Photograph property of Breath-Takers. Of course.
“Sure. I fell in love with them as an eleven year-old. Got a telescope for Christmas. Made some trips with my big sister to a planetarium we used to have right here in the city. Fond, fond memories.” I back off on my tweaking, and massage her breasts instead. It’s a distinct experience, being this intimate with augmented breasts. There’s a mix of the ‘natural’...the texture of her skin, its temperature, its pliability...with the surreal, these masses of substance within, the almost-but-not-quite solid forms that provide some resistance, and yet despite them bring ‘foreign bodies’, are thrilling nonetheless. “What would you like to know?”
“Hmm...” she muses, shimmying on me, vulva, labia, sphincter all in the mix at various times, the varying types of flesh abrading my erection, leaving a varied impression. “Maybe I need to get more comfortable,” she suggests. And with this, she rises up onto her toes, rearranges and realigns, and then descends, taking me in past her folds, through her aperture, taking me inside her vagina, piking herself on me.
A full minute of ‘settling-in’ follows, one in which she quietly (silence augmented with whimpers and gasps, all tiny, all nearly inaudible) and capably makes things ‘best’.
“Are you ready, then?” I ask, paraphrasing the television host from days-gone-by. “Good; we’ll begin.”
As I talk, I push up into Mai, bottoming-out, back-and-forths slight...yet still very much present.
As I talk, I carry on ministering to her tits, chumming it up with her nipples, making the most of our contact.
As I talk, Mai and I make love. The two of us in the dark. The two of us at the window, staring out at the pinpricks of light as I shaft her methodically, meticulously...truly, madly, deeply.
“A silvery thread in the heavens, Eridanus, greatest of all rivers, winds slowly through vast fanciful forestlands. On its grassy banks stands a solitary, impressive figure dressed in hunting attire. The man's powerful arms are upraised; his right hand clutches a stout club, and the left holds aloft a shield made from the skin of a lion. His calm, steadfast gaze is directed at the fearsome visage of a deadly opponent: horns lowered, angry red eye glaring with the lust of combat, a great white Bull threatens to charge the hunter.”
“Where?” Mai asks, absolutely, positively distracted, hands on my thighs, nails digging in...just a little. “Where do you see that?”
“Hmm...” she muses, shimmying on me, vulva, labia, sphincter all in the mix at various times, the varying types of flesh abrading my erection, leaving a varied impression. “Maybe I need to get more comfortable,” she suggests. And with this, she rises up onto her toes, rearranges and realigns, and then descends, taking me in past her folds, through her aperture, taking me inside her vagina, piking herself on me.
A full minute of ‘settling-in’ follows, one in which she quietly (silence augmented with whimpers and gasps, all tiny, all nearly inaudible) and capably makes things ‘best’.
“Are you ready, then?” I ask, paraphrasing the television host from days-gone-by. “Good; we’ll begin.”
As I talk, I push up into Mai, bottoming-out, back-and-forths slight...yet still very much present.
As I talk, I carry on ministering to her tits, chumming it up with her nipples, making the most of our contact.
As I talk, Mai and I make love. The two of us in the dark. The two of us at the window, staring out at the pinpricks of light as I shaft her methodically, meticulously...truly, madly, deeply.
“A silvery thread in the heavens, Eridanus, greatest of all rivers, winds slowly through vast fanciful forestlands. On its grassy banks stands a solitary, impressive figure dressed in hunting attire. The man's powerful arms are upraised; his right hand clutches a stout club, and the left holds aloft a shield made from the skin of a lion. His calm, steadfast gaze is directed at the fearsome visage of a deadly opponent: horns lowered, angry red eye glaring with the lust of combat, a great white Bull threatens to charge the hunter.”
“Where?” Mai asks, absolutely, positively distracted, hands on my thighs, nails digging in...just a little. “Where do you see that?”
I continue to make love to her tits, each hand with each breast a union of its own, full and complete, her nipples milked, the posts spun in half-circles, her topography becoming burnt into the memory-banks of my digits. “Through unending reaches of time and with inexhaustible patience, the "Great Hunter" Orion awaits his challenger, Taurus. Nearby crouch two faithful dogs who always accompany the hero on his exploits: Canis Major, the larger and more aggressive, and Canis Minor, smaller and more timid. At the Hunter's feet a little woodland Hare, Lephus, quietly watches the confrontation unafraid knowing that everyone's attention is focused on the charging Bull.”
“Oh, Jesus...” she says, trembling, jittering in place as I fuck her, as I manipulate her tits, as I carry on carrying on with her. Carrying on with Mai.
I need to tell you here and now that our ‘astronomical/zodiacal’ interlude is... Well, it ends up being this ‘Lost in Bliss’ affair.
What we’ve begun, standing here staring up at the stars in the inky darkness of a city-wide blackout, continues unabated through what must to Mai seem this endless train of sensory overload.
The first climax is not expected. But all the moreso, neither is the panoply of those that follow, some serial in nature, some sequential, but all adding to the elongated moment, an indulgence of stimulation that is our own cosmic display.
“Oh, Jesus...” she says, trembling, jittering in place as I fuck her, as I manipulate her tits, as I carry on carrying on with her. Carrying on with Mai.
I need to tell you here and now that our ‘astronomical/zodiacal’ interlude is... Well, it ends up being this ‘Lost in Bliss’ affair.
What we’ve begun, standing here staring up at the stars in the inky darkness of a city-wide blackout, continues unabated through what must to Mai seem this endless train of sensory overload.
The first climax is not expected. But all the moreso, neither is the panoply of those that follow, some serial in nature, some sequential, but all adding to the elongated moment, an indulgence of stimulation that is our own cosmic display.
