Desert Oasis Ch. 01: Half The Chance

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Big Dicks

The heat blasted me when I slid the patio door open. I was used to tropical hot, but the heat of a Low Desert morning never ceased to amaze, or pummel, me. It was barely past 9am and it had to be 90°F. The mix of villa’s adobe architecture, the Sonoran scrub and the unrelenting desert sun washed out everything in sight. Except for her.

She lay at the pool’s edge, perpendicular to the water. Save her feet, which she dangled in the cool water, she was stretched long on the pool deck. She wore nothing but a black hair scarf.

Set in a secluded corner of the hotel grounds, the private villa allowed us to be nude most of the time. The only time we had to cover-up was in the presence of this morning’s masseuses, and that was only for the pleasantries of welcoming them and bidding them farewell.

We enjoyed a full massage treatment in the privacy of our room. The freed blood flow, abetted by stolen glances of her on the adjoining table, made it difficult to not become aroused during our treatment. But, breathing deep, I kept calm as they carried on. At the end of the services, she retired to the pool while I settled the bill with spa technicians. Once I sent them on their way, I went out to join her.

Her body looked delicious. Her long caramel legs stretched to the water. Her soft abdomen was the color of tres leche, an effect of being forced into swimwear in other settings. Her heavy breasts poured off her chest, topped with relaxed but ripe nipples. Her brown arms chevroned and met at her hands, fingers entwined under her head, supporting it. Her radiant face wore a contented smile.

Approaching, I untied the terry hotel robe and slid it off my shoulders to the ground. With each step I could feel my cock unfurl, lengthen and swell as I gazed on her intently. I was far from erect, but it was clear that my penis—along with the rest of me—was happy to be unencumbered and alone again with her. I walked to the opposite end of the pool and dove in.

I swam the length of the pool in one breath, submerged. Her delicate feet as my markers, I surfaced easily between her smooth, muscular calves. Running my cool wet hands along her hot thighs, she let out a blended laugh/purr then, raising up on her elbows, said, “Hey baby! How do you feel?”

Met with a beaming smile and her magnificent breasts rolling down her chest, I paused, lost in my own lustful thoughts, before replying, “Good!” But returning instantly to the majesty before me, I added with a devious grin, “But not as good as you.”

“You’re too good to me,” she answered as she lay back down.

I continued running my hands up and down her thighs, enjoying the suppleness that the massage oils afforded her. She was enjoying my touch, a long languorous moan coming from her throat, followed by deep, relaxing breaths. Her chest rose, elevating her breasts with it. A desert breeze rustled through the surrounding yucca. When the air stilled there was no sound beyond her breathing, the water lapping at the pool walls, my palms gliding across her legs and hips, and my own heartbeat beating in my ears. Lazily, my eyes settled on the gentle grasslands of her Mons.

Unbeknownst to her, my eyes stared at her womanhood hungrily, whetting my appetite for her. My strokes increased in pressure and velocity. I was fully, ravenously aroused, the tip of my erection pushing into the side of the pool. Resisting no more, I ran my right hand up her thigh and atop her mound. Unshielded from the sun, her pubic hair was searingly hot. Equivalently willing to accept as I was to give, she moaned again and widened her legs. As her inner lips emerged to greet me, I moved my left hand’s caress to her inner thigh. I pressed the heel of my right palm caringly but appreciably against her Venus Cleft, moving it in subtle topkapı escort circles. My thought that the diffuse motion and pressure would carefully awaken her clit proved correct, and her body responded as I hoped. Her legs widened still, her breathing deepened, her moans amplified, her outer lips flushed from bourbon to burgundy. Like a butterfly’s wings, her inner lips swelled and splayed. Gliding my hand down, I ran my fingertip over the hood of the clit, across the plane of her right labia, then returned to run down the panel of her left. I marveled at her softness, at the resistance caused by the influx of blood and desire, at the high art of her. Then, as if on cue, delight: a bead of her arousal escaped her lips and cascaded down her perineum. It stopped me cold. I nearly came.

Her voiced snapped me to reality. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Her query was tinged with worry. “You bet!” I responded enthusiastically.

“Really?” She sounded surprised by my answer.

“Are you kidding? I could do this all day if given half the chance.”

She giggled, relaxed. I returned to my ministrations.

My cock ached. I adjusted my pelvis, unpinning my erection from the wall and allowing it to spring upward to a more natural position. Without the resistance, my penis relaxed, defusing my urge to come.

I caught the trickle of her femininity with the tip of my finger and spread it along her lips. As I gently massaged the oil on her petals, another dollop rolled out and down. As with the first, I nabbed it, rubbing it into her perineum. Her body responded, pushing against my rotating finger. Doing so forced another bead out. I drew it up on my fingertip and spread it across the tip of my thumb. With both fingers suitably glazed, I took her right petal between them and ran them up her length to her clit; when I returned in reverse, I added a gentle outward tug. I offered the same service to her left labia.

She rocked her pelvis as she let out an impassioned, open-mouthed, “Ahg.” Time ceased as I caressed her, enchanted. On my final upward pass along her right labia, I paused at her clit. Releasing her lip, my forefinger joined his three brothers and in formation glided through her pubic hair atop her puffed mound. Following this motion, I stiffened my thumb in a slight hook and slipped inside her. Reaching just past her muscled gateway, I stopped as the webbing of my fingers stretched across her burning clit. The tip of my thumb slid along the swollen spongy roof of her vagina as she bathed it in her scalding essence.

“You’re so wet,” I said in equal parts bewilderment, amazement and lust.

“You’re fault,” she replied in a breathy libidinousness.

She let out a sensual, “Ohhh…” as she rocked her pelvis to meet my hand.

Below the surface, my cock screamed for attention. Releasing her thigh from the grip in which I unconsciously had it, I soothed my enflamed erection with my left hand. I gathered some pre-cum at the engorged tip, but the pool water quickly washed it away, diluting its lubricant properties. I gripped my shaft in my fist.

I pushed my fingers down into her mound as I pressed my thumb up into her g-spot and moved my hand to and fro, massaging her inside and out, hopefully stroking the shaft of her clit while the webbing of my thumb bumped into her exposed button with each advance. She pressed the palms of her hands down onto the ground be her sides, lifting her hips to meet my thrusts. Like a seasoned accompanist, I followed her lead, matching her tempo. Our sexes worked in unison too: as her lips flushed and distended, so did my corona. Each bead of oil she emitted was matched with pre-cum.

I could sense she was peaking. I released my cock; I knew that if I made her cum, I would türbanlı escort cum too. I put my left hand on her sunned thigh. I worked my hands in counterpoint: I pulled my left hand toward her knee as I thrust my right inward. As she neared the summit, she lifted her knees and spread herself wide. I gripped her right calf as I switched my technique. I withdrew my thumb and spun my wrist. I formed a soft hook with my fore- and middle fingers and inserted them with careful determination. I erected my thumb which, still suffused with her oils, slid against her clit with ease.

With two fingers extending deeper within as they raked against her g-spot and her clit receiving dedicated stimulation from the padding of my thumb, I accelerated. Following a few rapid, “hu-, hu-, hu-,” she curled up, eyes shut tight, her face and chest ruddied, her nipples standing screamingly erect. She cried out ecstatically and fell back out of breath as she came triumphantly. Her vulva spasmed with such force it felt like she was trying to pull me deeper inside her. A stream of her essence poured out of her. Her breasts heaved. The sight of her was so erotic I was astounded that I didn’t cum myself.

She laid her legs flat, returning her feet to the water, as she enjoyed the afterglow.

“How was that?” I asked. She responded with a delirious chuckle, draping her forearm over her eyes. I ran both hands over her again, from knees to hips. On one pass I ran my right hand up her leg, across her mound, and down the other. She responded with a surprising sensuality when I crossed her tufted pad. Sensing I could make her peak again, I returned to her mound, and ran a fingertip between her lips. Startled, she drew her breath in sharply between her teeth.

Still soaked, I sank my forefinger into her measuredly. She moaned approvingly. Rotating my hand 180º, I curled my finger and dredged along her still bloated vaginal ceiling. She responded with an open-mouthed, “Ah.” I withdrew. I retrieved her feet from beneath the water and raised them poolside. Her knees rose then fell to the side in reflecting Vs. Her glistening, rosy femininity blossomed. Leaving her momentarily, I trudged through the water to the stairs, exiting to the point that my bulging cock surfaced. I ran my fingertip along the underside, forcing out a bubble of pre-cum which I caught with my fore- and middle fingers. I returned to her, massaging my gland oil into the pads of my fingers with my thumb. I placed my slicked fingers on either side of her tumid clit and massaged subtly up and down.

Unlike her previous incline, she lay completely still. Her breathing was deep and steady. I kept a solid rhythm, watching her hood retract and extend over her bead. Occasionally I’d press my fingers together, faintly pinching her clit. I stared at her majestic sex, transfixed.

Suddenly her breathing shallowed and accelerated. I sped up. With a series of, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” in the final stages of her ascent, she screamed, “Nnghh!” as she came. Her knees snapped together, clamping my hand within her molten folds, and rolled her hips to her right. Her left breast, rubescent with a taut ripened nipple atop, looked delectable.

Though it was her second, this orgasm seemed distinctly more powerful than the last. Focusing on her clit, compared to the clit/mound/g-spot combination before, must have offered a pronouncedly different sensation. It took her a while to unwind. When I felt her thighs slacken, I extracted my hand. I left her to recover quietly in the abundant sun and adjourned to the kitchenette.

I returned in moments, a martini in hand. With the mix of massage oils and perspiration, she looked radiantly, ravishingly bronze. It took every ounce of my being not tüyap escort to ravage her.

She became aware of my return by the shadow I cast along her. The sun, mocking me, put the umbra of my erection directly atop her Mons. She opened one eye. I must have been a sight: arm cradling a cobalt martini glass extending down; bloated, reddened cock pointing achingly up.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A dirty martini, stirred not shaken.”

“Oh really?”

“Seemed fitting.”

“Why’s that?”

“Somerset Maugham once said, ‘martinis should always be stirred, not shaken, so that the molecules lie sensuously one on top of the other.'”

“Very nice. And we have olives to make it dirty?”

After a pregnant pause, I replied with a deadpan, “Sure.”

“What does that mean?”

I responded with a Cheshire Cat grin that said everything yet revealed nothing. Looking with equivalent mischief, she sat up, reached for the cocktail and took a sip. I was pleased as she relished it. She sank her forefinger into the drink, swirled it then teasingly licked her finger clean. My cock bobbed. She returned her finger to her beverage and swirled again. When she extracted her finger, she extended and painted the tip of my cock with the concoction. The blend of her touch, the liquid’s chill and the alcohol astringency shocked me. My corona flared, emitting a bead of pre-cum that crashed onto her hip. Again, she dipped her finger in the conical glass and spread the droplets of martini along the top of my rigid cock.

She rearranged herself on her knees. Her breasts swayed as she rose. The perspiration that gathered on her body was pulled down across her. I watched as the beads trickled from her shoulders and down her chest, some into the great valley between her breasts, some over her majestic peaks, wrapping around her protruding nipples, causing them to tighten further. I needed to feast on her.

Suddenly my view was obscured. All I saw was shoulder and hair. Unawares, she had taken my full length in her mouth, her skilled, searing tongue swathing me. Her nose pressed into my mound; her chin delighted the follicles on my contracting scrotum. She withdrew, my bulging head catching on her lips. The tip of her tongue danced in the dimpled exit of my penis. My spine and legs liquefied. Jarringly, she slammed into me again, accepting all of me along her toned tongue. She swirled around me at a bewildering pace. I could feel my orgasm roil within me. Apparently, so could she: unsettlingly, she stopped. My cock bounced and bobbed in the air. She sat back on her haunches and just looked at me. Her eyes burned into my cock. In reply, my eyes burned into her tits. She sipped a mouthful of martini but, without swallowing it, slipped her lips over me. The drink’s chill stymied my urge to cum, allowing me to enjoy her work just a little longer.

Soon she imbibed the cocktail, the motion causing her tongue to slide milkingly across the underside of my cock. Though the drink was ingested, she kept her tongue sliding along me. My hips jerked involuntarily. My spine curled. I gripped her shoulders for support. Now it was my turn for my breathing to shallow and accelerate. Gutturally, I croaked, “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Without releasing me, she replied with an approvingly moaned, “Mm-hmm!” My body shuddering, spasming, I blurted, “Ngha!” coming explosively in her mouth. She held me tenderly, cradling me in her tongue, her hands running up and down my hips and over my ass until I was completely spent.

She released my refracting cock and licked her lips with a delighted smile, asking, “So how was that?”

“Oh, good gracious!” I replied, crashing to the ground, unable to stand.

Regaining my senses and muscle control, I kissed her deeply, cupping her left breast. I looked deep in her eyes and said, “I am so going to fuck you.”

“Oh, you are, are you?”

“Oh, yes. Right after I take a four or five hour nap.” With that, I took her hand, led her to the cushioned chaise under patio overhang, and we passed out in the desert breeze.

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