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Subject: {Patrick Donovan}JDR"Cinnamon A"( MF )[1/3]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
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=====================
ABOUT DISTRIBUTION: Please feel free to archive and/or redistribute this
story electronically, AS LONG AS THE HEADER REMAINS INTACT (this includes
the original title, my name and e-mail address, AND the copyright
information). If I see this story reposted or archived WITHOUT the
header, I will be one ticked little puppy.
DISCLAIMER: UNDER 18? DO NOT READ! STOP HERE!
* Intro *
These stories generally depict consenting relationships between mature,
loving people. These are fantasy people who don't have to worry about
pregnancy or STDs (herpes, HIV, etc.), that's why they don't always use
protection. Don't construe this as tacit permission to do the same. Use
your heads and use protection--if not for yourself, for your partners.
And now, on with the show...
8<------------
THE LOST SOUL JOURNALS
by Patrick Donovan
E-mail: <drwho@world.std.com>
(c) 1993 - Black Angora Press
=====================
Cinnamon
Patrick Donovan
drwho@world.std.com
for A.
Section A:
I'm not sure how it all starts, but this is our first time together.
It's a sudden encounter, perhaps I am on a job interview out West and
looked you up. Somewhere along the line you decided to show me one of your
favorite, private places. It's along a rocky coastline where few people go
because of the strong, crashing waves, but somewhere along the shore there
is a place, a small cave-like opening that is shielded from the pounding
surf. We get totally soaked trying to get there, but when we arrive it is
such a peaceful place. Even the raging sea just beyond the craggy knoll
that protects us seems to be practically silenced by the awe of this place.
It is nearly dusk and we break open the bags we have brought with us.
They contain logs and papers and matches, as well as blankets and towels
and a little food for us to share -- all sealed in trash bags to keep them
dry, you were certainly right about that! You spread out the blankets
while I set up the fire inside a circle of rocks which has obviously been
used as a fireplace before. Soon the fire is raging and, without even
thinking, you remove your dowsed T-shirt. I blush and quickly turn away.
"Oh, shoot! Pat, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking," you laugh and turn
around.
I can't help but watch as you slide the limp shirt off to reveal a
simple white lace bra. In a moment it comes off as well, showing me the
beautiful smoothness of your bare back. You drape the shirt and bra over a
rock next to you and, as you do, I can just see the sides of your breasts
swaying. Again I blush, knowing I shouldn't be looking, but I am so
entranced by the suppleness and perfect silkiness of your skin.
"Pat, could you bring me one of the body towels?"
I grab the one with the tropical flowers and walk up behind you. As I
open the towel and raise it to envelop you, I have to fight off an urge to
peer over your shoulder to see your breasts. Slowly my arms encircle you
from behind and close the towel around you. Before I can pull my arms
back, yours slip over mine and draw them tightly to your chest. I clear my
throat as I realize that you are clasping my arms against your bosoms. You
hold me so tight that I am pressed right up against your back and my face
is nestled against the back of your head, your long, curly hair feels so
soft and smells so divine.
"Oh my..." is all I can manage to say, whispering it softly in your
ear.
You release my arms and lower your hands to your cut-off jeans. I
watch them suddenly appear on the ground below the towel's end, along with
a pair of silk black panties. My heart races. You wrap the towel tightly
around yourself and carry your garments to the rock to dry them off, then
start walking back towards me.
"I like to come here when I want to be alone and just lay naked on the
towel and listen to the sea. It makes me feel so calm."
Suddenly the image of you sprawled out on the beach towels in your
full, naked glory possesses me. Am I missing the signals here? I mean, is
there any real point to drying out your clothes since we're just going to
have to get soaked again when we leave? Is it all a ruse on your part to
seduce me or are you being blatant about it and I am just being dense?
"Patrick? You might as well get out of yours too. Come on, here."
You bring a huge towel and hold it up in front of me, blocking your
view. Hesitantly I remove my polo shirt and throw it onto a rock. Then I
step out of my shorts and repeat the toss. My heart is pounding as I
realize the only thing between us other than the towel is my underwear.
Shaking, I slowly drop them. Only when I have stepped out of them do I see
that I am obviously aroused at the thought of you being naked under your
towel. I find myself stopping as I reach up to take my towel from you,
caught up in the mystery of your body. What do you look like under that
towel? Is your body even half as lovely as your face? Your wide, brown
eyes? Your smile? Your sensual and delicate walk? Will your breasts fit
in my hands? How thick is the silken forest of your sex? What do you smell
like there? What do you taste like? Oh, Alicia, how I long to taste you...
...I am stirred from my thoughts by the motion of your arms drawing
the towel around me. I take it from you, still in a daze, and adjust it to
fit me modestly. Then we sit on the blankets in front of the fire, the
crackles from which seem to create a musical counterpoint to the rolling of
the waves behind us. The song continues uninterrupted by either of us for
some time. Soon the last rays of the sun are gone and you, Alicia, and I
are all alone in the firelight.
A little while later I notice you reaching for the bag of provisions
we brought and start to remove things from it. I offer to help, but you
decline and set about preparing our light meal: cold fried chicken (mmm!).
I also notice you setting up a can at the edge of the fire, fill it with
water and put something into it.
"What's that?" I ask.
You continue setting up our meal. "Something for later. Don't worry
about it. Hand me the plastic plates, will you?"
After we manage to eat a little of the chicken and wash it down with
what I thought was supposed to be sparkling grape juice but which turned
out to be champagne, you tell me you want to lie down. I am surprised,
then, when you stand up and face me.
"Do you mind if I -- if I take this off? I really like to be nude
when I lie out here."
My heart seems to just thud to a stop.
"Uh, Alicia. I, I --" I am totally lost for words.
You move directly in front of me as I rise to my knees.
"Patrick..." you say, but without even waiting for a response you
slowly part the top ends of the towel to reveal your bare breasts to me.
I like to think that everything I have experienced before has prepared
me for what you've just done, but somehow I am still taken aback at the
sight of your beautiful breasts. Full, round globes the size of oranges
jut from your smooth-skinned chest. Already the breeze causes your nipples
to grow taught and I can feel my own soft member growing firm beneath my
towel. Before I have time to react to this new sight, you allow the towel
to fall completely from your body. The sound of it hitting the dry sand is
the only thing I hear.
My breath shudders at the sight of your nude form cast into copper by
the firelight. You turn slightly towards the flames to allow me a perfect
view of your dark triangle. You stand only a few inches from my face now
and I can see your sex with such detail: the thick, matted hairs, your
aroused clitoris and the glistening separation of your vulva and labia. No
matter how many times a lover reveals her sex to me, I am always moved with
passion at the sheer beauty and seeming delicacy of her most intimate and
sensual place. The effect you have on me is almost hypnotizing.
You stand so close to me now that I can detect the sweet scent of your
passion. I lose all hope of resisting and wonder why I even bothered at
all. I feel a flutter in my chest as I dare to move toward you on my knees.
My breathing is ragged and heavy as I reach out and place my hands on your
naked hips. Touching you is like touching ice: it sends a shiver down my
spine, but not from the cold -- from the sensuality that emanates from your
body. I draw you to me, laying my head against your firm tummy. I slip my
hands back over your behind and clasp your smooth cheeks. Oh God, Alicia,
I'm finally touching you and I'm not sure where to go from here.
Before long you feel my lips against your abdomen, slowly drawing a
line of kisses down from your navel. I can feel your thighs tensing in my
hands as I close in on your pubic mound. The scent of your womanhood has,
by now, intoxicated me beyond all hope of sobriety. The slow pace I am
forcing myself to take on my downward plunge toward your sex seems
agonizingly tortuous to me. But momentarily I am rewarded by the sensation
of moist, silky hair against my lips and the feast begins.
Nudging your legs apart with my body, I slip between them. I keep a
firm grip on your hips as I slide beneath you, brushing my lips roughly
over your sex as I adjust my balance. You let out a soft gasp at the
contact and slip your hands down to the top of my head in response. Within
seconds of settling down, I begin to draw the tip of my tongue gently back
and forth along the outer edges of your vulva. You can feel it, the tender
brushing of something firm and moist teasing the slight opening of your
sex. With each stroke it penetrates slightly deeper into the entrance to
your body. Occasionally I slip it all the way up into the cleft of your
labia and caresses the erect little bud of your clitoris, causing you to
spasm and press your mound roughly into my face or to pull my head firmly
against your sex.
As I pleasure your womanhood, my hands slide from your hips around to
your bottom and clasp the smooth firmness of your buttocks. My fingers
gently knead the skin that covers your powerful muscles, which are flexing
in response to the sensations flowing from your sex. Already you have
started a light thrusting motion, your hips shifting back and forth,
sliding your sweet mound over my face, painting me with your wetness. Oh,
Alicia, your juices are like honey and the taste overwhelms me. I have to
have more and that is when you feel my tongue plunge deeply into your birth
canal. The sudden penetration into your depths causes you to gasp aloud, a
gasp which echoes throughout the rocks that shield us from the outside
world.
Your legs begin to shake and your knees feel like they're going to
buckle as my assault on your pussy continues unabated. Faster and faster,
deeper and harder I go. It is difficult to catch my breath when I am
buried into you like this and I can feel disorientation and dizziness come
over me from time to time as I lose all awareness of everything but the
center of your passion. By now your buttocks are thrusting and shaking with
aggressive desire. Your body does everything it can to get my tongue as
deep as it will go into your vagina, pushing it towards your cervix with
determination, even though it could never reach so far. Meanwhile, my
hands continue to massage your bottom, caressing your bare skin and teasing
the valley between your luscious cheeks. Occasionally my fingers will
brush your sensitive anus and you'll emit another sensually-charged yelp
into the air.
The only thing I regret about this is that I cannot see the expression
on your face. I can only imagine that your head is tossed back and your
eyes are closed. Your mouth, open in a silent scream of pleasure and
delight. Only an occasional choking gasp or raspy intake of breath is able
to escape. All other functions of your body are devoted to the
encouragement of the feelings beginning to swell within your loins.
Already your birth canal and labia are open wide and pulsing with blood.
Your womb is surrounded with swollen blood vessels and capillaries and the
muscles of your uterus are also shuddering with intensity, waiting for the
right moment to --
-- I feel your hands grip my head, your fingernails digging into my
scalp: the first sign of your imminent orgasm. The tip of my finger, which
is resting nestled in the pucker of your anus, can feel your sexual muscles
beginning to throb and pulsate. I can feel the walls of your vagina
rippling against my tongue and it is then that all hell breaks loose.
"Uhn! Patrick -- oh! God, Pat-trick! Huh, uhn!" you cry as your
body releases you to a full and complete orgasm.
Your arms and legs and hips and thighs shudder and quiver, twisting
and turning as you come. Your bottom starts slamming your mound furiously
against my head, grinding your soaking wet forest of black hairs and the
glistening slit that it protects into my face. Your climax produces more
fluids that flow from your sex over my nose, lips, cheeks and chin like a
waterfall of honey liqueur. I am completely hypnotized by the power and
intensity of your climax. Hearing you call my name through choked gasps and
sobs of pleasure makes the experience all the more sensual for me and I
summon one last surge of strength to give you pleasure.
At the height of your climax, just as you think your entire body will
give out or your loins will explode, you feel the sudden shock of my full
index finger as it plunges into your anus. It moves upward without
hindrance, pushing through your tight sphincter past it to be among the
moist, shuddering walls of your rectum. Still my finger slides upward,
gliding into your forbidden passage until it is stopped, by sheer lack of
length, at the knuckle. Your weary body is rocked by yet another wave of
orgasms and this time I can feel them. Your anus and the velvety-smooth
muscles of your lower intestine shudder and contract and pulse and clasp to
force the blood away from your intimate places, creating the most explosive
sensations your body has ever felt. Your head is light your mind is beyond
spinning, with every ounce of your mental strength concentrating on the
sledgehammer pounding in your loins.
"Paaat - triiIICKKKK!!" you scream in a rough howl of delight and
exhaustion.
Then, as suddenly as you screamed, your body gives out and you start
to fall forward. Only the fact that I am kneeling in front of you allows
me to brace you until I can remove my finger from your body and slip my
hands and arms up to catch you. I let you fall back into my arms and lower
you gently toward the towels and pillows, your breasts bouncing lightly as
I release your naked form. I kneel over you, holding your hand and
watching your breathing. It is still heavy, but has begun to ease up.
After a few moments, your eyes start to flutter and your body begins to
move.
"Take it easy, sweetheart," I say to you as I brush your cheek with my
hand.
"Maybe the champagne wasn't such a good idea," you joke in a weak
voice.
You take my hand and bring it to your lips, kissing the back of it and
sending tingles of warmth up my arm. Then you take it in both hands and
place it between your breasts. I can feel your heart pounding in your
ribcage.
"Oh, Patrick. Oh God, that was, that was...so wonderful. So
wonderful..."
CONTINUED
ABOUT DISTRIBUTION: Please feel free to archive and/or redistribute this
story electronically, AS LONG AS THE HEADER REMAINS INTACT (this includes
the original title, my name and e-mail address, AND the copyright
information). If I see this story reposted or archived WITHOUT the
header, I will be one ticked little puppy.
WARNING: Remember that these stories are copyrighted and that publication
of them in ANY media -- print or otherwise -- without my permission is
illegal. I don't mind it showing up on the 'Net, in archives or on BBS's
(as long as the header is there), but publishing it in an on-line or
printed magazine is where I draw the line. ASK ME FIRST. Hey, I'm a
pretty nice guy.
=====================
Cinnamon
Patrick Donovan
Section A
-30-
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