SILENCE .. xxx .. get parental permission ;)

Erotica: yes ..... Literary Pleaure: Absolutely ... Toothy you are amazing ~ poetess

An uneasy silence, the gloom of the early morning, after a night of heavy rains, the gentle faraway swirl, of freshly formed streams, wet dripping sounds, hushed, muted, on the soft wet sand, - the gentle chill of the wind, bringing in the smell of fresh wet sand, and foliage, soaking into the depths of the body, setting off shivers of raw desire coursing through the five senses. She stood motionless, lost, numbed, in the dark dilapidated shed, in her ankle length skirt, acutely aware of the smell of the well oiled tools and grease, and wet wood, sending a shiver down the back of her spine and the insides of her legs, making her draw them together in a gentle caress, and sensing the soft texture as the skins touched. The presence of faint sweat in the chill air assailed her senses, the vision of his bare biceps and bristly unshaved face, unkempt hair and bandaged bloodied wrists. The strings of raw muscles rippling under his skin as she had watched him strain, sawing, sweat dripping into the grooves of his finely chiseled body. She had cautiously glanced at the flat taper of his navel into his khaki trousers, and watched mesmerized the silhouette of his firm member sliding under the fabric, making her almost gasp for breath and want it sliding against her bare palms as she cupped them.

She had hid in the shadows, flushed and guilty, desiring this unkempt workman old enough to be her dad. She wasn’t supposed to be in the tool shed, let alone all by herself, but raw animal instincts were beginning to surface in her, drawing her in a fatal attraction to the sculpted form of this raw man. It hadn’t been long since she had grown aware of the curves of her breasts and the sensation as fabric touched her soft mound. She would at times feel herself in the privacy of the dark or behind closed doors, then daring to try the same, adrenalin pumping, in circumstances where she could have been spotted by someone, although always safely away from the casual eyes.

Today she had felt reckless, maybe it was the weather. She had been breathless all morning and very moist. The intense drive was insatiable. She had slipped into the tool shed, unseen, hoping to run into him, feeling reckless. She had been disappointed, and yet in a way glad, that he wasn’t around, maybe stepped out for an errand. She stood there soaking in the musk of his presence and the oil and the tools, aroused and numbed, almost paralyzed with desire. She ran her hands over his tools, and smelt her fingers and touched herself freely in the absence of prying eyes. She felt the smooth contours of the wooden handle of the saw still stuck in the half sawed wood and put her lips to its smooth polished wood as she touched herself, tasting the raw dirt and sweat on them with her tongue. She felt increasingly reckless. She took a quick look out the door to make sure the coast was clear, and then she proceeded to take off her panties, gently rolling them down feeling her bare skin with her hands. She gently lowered the handle of the saw to a comfortable level and then raising her skirt, rode over it sliding her moist flesh over the handle, imagining his dirty callous hands, cupping her, and she rode the smooth contours in increasing abandon, she felt the wood and the metal, the jagged edges and the smooth finish, rubbing against her thighs in increasing frenzy. In the moment of rising passion she raised the hem of her skirt way over her head, throwing caution to the wind, naked and exposed, below the waist, to the world, her face covered by her raised skirt, a feeling of raw excitement over letting anyone who walked in see her in the full throes of passion and yet she not see them, and she felt their feverish lust upon her bare flower and thighs as she in orgasmic throes, moaned, softly, repeatedly, over the wooden handle. Spent and breathless, she stayed on the handle, eyes closed for a long time, letting it soak in her moisture, and then after a while, she left, still bare, her panties tucked away under her clothes at her waist.

Behind the panel, hidden from sight, the motionless figure stirred, still holding his manhood in a vice grip, and made his way over to the wet saw, knelt, and closed his mouth over the wet wood, and tasted her salty desire.

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