WARNING! IF YOU DON'T LIKE SEX DON'T READ THIS PART OF BLOOD-LINE INCURSION!
Once we had done the usual tourist run and had eaten lunch, we
found a lovely parking spot in a secluded area right next to the Yea
River.
There had not been many times when we had had the
opportunity to be on our own without anyone else around. It must
have been sexual frustration making us embrace each other like
two virgins with a license to make love.
We were kissing, cuddling, touching, stoking, and whispering
sexy things to each other without either of us daring to suggest sex,
verbally or physically.
Out of the blue I found the courage to lift Catherine over the
front seat to the backseat of the car. My hands were shaking. Then
I tried to raise her over the backseat into the station-wagon part
where it was possible to lay straight without your knees around
your neck.
“What do you think you are you doing, you naughty sex-crazed
Swedish boy?” purred Catherine in a voice suggesting that it might
be OK to continue with mission impossible.
“Aah, aah, I just thought we might be more comfortable back
there,” I said in a puffed half-cocky voice.
Unfortunately the last hurdle scraped Catherine’s lower back
badly on the metal edge of the backrest of the backseat, causing
her soft delicate skin to peel off and make her hot blood pulsate
outside her body.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?” she
screamed in agony.
“Sorry! Sorry!” as I unsuccessfully struggled to retain my
balance over the last obstacle. We slid down onto the rough
surface of the knotty, dirty-grey car carpet waiting for us. This
accident taught me a new English term; carpet burn.
“No worries, no worries, I have band-aid in the glove box!”
“What the bloody hell are you waiting for? Hurry, hurry, before
I bleed to death.”
She was lying on her stomach half crying, half laughing, while I
tried frantically to stop the bleeding with seven plasters. They
created a beige star-shaped formation on her lower back next to
her visible black underwear lining. Once I had saved her life! I
positioned myself on my left-hand side, close up to her petite
body, with my right knee leaning over her firm perfect twin
buttock-ski slopes. I made a desperate attempt to turn her head in
my direction, so I could see her beautiful eyes and continue our
passion from the front seat.
No, she did not appear to be interested at all in my clumsy way
of getting her attention. We were both lying for a short while in
silence before I did the daring stunt of rolling her over with both of
my hands onto her sore back.
“Ouch! What do you want?”
“Huh? Nothing! I want to see your face and love others!” I said
in Swenglish, with a proud voice.
“What the hell are you saying, you crazy Swede? You want to
love others right now? Where the hell are you going to find them
here in the bush? Take me home right now, you stupid, stupid sexmad
man.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry I meant we should love each other!” I
explained when I realised what I had said.
Catherine sat up and looked straight into my eyes. “You’re
serious, aren’t you? I am so, so sorry to misunderstand you in such
a bad way,” she said remorsefully, while hugging me with both her
arms as she repeatedly kissed the left-hand side of my neck with
her soft full-shaped, moist lips.
I leaned forward with a force and managed to get on top of her
in a flash! She did not say anything and became very passive and
quiet.
We were as tight as sardines in a tin letting me feel all her
female contours through her clothes with my body.
I put my tongue in her right ear and she pushed me away
laughing.
“Don’t do that! I hate that wet sensation!”
“What do you like?”
“It’s for me to know and you to find out!”
“OK, do you like this?” I said pushing my hand under her bra
and rubbing her left breast like bread dough with her nipple
between my index and middle finger.
“Stop that! It hurts! Ouch!” She pulled my hand out like it was
a wasp ready to sting her under her bra!
It was not my lucky day! Where the bloody hell do you find the
start button on this lady?
I got upset and turned onto my back and lit up a cigarette in
silence, looking up in the thin air like a kid not getting his way! I
lay there blowing perfect smoke-rings into the air that then rose to
touch the roof of the station-wagon.
Catherine came slowly over to my side when she realised that
she had damaged my super ego in a big way!
She put her hand on my Levi-jeans zip and slowly pulled it
down as she kissed me on my lips and whispered; “Now it is up to
you!” Then she rolled onto her back again.
In a flash I pulled down her zip as well and slid my right hand
into her underwear where I could feel a very moist and hot creature
wanting me!
Very hastily I pulled down my own jeans below my bum,
exposing the Swedish missile!
“You’ll have to use a condom! If you want to get inside me!”
she said in a very nervous and sexy voice close to my left ear.
I did not have any condoms, but I didn’t want to spoil this
perfect opportunity to have sex with Catherine.
I pretended that I did not understand what she said and started
using the fingers on my right hand to play with her hotspot. It was
like touching a small tight rupture of an active volcano before an
eruption. The heat and the smell of the lava made me very aroused
and hard as Swedish granite ready to fight this unbearable fire with
my equipment. Meanwhile my left hand lowered her jeans and
underwear simultaneously down to her knees, and pulled her
jumper up and undid her bra.
Her breathing was intense and we started a tongue combat like a
German medieval swordfight making the situation a no-stop zone.
I rolled on top of her without any hesitation as my fire equipment
entered the opening of the hotspot.
“What … what the hell are you doing? Oooohh!” she said as
her body froze for a moment. But then she kissed me again as her
body slowly moved up and down in approval.
The movements went slow, fast, faster, much faster, very fast,
extremely fast; supersonically fast… As her volcano erupted I
pulled out my fire equipment without delay and rubbed it against
the left-hand side of her white bikini-marked stomach until it shot
the biggest load ever onto the back window of the Falcon.
“That was a bad shot!” she said, laughing as she was pulling up
her jeans.
“Bad? That is more than one metre away,” I said, feeling very
embarrassed while I wiped it off the window with my white sports socks.
No comments:
Post a Comment