The moon was so bright that night that she couldn't even see the stars that were close to it in the sky. And after dropping off some now forgotten guest at some now forgotten cottage I had the whole ride home alone with this horny woman who already had her hand between my legs and was watching me squirm.
"No," I pleaded, "you first. Take your underpants off." She was wearing a cotton dress, which she dutifully hiked up and slid the panties off the ends of her feet. I was now driving on the paved road that runs back to the cottage we were staying at.
"Touch yourself," I said. "I want to watch you make yourself come."
She spread her legs slightly, scrunched down a bit in the bucket seat, closed her eyes and started the slow, circular caresses she lovingly makes on her sweet little pussy.
I know those lazy revolutions can presage the shuddering release that practically makes me come just watching it. I was driving slowly on the empty road and watching her movements as much as possible. I even reached over and put my fingers lightly on hers, feeling them do their delicious work. My cock was aching in its confines. Suddenly she opened her eyes and groaned a groan of frustration. "There's not enough time to do me. Let me do you instead." And she reached over and started unzipping me. "I want you to go first," I protested although I did not stop her from pulling my scepter to freedom. She squeezed it firmly, milking it for a smear of clear, slippery pre-come. "Oooh, now what's this?" she said as she sensually rubbed the liquid all over the soft head of my otherwise stiff penis. She especially lingered on the sentitive rim. Having constantly been around other people for the last three days and unable to "get off" alone with her, I was especially urgent; still I longed some reciprocity. I reached over with my left hand for her slit. It was warm, swollen and very, very wet. Her hips moved in slight gyrations allowing my fingers to play on her wet, warm folds.
At the the stop sign at the top of the hill, I reluctantly withdrew my hand to make the necessary left hand turn. While stopped she leaned over and took my breath away by directing my throbbing and now very erect penis into her mouth and taking my pulse with her tongue. Shakily I started making the turn when she withdrew her warm gift and told me to pull over. I was exigent and ready to burst in anticipation of an explosive blow job. But when we stopped, she opened the door and got out asking me to follow. Opening the door had turned on the harsh overhead light, revealing my erection sticking out from my unbuttoned and unzipped khakis, underwear pulled down. Out we went into the open air. She walked ten feet or so away from the road into the field leading me by the hand, with my exposed penis still wet with her saliva, shiny in the moonlight.
And then, in what I now think of as an almost devotional gesture, she stopped, lay back on the long grass, pulled up the front of her dress and spread her legs. "I want you inside me."
The cold, white moonlight shone on her bare skin and on her invitingly visible and slightly open pussy. Her juices made her puckered labia glisten.
Certainly sex and the demands of a hard-on were a primary issue here-but more than anything, what I was feeling was love. Everything I had come to feel and treasure about her was suddenly summed up in this wonderful tender gesture.
Those few moments seemed an almost religious experience. The moon, the field, the night air, gave it the aura of some rite. Accordingly I lowered myself to my knees almost in prayer at the wonder of her offering. I could smell outdoors and the grass and the mustiness of her desire. I know I made some remark later about how it all seemed almost unearthly in the mysterious white moonlight, but I don't think she knew how truly mystic the whole incident was for me. I will never forget her spreading her legs and offering herself. It seemed truly an act of pure devotion. I wanted to kiss her glorious juices, her luscious sex, but as I started lowering myself to do so, she pulled me up. "Inside me, please ... please." She seemed at that moment to want me as much as I wanted her. (She was probably just anxious that we not be caught.) She reached down and guided me into her lush, well-lubricated opening, giving a sudden pleasurable gasp when I entered her. I was so hot that, even trying to hold back, I'm sure I wasn't more than half a minute's use to her, gushing white hot come into her while her arms held me tightly.
Being due back at the cottage and feeling so vulnerable in the open by the side of the road, we didn't dally as I would have liked. But while I was sitting and adjusting my trousers, while she started pushing her dress down again and began to sit up; suddenly I didn't want it all to disappear so quickly.
"Lay back again, please," I asked.
And she did, looking at me curiously, as if to say "what is this he wants". But all I wanted was a last look at that moon-bathed mound of Venus. I lifted the front of her skirt back to her waist and then gently separated her legs again. Her inner right thigh was slick and wet, and more of our mingled juices were starting to ooze from her pussy lips. I reached down and touched her with my right index and middle fingers, slowly brought the hand to my mouth and sucked the stickiness off, swallowing the wine we had together created. I don't believe I have ever been so in love. Getting up, we brushed the loose grass and twigs off her dress and my knees and I remember she made some joking comment about how I had certainly managed my job quickly. We were back to practical matters now, and had returned to the normal world where sex was somehow faintly embarrassing and engendered nervous comments, where we were really in control of our emotions and desires and weren't willing to show ourselves so openly and uninhibitedly.
But the truth was that in the previous few minutes, my whole orientation had changed: for the first time I saw that sex acts had this wonderful potential for being the ceremonies of love-not just mere lust, but the ritual ratification of what we shared and worshipped about each other.
Of course there is still just plain lust. But, with a woman you love, there is something beyond-a communion. I think that is why she will always be so sexy to me, why I will always want her lips to suck my cock and her pussy to get slippery and wet for me and why I'll always want to watch her face while she groans her own orgasm. If she thinks it was just the moon, she's wrong. Since then, with her, I've a number of times had that feeling of epiphany. I remember one time, in fact, when circumstances meant I didn't even have a chance to come myself. And yet even then, despite the frustration and the aching testicles, I still felt this sense