Five Senses and Four Seasons (L) – Ignite Story

Her tan lines were fading as autumn placed a chill in the air that swept through her hair, moving it while she wrestled with the leaf bag. As she bent over, neckline gaping, I could see past the restrictions of her sweatshirt and shirt to the frilled edges of her bra. She caught my gaze and smiled.

Dank fragrances were heavy amongst the piles of leaves, walnuts, and sticks, and the coolness couldn’t stop small beads of sweat from forming on her brow. The black yoga pants with sheer panels along her thighs perfectly encased an athlete’s lower half. My stomach began to ache with my need to touch the fabric and then flesh.

As we pushed the last of the bags onto the truck, our torsos touched. Human musk emitted from our bodies. My hand slid down her side to rest on her waistline.

“I’ll haul these off later,” I said and kissed my wife. My mouth watered with saliva we soon shared, our wet tongues twirling and searching. She let a sigh escape her still parted lips as we disengaged and walked toward the house, her work-worn hand in mine.

She closed the screen door to our four-seasons porch. Breathy and sultry, with our eyes fixed on each other’s, she said, “Right here.”

The door startled us both with a “bang” as the spring pulled it shut, sending her into my arms, Her body, warmed by exertion, heated further in my embrace. Her scent was primal, a fall bouquet of rough leaf and stick bits, and perspiration released the aroma from the clothes my hands now sought to remove.

A breeze rustled through the remaining leaves on the trees and rattled the screens, beginning to cool our bodies and wrapping the long hair below the edge of her stocking hat around my face as our lips met. The chimes sang a chaotic song, each hitting notes off and on key, as our hearts sped up as if to catch the wind.

Rough callouses on my hands rubbed and caught on her curvature. I slid them deep underneath, my wrists pushing out on the yoga pants to slide their elastic waistband down my forearms. Reversing my hands, I quickly slid them down and over her knees. Her panties weren’t much resistance against my haste to be inside her. The air now filled with the scent of her wanton sexual wetness—oh, to taste her!

“Ooooh,” she cooed as the wind swirled around and between her legs and wet folds. My hands pulled her up by her thighs and wrapped them around my waist. But her power held her there. I walked stiffly over to the unfolded daybed on the seasonal porch and laid her there. She leaned back on her elbows, surveying my next move. I removed my stocking cap, then placed my hands on her knees and opened.

Pavlovian drool formed and nearly escaped my lips, her sexual redolence thick as my lips lowered and found those beneath her waistline—wet and ready like those of her mouth earlier. She shifted and sighed, her head back now, upper body heaving with her breaths. The breeze knocked against us, both still cloaked in our layers and loving on this autumn day.

She had produced a fluid feast—tangy and bitter—and my lips and tongue were the utensils. They pushed inside to probe deeper against her wet flesh and sop up delicious droplets; my mouth burrowed deeper while my fingers drew her open.

Air pushed over her vocal cords in nondescript, loud, guttural ways, her body vibrating with the low noises of pleasure until a near-gasp escaped as an “OHHFTTTCK, YESSSS” hissing and repeating. Her thighs pressed against my ears, almost like she was trying to push my head inside. I almost forgot to breathe, so intently did I focus on my host.

Darkness enveloped me: her sweatshirt now over the top of my head, her thighs around me, the day bed pillows and comforter cutting light out left and right. Air moved slowly, and the temperature kept rising in the sex vault that encapsulated me. Her legs hung over my shoulders. My arms reached under and wrapped around to her stomach and down, my fingers rubbing the crease at the top of her folds.

She moaned deeply then suddenly moved her legs off of me and freed my head from her. The cool air hit the wet remnants of her vaginal fluids and chilled my lips and face as they began to evaporate. She scooted to a sitting position, her bounty displayed for me as she sat cross-legged, smiling, her own hand now reaching down where I had enjoyed her flavors.

The wind picked up; the chimes danced, and her hair blew around the stocking hat she still wore. Her fingers slid inside and over the delicate folds that throttled her passion, her voice, and her breath. They disappeared inside only to reemerge, slip over the flaps of skin, then sink deep again—first one finger, then easily two and three.

Her display of self-love hardened my flesh. Her eyes now closed, head kicked back, the second and third waves of pleasure climaxed as her hips gyrated against her hand. My eyes fixed on the path of her fingers, the in, out, and over-the-clit action. High-pitched, loud cries, vibrated from her vocal cords, her breath playing a symphony of pleasure against the strands as she strummed her instrument with expert fingers.

I quickly joined her, half-naked. My jeans and boxers discarded, my length now bobbed erect in the breeze, fluid dripping from the head, throbbing and wanting her. I moved in and startled her somewhat, interrupting her beautiful display of pleasure by kissing her deeply. Her wet hand reached to my face, smearing more of her onto it before slipping two fingers in the corner of my mouth. My lips left hers to encircle her offering.

Her free hand found and cupped my shaft, the clear liquid now dripping against her palm and pooling, smooth. She used short strokes, her finger pressed along the downside of the shaft, pumping the fluid out stroke by stroke. Then she brought her palm and fingers to her mouth, licking off the savory collection in a way that demonstrated how much she enjoyed our combined nectar.

Her eyes fixed intently on my erection, which showed itself unphased by the winds of fall. Then, in a surprise move, she turned and showed me her smooth orbs of flesh, my destination wet, swollen, and ready below and between them. She turned her face over her shoulder toward me, inviting me for a ride, as her hands and knees rested on the daybed and her feet dangled over the edge. I could stand and enjoy what came next.

A step to the left and forward put my dangling protrusion just in front of her warm opening. She strained her head up to see what I was about to deliver. It glistened from the smear of her hand, its head hovering above the surface of her flesh like a lunar lander. Then it disappeared over her horizon, and she looked forward, closing her eyes for its final descent into the tunnel of warmth that awaited.

My fingers pressed into her hips, and she readied, pivoting her hips into a “cow” pose while lowering onto her elbows. Looking down, I saw her delicious slot, and a part of me—feeling its dried output on my cheeks, lips, and nose—almost wanting to go in for another taste. Desire swelled up as I lined up to her, pressing the very tip close and just against the crack of her opening.

“Mmmmm,” she sighed in anticipation, the tip of my flesh just touching hers. Then she cried out, “OH, GOD, Yes!”

My hips had thrust forward with all of my weight, barreling through all resistance, pushing open. The lubrication from our oral delights and her fingering let me slide deep, unstoppable, and her body braced to take me. My waist traveled ahead until her frame stopped me. I was inside, surrounded by the warm, dripping wetness and held encased in her flesh.

“YES!…FUCK YES!…GOD YES!” she cried out into the breezy morning as I pumped back and thrust forward three more times, assuring she loosened up for me. Her head was now down between her elbows, bracing hard against my momentum and bouncing a little. My hands still held her thighs and hips, pulling her to me on each drive home. Her voice echoed against the metal of the screened-in porch. The wind cooled our exposed skin, and the erotic nature of her—balled up layers on her torso, her stocking hat now on the floor—elevated us as our skin merged us into one body.

I slid my hands from her hips upward under all of her layers, leaning forward on her body to burrow to her breasts. I worked them under the bra, cupping the soft flesh before finding the clasp between her shoulder blades and releasing them to dangle inside her shirt and sweatshirt, the soft cloth now rubbing against their sides as my hands played.

She held up my weight, my hips now pivoting and micro-thrusting over and over. My head lay on her shoulders and neck. I could feel each breath she drew and then quickly exhaled, as the work of taking me and supporting my weight brought the sweat back to her brow. She began to push back on each little thrust, twisting and jamming her hips to my rhythm, getting every inch out of each penetration.

I rolled her nipples between my fingers, her flesh filling my hands. With my ear pressed against her back, I heard her climax twice to our lovemaking. My instrument now felt numb and blunt inside. The tiny sighs against her strained breath, the rush of first penetration far in the distance, and the roller coaster of lovemaking sent waves of pleasure cascading against my hard grind. She expressed some distress in frantic cries and built up to a final crash.

I slipped my hands out and to the bed, rotated my hips to a different, higher angle, and got ready to bring this ship home to dock. I lengthened and quickened my strokes, bringing the tip almost out and then slamming back into her.

“YES, Donnie! YES!” she exclaimed in between howls of pleasure.

My numbness turned the rush of excitement into a giant wave. It quickly ran from deep in my gut, through my hips, and down the length of my cock.  I cried out nonsensically, thrusting forward to end this great ride From my depths, I shot my fluid as far into her as I could, warming her in a wet and wonderful way.

I leaned forward again; my body relaxed though my hips still rhythmically pulled back and forward. My volume receded with each small, soft thrust. Our bodies rested on each other, our weight melting into the daybed. The breeze swept over my exposed lower body and reasserted the sound of the chimes into my consciousness. Our realities blended into each other; the rest of the busy, noisy, colorful, and rich tapestry drifted into the backdrop of our lovemaking.

She pivoted below me, our wet regions sliding together, and then our mouths eagerly found each other, finishing with our tongues dancing as we had started. My hands found her head, brushing the web of hair that had spread across her face as she rolled over.

“Listen,” she said.

The sound of raking next to us on both sides, the familiar metal fingers brushing over grass. A soft, cute, guilty giggle bubbled up from my wife, knowing the noise we created on the porch certainly could have risen above the autumn cornucopia of sounds.

As we dressed, I could smell “us.” We’d mixed our fluids, musks, and sweat, rubbing work-worn flesh and producing secretions that filled the air with scent. We stood up, and I held her long to share our residual heat and combat the chill.

Then I went to haul the leaves away. I opened the door of my truck, looking out into the yard to take in the result of our morning’s work. Just before shutting myself inside, I could see Old Man Jesup raking his backyard.

With a smile, he gave me a tip of his old seedcorn cap and returned to work.