Fifty miles south of Dar-el-Beida lush costal plain gives way to rocky coastline where the bones of Africa have been exposed to the relentless Atlantic rollers, like the knuckles of a fist-fighter raw and white and bleeding from relentless savagery. But today that elemental anger is gone and I find myself high up on a cliff wall in the heat of the day looking out over the impossible immenseness of the ocean, glassy, azure, sparkling. I rest a while at the top of a narrow cliff path in the shade of an ancient contorted olive tree tortured by eons of storm winds into a broken backed old man bent over and muttering curses at the unheeding sea. I take a pull at a bottle of lukewarm water and settle back to allow the music of cycads to lull me sleep.
As I do I notice a disturbance in the water below and I can make out a female form heading for shore in a slow irresistible breast stroke. There is no beach here, just the broken debris of the ancient battle of the elements, but you rise smoothly out of the water and I realise you are naked as water cascades from your smooth bronzed limbs. You chooses a place on a large flat rock that juts out from the rest of bay. Lying back you allow the unremitting sun to complete the work of drying, caressing the water from you like a lover. I imagine I can see the haze of steam envelop you. You look for all the world like a sacrifice laid out on an alter to the elements. The vast and angry ocean, now so quiet and inviting, the hellish immoderate heat of the sun and ancient granite in its uncaring stolid immovability seem to have kaynarca escort been blended, impossibly, into this perfect specimen of female animal.
As the last of the pools of water evaporate from your warming limbs, you reach a languid hand to pull a bottle from a beach bag. Slowly, methodically you begin to reapply oil to yourself. With each stroke you shine a little brighter as if the midday sun burnishes your skin as you slide your hand over your skin. The mist that I imagined rising from you as you dried is altogether changed. I sense, I can almost see, the sweet scent beginning to rise from you. Your hands have slowed now. They have completed the work of protecting yourself from the violence of ultra-violet, but they are not still. One hand continues to flutter over the slopes of an exposed breast. I believe I can make out the tautening under the skin and the nipple rising to push into your palm. You moves to take your nipple between thumb and finger, crushing slightly and pulling at yourself until I see a tiny gasp catch in your throat. Your head rolls over in my direction and I freeze crouching, hidden above you. Your other hand slides over torso and abdomen, seeking the source of that intoxicating vapour that swirls around her an invisible miasma surrounding, engulfing. I can’t stop my own hand sinking down my body in unison with yours. It is as if you have taken me and pressed my hand down between my legs. I slide myself out of my dusty shorts and immediately I am straining to greet you. I can feel myself pointing down at you below küçükyalı escort me like an arrow caught in a hunters bow, eager, desperate, desiring.
Below you have given yourself up to the drunkenness of lust fuelled by the succulent scent of pheromones rising from between your legs. One delicate questing finger probes down parting a tangle of hair between your thighs. You ease yourself apart and expose yourself to your celestial lover and to my stolen eager glance as well. Just as a ripe peach will burst along it seam unable to contain the sweet delicious life-sustaining glory that overruns itself and cannot be contained, so you too burst into life at the silky touch of that digit. You allow yourself to glide inside, teasing yourself and then unable to resist, remove your finger to your tongue to taste the scented wine that flows now freely from your centre.
Your hand returns to its proper place between your thighs, and begins to flick at the emerging sensitiveness exposed by your ever widening arousal. Involuntarily your knees draw back opening yourself our to my view like a rose on a summer evening. Your right hand twists your nipple harder and your left alternately dives into the sweet mysterious depths inside you and emerges to caress and tease. I gaze down, tugging desperately at myself as my own hand flashes along my hardened flesh in time with your teasing strokes. I feel a golden wire connecting my swollen sex to yours, a sweet and acid biting electricity passing from your fingers as they glide in and out of yourself. sancaktepe escort I can scent the irresistible femaleness warming form your body. I can almost reach out and taste the distilled essence of pure sexual energy that flows freely out onto the burning rock beneath you. Your urgency increases and now your hand is driving in and out of yourself with increasing determination.
You plan your feet and lift your centre clear of the alter. You want the sun god to see your sacrifice to him and to welcome it willingly when it comes. Your lips cling to your fingers as they drive into your core and suck at them as they are withdrawn again in a blur of ecstatic motion. Your right hand is drawn also down between your legs, further down to find another way into your lust. For an instant your left hand stills as you probe with your right deep inside yourself, gasping. The breath is driven from your throat in gasps. You rise from the sacrificial rock offering yourself to the sky and the sea, your monumental sexual energy combining and matching their unimaginable depth and power. Your panting crescendo reaches its final ecstatic frenzy. The panting sobs rise together in one wailing scream of joy. Lightning crackles from your fingertips across the ocean. Around the world, screaming babies quiet suddenly and suckle contented at the breast. Old men smile as the embers of long forgotten lust are fanned one final time, as they reach over to their sleeping wives. Soldiers in the carnage of battle pause, finding unexpected pity in their hearts.
And along with you I am released pouring myself in blessed globs out on the dust beneath the olive tree. I look down on my Aphrodite fearing her blinding revenge on me for stealing this intimate moment. You are laid out contented on your rock caressed by sun and sea, as you look up at me and smile.