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Story continuing from Chapter 2 - Hovercraft.
Below is the scene I was writing about yesterday... it is a love scene, called The Dream. I settled on "Less is More", and hope that I didn't put in too much detail still. But this is my first stab, at least in posting this. It is toned down quite a bit from what I had earlier.
The young lady he was so enthralled with, whose attention he had craved so much, slid on top of him. There she was, bare flesh against bare flesh, her legs straddling him. He looked up at her, at the long hair flowing over her dark tan breasts. She was such a small creature compared to him. She was small, light, delicate, a little over five feet tall, and barely one hundred pounds. The man was over six feet, young, less than twenty, and very well muscled. She looked at him from under her long, dark curly bangs, biting her lower lip, her eyes hungry. The man ran his hands from her knees, along the outside of her legs and over her rounded hips. There he played, brushing her hips with the tips of his fingers, then moving those fingers up along her sides. She squirmed a bit, laughing, the touch of his fingers against her side sensitive, ticklish. She slapped at his hands, trying move his them away from her flesh. This only encouraged him, and he tickled her all the more.
The man ran his fingers upward, tracing the contours of her waist up to her shoulders. He watched her face. She opened her eyes, looking down at him, moving her hips rhythmically. She let her own hands explore, running them over his well-muscled arms, squeezing his biceps, and up to his shoulders. Breathing quickly, she emitted a mix between a purr and a moan.
He reached up to grab her hair with both hands. Pulling her down, they shared a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues running over top of one another. He tasted her essence, so sweet. Her tongue flicked about his mouth, along his tongue. He tasted her. He was experiencing all of her, knowing her, her taste, her smell, feeling every inch of her over him, against him.
The woman eyes closed now, her head turned to the side as she abandoned herself to the sensations. The man closed his eyes, now seeing her only with touch, exploring the nature of this young woman he was so in love with, so enthralled with, so desperate for. Touch, and sound, listening to her speak with something deeper than words, speaking with pure emotion, pure elation.
It happened. They touched, completely and totally, in a way that the man would never, could never, understand. Breaking through that barrier that separated one being, one spirit, from another, the soul of the man, and the woman he was with, the souls touched in the most intimate way, a pure way, a way he would never be able to describe to himself. He ever felt away with her, away from himself, becoming the one he was with, no longer himself. Seeing himself from her passion and love, the desire and push and pain. They saw one another, the thoughts, loves, fears, all for one brief second he saw the soul that she truly was.
And he was ashamed.
He would one day describe it as a light, a flash. His vision faded, and there before him was the the vision of an angelic spirit. It was her, before him, her soul more holy and pure than her already beautiful body could ever convey.
She became part of him, her spirit, for just a brief moment in eternity. He was totally hers, she totally his, desires and memories, shadows, light, the pure silver of her love and the darkness of her visions.
They touched.
And she left something behind. Part of her was left inside of him, and he broke.
"Jacinta!"
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