PLEASE HELP BLUE PRESS STAY AFLOAT

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Goodbye, Dirty Machine (part 77)


I move her shirt above crisp hard nipples, and it’s a surprise to find her small breasts, given the generous portions of pop on her ass…I moved my mouth to her nipples, which stuck out a good ¾ inch, and nuzzled with purple resolve, biting down at the final exhalation of her once steely resolve…she was now in a rhythm of deep breaths, tongue pressed firmly to the top of her mouth, legs coming up off the bed at the knees…meanwhile at the seaport back in Belize City, a violent storm is brewing but in San Pedro, all is like a final printer’s dummy—sexy and raw…I move my hand to her waist, then down over the sacral hump of her panties, into the wet folds… her hips rose up off the bed, swaying perfectly to my strokes and all I can think about is getting my mouth on her pussy in the quickest chain of events possible…before I could get there, Johanna stopped stroking my cock to pull down her now soaked underwear with a giggle…next, she tossed off the sheet and I got my hand on her puss again, the female pudenda, that black buttonhole pink marvel, and frankly quite shocked again at the contrast of colors there, I failed to notice at first the wetness, which now seems like the history of weather, a graphite slide wetness that I had not felt before…a slick, no a slide action, a compound made of silver and Lithuania, a tawny peach bliss…

So the beautiful syndrome of filial sexmanship was at hand… I got my mouth involved, down the hatch, nose-deep in fantasy, and her burning hot pussy was rocketing us both into Orion’s chastity belt, with the big dipper swinging between my lets…the thermometer was absolute 100 degrees and on the up…fearing Greek insomnia, for I could sleep in that space of hers, I came up, wet mouth and face, slid up her belly ‘crost the black plain to the breasts and onto her neck, through an ear and the coarse braids of hair, getting drunk on drench Belize smells and textures…to her full lips now with the taste of her sex, the rich coffee of her sex between us…she reached down and took hold of my erection, squeezing it strong in just that way that makes a man wince and gesticulate, grabbed it like the food for thought that it was…she pulled me in so that the tip was now immersed in that queen honey, then she moved it around and around, inching it in…

I had different ideas…I reached down and thrust it in with as much mustard I could without being stupid…it split the seam of her cunt and found nothing but magic…from her, a blue blue hope and exhalation, deep inside with all we call holy, buried up to the pubis in pussy, together, agreed upon, black and white fucking…once, twice, three times, rocking calm and assertive, on up to 100, maybe a quarter thousand…this many entrances, this many departures…

- Michael Price