The Model
A
hitchhiker stood slouching in the chilly mountain sun...his red bandanna kept
the long hair from his eyes.
Distant
sounds approached.......a dark green Land Rover appeared. It slowed,
and stopped.
Beside
the road, he waited as the passenger door slowly opened.
Knowing
nothing about each other they stared at one another....a notion
passed between them, he got in.
She
looked over her dark glasses at him....the pause in time was broken
by a slight smile which he sported with fine looking women. He took a
sip of wine and offered her a taste.
Her
frock was thin, a sun dress, odd attire for winter, but what was
beneath was exquisite.
"I
like the way the light plays with your crotch, the razor seems to be
your friend?" He murmured.
"Mmmm"
her pale pink lips did not part, she pulled ahead onto the road.
Walking
across New Zealand he carried only a pack, and a bottle of cheap
port, his mission was simple. When ever the the boundaries of the
planet are erased, the image of intent is shared in many ways....as
the veils of mystery descend, the valleys and mountains become all
but touchable, unless we find ourselves vicariously in our own grip
of touching friendship.
"I
can take you down the hill..." she offered looking with the
mirror, "after that, who knows?"
"That
offers a glimpse of possibility." he returned, noting the
outline of a firm breast glowing beneath the thin cloth, and lit by
the morning sun..."it's fine."
"Sort
of hehe. You like the play of light?" she flirted, sneaking a
glimpse of his whiskered chin, and drinking in a little of his arm
muscles as he rolled a sleeve back up, downing another swig.
"I
like the play of touch, and how the one hand will caress the invisible," he returned in a slow hesitating voice, calm and
melodic with assurance.
"You
some sort of poet?" she quizzed, lifting her arm slightly,
allowing his view a bit of side breast.
"Actually
I am, among other things..." he returned and noticeable studied
the pale flesh that revealed no under things..." and you are?"
"A
life model, on my way to art class, so I dress light, does my attire
suite you?"
"It
does, very much....." his warm hand was into her back now and
while he studied her flexing lips, she managed the road and still
held eye contact with him in the mirror, their gaze hypnotic.
Softly
he knew the length of her nails by simple impression her loose hand
made on his fore arm, as he located the details of her spine his
fingers hot with desire.
A
small nipple peeked at his gaze knowing him through the gauzy shift,
chilly with excitement, and the feel of anothers purview, it tingled at
the knowledge of being touched by sight......as did the man
who has been seen for the first time, his member being gathered from
it's hiding place by a free hand, exalted at the very touch of a new
friend.
"I
crossed ten thousand miles searching for one good smile" The
poet sighed.
"Mmmm.
This feels like poetry to me...." Her eye lapsed from the road
to observe an alert reaction. "A +, from this teacher. Ummmm."
And rewarded herself with a ten thousand mile sigh..."beautiful!"
In
one emotion she said a mouthful, and his sigh could be heard from a
thousand miles away
One
slight finger could know more in a moment than an entire book could
relay in 500 pages...the slightest touch sent sensations down to her
toes as he tweaked a nipple and found a slight fold that brought her
backside off the seat for a minute as her hand dove into his privates
for introduction.
"Hello,
stranger...wanna give it a go?" his hand slid along her tingling
thigh to mingle along the warm folds that wakened quickly with his
curious touch.
"Oh
you are good" she purred and clasped the tightly pulsing
extension of his yearning groin.
Warm
sun light shown brightly, all the reasons two people need to feel
their long distance touch, it cast a shadow in all the right
places...where only touch was required. Still gazing with each other
through the rear view mirror, the breasts show nipples proud, the sun
shown directly through fine fabric as one grateful breast winked to
the other...you're next sister....
"I
had hoped to meet the locals...." he sighed and lifted the hem
to view a throbbing pink button, expecting his whetted finger tip but
longing for a few miles more. Pressing long and drawing back sharply,
the delay and then lifting held a controlled force inside his middle
that shot forces into his senses like a delayed sensation of yearning
and delight all brought to bear in tense powerful triumph.
"Um
(blushing scarlet) I have...come to conclusion shall we say..."
she gasped, one hand glued to the wheel, sighing back into the seat
and noting a speed of great excess. Easing off the gas she strummed
more quickly and just with a sideways glance got the results pulsing
and flowing over Mr. Johnson's red swollen head and heard a long
grateful gasp and a shudder in fingers that could be felt deep inside
her. Tiny circles danced round her sweet pink delights, as the tip of
his tongue found a salty reward from fine firm globes where
sensations, bounded on soft touch, a twist, a hot breath and wet
powerful sucking.
"This
is where I pull in" she announced almost apologetically. She
smiled as he gathered himself in buttons and wiping with his red
bandanna, she slipped her shift back into place.
"Guess
what?" he asked as casually as you please, "I got my
Birthday wish"
"What's
that, a ride from a stranger?" she smiled broadly and checked
her hair in the mirror.
"No,
I got to have a dress up birthday experience without going down
under.... and some writing material. So when is yours?"
"Never
mind mine, it is still your day!" She smiled back and as he
closed the door she picked up enough frock to show him the pink icing
on her cake. :-)
