Aphrodite-Reads

One thing that inspires me in this life (and possibly many others) is looking at men. The more undressed they are, the better. I like looking at their calves and arms. Then their bums, faces and chests, belly, legs and obviously, their ‘playground’.

But talking about dressed or partly dressed men, the calves and arms are what are usually in display. When they are muscly I find them yummy and several times I felt like going to a man and saying:

‘Would you mind terribly if I bit your arm?’ (or calf depending on the

body part that attracted me the most)

‘Just a little bite, I promise not to mark you too much’

My manic grinning might scare them a bit. Although, if they are macho enough, I would think they would be up to the challenge. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the manic in me doesn’t come out to the real world very often and I haven’t bitten anyone (that I haven’t taken to bed)… yet.

Every time I see a scrumptious arm or a tender leg the urge to ask the question comes back though. One of these days…

Would you let me bite you?

 

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Every time I get there I get a jolt. I’ve been there a few times and for some reason it is taking the option of going to another beach off the chart. Even getting used, I still get a shock when the first nudists appear in my vision.

The place is adequately hidden and to get there you have to walk through some bush or arrive in a boat. After the last curve you start seeing them: nude people.

It is always bizarre, entertaining and educative.

I like men, their bodies, their shapes, their penises. I feel happy even only looking at them.

Then I strip and enjoy the liberty. The sensation of the sun touching me all over, and swimming nude is extremely enjoyable. The other day the water was too cold and I only managed to get into up to my waist. I was laughing alone with the movement of the cold water between my legs.

I find it very funny how people come to talk to my naked friends and I all the time. We have made a few friendships around and even funnier is that these people don’t seem to have second intentions.

I kept wondering what was that made people approach us like that. The answer was the common denominator. In a regular beach people are all different. Here is a bunch that is extraordinary, people able to shed their masks and unveil their shame. A shameless group that functions as a community.

They are protective of their own. It was interesting to see that it is quite safe, even in a group of women to be there. I didn’t venture there other than in the hottest hours of weekends, so I wouldn’t attest the safety when the place is deserted.

In the peak hours it is full of bare skin and interesting talk.

 

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I’m in the company’s kitchen and my mind is full of improper thoughts. I’m kind of cataloguing the male staff around into categories: shaggable, marriageable, datable, fuckable in doubles (oooh!), just cute, horrible, no fucking way, etc. I was wearing my most innocent face but my thoughts must have leaked out of me because for some unfathomable reason the most delicious of them decided to show me his belly button. Gosh! I thought of tripping and falling face down into his exposed belly, ripping his underwear with my teeth and mouthing his dick. Apparently he was showing me how the company’s trousers weren’t fitting well.

Barely able to breathe normally I excuse myself and go to the backup room. It is a little locked room with a table, a rack of computer stuff and backup units. Daily I have to change the backup tapes. I left the door ajar and sat at the chair, changing the two tapes, wearing my iPod, comfortable with my back to the door. That is when I hear someone behind me and the closing of the door. I take a second to realise what is happening because I’m distracted with a song playing in my ears and fumbling with the tape cases. Before I’m able to turn around to look who is there I feel an open hand going through my hair,  I have an intense conscience of each of his fingers caressing my head. That felt surely as a man’s hand.

I turn and there he is, my most recent fantasy character: the man that had shown me his belly button. I have a pretty accurate radar to detect men that are good in bed. This one shows all the good signs of being one of those, his age doesn’t matter too much, I am confident that his years of existence were enough to teach him “the art”. Actually, just by the way he is holding my hair I am sure that I’m right. He doesn’t say a word, pulls my face to his and kisses me passionately.

I am happy with the silence, it wouldn’t be good if someone heard anything from outside of the room. Funny that I don’t feel that he is in a rush, he just kisses me like he has all the time in the world and releases small, almost inaudible, moans.

I can feel a heat spreading from my middle section to my whole body. Being cold most of the day it is a powerful feeling. I surface from the kiss to take a deep breath, look into his beautiful eyes and get lost in his gaze. He is breathing heavily but wears a cheeky sexy smile. Still holding my hair he keeps looking into my eyes, maybe looking for confirmation. Whatever he is searching for, he finds it.

He kisses me again and starts trying to read my body in Braille, exploring each piece of me with his hands. His smell is of sea and the wind, so fresh and delicious. He seems to carry in his hair the contact with the ocean. I start touching whatever bare skin I can find. His neck and down his neck line, my hand searches for the belly from which the image was still burning in my mind.

His taste was inebriating and by the look on his face, so is mine. He gets his hands to open my jeans and one skilfully slips inside. It is a difficult task to laugh without a sound when his expression changes to something between amazement, disbelief and childish pleasure. I could feel him caressing the soft and hairless surface and my knees almost buckle when his fingers find the core.

I opened his trousers, the ones that were large and loved the sensuality of his underwear, I look down and then up again, letting him see my pleasure in my face. Kissing his neck and opening his shirt, trailing kisses on his chest as I attack each button, I open his shirt then his trousers; going down and downer I could feel him getting hard and harder.

When I was finally kneeling in front of him I breathe through his boxers, transferring my heated air through to his cock. His head, the upper head went back and he closed his eyes, mouth open, with difficulty without making a sound.

Then I lower the underwear and reach my prize. I get his hand and, looking up to meet his eyes, guide it to the back of my head. His cock gets even harder. I put it into my mouth, while I strike the shaft with one hand and hold the base and the balls with the other. I make it wet with my saliva and then pass the tip all over my face and neck only to suck it again. I use my tongue on the tip of his penis circling the most sensitive part and give special attention to the “special v”. He releases a low guttural sound. I look at him and stop to take my finger to my lips for the universal sign of silence.

As soon as I get back to the job he comes into my mouth. I swallow. He takes a few seconds to move and pulls me up and hugs me. It is difficult to breathe how strong his embrace is. He is inhaling heavily into my ear and shaking a bit. In a few minutes he gets calmer. We straighten our clothes and praying no-one sees us, get out of the place and back to work.

My productivity is near zero all afternoon as all I can think of is the phrase he whispered to me just before we left the backup room: “tonight, your place”.

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My eyes are closed. The sun warms my naked skin. I open my eyes and sigh in pure pleasure. The view is astonishing, the horizon covers an intense blue sea, the colour seems almost unreal with its sunlight illumination.

I revel in a most comfortable chair on a sundeck. Except that the chair starts caressing my breasts and moves with the rhythm of a breathing; and suddenly the comfort is no longer as there is a hard stick pocking my back.

The feeling of completion, fulfilment, love emanates from me to my “chair”, not the man of my dreams, but the one of my visualisations.

 

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My hands are against your chest. I can feel what I call “your texture”… it is not only the way your skin is as smooth as velvet, it is the feel of the muscles underneath it. I love it.

We are naked and you are dancing with me, in between one dance and another you teach me the feeling of tango. It is a difficult dance, one don’t start by learning steps, one starts by feeling their partner, feeling the weight of the leader. And that is really what I feel: You, your weight change, your movements.

It is the best dance of my life and yet, never have I danced so badly. I am dizzy, out of centre, my axis is the same as the earth: inclined. If only the vector of the gravity didn’t point into a ninety degree angle into the Earth, I could have dealt with it.

When in a couple dancing you (the follower, the woman) are supposed to see the whole of your partner,  his leads, his hands. All I could see were parts. I got obsessed by your chest, it felt… divine. Then, whenever you turned me and lead me from behind, my brain melted.

From that night, so many details kept to my mind and they now drive me insane, making me wonder if I was the only one there. Could I have imagined you?

Have I not felt your hands on my body, making my eyes close against my will? Didn’t we share a dessert  tangled up in the couch with only sweat between us? Each helping the other to spoon pieces of the cake because the other hand was lost into the mess of our bodies?

Didn’t I name your smell, inhale your essence as you did mine? I remember my smell over your mouth. Your kisses, your eyes. I have a strong recollection of your hardness against my softness.

And your laughter, all night our laughter making music to our happiness. Could I have created that you said you were happy?

Could it all be a dream?

I thank thee, dream of mine, for the loving night we have shared. The idea of you is so enticing I would love some other chances to try it… if it is not to happen, I hope to keep you always, in my heart and in my writing, this place where I keep my little pieces of a huge love I don’t mind sharing.

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