Bayou Rendezvous

The night air is hot and still in the way that only South Louisiana in August can create. You sit in the old cane rocking chair on the porch of the great house, a fan overhead the only thing stirring the humid air, which settles, over the bayou like a swaddling blanket. Every sound is muted, from the distant croak of frogs seeking mates to the nearer calls of nightbirds on the same romantic quest.

You sit there, wearing your simple nightgown as instructed. It is too heavy for the night, and uncomfortable, but to fail to follow his instructions would be more so; and you know the reward for compliance will be well worth the effort. The mint julep is cool in your hand, and each sip sends delicious shivers down your throat and leaves a tingle in your mouth. You drink slowly, not knowing how long you’ll wait until he is there.

And suddenly, he is. A motion in the shadows under the spreading willow trees catches your eye, and you see him, white shirt open at the neck, a flash of silver from the chain he wears. He strides across the lawn and up the steps fluidly, like an approaching predator stalking an especially tasty morsel. There are no words. He takes the glass from your hand, drinks from it and takes one piece of ice from within. You are drawn to your feet and stand, face upturned, as he teases your lips with the coolness. You try to suck at it, but it is withdrawn and you feel cool drips along your neck, then down your cleavage. A gasp escapes you as the ice touches your nipples through the fabric of the nightgown, moving one to the other, making them stiffen immediately.

He puts the ice in his mouth and bends to kiss you, allowing the coolness to spread between you even as the heat does the same.

You move toward the door of the house, but your wrist is caught and you are directed to the porch rail, first untying the lace holding the nightgown closed and pulling it off you. You wore nothing beneath it, as instructed. He stops you short of rail and bends you forward, instructing you to hold it tightly with both hands and not let go under any circumstances.

You feel the night air slide over your naked skin. You know there are no neighbors for miles, but the feeling of being exposed is powerful … and exciting. He, still fully clothed, stands beside you and runs his hand through your hair, slowly trailing his fingers down your spine to your ass, but not beyond. Not yet. You hear the julep glass clink, and jump as drops of icy water strike along the trail just traced by his fingers. You want to stand, but dare not let go of the railing. Icy water trickles down the crack of your ass, maddening you with sensation.

You have been wet since putting on the nightgown after finding his note an hour before, and now that increases as his hands, large and strong but capable of the lightest of touches, caress your hanging breasts. He squeezes them lightly, and flicks the nipples with his fingertips still cold from the ice. The cold vanishes quickly, as he bends to slowly suck each nipple, swirling his tongue around them and gently biting … just enough to get your attention but not enough to cause real pain. It is his way.

You hear his pants come down, and feel his hands grab your hips. He spreads your feet apart. You know what is coming, and ache to feel it.

And then it does not. With a low chuckle, he drops to one knee and gives your freshly trimmed pussy a long, slow lick from back to front, ending with his tongue wiggling over your clit, which throbs with every heartbeat. He probes you with a finger, drawing out your juices and making the digit slick to better penetrate your ass. His long index finger slides in, making you catch your breath as his lips close on your clit at the same time.

The nightbirds’ calls go unheard, and all the rest of the night noises are drowned out by long, low moan that escapes your throat as he continues to please you, to drive you toward your first peak. And then, suddenly, it is there. The violence of the orgasm surprises you, bowing your back and making you throw your head back in silent, screaming ecstasy. You can scarcely breathe.

While the orgasm still grips you, and the waves are still crashing over you, he rises, keeping his finger firmly imbedded in you, and you feel the head of his rampant cock pressed against your pussy. With one thrust, he is buried, his free hand on your hip pulling you back against him. Hand and cock work as one, filling you and retreating, catching your waves of passion and building them even higher. If asked, you could no longer tell your own name.

You squeeze him with the muscles of your pussy, milking him in the way you know so well. His grunt of surprise tells you you’ve scored your own bit of control, and stripped away a bit of his. His thrusting becomes more frenzied, both hands now gripping your hips as he levers himself into like a rutting beast. All tenderness is gone now, as you feel yourself filled to the brim and pounded. You sneak a hand loose from the rail and reach back, giving your clit a light brush before cupping his balls and tickling that spot just behind them, just at edge of his asshole. With a near-roar, he explodes, filling you with jet after jet of cum. Your own second orgasm strikes at the same time, and you feel like a seagull in a hurricane, buffeted back and forth by the cyclone winds.

You continue to stroke his balls until they are emptied, then put your hand back on the rail and assume an air of innocence. He withdraws, and stands you up. He embraces you from behind, and you feel his wet, still-stiff cock pressed into the flesh of your ass. You know there will be a sweet price to pay for your disobedience …