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There’s a woman I see once in a while when I’m out looking for landscapes to photograph. We say hello and pass to go our separate ways, the two of us alone, out walking. She always catches my eye, pretty, nicely dressed, bright eyes that take me in in just a glance before she’s gone. I look forward to seeing her while I’m out.
One morning she stops me. “Hi,” she says, “I just wanted to ask whether you’re a photographer?” looking at the camera I have slung over my shoulder. Her voice has a soft Irish lilt.
I laugh, “sort of,” I say, “I like to come out and photograph the landscapes.”
She nods, “I thought so,” she says, and after a moment, “do you do anything with them?”
“Well, I print some of the good ones. I use them for drawings and paintings.”
“Wow,” she says, smiling now, “that’s cute.”
I study her face, glad to have the chance. She’s about thirty, very lovely, mousy highlighted hair blowing around her face in the atlantic breeze, greenish hazel eyes twinkling. She’s wearing a subtle lip gloss and her mouth is wide and full, cute little nose with a smattering of pale freckles. “What about you,” I say, “what brings you out here?”
She shakes the hair out of her face. “Oh, I just like to breathe the air and enjoy the quiet… see what comes along,” and with that she turns and carries on along the path.
I look back to see her again and catch the briefest glimpse of her looking back too.
That evening I’m looking through the shots I took, but I can’t concentrate. Her face obscures my vision, those eyes looking at me, her glossy lips with a little curl of a smile at the corner. I make myself a cup of tea and take it up to bed, a little read in the snug before lights out, but again my concentration is drawn away by the vision of her, so I have to keep rereading passages.
In the end I give up and settle down to sleep, but the darkness makes it all even worse, her face, her being are like bright lights in the room, and as I remember the way she moved, her voice, I feel the stirrings of arousal.
Thinking back over the times our paths have crossed I realise that we’ve always met at more or less the same time. She must be a creature of habit, whereas my walks are more erratic, and determined by the light out over the coastline. I decide to head out more often around the time that she’s generally out, sevenish, in the evening.
Later on that day I get myself prepared, put a little bit more effort into my wash and scrub and spray on some nice smelly. I set off eagerly, hoping that I might see her again, and sure enough about half an hour along the path, she appears. As we approach one another I smile and say hello.
“Hello again,” she says, “and sure but don’t you smell good,” her smile is mischievous, little wrinkles by her eyes. “Did you make the effort for me?”
I’m slightly taken aback at how easy I must be to read.
“Well,” I said, “I kind of hoped that I might bump into you, you know,”
“Bump into me?” she said, “like an accident?”
“Sort of,” I said.
“Nice timing for an accident though, wouldn’t you say?”
I don’t know how to answer her, shuffling a little bit, slightly embarrassed.
“Well,” she says, “we’re here now are we not. Would you like to walk a way with me?”
We walk together up to the headland for the view, and she chats with me while I take a few pictures. We get along nicely, neither of us forced or awkward, not exactly having the craic, but feeling one another out gently. After a while she looks at her watch. “I’ve to be going soon,” she says, “I was wondering would you take my picture just there,” pointing to a little cove maybe a hundred metres down below, “I’ll send it to my ma, she’d bring me there when I was small.”
“Of course I will,” I say, and she smiles. We pick our way down and she sits herself down against a rock, and gives me time to line up a good shot, the atlantic rolling in in big heavy waves, a cloudy sky just turning to colour, and her almost a silhouette but with the curves of her features picked out by the light. She comes and stands close to look at the picture, and as I show it to her she lifts up on tiptoes and kisses me on the mouth. “Thankyou,” she says.
I taste the salt from the sea on my lips. A little bit of her scent, something floral and fresh reaches my nostrils. “Thank you,” I reply.
Back up on the headland she says goodbye and she’s gone, just like that. I think to shout after her what about your picture, but my voice bahis firmaları would be lost to the wind. I wait and watch as she grows smaller in the distance until she’s rounded the cliff and is gone from sight. I lick my lips and hurried home.
I work on a few edits of her picture while dinner is in the oven but keep reverting back to the original. I leave her on screen while I eat and afterwards I open a bottle of white and return to studying her. I zoom in and look at every pore that is visible, perfect, as perfect as can be. Before bed I print two copies, one for her on the kitchen table, and one for me. I take mine up to bed with me.
I put on the bedside lamp and snuggle down, the picture in my hand. Outside the wind is howling, and in the cosy warm of my bed I feet the stirrings of desire.
I don’t intend for it to happen but my penis begins to enlarge. I reach in and stroke it while I study her face. In the picture she’s looking away, and I wonder why I didn’t photograph her looking into the lens.
I want to masturbate so badly, but I decide against it, the act seeming somehow wrong, so I put the photograph down on the bedside table and switch off the lamp for sleep.
But her image stays there with me in the darkness, and my dick won’t shrink away. I delve down into my pyjamas again and begin to stroke and rub myself gently. I imagine her turning to me and remember her kiss, quick and firm, the taste of the sea and her eyes so close.
My rhythm increases as I imagine that it were her hand down there, not mine. In my mind our lips are pressing together, the tips of our tongues exploring one another, and with only a few minutes passed my penis swells and the I’m coming and coming. I carry on stroking myself, milking out the last few drops. I turn onto my side to sleep and close my eyes
As my dreams come she whispers in the night.
The next day she isn’t there, on the path. I’ve brought out the photograph with me, but she doesn’t appear, nor the next, nor the day after that. A week passes by and I’m beginning to feel frantic. I tell myself that I’m being silly, for christ’s sake I don’t even know her name, but after every walk I put her picture up on the mantlepiece and I can’t focus on anything other than her.
And then she’s there, I’m out looking at the sky, great clouds rushing over the empty landscape and my eyes are caught by a little form approaching. As she gets closer I see her smile and my heart flutters.
“Hello,” she says, “how’re you?”
“I’m good thankyou,” I reply, “how are you?”
“I’m fine,” she says.
She’s wearing a cream coloured dress and her hair is tied back in a ponytail so I can see her lovely neck. “I brought your picture,” I say, and fumble around my inside pocket, bring it out and give it to her.
“You’re very sweet,” she says, squinting up at me because of the sun, “shall we go and look at the beach again? Maybe I’ll let you take another.”
Looking out over the ocean I can see that there’s a storm coming. She’s not dressed for it but I’m enjoying my time with her and it takes a while for me to point out the big grey clouds gathering.
“Never mind,” she says, “I like a good storm.”
I’ve brought my bag out with me so that if the rain comes I can store my gear safely. I take out a bottle of water and we sip from the bottle while we chatter, watching the sky grow more ominous, and then the first drops of rain begin. She laughs with delight.
The waves gather in their intensity and the rain becomes a deluge. I watch fascinated as she angles her face up into the downpour, her dress becoming drenched so I can see her underwear beneath. I drag the camera out of my bag to reel off a dozen shots before it gets to wet and she eyes me knowingly, standing with her feet planted there in the sand, her hair sopping ringlets, the dress clinging to her body, almost completely transparent.
“Did you get some nice ones?” she says. I nod. She stares at me, into my eyes, her look penetrating deep into my soul. “Do you only like to look?” she says, “or do you like to touch too?” The rain pours down the two of us, dripping in torrents from our noses and mouths. I kneel in the sand in front of her and reach out tentatively.
Her hand reaches out for mine and she guides it to her breast. Her nipples jut through the thin material, her mouth is slightly open as she watches me, I can see her lower teeth, white and carnal. We kiss, abandoning ourselves to the storm of our arousal, wild and animal like, kaçak iddaa tongue feeling for tongue, and I feel her hand exploring me through my trousers.
We each make little gasps as we come up for air, our hands everywhere, feeling, grasping, probing. I draw open the cream dress to expose her little tits in a black bra, push the cups aside to look at her protruding nipples, hard and brown against her soft white skin. I nuzzle and kiss them and she sighs. Our clothes are drenched. Out on the horizon I catch little flashes of lightning, and distant rumbles fuel our passion.
She reaches for my belt, unbuckling it with urgent haste, ripping open the buttons on the fly so she can reach in to feel, and we remain locked together while she grasps and strokes me. I cup her breasts in each hand while I kiss more deeply, drinking down the flavour of her, our nostrils flare, sharing breath. She pulls me out and my penis stands erect in the cold wet air.
She pushes me away and kneels in front of me, tugging on my exposed shaft while she studies it with her eyes up close, then she places one, two, three little kisses, little licks with the tip of her tongue. I’m pulsing with desire, pressing myself against her mouth, her cheeks, and the rain from her sodden ringlets pours down the length of me. She wraps her lips around the swollen head and draws me inside.
I’m close to the edge already, fighting with myself not to come, not yet, not yet, and the lightning flashes brighter, closer. The thunder sounds overhead and she laughs with glee. “Fuck me,” she calls, her words whipped away on the wind, “fuck me.”
I tear at her dress, dragging the neckline open and wrenching it down over her, exposing her shoulders and tummy. She peels the bra up and over her head, flicking her hair clear of her face, her eyes flashing wild in the darkening evening. She rises and peels of her panties and I watch as the rainwater pours along the valleys of her lovely body, gathering at her pubis and continuing to flow on down her shapely thighs and calves. She takes off her socks and shoes and reclines her naked body against a large, weather-smoothed rock.
The lightning sheers down and strikes the rock face over to our left, lighting up her nakedness. I scan the clifftops, and she laughs. “Nobody’s here,” she calls, “only you. And me.” I undress, and we two are naked on the raging beach. I run my hands along her thighs, gently spreading them apart until I see her pinkness in the tangle of hair, and she moans, her eyes closed. I kiss her there, and the taste of her floods onto my tongue.
I lick into her, long deep motions with all of my tongue, pushing her thighs further apart so that I can go into her further. She moans and writhes and little squirts come into my mouth, salty, rich, womanly flavours erupting onto my tastebuds. She pushes her feet into my abdomen, feeling with her sandy toes for my inflamed prick, arching her back away from the rock in her own special ecstasy.
She pulls away from me shuddering but I won’t let her go. My hands course over her legs and her tummy and my fingers delve down and into her, stroking at her inflamed lips and down in between her arse cheeks. I drag her body towards me and push my engorged member up against her, fucking her from the outside, drawing our faces together so that we can kiss. Her hands reach around for my buttocks and she clasps onto me tight, pressing me into her, guiding my dick down and into her valleys so it’s poised on the verge.
We stay that way for a while, gently moulding our sexes together, and through the cold wet rain I can feel her warmth oozing out onto me. She looks into my eyes, and I into hers. “I need you,” she says, through gasping hot breath, “I need you inside me now,” and I can’t wait any longer, so I push myself inside, and shudder at the feel of her hot wet insides as they consume me.
I begin to move, slowly, slowly, savouring the feelings, and she bites onto my ear with her teeth, “mmm, mmm, yes baby, yes baby,” My prick slides in and out of her, slick with her juice, and I push in further and further until our hairs mingle and she’s full of me. “oh baby, oh baby, yes, yes,” she moans, “fuck me now, fuck me baby,” and the lightning forks down closer still, close enough to make me jump. But she doesn’t let go.
Her voice is a hot whisper in my ear, “mmm, come on baby, fuck me, fuck me hard. I want you inside of me, I want you’re cum inside of me, fuck me harder,” I’m pushing hard now, my whole body tensed as I thrust myself in and out of kaçak bahis her. She’s holding onto me so tightly, gasping and squealing, her fingernails carving swirls into the skin on my back, her legs wrapped around my middle. The ocean seethes its way up the beach and the storm surges.
I’m close, and sensing it she whispers “not yet, not yet,” and she pulls herself away. She turns herself over on the rock and kneels facing away from me in the sand. Through the howling wind I can hear her telling me “fuck me like a dog, like a dog.” I line myself up against her rear and reach around her to take her breasts, one in each hand. Her nipples are as hard as the rock she’s bending over and burning hot to my icy fingertips.
I run my swollen glans along her hairs down there, pausing only to see it lined up against her arsehole and her dripping pink pussyhole, winking open and closed at me as she gasps her breath in and out. I slide myself back inside her, holding her arse cheeks wide apart so that I can see. I watch in fascination as the length of me moves in, then out, her lips sliming with her creamy cum, leaving slick deposits that turn into strings at my curly hair before they’re washed away in the downpour.
I grip her by her hips and begin driving harder into her. She’s writhing beneath me, pushing herself back onto me with her own rhythm, so I adjust myself to her wanting, and her moaning and shuddering grow in intensity. An immense crack of lightning strikes, forking out either side of us and every hair on our bodies stands on end. She screams and her pussy erupts juice in a huge spray that covers my balls and my stomach. She’s coming. I’m coming.
She collapses spent onto the rock, yanking her body off mine, her chest heaving as she drags in lungfulls of air. I take myself in my hand and work myself hard, her gorgeous body prone, facedown in front of me, and as I’m on the verge of climax she turns and lifts up. “No,” she says, “wait”, and her hands come up to take hold of me.
I thrill to her icy cold touch, my penis is burning hot and she guides it to her lovely mouth once more. With her eyes closed she places the throbbing red tip against her tongue and begins to pull on me. Her hands are like music, sliding back and forth along the fleshy shaft of me, and she licks and sucks and kisses me there.
Now I’m moaning, eyes closed, holding on and holding on until she’s ready, and when I blink down at her through the raindrops she’s looking back up at me and smiling. I can feel myself beginning to come and I put back my head and let out a long sigh.
She holds hard and yanks me to the finish. Feeling it build through my flesh she puts back her head and opens her mouth wide. With a great shudder I come hard, shooting wad after wad of thick, hot, milky cum into her mouth, onto her cheeks and her chin, and in her state of delirium she licks and slurps and swallows it all in. She puts the head of me inside and runs her hot lips all along me, licking up every drop as it continues to spurt, until finally the spasms begin to slow.
She continues to lick and stroke the length of me as my erection fades, milking each further trickle away with her fingertips and tongueing them away inside her. I kneel before her and she presses her lips to mine. I can taste myself there. I don’t want this to end.
Another lightning bolt strikes nearby, and we’re both jolted into reality. She’s smiling but shivering slightly, so I rescue my coat and wrap it around her, watch while she attempts to reassemble her clothes underneath. I dress too and before long we look like we’re part way back to normal. I reach out for just one more kiss, but she’s already turned and begun moving away back up the little path.
At the top she’s a long way away, heading for home, and my heart flutters. I shout over across the headland, “Your name. What’s your name?” but she’s moving fast, no more than a tiny speck in the far distance now. I stand in my sodden shirt and watch as she disappears once more.
That evening, after I’m washed and changed, I decide to make a drawing of her. I look everywhere for her photograph, but I can’t find it. I turn the house upside down but it’s lost to me. I check the camera to see if the original is still there, and to see how todays pictures look, but all I see is dull blurs and smears. Maybe the rain has damaged something.
I go up to bed with an achingly sweet melancholy. I try to remember everything that happened on the beach but I can only recall little glimpses. Out over the ocean darkness the storm is gradually subsiding, and I try my best to sleep.
As my dreams approach I hear a faint tinkling music, so sweet and so very far away, and her soft, lilting voice whispers on the wind.
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