Showing posts with label public sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label public sex. Show all posts

Saturday, 10 September 2011

'By The Burning Of His Skin...'

by Sandrine Lopez


-


It was a gorgeous orgasm of a sunset.

The glowing orb plunged into the horizon, splashing red blush over the sky. The seagulls sang at the joining, a sympathetic climax in urgent bird cries.

Louise stood in aroused awe, at the consummation in scarlet light and fire.

Self-admittedly, she had a fetish for red. Guys wearing red tight-fitting, sport tops. Driving racy bright-red cars, guaranteed to get her red-bloodedness flowing. Ginger tops... deeper the hue, longer and thicker the strands, much the better. She could run her fingers through that forever, revelling in the beauty of its flaming colour.

Now the very air itself was pure red. Louise's pulse raced, as she considered how hot it made everything, everyone, on the beach look.

As the red sun penetrated, disappeared, into the sea, she saw him.

His hair was bright, almost unnaturally red. A blazing shock of waves from under his cap. Even with the fading crimson sunset illuminating him, she could tell he was burnt, almost lobster-red. Louise was mesmerised by the sore reddening of his skin.

She had to find out more.

Shimmying through the crowd, Louise made her way to his side. As if formed from her innate desires, he also wore a faded reddish tee, separating dark shorts and shades.

Perfection.

Her heart pounded, matching the beats of the drumming beach party anthems. The day's heat had already made Louise glow with perspiration. She was aware of the dampness in her kini pants. How perky she was through her top. If that wasn't a red rag to any bull of a guy, she didn't know what was.

Stuff silly intros, she thought, go for the kill.

Louise took his raw jaw firmly in her fingers, turned his face to hers, inhaling the strong coconutty scent of sunblock, and kissed his lips before he could react. It quickly became a snog, as her arms draped round his neck. His surprise softened into returned enjoyment. Her tongue swirled into his mouth. Pleasure as he tasted back. She forgot his soreness, her body closing in around him. One bare leg rising to wrap round his thigh.

"Woooo, Roy!" One of his mates called, "Who's your friend?"

Through Louise's embrace, a shrug.

His mates applauded. Louise didn't relent. Only the need to breath again tore them apart.

"Hi!" Roy finally found his voice.

Louise gasped back, "Hey."

"What was that for?"

Aware of the attention - very aroused attention, if the unsubtle stretching of Roy and his mate's shorts were indication - Louise whispered in his ear and led him away, to the fanfare of more clapping, whistles and cheers.

*

Louise couldn't stop smoothing Roy's immaculate ruddy skin. Covering his muscular arm, the toned redness of his legs and, as he shed his tee, the burning firmness of his body above his shorts. He must have been topless most of the day.

"Wow, you weren't kidding." Roy murmured, "You really are into red."

"Is it sore?" she asked, hypnotised by the colour. It fired her like no other guy had.

He smiled as her hands explored. "In a nice way, when you do that."

The sky now graduated from dying flame through ultramarine overhead, to a spreading deep purple. Under it, they lay on a towel spread over still warm sand, in a private niche of a cove. Far enough from party voyeurs, yet near enough to hear the music. The not-so-subtle pounding soundtrack to their love-making.

Or would be. After considerable time making out, Roy wasn't exactly pouncing like Louise wanted. He hadn't been so coy when being snogged in front of his mates.

"Tell me?" she asked.

Roy had kept his shades on until now.

"I'm just not used to... this kinda attention. Usually girls are a bit freaked."

"You mean the hairdye?" Louise giggled. "Shit no, I've used that colour myself!" She looked him in the eyes. Caught the flutter as his gaze darted, as if nervously, from one eye to the other, as if searching for meaning. Only it didn't stop. He had a twitch. Looking closer, the ghost rim of contacts.

Reflecting the sunset behind her, his eyes had a hint of wine red. She could get quite intoxicated on those.

"The contacts don't put me off, either." Louise cooed, tenderly.

Hardly freaky. Self-conscious softie.

She didn't want to be tender. Urges to be vigorous. In the moment. Her blood was boiling, red-lining beyond unvirtuous appetite.

Reassured, Roy put his arm around her. It was difficult for Louise to just cuddle. Just lie there taking in hussshhhh-ssshhhh of the waves lapping on sand, as if nature were telling her to take it easy.

With measured intent, Louise curled round him. Hand on chest, counting the thumpity-thumps of his heart, wondering if he could feel hers, drumming away in rapid time to the party anthems. Pressing against that delicious scarlet skin. Keeping her inner animal leashed, for now. Each move a calming, coaxing massage, not the hot rough ride yearned.

"Are you cold?" Roy asked.

As if! Louise squirmed closer. Becoming as one with him as possible without... actually...

"You're shaking." He added.

Yeah, the DTs... delicious titillation... dirty trembles... denied tongue...

Denied no more. She went for the win again, gagging him with her lips. Tasting the inside of his mouth. Her thigh had long edged up over his shorts. Super-sensitive skin feeling how blissfully hard his cock was through them.

She was surprised when, while still snogging, Roy gently pushed her thigh down again. Instead of showing annoyance, Louise slid her hand down his stomach, lower still, easing into his shorts for an exquisite massage of...

More frustratingly, Roy delicately took her wrist and stopped her fanciful fishing trip. Only letting go when her fingers were safely outside his shorts.

Fuck this! Louise thought. If he's not in the mood, I am. I'll have my own fun, and if he wants to join in...

Her finger delved down again. Into her indelicately dampened kini pants. Their lips still locked, she gave an almost inaudible sigh as her nails teased the bare sensitive mound. Let the tips part herself until the tender bud of her clit trembled under her touch. With no desire to hide her urges, the massages quickly became vigourous rubs. Louise moved her thighs apart as far as their embrace allowed, so she could manoeuvre a finger into the slippery eagerness of her cunt.

As the tingles intensified, spreading through her body, Louise pressed home her killer snog. Her hand pushed and rocked deeper, quickening until...

Just as she was about to get off, smooching Roy mercilessly as she shamelessly fucked herself with two fingers, he drew back for air, asking, "Are you doing what I think..?"

Shit! Louise cried inwardly, on orgasm's edge. Not now...

She gnawed her lip, eyes struggling from closing so she could relish his burnt face.

"Just... keep..." Her words, gasping. Her body began to tense and let go in climax. She couldn't stop the tumbling avalanche of arousal as a nail found her g-spot. Then no force in nature could prevent her from coming.

"Kiss..." Louise's mouth jumped his, tongue flung between his lips, penetrating his yelp as she came. Half-sprawled, half-collapsed, her body twitched with pleasure, splashing out in tidal waves as her own skin flushed almost as red as Roy's.

She sucked in breaths as tiny sobs of ecstasy, embarrassed at the show she had given. Roy had pushed his tongue into her mouth, another delightful trigger for her orgasm. She let her mouth drop from his, her head nuzzling down his neck until it rested on his chest. All she could hear was his pounding heart, drumming faster than the distant club beats. She was pleasingly surprised when he stroked her head softly, sympathetically. Brushing her hair from the clinging veneer of perspiration coating her trembling shoulders.

They lay like that for several long silent minutes, as the glow of Louise's orgasm flowed through her, warming them against the cooling summer night.

"That was... awesome." Roy finally whispered. "I've never seen... had a girl... well, do that for me."

Louise still felt she couldn't look him in the face quite yet. Her eyes focussed down his red body to his shorts... the hard cock pulling them taut. Tentatively, her fingers crept down to it again, until her hand was intercepted once more.

"Why the frights?" she asked, too directly. "Am I coming on too strong? Are you a virgin?"

"'Course not!"

"Then what!?"

Roy gnawed his lip. Let Louise put her hand on his shorts this time. She edged the waistband down to reveal unburnt skin. Even in twilight she could tell it was unnaturally pale, almost white. She pulled more away until she could, at last, see his erect cock. That was pasty also, contrasting against reddish-mauve veins and engorged blood stiffening it. After a moment, he pulled the shorts back up.

"You see?"

Louise wasn't quite sure what she had seen. The ruby-like veins were quite a turn-on. Never before had they seemed so vivid, so etched out of a guy's skin, like raspberry ripple. It just made her hornier, if possible.

Their eyes met, "So you burn well and don't tan."

"You've seen my lens? Prepare yourself for a shock." He dabbed each eyeball with a finger and took them out. His irises were deep pinky-red.

Louise sucked in a low breath.

Roy began to put one lens in again quickly, "I knew it was a mistake..."

"No, no!" Louise caught his wrist. Let him put them away before staring into the gorgeously red eyes. Not quite red but close. Forget blues, greens and browns, here were a couple of gazes she could quite fall into.

"Wow..."

"So you're not freaked?" Roy asked.

"Fuck no!" Louise muttered, mesmerised. "You're an albino?"

Roy nodded. "I prefer 'has albinism'. It's a condition. Not what I am."

"You know much I love red..."

"Yeah but... it's still a shock for some. Especially up close."

Louise couldn't stop looking with full-on attraction. "They're beautiful."

Even burnt, Roy was obviously glowing with embarrassment. "Really?"

"Oh fuck yes!" She leaned forward. "Smooch?"

Roy closed his eyes and puckered.

"No... eyes open."

Roy smiled and did as he was told, looking into each other across the tiny gulf of a deep, lingering snog.

Surfacing, minutes later, Louise asked, "So, now I don't mind, do you still wanna... y'know?"

It was late, edging into morning. The town lights were dimming, the club sounds muted. Even the whoosing tide had slipped down the beach to give them some privacy.

Roy had an idea and, whispering in her ear, took Louise's hand and gathered up their stuff.


*

It took some while to reach his small room. A converted attic, with low ceilings and a dormer window, in a back-end of town B&B without even a seaview.

"So what was it you wanted to show me?" Louise asked.

"Patience, hon."

"Been too fucking patient all evening so far."

Roy fumbled in a bag and produced some condoms.

"Can we use mine?" Louise likewise dug in her bag and pulled out some square sachets. Tore one open to reveal...

"Red condoms?"

"Naturally." Louise giggled.

"They look like kiddies balloons!"

"So let's party!" Louise said, pushing him on the bed playfully and tugging his shorts off. In the dim lamplight, his chalky unburnt skin didn't seem so stark. Highlights for the skin, she thought. Why fucking not?

She straddled his knees, soothing the coloured latex softly over his nicely-sized cock.

"Well it doesn't quite match your complexion." Louise joked, kneeling up to consider her handiwork, "But I'll make do..." Then she started giving him the gate-crasher of all blowjobs.

"Jeez Looooouise!" Roy hissed through gritted teeth as her energentic sucking and palming sent his mind sizzling through the top of his skull. Louise chuckled, or as close as with a mouth full of condom-flavoured cock, as his jac heated her tongue and squished pleasantly in the latex bubble. She flicked it around, making Roy give out moans of indelicate ecstasy.

"My turn!" Louise said, stroking the limp limb playfully with her nails.

"Fuck! You're insatiable..." Roy's voice was a hoarse whisper as he gathered his shattered senses.

"If you weren't the colour of boiled lobster, I might be able to resist you... just."

She let him tissue away and bin the used condom before assailing him with another red rubber, as her horniness fingered him to rock readiness again.

"Do you have a favourite position?" Roy asked. Louise got on all fours and hunched her face on the pillow. With her still on it, Roy tugged the bed round until she faced the dormer.

"Hey!" Louise protested. She eyed the horizon, contrasting with backlit sky, through the window suspiciously. Almost morning already? "You haven't got a mate with a cam out there, have you?"

Roy pointed out, grinning, "Smile for 'You've Been Framed'! Course not!" He slapped her bum playfully. "This is what I wanted to show you. Ready?"

"Like you need to ask, redskin?"

He was kneeling behind her, pushing inside slowly. Louise gnawed her smirk with a satisfied sigh. Imagined his burning skin, the red hair, the glowing fulfilment. Blood-hardened skin surging through blood-swollen, horny sensitivities. She had been on simmer for way too long.

Roy gyrated his hips, wriggling and plunging, pulling and stirring. One hand edged up her back, steadied her shoulder, the other caressing, guiding her hips back to his with indulgent rhythm. Louise saw his game, and raised it briskly, complementing his flow and ebb, until they rocked as one.

She remembered the Sun, searing into the sea. His heat was solar, blazing through her cunt, changing its nature forever. Her breathing had been irregular, aroused and erratic, ever since she saw him. Now it came in staggered little eeks and low staccato moans as he filled her, pumped her. And she pumped right back.

There was a flash of red light in her half-closed, rolling eyes.

A hard slap to her buttock, and Roy's hand on her shoulder pointed. The room was filled with scarlet fire as the Sun's first red rays camera-flashed through the window. Dawn. A big, beautiful red-sky-at-morning, more fiery than the sunset. Louise became one with it, wild fantasies as light squinted into her thoughts, charged through her excited nerves to meet the pending climax of Roy coming hard into her. Of the roaring, the bell-ringing, in her ears, and the completely-off-her-face sensation squelching and pulsing round him. Her eeks not so little now, her moans high and loud.

The Sun warmed the room but Louise was already outshining it. She collapsed on the sheets with Roy tumbling nicely on her scorched bare back. His weight wonderful on her body, his cock still twitching inside, making her quiver, as the aftershocks of sex subsided through them.

"Good morning, red-hot lover." Roy whispered in Louise's ear.


*end*


Sandrine's notes:

This was my submission for Filament magazine's 'Red' issue way back... whenever. But it didn't even get a response, let alone feedback. Perhaps it wasn't that good, or pushed the 'red' a bit too much...


Victoria Blisse's Sunday Snog

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

'Once In The Journey Of Life'


by Sandrine Lopez

- - - - - - -


Don't want to be the wallflower, the quiet one, shy girl, person no-one speaks to... ignores.

But it's my nature. I like to watch people, see how they move, dress, talk, live. Call me a student of the human condition, if you like. It's a bit like the sex my friends always talk about. Either a giver or a taker. I take quietly, passively, without them knowing, share their existence vicariously. But I remain detached. Partitioned. Separate. There, but not really...

Words, tales, gossip, instead of the experience, taste, feel itself.

So I set out to be a part of it. Change, transform, re-invent...

Typical, tale of my life, the night I choose is victim to one of the worse public transport fuck-ups ever. We never get the full story, like we ever do, but the tannoyed weary announcements invent new excuses to explain why our train has all the speed of a snail, direction of a moth.

Eventually we're dumped on an already packed platform, the dark, crowd loud heat of a Friday night gone bad. No choice but to change here and catch another crippled carriage. Just one more stop down the line to go. Pity the poor souls damned to travel further, for an eternity on the midnight delights of British Rail...

I feel overdressed, my own change drawing lusty looks and piercing whistles. My heels are higher, the skirt much shorter, blouse too tight, too sheer, wishing I'd worn a bra... Unwanted bodies pressed against mine as we all vie for personal space.

A tumble, a tide, of tortured travellers down the platform to where there's space and air, however summer burning, to breathe. I have no wall to flower against, spotlighted under a lamp. The only darkness for hiding is the platform edge.

One other body detached himself from the crowd, standing near, on the edge too. Admiring glances, up and down. Could be any smart casually dressed clubber, on his way between scenes, or just on a journey, no destination in mind.

Not especially good looking, attractive over handsome, but confident against my fight not to be shy, demure, ignored. I sought attention, realise now you get the unwanted with wanted, chaff with wheat, bathwater with the babe. Subconsciously I move away, while every nerve is magnetised to him, my eyes, smile, as I back off, not knowing quite what I want, don't want...

Risk the platform spotlight as I move to the other side. He follows slowly, first with gaze, then slow but sure steps. It becomes a slow dance, as I totter from edge to edge, until he stops in the middle, watching me pace back and forth like a trapped animal.

Eventually I decide he may be just what I need. For all I know he could be married, have a girlfriend, be attached, wandering eyes but not motive. I return the admiring gaze, the taunting smile, revel in his spotlight. It's reflected back, more intense.

The only sign I can give, fighting the nervous wall of self-doubt I still cling to, is a one word conversation, more unsaid than said, and flash of my ticket. My destination. Whether you like it or not...

He slowly flips his own ticket out, and replies singly too. His objective. Beyond my stop. Welcome to join me?

There's a thundering trundle as the train aches from slow to stop beside us. It's going both our ways. There's a brief parting as we embark through different doors, eyes still locked, until the pushs, bumps, grinds and shoves karma us together between carriages. Standing room only.

The need for everyone else to get off Hell's Platform presses us together. As if our sardine tin audience is watching, waiting, clamouring for us to get it on.

I lean back against the wall with him ironing my clothes, gently, slowly, hotly, up and down, me still in them, in time with the train trundling on its track. The wall gives slightly to one side, door of the unisex toilet. I feel behind for the handle, draw it open, jump inside. I see his pained expression of parting, even for a loo break I don't actually need. Then, as the door closes, I impulsively reach out, drag him inside, close and lock it behind me, gasping. There's a muffled 'woooo' from the crumpled crowd outside, some clapping.

Now he's the trapped animal. Certain of what he'd like but unsure of what I want. He's not the only one. There's a third creature inside with us, within me, starting to pace and pound round my gut. Growling for attention. Wants I'm beginning to crave.

Just him, me, and this being of desire. The last two, like converging tracks, become one...

Grabbing his lapels, pressing my lips to his, I push him down on the toilet seat before he has a chance to return my forceful smooches. I'm bent over, standing room only, feeling burning needs to take him, even if he doesn't want it. Taking actively, no longer passive. Is that right? That's the wall I've always had. The flower wilts from the new heat... a twisting, wild creeper grows in its place, entwining round him.

He grips inside my thighs, pulls them apart so I'm plonked heavily on his lap, straddling him. Buzz of excitement, gasps of tension. We're really magnetised now, attraction pulling us bodily to each other. I can feel his stiffy through his trousers, the meagre thin fabric of my panties. Know he wants it inside me. I'm so aroused, so high, so full of need I don't just want to press my naked skin to his, I want to be inside him too. Part his body and snuggle beneath the cover of his flesh. Two animals becoming one.

The journey between stations is usually a few minutes. At its current crawl, we may have ten or so. Make them all count...

One...

Bumpity-bump... bumpity-bump... Train on its tracks.

Bumpity-bump... bumpity-bump... My heart pounding so loud, so heavily, it makes my unsupported breasts jiggle.

Bumpity-bump... bumpity-bump... Rubbing against each other. Clothes in the way...

Two...

Raise myself so we can fumble, tear, at his trouser belt, button, zip. Hug his waist to lift him so he can tug them down. Then his boxers. Freed, his erection springs up. Just the thought of it easing, no... grinding, into me... a low subconscious whimper, moan, sigh... call it what you will, it's mine.

Hadn't really thought I'd need them so soon, if ever, at all, but fumble in my bag for a condom. Stretch tear the wrapping, stretch it over him. Stretching my panties to one side as I settle back down on him, sheathed skin on skin, inside skin. Ooooh, that first contact, touch, penetration, slide, embrace of my twat around him, moments of bliss, snuggle, grip. And it keeps going in, fuck, is it ever going to stop. Eventually, our thighs connect. He's all the way.

Three...

Shrug his jacket off. Unbutton what I can of his shirt. His hands support the small of my arching back, as he tugs at my blouse with his teeth, popping it open until he can kiss my nips, snog them, sucking needily, greedily like a baby. That goes all the way too. Up, around, down... shocks of sensation connecting with him deep up, full of him, in my gut.

His hands under my thighs, lifting my knees, my full weight on him, over him. I'm no model, stick-insect, lightweight. But he likes it, loves it, obsesses against my heaviness as he jiggles, pumps, pounds, up into me. Bringing us closer, closer, still...

Four...

Humpity-hump... humpity-hump... Bouncy up and down.

Humpity-hump... humpity-hump... In and out, right in... and right out, in out, in out in out...

Humpity-hump... humpity-hump... Closer, so close now...

All the way.

Train as fast as it can go.

Five...

Clawing at each other, tongues in mouths, mingling of wetness, excitement, intensity.

He lets go, gives it all up. My purple painted nails dig deep into my palms, toes curl within stockings and shoes, teeth gnawing lip, parted lips, sighs, moans, cries, tremble all over, shudder, convulse...

Another one word conversation. He says, "Yes... ". I just give a chokey squeal of perfect pleasure, sensing every white-hot last spurt, hug him to death, his stubble against my cheek and throat.

Six...

More smoochies, kissies, snuggles, long moments. The bliss of after, comfort of just holding, being, existing within each other...

Amazingly he's still hard, huge, hot, held fast in my gut. Super-sized sensations from a satisfying, long overdue, unscheduled shag...

Seven...

Return ticket ride.

I struggle up, off him, let him stand. His condomed cock glistens as he peels it off in a thick wedge of loo paper, drops it in the loo. Whiteness dribbles from him, splashing around, on us. Its sticky scent drives me, dares me, to risk bareback.

I bend over, brace myself on the toilet seat now. Look back, look him straight in the eyes, yes again. Yes! No words, just instinct. He gathers up my skirt round my waist, tugs my damp panties down, just enough to reveal, let him see, slip slide into, my wet anticipating hunger.

Humpity-hump... humpity-hump...

His knees angle between mine, spreading them, thighs parting. His strength against the taut tugging binding of my undies. Push me. His firm hand grapples forward, clawing my shoulder, whole body, back onto him. Pull me. The other reaches under, hammocks a free swinging breast, massages it, my sucked sore nipple. Pinch me.

Eight...

Swaying, rocking, colliding in rhythm with the carriage. Falling, cascading, against, within each other. Bodies in transit, between places, hell and heaven. Closest yet, another climax. Him, me, one tripping over another. Powerfully, explosively, loudly, lingering. Mingling with the scream of train brakes, objective reached.

My vision blurs, misty-eyed, mascara smudging... soaring, roaring in ears, rushing of blood in my head, all over, all the way, legs give way but he holds me up until finished, suckling on his cock with my cunt, milked, drained...

Nine...

Bump... bump... bump... Train slowing for station approach.

Bump... bump... bump... Our hearts, bodies, breathless pants, ease down from their brief marathon.

Bump... Limbs separate.

Bump... Souls tear apart from union.

A mop of tissues, off skin, dabbing clothes, flush away the evidence.

Quick studies in fastening clothing, straightening hair, modesty, composure...

Ten...

The carriage shudders to its own climatic stop. Was it good for the train too?

A journey's end. The show over, our audience is already moving on. Release the door, and I join the flurry of people, swept away backwards, eyes still locked, with a last call of his name. I call mine out too, introduction after intimacy, but what does it matter... Mr Tom Two-Stops-Up-The-Line? We'll probably never meet again.

Even now, only a memory, echo, remembrance, scorching hot, sticky wet, white keepsake, where it counted, tantalisingly cooling, dribbles caught in the towel sandwiched between my damp panties and raw cunt. Oozing out squishingily as I shimmy, tender thighs painfully aware of each other, out the station.

Hook up with my friends, squee hugs and air kisses. But even my perfume, body spray, can't mask the musk of him, the unmistakeable smell of sex, spunk, and my deepest self too.

"What is that scent you're wearing?" As if they need to be told, all far too knowing for that. Add to that a laddered stocking, unseemly crumpled skirt, an undone button, forgotten in haste...

I shrug, "I just... grabbed what was handy." A smile, smirk, hands-up guiltiness acting innocent.

No longer entirely ignored but I keep my mystery while they gossip, speculate, try to entice it out of me - unlike his cum still freely leaking, now cool as if thick clingy perspiration - with drink, raised eyebrows, more sexy, lusty, bawdy tales of their own.

I just find the wall again, cling to it, but liking the new dark, growing, taller self, petalled head held high, a sunflower now, glowing.


*end*


- - - - - - -

#wankwednesday