Traveling along the winding road, into the high Sierra mountain range, there is a small lake nestled in the Valley of the Crane. Once merely a meandering creek, it was dammed up by man till it filled the valley with the gentle curvature of a bow. The creek that feeds the lake, Willow Creek, runs down the mountain in a snaking path until it splashes down a sloping fall into the lake basin. Following the old Indian trail that follows the creek and delves into the forest, you can find your way to Devil's Falls.
There, many foolish souls have lost their lives in the perilous, swirling sinkholes, and on the slippery rocks. At the base of the falls is an old, nudist swimming hole. It is occasionally ventured by the negligent tourists whom can't seem to comprehend the old pictograph signs depicting a naked male body swimming in water. Usually, however, it is a lonely stretch of water surrounded by tall pine and short, scraggly brush. Because of this, it is a perfect place for clandestine lovers.
The roar of the falls is so loud that all other outside sounds are muted. Mist hangs heavy in the chilled air, and in the fading evening light, it seems as if the entire world has disappeared behind the ethereal veil of white. There is a flat slab of granite rock set in the heart of the pool of cold water. It is shimmering gray in the hazy moonlight, but for a square of dark fabric smoothed out across it.
As you step across the stepping stone bridge to the island, you see a white body lying upon the blood red blanket, and you know it is me waiting for you. Sprawled wantonly on the velvet fabric, legs splayed widely and back arched so that my breasts thrust beautifully to the sky, you see my hands working busily between my thighs. You see a thin swatch of dark red hair staining the pale whiteness of my skin at the juncture, my fingers appear as colorless wraiths as they dance through my moist folds. Falling to your knees, your fingers join mine in the dance; slipping alongside mine, causing pleasure to spiral through my body in a dizzying pirouette.
Fingers are replaced by your feasting mouth, your mouth replaced by a searching tongue; and delving into the heat of my body, your tongue drives me wild. Licking between the sensitive lips, lapping at the throbbing nub, nibbling me into sweet, sweet ecstasy. My hands are twined into your hair, and as each spear of pleasure pierces through me, I tug gently on the glossy strands. I feel the coarse rub of your day old beard on the tender skin of my thighs, contrasting sharply with the silkiness of your tongue.
You rise above me, unable to contain yourself any longer. Pressing your hard manhood against the softness of my femininity; stretching me open to accommodate your wonderful thickness, driving deeply into my heat with your rigid length. My whimpers are swallowed by the mist as you invade my body; pushing, pulsating, oh the incredible pressure!
Together we move as the creek moves around us, entwining fingers, tangling limbs, fusing bodies. Our heads are filled with a roar not made my falling water, but of our fiery, coupling lusts. Sliding in and out of my wet fire, your hard shaft brushes along my womb, and you explode with righteous finality. My body clenches tightly around you, contracting and undulating so that your eruption begins renewed, and our mingled cries to the night are shouted out to the stars.
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Submitted by:
Jessamine
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