntary spasms.
He watched as she came down from her high. Her mouth in a smile, a giggle. Her eyes beginning to focus. Her whimpers ceasing.
Randolph held the shell to his chest. It was still and silent. He lowered himself to Rosy, protectively covering her quivering pussy and mound with his hand. Together, they slumbered as the sun continued to rise.
https://youtu.be/6913KnbMpHM
He guided his Rosy over the earthen dance floor in an effortless glide, as notes of the piano concerto drifted through the air. Her breasts rested against his chest, her flesh desperate to feel his heart beat.
Randolph stumbled, and they stopped. Rosy opened her eyes and followed his gaze downward. A whelk shell, still wet, awash on the shoreline of the bog next to Randolph’s foot.
Aha! Randolph exclaimed, looking downward, his arm still extended, his hand still holding Rosy’s. Turning his gaze from the shell to Rosy, he smiled broadly and winked at his lover.
Randolph let go of Rosy’s hand and pickedup the shell, shaking loose its silt back into the water.
Rosy immediately noticed the shell’s outer lip, prominent, its vertical line following the rosy pink opening. Her mouth turned upward in a short smile as she felt pleasure spark in her privates, a bubble-like feeling of wet ready to escape the opening of her well.
Randolph, holding the shell securely against his chest with his left hand, took Rosy’s hand and led her into the meadow to the huge oak.
Mossy Grove stirred as the pre-dawn sky was giving way to a brilliant sunrise casting warm light on the landscape. A trio of white-throated sparrows chased one another through the flower tops, looking for early seed and establishing dominance.
Randolph picked a few honeysuckle blooms from a shrub, holding them under Rosy’s nose. The sweet scent of the blooms were intoxicating. Rosy breathed deeply, each intake bringing the scent to her core. Randolph delightedly watched her ample breasts heave, her nipples erect from the cool of the dawn as well as from anticipation.
He touched her left nipple and watched her areola pucker, her glands become prominent. He lowered his mouth to her left point and sucked. Rosy gasped, the bubble of pussy juice fully lubricating her privates.
Randolph, still holding the shell against his chest, lifted his mouth to hers. His flesh against hers, Rosy felt the shell pressed between them. And then the vibration.
The earth began to move under their feet.
Now, Randolph, now, she whispered.
Randolph guided her to the ground, and opened her legs wide. Her pussy pink and wet as the shell. He held the shell, vibrating from his energy, to her clitoris. Rosy moaned as the vibration ignited the pleasure her flesh.
Randolph traced Rosy’s outer lip with the shell, vibrating her pussy as she writhed and moaned with each pass. He watched as her bud became erect, released from its covering. He knew when to ease the intensity, allowing Rosy to savor her rise toward orgasm.
Her hips gyrated in a rhythmic pace as Randolph touched the shell just to the side of her clitoris, pressing it so the vibrations connected to the organ deep within her pussy.
He knew she was near. Her short gasps. Her facial grimaces. Her eyes closed, this time.
Rosy climaxed, crying out as her pleasure peaked and radiated throughout her body, twitching in short bursts of involuntary spasms.
He watched as she came down from her high. Her mouth in a smile, a giggle. Her eyes beginning to focus. Her whimpers ceasing.
Randolph held the shell to his chest. It was still and silent. He lowered himself to Rosy, protectively covering her quivering pussy and mound with his hand. Together, they slumbered as the sun continued to rise.
https://youtu.be/6913KnbMpHM
Sweet_Lara
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The huge oak tree in the meadow shaded the naked lovers who lay in slumber under its protective canopy.
His arm was draped around her, his hand still cupping her pussy and mound. Her hands, palm to palm, were her makeshift pillow on which she rested her head as she slept on her side, her buttocks pressed against his groin.
Away from the meadow, the bog began to stir, its surface steadily turning over on itself as waters churned.
A pair of geese, which had been feeding in the bog’s shallow waters, took flight and flew directly over the sleeping couple on their way out of Mossy Grove.
Five white-tail deer, grazing among the cosmos in the meadow, suddenly stood on alert, their necks tall, their ears twitching before flashing their tails in exodus to the safety of the woods.
A squirrel, perched high in a tree, sent out a static alarm to all of creation, now silent and scarce.
Randolph opened his eyes to the critter’s alarm. He felt her softness against his hand, and without thinking dipped his fingers gently into her wetness and explored, feeling his own sex coming alive against her. She moaned in her sleep and stirred but didn’t wake.
The critter’s incessant chatter had stopped and had been replaced by the soft sounds of a piano concerto wafting through the meadow. It was particularly seductive, and Randolph’s cock was fully erect.
Mesmerized by the music and overcome by physical drive, Randolph raised his hand to his nose, inhaling deeply Rosy’s intoxicating pussy on his fingers. His cock twitched. He sucked his fingers and went back to the well for more. He smelled her again. And tasted her some more as the music floated over him.
He pulled away from Rosy, touching his cockhead with his fingers, wet with her juice. He circled his slit, combining his precum with her stickiness.
His pleasure indescribable as the music surrounded his shaft, massaging it with each note, staccato vibrations tapping his cockhead, sending steady waves around his rim. Gasping, Randolph wrapped his hand around his length and began stroking like a madman desperate to cum.
Rosy still slept as Randolph stood, his cock raging in his hand, stroking furiously as musical notes surrounded his shaft in continuous sound. In a state of sexual daze, he stared toward the bog, where his seductress was on her way to orgasm.
His eyes were cast on the churning waters of the bog, her song in his ears, her song around his cock.
He failed to hear the rustling of something snaking its way toward him through the tall flowers of the meadow. He failed to see the wave-like movements of the weedy stalks as that something moved closer.
Nearby, Tomcat watched, never taking his hazel eyes off the apparent path of the approacher. He crouched as closely to the ground as possible, making himself small, anticipating the inevitable. She’s not supposed to do this, he thought.
Tomcat watched as Randolph, still pounding his erect cock, arched his back and grunted thunderously in orgasm, sending his cum high into the air.
As he climaxed, a slick tentacle sprang from the meadow, intercepting his ample cum, feeding frenziedly on it.
Tomcat closed his eyes in anticipation of the thunderous boom, this one from the heavens. A bolt of lightning struck the huge oak tree, toppling it over on the tentacle. The damaged tentacle retreated slowly back into the bog, and disappeared beneath the surface with a few bubbles.
Rosy, on her feet at Randolph’s side, stared in silence at the toppled tree and the stump left behind in the meadow at Mossy Grove.
His arm was draped around her, his hand still cupping her pussy and mound. Her hands, palm to palm, were her makeshift pillow on which she rested her head as she slept on her side, her buttocks pressed against his groin.
Away from the meadow, the bog began to stir, its surface steadily turning over on itself as waters churned.
A pair of geese, which had been feeding in the bog’s shallow waters, took flight and flew directly over the sleeping couple on their way out of Mossy Grove.
Five white-tail deer, grazing among the cosmos in the meadow, suddenly stood on alert, their necks tall, their ears twitching before flashing their tails in exodus to the safety of the woods.
A squirrel, perched high in a tree, sent out a static alarm to all of creation, now silent and scarce.
Randolph opened his eyes to the critter’s alarm. He felt her softness against his hand, and without thinking dipped his fingers gently into her wetness and explored, feeling his own sex coming alive against her. She moaned in her sleep and stirred but didn’t wake.
The critter’s incessant chatter had stopped and had been replaced by the soft sounds of a piano concerto wafting through the meadow. It was particularly seductive, and Randolph’s cock was fully erect.
Mesmerized by the music and overcome by physical drive, Randolph raised his hand to his nose, inhaling deeply Rosy’s intoxicating pussy on his fingers. His cock twitched. He sucked his fingers and went back to the well for more. He smelled her again. And tasted her some more as the music floated over him.
He pulled away from Rosy, touching his cockhead with his fingers, wet with her juice. He circled his slit, combining his precum with her stickiness.
His pleasure indescribable as the music surrounded his shaft, massaging it with each note, staccato vibrations tapping his cockhead, sending steady waves around his rim. Gasping, Randolph wrapped his hand around his length and began stroking like a madman desperate to cum.
Rosy still slept as Randolph stood, his cock raging in his hand, stroking furiously as musical notes surrounded his shaft in continuous sound. In a state of sexual daze, he stared toward the bog, where his seductress was on her way to orgasm.
His eyes were cast on the churning waters of the bog, her song in his ears, her song around his cock.
He failed to hear the rustling of something snaking its way toward him through the tall flowers of the meadow. He failed to see the wave-like movements of the weedy stalks as that something moved closer.
Nearby, Tomcat watched, never taking his hazel eyes off the apparent path of the approacher. He crouched as closely to the ground as possible, making himself small, anticipating the inevitable. She’s not supposed to do this, he thought.
Tomcat watched as Randolph, still pounding his erect cock, arched his back and grunted thunderously in orgasm, sending his cum high into the air.
As he climaxed, a slick tentacle sprang from the meadow, intercepting his ample cum, feeding frenziedly on it.
Tomcat closed his eyes in anticipation of the thunderous boom, this one from the heavens. A bolt of lightning struck the huge oak tree, toppling it over on the tentacle. The damaged tentacle retreated slowly back into the bog, and disappeared beneath the surface with a few bubbles.
Rosy, on her feet at Randolph’s side, stared in silence at the toppled tree and the stump left behind in the meadow at Mossy Grove.
Last edited:
Sweet_Lara
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Willa, sitting on the weathered old stump in the meadow of Mossy Grove, braided Pearl’s hair, mixing in wild daisies with each twist.
The two women, naked, were swapping stories of past lovers, some of their experiences more memorable than others.
Pearl had some wild stories, one involving a road trip across the country and another an all-out hippie fest where every one ended up singing and naked.
Willa shared a story about a souvenir shell. Pearl busted out laughing, laying her head back onto Willa’s lap.
You think that’s funny, huh, Willa said, starting to laugh. She closed her legs tightly around Pearl, immobilizing her friend, and started singing and strumming her friend’s nipples that had been presented so graciously. Pearl set her guitar to the side, reached back over her head and started fiddling with Willa’s nipples.
The women’s soft moans as they pleasured each other carried on the wind at Mossy Grove over to the bog.
Tomcat’s ears immediately perked and he rose and headed into the meadow where the flowers grow so incredibly high. He only needed to follow the scent, the delicious scent of the two women whose pussies were watering with each other’s touch.
Tomcat arrived just in time to see Pearl rise, the points of her tits brushing against Willa’s face. Willa tried to latch onto Pearl’s left nipple but Pearl had already backed away, grabbing Willa’s hand.
Pearl prompted Willa to lay in the meadow among the tall wildflowers, the sun blazing on their flesh, already electrified. They lay side by side touching each other, gently at first, then more deliberate as their rise to orgasm was fully engaged.
Tomcat had lept up onto the stump to get a better view of the women masturbating each other. The smell was heavenly. Their moans pleasing. Their hands on each other’s sex, mesmerizing.
Tomcat’s tail, twitching, thumped against the stump as he watched the women’s fuzzy mounds rise rhythmically as their orgasms neared.
Willa cried out first with Pearl not too far behind. Their climaxes, close to perfect harmony, echoed throughout creation and filled the heavens with glee.
The two women, naked, were swapping stories of past lovers, some of their experiences more memorable than others.
Pearl had some wild stories, one involving a road trip across the country and another an all-out hippie fest where every one ended up singing and naked.
Willa shared a story about a souvenir shell. Pearl busted out laughing, laying her head back onto Willa’s lap.
You think that’s funny, huh, Willa said, starting to laugh. She closed her legs tightly around Pearl, immobilizing her friend, and started singing and strumming her friend’s nipples that had been presented so graciously. Pearl set her guitar to the side, reached back over her head and started fiddling with Willa’s nipples.
The women’s soft moans as they pleasured each other carried on the wind at Mossy Grove over to the bog.
Tomcat’s ears immediately perked and he rose and headed into the meadow where the flowers grow so incredibly high. He only needed to follow the scent, the delicious scent of the two women whose pussies were watering with each other’s touch.
Tomcat arrived just in time to see Pearl rise, the points of her tits brushing against Willa’s face. Willa tried to latch onto Pearl’s left nipple but Pearl had already backed away, grabbing Willa’s hand.
Pearl prompted Willa to lay in the meadow among the tall wildflowers, the sun blazing on their flesh, already electrified. They lay side by side touching each other, gently at first, then more deliberate as their rise to orgasm was fully engaged.
Tomcat had lept up onto the stump to get a better view of the women masturbating each other. The smell was heavenly. Their moans pleasing. Their hands on each other’s sex, mesmerizing.
Tomcat’s tail, twitching, thumped against the stump as he watched the women’s fuzzy mounds rise rhythmically as their orgasms neared.
Willa cried out first with Pearl not too far behind. Their climaxes, close to perfect harmony, echoed throughout creation and filled the heavens with glee.
Sweet_Lara
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Wild honeysuckle shrubs, their tight buds now full blossoms, filled the air with the sweetest of scents.
Tomcat, lazily draped on the old stump in the meadow, was thinking about the women’s orgasms, playing them over and over in his pea-sized brain. He might argue about whether the honeysuckle is the sweetest of all scents at Mossy Grove but that debate can be taken up later.
The women, nearly asleep, lay side by side on their backs, naked and spread eagle, exhausted and satiated. If they had opened their eyes, they would have seen the sky, no longer a brilliant blue, but a palette of all shades purple turning over on itself, the sun still shining.
Tomcat watched as the yellow butterfly circled over the women several times before landing on Pearl’s left nipple. Tomcat lifted his head, licked his chops and watched Pearl’s nipple become erect as the butterfly danced on her point.
Pearl flinched and opened her eyes. She giggled.
Yah, you got my attention, man, she said, raising up, touching her nipple just as the butterfly took off in flight toward the pink and white honeysuckle blossoms.
Aww, man, come back, she shouted after her friend. Stick around for the show.
Pearl laid back down and looked beyond her pointed mounds to the swirling colors of a disturbed sky. The purple haze celebration was climaxing. Pearl reached over and shook Willa’s shoulder.
Wake up, girlie, this one is for you. Look up, this is your show, just for you.
Willa opened her eyes. She still was in that delicious heated cocoon of sunshine. She rubbed her eyes and looked over at Pearl, who pointed skyward.
Willa eyes widened as the majestic show was revealing itself in the heavens. The sky cracked open, the veil lifted, the heavenly stage was brilliantly lit. They were there, Willa’s picks, backstage, about to come out.
Willa’s pussy gushed. She looked over at her friend, who was beaming.
Thanks, girlie, this means the world to me, Pearl said, taking Willa’s hand. Willa noticed the tears in her friend’s eyes.
The show was about to begin.
And Willa and Pearl, naked and still spread eagle in the meadow, had a front-row seat.
https://youtu.be/ju9yFA1S7K8
https://youtu.be/th04azA3ueg
Tomcat, lazily draped on the old stump in the meadow, was thinking about the women’s orgasms, playing them over and over in his pea-sized brain. He might argue about whether the honeysuckle is the sweetest of all scents at Mossy Grove but that debate can be taken up later.
The women, nearly asleep, lay side by side on their backs, naked and spread eagle, exhausted and satiated. If they had opened their eyes, they would have seen the sky, no longer a brilliant blue, but a palette of all shades purple turning over on itself, the sun still shining.
Tomcat watched as the yellow butterfly circled over the women several times before landing on Pearl’s left nipple. Tomcat lifted his head, licked his chops and watched Pearl’s nipple become erect as the butterfly danced on her point.
Pearl flinched and opened her eyes. She giggled.
Yah, you got my attention, man, she said, raising up, touching her nipple just as the butterfly took off in flight toward the pink and white honeysuckle blossoms.
Aww, man, come back, she shouted after her friend. Stick around for the show.
Pearl laid back down and looked beyond her pointed mounds to the swirling colors of a disturbed sky. The purple haze celebration was climaxing. Pearl reached over and shook Willa’s shoulder.
Wake up, girlie, this one is for you. Look up, this is your show, just for you.
Willa opened her eyes. She still was in that delicious heated cocoon of sunshine. She rubbed her eyes and looked over at Pearl, who pointed skyward.
Willa eyes widened as the majestic show was revealing itself in the heavens. The sky cracked open, the veil lifted, the heavenly stage was brilliantly lit. They were there, Willa’s picks, backstage, about to come out.
Willa’s pussy gushed. She looked over at her friend, who was beaming.
Thanks, girlie, this means the world to me, Pearl said, taking Willa’s hand. Willa noticed the tears in her friend’s eyes.
The show was about to begin.
And Willa and Pearl, naked and still spread eagle in the meadow, had a front-row seat.
https://youtu.be/ju9yFA1S7K8
https://youtu.be/th04azA3ueg
Last edited:
Sweet_Lara
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Willa, her eyes closed, could feel the music as it swirled from the heavens, teasing her naked body, caressing her flesh with a steady beat. On her back, her hips rocked from side to side as she felt his groove surging through her body. The meadow was filled with music and color.
Willa moaned, recalling the passion of his lovemaking when he was allowed to cross over and visit the meadow.
Lost in that past, she felt his lips tracing ever so lightly up her inner thighs on their way to her sex, throbbing in anticipation. Willa moaned, then opened her eyes and glanced sideways to see if Pearl had heard.
Beautiful Pearl was standing, her naked body gyrating to the music from the heavens, lost in song, reunited with old friends. Pearl’s eyes were closed, her mouth in a smile, her hands lifted to the heavens. Pearl was in her own ecstasy.
Willa happy, closed her eyes and whispered his name.
He was there with her, breathing into her ear, his words naughty. Willa felt his hand on her pussy, his fingers eagerly spreading her lips, swirling her ample juice. His words still naughty.
Yes, please, she cried.
She was forced over on her belly. His strong hands were on her thighs and without delay he lifted her ass, her tits hanging just off the ground.
She heard him growl with desire, and knew he was surveying her pussy, deliciously presented to him through her backside. Her pussy lips saturated. She was dripping.
He grabbed her ass cheeks and buried his face in her wet pussy, lapping her juices and sucking her folds. Willa moaned and squirmed, pushing her pussy against his face. She could hear him eating her.
He was now sucking her clitoris. Willa, overwhelmed, gave in and felt her pussy gush. Her cries of orgasm sent him into a frenzy to climax. He lifted himself from her pussy, grabbed her ass and guided his rock hard cock into her hole and began pumping.
Pulling her hair, he rode her hard, watching his cock appear and disappear into her pussy hole. He let out a thunderous groan and shot his load into her.
Spent, together they collapsed onto the earth, and the band played on.
Willa moaned, recalling the passion of his lovemaking when he was allowed to cross over and visit the meadow.
Lost in that past, she felt his lips tracing ever so lightly up her inner thighs on their way to her sex, throbbing in anticipation. Willa moaned, then opened her eyes and glanced sideways to see if Pearl had heard.
Beautiful Pearl was standing, her naked body gyrating to the music from the heavens, lost in song, reunited with old friends. Pearl’s eyes were closed, her mouth in a smile, her hands lifted to the heavens. Pearl was in her own ecstasy.
Willa happy, closed her eyes and whispered his name.
He was there with her, breathing into her ear, his words naughty. Willa felt his hand on her pussy, his fingers eagerly spreading her lips, swirling her ample juice. His words still naughty.
Yes, please, she cried.
She was forced over on her belly. His strong hands were on her thighs and without delay he lifted her ass, her tits hanging just off the ground.
She heard him growl with desire, and knew he was surveying her pussy, deliciously presented to him through her backside. Her pussy lips saturated. She was dripping.
He grabbed her ass cheeks and buried his face in her wet pussy, lapping her juices and sucking her folds. Willa moaned and squirmed, pushing her pussy against his face. She could hear him eating her.
He was now sucking her clitoris. Willa, overwhelmed, gave in and felt her pussy gush. Her cries of orgasm sent him into a frenzy to climax. He lifted himself from her pussy, grabbed her ass and guided his rock hard cock into her hole and began pumping.
Pulling her hair, he rode her hard, watching his cock appear and disappear into her pussy hole. He let out a thunderous groan and shot his load into her.
Spent, together they collapsed onto the earth, and the band played on.
Last edited:
Wolfman124
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Nice!
Cabooseluvr
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Yummy!
Now that was exceptionally HOT
Now that was exceptionally HOT
Willa, her eyes closed, could feel the music as it swirled from the heavens, teasing her naked body, caressing her flesh with a steady beat. On her back, her hips rocked from side to side as she felt his groove surging through her body. The meadow was filled with music and color.
Willa moaned, recalling the passion of his lovemaking when he was allowed to cross over and visit the meadow.
Lost in that past, she felt his lips tracing ever so lightly up her inner thighs on their way to her sex, throbbing in anticipation. Willa moaned, then opened her eyes and glanced sideways to see if Pearl had heard.
Beautiful Pearl was standing, her naked body gyrating to the music from the heavens, lost in song, reunited with old friends. Pearl’s eyes were closed, her mouth in a smile, her hands lifted to the heavens. Pearl was in her own ecstasy.
Willa happy, closed her eyes and whispered his name.
He was there with her, breathing into her ear, his words naughty. Willa felt his hand on her pussy, his fingers eagerly spreading her lips, swirling her ample juice. His words still naughty.
Yes, please, she cried.
She was forced over on her belly. His strong hands were on her thighs and without delay he lifted her ass, her tits hanging just off the ground.
She heard him growl with desire, and knew he was surveying her pussy, deliciously presented to him through her backside. Her pussy lips saturated. She was dripping.
He grabbed her ass cheeks and buried his face in her wet pussy, lapping her juices and sucking her folds. Willa moaned and squirmed, pushing her pussy against his face. She could hear him eating her.
He was now sucking her clitoris. Willa, overwhelmed, gave in and felt her pussy gush. Her cries of orgasm sent him into a frenzy to climax. He lifted himself from her pussy, grabbed her ass and guided his rock hard cock into her hole and began pumping.
Pulling her hair, he rode her hard, watching his cock appear and disappear into her pussy hole. He let out a thunderous groan and shot his load into her.
Spent, together they collapsed onto the earth, and the band played on.
jp55665566
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clap hands
Sweet_Lara
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Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
- Joined
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- Posts
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Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
- Joined
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Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
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The couple stood at the bog’s edge, naked and holding hands, staring at the still water.
Randolph had just finished telling Rosy once more the incredible story of how the tentacle came out of nowhere, devoured his seed just before the lightning strike collapsed the meadow tree sending the tentacle recoiling back into the bog.
What the hell is down there? Randolph wondered out loud as his Rosy leaned her face against his chest.
Half-listening, she shuddered at the thought of what could be below the water’s surface. She couldn’t help though but stare at Randolph’s smooth flesh punctuated with a ragged wound just over his heart. She wanted to touch it but that would make things real. And she did not want to deal with real.
Oh, let’s not worry about that, she said, turning away from the bog and leading Randolph over a short ways to the shade tree, this one still thriving, still reaching for the heavens.
The champagne mare and black stallion had retreated into the woods, lured by the promise of sweet, young fiddleheads.
Rosy, already sitting crosslegged, patted the ground in front of her for Randolph. They sat facing each other, their sexes exposed to each other.
Just like the red whelk, Randolph observed, his gaze switching back and forth from her facial lips to her pussy lips. Rosy, quite aware, was amused and happily checked out his twitching cock that was well on its way to a full-out salute.
Randolph soon frowned and reached over to snap a mature dandelion growing at his side. He held up the fuzzy globe and blew, scattering the seeds into the air. They both watched as the white fuzzy seeds lifted higher and higher.
My time has come to leave upon the wind, Randolph said, looking down at the naked stem of the dandelion and then up at Rosy. The tear-streaked scar trailing from his eye along with his words made Rosy’s heart sink.
She nodded, her eyes welling with tears. Randolph leaned in, and held his Rosy tight, and tighter.
If I could only hold you til we were both dead, he whispered. They were silent, holding each other for a long time, never wanting to let go.
Rosy was the first to pull away and kissed his flesh, starting with the scar near his eye and trailing down to the wound over his heart.
I’m yours, Randolph. I will never be anyone’s girl but yours.
Once more, she whispered, looking at Randolph. I need to one more time.
She took his erect cock in her hand and began to massage it. She took turns with her hands and mouth and soon Randolph was crying out in pleasure, spilling his seed on Rosy’s eager tits. She scooped a swath of the creamy cum and painted her pussy lips.
I’ll be back, Rosy, promise. I will find a way back again. Randolph kissed his lovely Rosy fully before rising and walking into the forest.
He soon emerged, dressed in his uniform, the red cloth of the wound stripe brilliantly aglow. He was riding atop the black stallion. Rosy’s champagne mare followed.
The sky darkened, the wind picked up and the bog became unsettled.
Rosy watched as the outline of a grand ship appeared, its tall mast full of sails, its wooden frame with several decks of gunports. A huge figurehead was adorned with faces of angels.
Rosy weeped as Randolph, now at her side, looked down on her, his own tears following the scar down his cheek.
Remember, dear Rosy, he spoke, his eyes on hers. I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night. Look for our star, Rosy, and I will be there with you. My love for you will never dim.
Randolph turned and shook the reins and the stallion took off for the wood approach that led up onto the ship. He and the stallion disappeared into the dark shadows.
A lone whinny echoed from the dark shadows of the phantom ship.
The champagne mare whinnied and lowered her head, nuzzling Rosy’s neck. Through tears, Rosy watched as the HMS Victory disappeared into the fog that had settled over Mossy Grove.
https://youtu.be/e5MAg_yWsq8
Randolph had just finished telling Rosy once more the incredible story of how the tentacle came out of nowhere, devoured his seed just before the lightning strike collapsed the meadow tree sending the tentacle recoiling back into the bog.
What the hell is down there? Randolph wondered out loud as his Rosy leaned her face against his chest.
Half-listening, she shuddered at the thought of what could be below the water’s surface. She couldn’t help though but stare at Randolph’s smooth flesh punctuated with a ragged wound just over his heart. She wanted to touch it but that would make things real. And she did not want to deal with real.
Oh, let’s not worry about that, she said, turning away from the bog and leading Randolph over a short ways to the shade tree, this one still thriving, still reaching for the heavens.
The champagne mare and black stallion had retreated into the woods, lured by the promise of sweet, young fiddleheads.
Rosy, already sitting crosslegged, patted the ground in front of her for Randolph. They sat facing each other, their sexes exposed to each other.
Just like the red whelk, Randolph observed, his gaze switching back and forth from her facial lips to her pussy lips. Rosy, quite aware, was amused and happily checked out his twitching cock that was well on its way to a full-out salute.
Randolph soon frowned and reached over to snap a mature dandelion growing at his side. He held up the fuzzy globe and blew, scattering the seeds into the air. They both watched as the white fuzzy seeds lifted higher and higher.
My time has come to leave upon the wind, Randolph said, looking down at the naked stem of the dandelion and then up at Rosy. The tear-streaked scar trailing from his eye along with his words made Rosy’s heart sink.
She nodded, her eyes welling with tears. Randolph leaned in, and held his Rosy tight, and tighter.
If I could only hold you til we were both dead, he whispered. They were silent, holding each other for a long time, never wanting to let go.
Rosy was the first to pull away and kissed his flesh, starting with the scar near his eye and trailing down to the wound over his heart.
I’m yours, Randolph. I will never be anyone’s girl but yours.
Once more, she whispered, looking at Randolph. I need to one more time.
She took his erect cock in her hand and began to massage it. She took turns with her hands and mouth and soon Randolph was crying out in pleasure, spilling his seed on Rosy’s eager tits. She scooped a swath of the creamy cum and painted her pussy lips.
I’ll be back, Rosy, promise. I will find a way back again. Randolph kissed his lovely Rosy fully before rising and walking into the forest.
He soon emerged, dressed in his uniform, the red cloth of the wound stripe brilliantly aglow. He was riding atop the black stallion. Rosy’s champagne mare followed.
The sky darkened, the wind picked up and the bog became unsettled.
Rosy watched as the outline of a grand ship appeared, its tall mast full of sails, its wooden frame with several decks of gunports. A huge figurehead was adorned with faces of angels.
Rosy weeped as Randolph, now at her side, looked down on her, his own tears following the scar down his cheek.
Remember, dear Rosy, he spoke, his eyes on hers. I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night. Look for our star, Rosy, and I will be there with you. My love for you will never dim.
Randolph turned and shook the reins and the stallion took off for the wood approach that led up onto the ship. He and the stallion disappeared into the dark shadows.
A lone whinny echoed from the dark shadows of the phantom ship.
The champagne mare whinnied and lowered her head, nuzzling Rosy’s neck. Through tears, Rosy watched as the HMS Victory disappeared into the fog that had settled over Mossy Grove.
https://youtu.be/e5MAg_yWsq8
Sweet_Lara
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A lone mourning dove, hidden among the dense canopy of a tree, was perched digesting the many seeds it had just consumed. The gray dove was silent, having stopped its incessant soulful coo.
Tomcat was sprawled on the meadow stump, his front paws dangling over the edge, batting at the stem of a tall daisy, most of its petals shredded.
Mossy Grove was quiet, its songbirds long scattered, any trills quieted. Really, the only sound was a slight breeze teasing the leaves.
The red-tailed hawk seemingly came out of nowhere and only one of the mourning doves was able to escape. The doves, slow on take-off but fast in flight, had been feeding on the ground, when the sharp talons of the hawk pierced one, killing it. The hawk, pinning its prey to the ground with its claws, plucked its feathers and fluff with its hooked beak, then began tearing at its flesh.
Tomcat watched and wondered if there would be any leftovers, his tail lazily flopping against the stump. The hawk, undoubtedly aware of the feline, continued with its meal.
Fluffy down feathers scattered in the breeze. When the songbirds returned, they would be welcome material for new nests.
So often in creation, death begets life.
Nearly asleep, Tomcat’s hazel eyes disappeared under heavy eyelids. The sun’s warmth serenaded his body with heat, lulling him to another world.
He heard commotion from the way of the hawk but couldn’t gather the strength to look. Most likely, the hawk flew away with its prey, perhaps to its own nest.
Tomcat’s head was swirling, filling with pleasurable scenes. The chestnut foal with gangly legs galloping after the champagne mare in the meadow.
His ladies, all his beautiful ladies, but especially the one who danced for him, the one who took notice of him, the one who talked to him. She even had shared secrets with him.
Her beauty, so natural. Her breasts, so full. Her pussy, so pink. Her belly, so heavy. Her love, so pure.
Her moans, so needy. Her orgasms, so complete.
Her smell, so intoxicating.
Tomcat purred, reaching back into his small but sharp mind and bringing her to the forefront. Her pussy. Her pussy juice, which had spilled onto the stump. Her scent. He licked his chops. He could taste her. He could smell her.
There you are, kitty. I’ve missed you.
Tomcat, still in the fog of sleep, forced open his eyes and slowly began to focus. He saw plump pink nipples on full tits that rested on an even fuller belly.
And then she spoke, her voice so familiar and welcomed.
Remember me? Francie?
https://youtu.be/Dn2raCO2NSk
Tomcat was sprawled on the meadow stump, his front paws dangling over the edge, batting at the stem of a tall daisy, most of its petals shredded.
Mossy Grove was quiet, its songbirds long scattered, any trills quieted. Really, the only sound was a slight breeze teasing the leaves.
The red-tailed hawk seemingly came out of nowhere and only one of the mourning doves was able to escape. The doves, slow on take-off but fast in flight, had been feeding on the ground, when the sharp talons of the hawk pierced one, killing it. The hawk, pinning its prey to the ground with its claws, plucked its feathers and fluff with its hooked beak, then began tearing at its flesh.
Tomcat watched and wondered if there would be any leftovers, his tail lazily flopping against the stump. The hawk, undoubtedly aware of the feline, continued with its meal.
Fluffy down feathers scattered in the breeze. When the songbirds returned, they would be welcome material for new nests.
So often in creation, death begets life.
Nearly asleep, Tomcat’s hazel eyes disappeared under heavy eyelids. The sun’s warmth serenaded his body with heat, lulling him to another world.
He heard commotion from the way of the hawk but couldn’t gather the strength to look. Most likely, the hawk flew away with its prey, perhaps to its own nest.
Tomcat’s head was swirling, filling with pleasurable scenes. The chestnut foal with gangly legs galloping after the champagne mare in the meadow.
His ladies, all his beautiful ladies, but especially the one who danced for him, the one who took notice of him, the one who talked to him. She even had shared secrets with him.
Her beauty, so natural. Her breasts, so full. Her pussy, so pink. Her belly, so heavy. Her love, so pure.
Her moans, so needy. Her orgasms, so complete.
Her smell, so intoxicating.
Tomcat purred, reaching back into his small but sharp mind and bringing her to the forefront. Her pussy. Her pussy juice, which had spilled onto the stump. Her scent. He licked his chops. He could taste her. He could smell her.
There you are, kitty. I’ve missed you.
Tomcat, still in the fog of sleep, forced open his eyes and slowly began to focus. He saw plump pink nipples on full tits that rested on an even fuller belly.
And then she spoke, her voice so familiar and welcomed.
Remember me? Francie?
https://youtu.be/Dn2raCO2NSk
Last edited:
Pagirl2play2
Experienced
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- Mar 3, 2019
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- 58
Yesss it could have been
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2018
- Posts
- 11,481
Francie pulled the last of her shift over her head and cast it aside to the ground, sighing relief as her body now was free of any clothing.
She stood at the water’s edge, her hand cradling her swollen belly and half hoped beautiful Laura would come to reassure her. She was tempted to step into the calm waters, open her thighs and wait for swirling waters to caress and stimulate her sex.
She held her breath and listened for the haunting call from the bog but the water remained still and the air silent of song.
A sudden breeze flashed across her flesh, making Francie shudder from the chill. She felt her aerolas tighten, sending a pleasure surge to her pussy.
Knowing, but looking anyway, she saw her nipples, pink and plump, were especially erect. They were a fast lane to her pussy, which ignited so easily these days. Her pussy was aching for release.
She wanted to touch herself. Desperately. It would be difficult getting down on the ground. And even more difficult getting up.
Another flash of wind across her flesh. Another surge of pleasure to her pussy. She could feel her nipples, projecting from her heavy tits. Her pussy was beyond throbbing.
Francie reached for her needy clitoris but her belly was in the way. She looked around for a weed with a tall stem with fluffy seeds, but decided that wasn’t a good idea.
She thought about returning to Johnny, who was back at the house sleeping after a late night gig. Her pussy twitched at the thought of Johnny’s practiced lips on her pussy lips, teasing her until she cried out for his tongue to play her clit, prompting her over the edge to orgasm.
Francie, her eyes closed, raised her face toward the heavens, the sun warming her face. She needed her release now.
She pinched her nipples, and moaned, then looked at her fingers for any sign of milk. Nothing, but her pussy ache was still there, throbbing.
Movement over in the meadow caught her attention. A large bird had just lifted from the wildflowers, carrying something in its grip. Francie watched as the bird, its wings steady and strong, disappeared into the woods.
Francie loved the meadow, collecting its wildflowers often. She would sit on the stump and daydream about her future with Johnny and the baby.
Francie smiled. The stump. She remembered getting off on the stump. Perfect.
The wildflowers were tall but Francie was able to make her way easily, only disturbing the yellow butterfly that seemed to be following her.
And then she saw her buddy, the feline that often watched her masturbate on her visits to Mossy Grove. Sleeping, the cat was passed out in the sunshine, sprawled over the stump.
I hope you’re ready for another show, Francie thought, just as another swift breeze teased her nipples.
She stood at the water’s edge, her hand cradling her swollen belly and half hoped beautiful Laura would come to reassure her. She was tempted to step into the calm waters, open her thighs and wait for swirling waters to caress and stimulate her sex.
She held her breath and listened for the haunting call from the bog but the water remained still and the air silent of song.
A sudden breeze flashed across her flesh, making Francie shudder from the chill. She felt her aerolas tighten, sending a pleasure surge to her pussy.
Knowing, but looking anyway, she saw her nipples, pink and plump, were especially erect. They were a fast lane to her pussy, which ignited so easily these days. Her pussy was aching for release.
She wanted to touch herself. Desperately. It would be difficult getting down on the ground. And even more difficult getting up.
Another flash of wind across her flesh. Another surge of pleasure to her pussy. She could feel her nipples, projecting from her heavy tits. Her pussy was beyond throbbing.
Francie reached for her needy clitoris but her belly was in the way. She looked around for a weed with a tall stem with fluffy seeds, but decided that wasn’t a good idea.
She thought about returning to Johnny, who was back at the house sleeping after a late night gig. Her pussy twitched at the thought of Johnny’s practiced lips on her pussy lips, teasing her until she cried out for his tongue to play her clit, prompting her over the edge to orgasm.
Francie, her eyes closed, raised her face toward the heavens, the sun warming her face. She needed her release now.
She pinched her nipples, and moaned, then looked at her fingers for any sign of milk. Nothing, but her pussy ache was still there, throbbing.
Movement over in the meadow caught her attention. A large bird had just lifted from the wildflowers, carrying something in its grip. Francie watched as the bird, its wings steady and strong, disappeared into the woods.
Francie loved the meadow, collecting its wildflowers often. She would sit on the stump and daydream about her future with Johnny and the baby.
Francie smiled. The stump. She remembered getting off on the stump. Perfect.
The wildflowers were tall but Francie was able to make her way easily, only disturbing the yellow butterfly that seemed to be following her.
And then she saw her buddy, the feline that often watched her masturbate on her visits to Mossy Grove. Sleeping, the cat was passed out in the sunshine, sprawled over the stump.
I hope you’re ready for another show, Francie thought, just as another swift breeze teased her nipples.
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2018
- Posts
- 11,481
Francie tickled the fur behind his ear and Tomcat, sleeping soundly, stirred a bit on the stump. Another tickle and he slowly opened his eyes, squinting in the sunlight. Soon his eyes widened, his hazel eyes shining as amber.
Francie stood smiling over Tomcat.
Tomcat raised his head and quick-like rolled over and sat up on the stump, his eyes scanning her body, her naked flesh from her fuzzy pussy to her erect nipples and full tits.
Francie giggled, bent toward the cat the best she could and held his chin. Look me in the eyes when you greet me kitty, she teased. Oh, shit, you always did stare at my pussy and tits.
She tapped him on the nose as she lifted her leg onto the stump, teasing her pussy with her fingers. She pulled her finger over her clitoris, let out a quick sigh, and brought it to her nose first, and then to her mouth.
Yummy, she squealed, backing away and lifting her arms into the air, her breasts raising from her belly. Her face was radiant in the sunlight, her unblemished skin glowed.
Tomcat, his eyes on Francie, raised himself from the stump and stretched. Sniffing the air, Tomcat licked his chops, watching Francie wade into a patch of tall wildflowers.
She picked the magenta pinks growing wild, weaving their long stems and feathery leaves into a flower garland.
Tomcat watched as she returned to the stump, her long locks entwined with magenta pinks. Her full breasts, perfect maternal globes, were firm and pointed, with the help of her heavy belly, which only allowed a partial glimpse of her fuzzy mound.
Francie rested a smaller flower garland on top of Tomcat’s head, kissed his forehead, and started to dance, touching herself. Her eyes closed, her music was the sweet sounds of the meadow songbirds.
She danced slowly, rubbing her belly, her breasts, her nipples, each touch more pleasurable than the last.
Watching in addition to Tomcat was Mother moon, high in the sky, just a whisper of a globe as seen from the meadow. She was outshone by the noon-day sun, which made the sky cornflower blue.
Mother moon, the celestial source of fertility, was especially taken with the dancing girl in the meadow, her belly full with child, her flesh full with pleasure.
At Mother moon’s request, the fluffiest cloud in the sky happily lowered itself into the meadow and scooped up Francie, its many layers of softness cradling its precious cargo — and a stowaway cat — as it lifted back up to the heavens.
Francie stood smiling over Tomcat.
Tomcat raised his head and quick-like rolled over and sat up on the stump, his eyes scanning her body, her naked flesh from her fuzzy pussy to her erect nipples and full tits.
Francie giggled, bent toward the cat the best she could and held his chin. Look me in the eyes when you greet me kitty, she teased. Oh, shit, you always did stare at my pussy and tits.
She tapped him on the nose as she lifted her leg onto the stump, teasing her pussy with her fingers. She pulled her finger over her clitoris, let out a quick sigh, and brought it to her nose first, and then to her mouth.
Yummy, she squealed, backing away and lifting her arms into the air, her breasts raising from her belly. Her face was radiant in the sunlight, her unblemished skin glowed.
Tomcat, his eyes on Francie, raised himself from the stump and stretched. Sniffing the air, Tomcat licked his chops, watching Francie wade into a patch of tall wildflowers.
She picked the magenta pinks growing wild, weaving their long stems and feathery leaves into a flower garland.
Tomcat watched as she returned to the stump, her long locks entwined with magenta pinks. Her full breasts, perfect maternal globes, were firm and pointed, with the help of her heavy belly, which only allowed a partial glimpse of her fuzzy mound.
Francie rested a smaller flower garland on top of Tomcat’s head, kissed his forehead, and started to dance, touching herself. Her eyes closed, her music was the sweet sounds of the meadow songbirds.
She danced slowly, rubbing her belly, her breasts, her nipples, each touch more pleasurable than the last.
Watching in addition to Tomcat was Mother moon, high in the sky, just a whisper of a globe as seen from the meadow. She was outshone by the noon-day sun, which made the sky cornflower blue.
Mother moon, the celestial source of fertility, was especially taken with the dancing girl in the meadow, her belly full with child, her flesh full with pleasure.
At Mother moon’s request, the fluffiest cloud in the sky happily lowered itself into the meadow and scooped up Francie, its many layers of softness cradling its precious cargo — and a stowaway cat — as it lifted back up to the heavens.
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2018
- Posts
- 11,481
Francie, now calm after an initial bout of panic, was relaxed as the cloud carried her heavenward, her body cradled by strands of linen-like puffs so soft and whispy, and incredibly see through.
Realizing she was secure and not bound by gravity or her big belly, Francie easily flipped over and looked face down through the threads of feathery fronds to the Earth.
The fronds began to swirl around her privates. Cool water particles teased her flesh and danced on her puckered aerolas and against her erect nipples. Solar-heated rays flashed her pussy lips with warmth, some of them finding their way inside.
Francie, giddy with constant surges of pleasure, lazily watched as Mossy Grove grew smaller and smaller, the field of wildflowers now like a VanGogh and the bog, a simple body of water nearly obscured by the canopy of the huge shade tree.
A breeze — not too cold, not too hot but just right — skimmed over her body, applying perfect amounts of pressure that traveled to her feet, her calves, her thighs to her buttocks, her back, her breasts, her arms. A full body massage. Pressure points across her body activated in random order. Her shoulders were massaged, then her temples, her scalp.
Francie, in a dream-like trance from pleasure, felt her baby moving, and silently sang a lullaby of moons and stars — one she had sung many times while Johnny held her belly from behind.
Francie smiled, thinking about their baby. She looked through the thin veil of the cloud desperately searching for the little stone house she shared with Johnny.
What if he had awakened and gone to the bog looking for her? He knew that was her favorite place to be on mornings while he slept. And he knew it was her favorite place to pleasure herself, sometimes with the help of the beautiful lady and other times prompted by the oddities.
Her physical pleasure almost peaking, Francie rolled over on her back and opened her legs wide, inviting any of the whispy fronds or the swirling breeze to send her over the top. She was almost there, moaning urgently, as she spiraled upward toward release.
A sudden thought and she cast her glance sideway. Tomcat was on his haunches, his ears perked, staring intently at her.
You’ll be the only one hearing me this time, old boy, Francie managed, just before moaning, her orgasm starting.
Not so, darling.
Francie turned, just in time to see the handsome suited soldier mounted on a black stallion poised on the deck of a huge wooden ship, bobbing in the mist. His eyes kind, he was smiling at her.
Francie closed her eyes, and let out a low growl.
Her orgasm began radiating from her sex, like a plump raindrop falling in still water.
Francie, her thighs shaking, cried out in climax as the cloud hugged her tighter and the ship lingered then disappeared.
Realizing she was secure and not bound by gravity or her big belly, Francie easily flipped over and looked face down through the threads of feathery fronds to the Earth.
The fronds began to swirl around her privates. Cool water particles teased her flesh and danced on her puckered aerolas and against her erect nipples. Solar-heated rays flashed her pussy lips with warmth, some of them finding their way inside.
Francie, giddy with constant surges of pleasure, lazily watched as Mossy Grove grew smaller and smaller, the field of wildflowers now like a VanGogh and the bog, a simple body of water nearly obscured by the canopy of the huge shade tree.
A breeze — not too cold, not too hot but just right — skimmed over her body, applying perfect amounts of pressure that traveled to her feet, her calves, her thighs to her buttocks, her back, her breasts, her arms. A full body massage. Pressure points across her body activated in random order. Her shoulders were massaged, then her temples, her scalp.
Francie, in a dream-like trance from pleasure, felt her baby moving, and silently sang a lullaby of moons and stars — one she had sung many times while Johnny held her belly from behind.
Francie smiled, thinking about their baby. She looked through the thin veil of the cloud desperately searching for the little stone house she shared with Johnny.
What if he had awakened and gone to the bog looking for her? He knew that was her favorite place to be on mornings while he slept. And he knew it was her favorite place to pleasure herself, sometimes with the help of the beautiful lady and other times prompted by the oddities.
Her physical pleasure almost peaking, Francie rolled over on her back and opened her legs wide, inviting any of the whispy fronds or the swirling breeze to send her over the top. She was almost there, moaning urgently, as she spiraled upward toward release.
A sudden thought and she cast her glance sideway. Tomcat was on his haunches, his ears perked, staring intently at her.
You’ll be the only one hearing me this time, old boy, Francie managed, just before moaning, her orgasm starting.
Not so, darling.
Francie turned, just in time to see the handsome suited soldier mounted on a black stallion poised on the deck of a huge wooden ship, bobbing in the mist. His eyes kind, he was smiling at her.
Francie closed her eyes, and let out a low growl.
Her orgasm began radiating from her sex, like a plump raindrop falling in still water.
Francie, her thighs shaking, cried out in climax as the cloud hugged her tighter and the ship lingered then disappeared.
Sweet_Lara
Classic chick
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2018
- Posts
- 11,481
Francie, her breasts still heaving from orgasm, felt motion in her belly and smiled, humming softly the song Johnny often would sing softly in her ear as they cuddled.
Cradled in the secure womb of a cloud, her body was relaxed and weightless, suspended in heaven’s unearthly estate.
Francie, free of any worry, let her mind wander back to the night she conceived Johhny’s child.
You know you’re a sweet little lovemaker, she heard him whisper into her ear. You’ve got to be mine, all mine.
Johnny had whispered-sung those words to her just before plunging his cock into her, spilling his seed into her fertile pussy. They had been loving on each other for hours, having committed themselves to be each other’s forever hours before.
It was hours earlier they had managed to escape the dull family talk at the summer picnic, slipping away to take a walk on the dirt path in a meadow, holding hands and stopping often to make out.
I got my girl by my side, Johnny declared to anything along the way, including a stand of wild garlic and a baby bunny feeding on small patch of clover.
Next to the wild honeysuckle bushes, their blooms long gone, Johnny stopped and looked at Francie, then spoke. I imagine the things we’ll do. I can’t wait for the night with you.
Johnny’s hand soon was under Francie’s blouse, cupping and massaging her breasts, playing with her nipples.
Francie rubbed Johnny’s cock through his shorts, the fabric caressing and tugging his aroused cockhead.
Johnny’s other hand was inside Francie’s shorts, inside her panties, rubbing her pussy, his fingers wet from her hole.
Francie’s hand was now wrapped around Johnny’s exposed cock. Together, kissing, they masturbated each other to orgasm.
That night. Francie knew immediately she had conceived his child. His cock still inside her, she held his shoulders tightly, forcing his chest against her own. He was collapsed on her and they were still, waiting, anticipating.
She spoke first, a whispered declaration. My love you didn't need to coax. Then, she giggled. Remember, I laughed at all of your jokes.
Johnny pulled away from her laughing. That you did, especially the really bad ones. Maybe not so many on stage in between songs, huh?!
Francie felt a tickle on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to the most beautiful yellow butterfly on her shoulder.
She was back in the present, wrapped in the warmth of the cloud, her round belly the result of that night months ago.
The butterfly took flight, swirling above Francie, leaving a trail of purple haze in it wake.
She heard the voice of Mother Moon, a ready guide in some celestial voice.
The child would be influenced by the greatest of musicians who were part of the heavens. The child would be favored by spirits in the material world.
Francie watched as the butterfly lit on her belly while thousands of musical notes trailed from above and were absorbed into her maternal flesh. Each note representing a voice or instrumental sound silenced on Earth but heard in the heavens.
Francie, overwhelmed, was weeping when she felt someone grasp her hand.
Johnny, her music man, was next to her, holding her, fully understanding the moment and realizing the enormity of the gift creation was bestowing on their child.
Music challenge: I have incorporated in this story lyrics from the six songs that played this morning on my walk. Can you identify them?
Cradled in the secure womb of a cloud, her body was relaxed and weightless, suspended in heaven’s unearthly estate.
Francie, free of any worry, let her mind wander back to the night she conceived Johhny’s child.
You know you’re a sweet little lovemaker, she heard him whisper into her ear. You’ve got to be mine, all mine.
Johnny had whispered-sung those words to her just before plunging his cock into her, spilling his seed into her fertile pussy. They had been loving on each other for hours, having committed themselves to be each other’s forever hours before.
It was hours earlier they had managed to escape the dull family talk at the summer picnic, slipping away to take a walk on the dirt path in a meadow, holding hands and stopping often to make out.
I got my girl by my side, Johnny declared to anything along the way, including a stand of wild garlic and a baby bunny feeding on small patch of clover.
Next to the wild honeysuckle bushes, their blooms long gone, Johnny stopped and looked at Francie, then spoke. I imagine the things we’ll do. I can’t wait for the night with you.
Johnny’s hand soon was under Francie’s blouse, cupping and massaging her breasts, playing with her nipples.
Francie rubbed Johnny’s cock through his shorts, the fabric caressing and tugging his aroused cockhead.
Johnny’s other hand was inside Francie’s shorts, inside her panties, rubbing her pussy, his fingers wet from her hole.
Francie’s hand was now wrapped around Johnny’s exposed cock. Together, kissing, they masturbated each other to orgasm.
That night. Francie knew immediately she had conceived his child. His cock still inside her, she held his shoulders tightly, forcing his chest against her own. He was collapsed on her and they were still, waiting, anticipating.
She spoke first, a whispered declaration. My love you didn't need to coax. Then, she giggled. Remember, I laughed at all of your jokes.
Johnny pulled away from her laughing. That you did, especially the really bad ones. Maybe not so many on stage in between songs, huh?!
Francie felt a tickle on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to the most beautiful yellow butterfly on her shoulder.
She was back in the present, wrapped in the warmth of the cloud, her round belly the result of that night months ago.
The butterfly took flight, swirling above Francie, leaving a trail of purple haze in it wake.
She heard the voice of Mother Moon, a ready guide in some celestial voice.
The child would be influenced by the greatest of musicians who were part of the heavens. The child would be favored by spirits in the material world.
Francie watched as the butterfly lit on her belly while thousands of musical notes trailed from above and were absorbed into her maternal flesh. Each note representing a voice or instrumental sound silenced on Earth but heard in the heavens.
Francie, overwhelmed, was weeping when she felt someone grasp her hand.
Johnny, her music man, was next to her, holding her, fully understanding the moment and realizing the enormity of the gift creation was bestowing on their child.
Music challenge: I have incorporated in this story lyrics from the six songs that played this morning on my walk. Can you identify them?
