On a whim, we cut a swathe through some knee-high grass in a cleared area towards the back of one of the sports grounds. A fallen tree blocked our progress, however, there wasn’t a track in or out of the spot – excellent. My inner paranoiac scanned the scene for disturbed grass where others may have taken a short cut but all blades except the ones we trampled were upright — perfect.

Honestly, I’m that paranoid too.

I removed my pants, sat on the log and sucked his cock as his fingers probed inside me. His cock slid out my mouth and I left him to his own devices as I came. I’d never intend to bite someone’s cock if it’s in my mouth as I’m coming, but it’s one vow I’d never wish to test. I was blinded by the sun and stars in my eyes as I recuperated and he allowed me a few seconds’ rest before working my g-spot again. I grasped his shoulders and buttocks as I came again in a surprise spurt. We discovered that I come more easily when positioned close to vertical — and I was half-sliding down the log anyway – and he got me off several more times until my legs felt they were filled uselessly with the viscous fluid and glitter in snowdomes.

Well, snowdomes make me think of winter… right?

I’ve never threatened to ask her about the bits of her body she subjected to permanence. I’d never seen her as the “type”— not that I still foolishly place too much weight in such arbitrary classifications— to get piercings or tattoos, and while it was certainly true that the double ear piercings and upper cartilage piercings were only just becoming fashionable — or at the least, “mainstream”— while we were in high school, other piercings were still a few cautionary looks away from being socially acceptable without any stigma— and we’re only talking about visible piercings, mind you.

So it was a surprise when we stumbled upon each other— our paths in college crossing rarely and randomly after freshman year— and I noticed the shiny crystalline stud on the right side of her nose. And maybe I had poked fun at her then— the fading sting of the high school crush I had harbored for so long— but I didn’t ever find out why she wanted to get that tiny sparkle on her nose. It’s still there, only today it’s a clearer and brighter stone— if not diamond, then a something simulated and very similar— catching and magnifying light. And in her left eyebrow, I can sometimes catch the remnants of a piercing— one I’ve never seen— removed and dulled with the heal of time.

There is ink on her body— too— in this strange knotted shape above the protrusion of her left hip, angular and curved at the same time. Seeing it first obscured by her underwear, I mistook it for a birthmark at first, but many casually close inspections later, I was certain it was a tattoo— deliberate, drawn, and marked. I’ve fantasized about its genesis, maybe some strange art she’s come across in her wildly liberal arts education, or maybe a stylized doodle to cover the name or mark of a past lover. I’ve fingered it gently, my mouth buried between her thighs and tongue moving in ways to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t catch my eyes lingering over the mysterious mark. I’ve caught myself focusing on it as I look down while my hips push myself in and out of her— but I’ve never brought it up, or asked about it.

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i hung up the phone, but the heat lingered between my legs, and as my aesthetician spread my legs wide to get every lingering hair from the crack of my ass, a trickle of cunt juice slid out of my cunt and onto the blanket beneath me. i knew she couldn’t have helped but notice, and i swear i blushed from head to toe, my voice faltering in the midst of our usual waxing chit chat about sex and kink.

“Wow, that phone call really had an effect on you, didn’t it,” she asked. “I’ve never seen you get quite so worked up before.” i nodded, too embarrassed to speak. “Well,” she said, “good thing that we’re about done here.” And then she slid a finger of her gloved hand down across my clit, and to the slippery opening of my cunt.

The rest is worth a read. A quick read and a very long, hard think.

“Do you have anything that can kill me?!” she spat out in-between breaths escaping flared nostrils, her hand (already) at her (wet) pussy lips and awkwardly tugging at the ring of the condom that had slipped off me and stayed in her.

I, too, was catching my breath, our bodies close, her right leg folded up and knee (sharply) pressing into my chest with her weight on her back and mine on my side. I had felt the latex (slippery-ly) slipping off the quicker I moved my hips, and the deeper I thrust into her. That it slipped off (so) completely was a surprise, my cock feeling suddenly cool with wetness exposed to the air. That it stayed (so) deep within her tight pussy was not.

“No,” I said (with a grunt more than a response), already reaching towards the open drawer.

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Sometimes I will let myself believe that there is nothing at all lurking behind those eyes— greenish blue, now, glistening behind lashes fluttering open and closed with the weight of half-awoken sleep. That— like everything else out there in the blustery cold— there is only pure white snow, erasing the landscape and quietly smothering its memory.

I’d like to believe that I can be blind to the strain and struggle I see in them sometimes— not when the television annoyingly steals the hanging space in the air, when re-runs of Jersey Shore bronze and re-bronze the screen— but in that second when our faces are close and breaths collide and those eyes tell me that the decision has been made.

And I will admit— to many things, but here, now, it’s this— to making that decision too.

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The motions are (far) less exploratory now, still cautious but no longer tentative, with the deliberate act of refinement.

Like sharpening a blade, or polishing a stone, she is eager to understand what I like, and how I like it. The grip on the base of my cock is tighter and she is (more) in control. Her senses are trained less on my eyes and the expression on my face (although she steals a glance every now and then, peering at me through a veil of hair) and more on the (not so) subtle responses my body demits. The swipe of her tongue directly underneath the head makes my hips rise. The press of her upper lip gives me a shudder. The warmth as she takes me into her mouth causes my balls to tighten and my breath to quicken.

She’s a very keen observer.

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