Carnal Carnival
Her slender legs were now accelerating beyond her regular pace. If anyone saw her they would have thought that she was running away from something more so than she was jogging. The weather and her own memories had teamed up to batter her darkened silky hair with its humidity augmented perfume and pheromones releasing skin. If she was running away from her own thoughts, her body on the other hand yearned to be chased and it was saying so loudly, like the echoes generated by loud shrieks sent in the middle of a valley of curves, perfected by eons of female evolution and ripped by a lifetime of deistic sculpting.
Bonnie could remember a time when her life was mostly filled with joy. Before her twins got old enough to be in college; before her life had taken a sharp turn for the worse about a decade ago, when, on a morning not unlike this one, she came back home due to some emergency she no longer remembered only to find her husband, in their own nuptial bed, probing alternatively and methodically each holes of one of her dearest friends with his well-endowed member that she had since grown to hate.
Her jogging pace quickened, along with her now frantic breathing as she thought of what ensued. For the following decade her marriage had become a charade, a make-believe tableau of happily dysfunctional family where mum and dad had agreed to stay together for the good of the kids; at least until they were old enough to go to college. And that time had now come…
What she was truly running away from was the decision she knew she had to make now that the agreed upon ultimatum had been reached: the kids were going to college this fall. She mentally avoided the excruciating exercise to reminisce some more of her not-so-far-away youth. She smiled as she remembered a time when her body was the stuff of legends. She was far from a less beautiful now, but she no longer had the same confidence in her charms. In more ways than one she was more of a woman now than she was then. Back then she was petite and cute. Now she was the image of femininity and she was beautiful. She also delighted herself in remembering what a bad naughty girl she was. She recalled the time, before settling for her husband, when her promiscuity was only challenged by the amount of hard cocks willing to defile, in any way imaginable, this once nymphomaniac goddess now tamed by societal pressures of kids, friends, work and only-to-be-admired-“salope” etiquette.
For so long she had resorted to distractions in order to tunnel through her ring induced ordeal. The trips to her parents, the endless home renovation and decoration projects, the kids’ cloths shopping spree had all long lost their usual distractive functions. Even the frequent jogs had no more effects. If anything they were only adding to her list of problems. She noticed how more and more in-shape she was becoming and how men couldn’t keep their eyes off of her. Worse of all, for the past two years that she’s been running in the vicinity of a marathon a week, her libido had once again gone into overdrive, forcing her to have long bathing sessions where fingers and any object that resembled a phallus became the bringer of deliverance and flooding doom.
She pitied her current self. She decried her condition. But for once, in the last decade, one thing was different: now she could do something about it because the self-imposed moral barrier was now lifted. She stopped abruptly when she finally realized that she had gone too far, too fast overshooting the entrance of her house by half a kilometer. She turned back and remembered that there was something positive to look forward to the following day: the Carnival. She decided to postpone her decision to leave her make-believe husband until then. At least that’s what she told herself.
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By that time now, Bonnie had been walking down the overly decorated, overly crowded sidewalks of the festive street where myriads of younger souls roamed and danced, shouted and drank. Already the music had reached decibel levels that were surely medically unadvised but healing for the soul. Exotic smells of foreign foods being grilled blocks away were mixing with not so faint scents of sweet elixirs that had the cunning properties of turning the prude into the frivolous.
The sun had giving up on illuminating away the follies of the many gathered to party. The last rays of that hot beautiful summer days were drawing a chameleon like sky that was quickly turning to the somber, the dark. Side by side lovers passed by, their eyes and mind lost in the innocence of youth; their raised hands, subjected to invisible forces, moving at the same cadence set by the intoxicating music, a growing public wave of welcomed carelessness.
The whole thing reminded Bonnie of what she had since lost. She thirsted for something he could no long provide. Something forbidden, something verboten, a sin of irreparable moral damage which would surely bring about the end of this boring, too long and too perfect cliché inspired slow drift into maturedome.
Bonnie felt eerily funny. She was somehow over the years become the odd one in the crowd. She was now the hottie whose age one couldn’t be sure was more than 36, alone, yet with an unchallenged beauty and a complexion evocative of the sky’s tint laid by recently retreated summer sun.
She had walked through the crowd with the idea of tiring herself out before deciding for a nice restaurant. After a few hundred meters of swimming through the flesh, she noticed them… A young couple kissing passionately without an inkling of care for the envious eyes watching them. Their hands were sensually contouring their lightly clothed bodies and their eyes only opened briefly, occasionally to get lost in the other’s growing lust.
Bonnie was transfixed by the sight of the kissing couple… the dare, the romanticism. The girls must have been so wet, Bonnie thought to herself, trying to justify her own growing wetness from just being witness to the near-erotic public display of affection.
The girl was the first to break kiss. Maybe she was starting to feel the growing number of curious eyes. Or maybe she was afraid to lose control in the middle of this carnival crowd. She rebuttoned a few knots from her partially opened top and disappeared into the crowd, dragging her lover by the hand.
Bonnie followed suite. She dove in the pile of dancing bodies where the couple had recently passed and tried to catch up with them. The music was getting louder and faster as she approached the center of the dancing circle. Bodies were rubbing against each other as they jumped up and down in unison. As she tried to find a path through, in the general direction that she had seen the kissing couple take, Bonnie got repeatedly groped on her generous bosom and ass. Surprisingly, even to herself, she liked it and it was turning her on in more ways than one.
She was reaching the fringe of the dancing mob when she caught a glimpse of the couple just in time before the disappeared again in a small alley in a quieter section of the street. She quickened her pace to follow them. As she distanced herself from the trembling subwoofers, she could finally hear herself think. “What are you doing Bonnie? Why are you following them?” There was not answer to the self-directed mental question because some ungodly process had shut down the logical part of her being. May be it was the fact that unconsciously she had already made her decision and her moral restrains along with the heavy coat of logic usually applied to it were now lifted. Or maybe she had been contaminated by the overall feeling of folly that had settled among the carnival attendees. Whatever it was, she liked the feeling of it and she didn’t want to let go.
What is there not to like when one’s pussy is soaking… When she turned into the street where she saw them go, she slowed down, by instinct. She slowly proceeded deeper into the dark alley. Faint repetitive sounds were coming from not too far away. She took a few more steps forward. In the dim light she thought she recognized some of their cloths on the floor, but she couldn’t be sure. She took a couple more steps forward…
She saw them, skin to skin, the tender flesh of the female body being pinned against the wall of the alley as if her lover was trying to fuse her to it with great effort. If Bonnie’s crouch was soaked before, now drips of her essence that could no longer be withheld by her carefully selected panty, were slowly making their way down her long thighs.
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Bonnie’s leg of their own volition approached the couple in full coatus. She could now clearly make out the loud moans previously drowned by the incessant music and large nearby crowd. More exciting, she could clearly hear the distinctive auditive sequence of skin impacting against skin, fighting for increased friction.
Unlike in the mob-packed street a few minutes before, the couple had dispensed of us much clothes as the situation allowed. The belted jeans of the young stud was rattling repeatedly on the floor, still enlacing the ankles of its owners, serving more of a restraining function than that of a vestmental duty. The girlfriend was not to be undone with her hand size breast leading a skin perfect torso that was pushing her rolled back T-Shirt ever closer to her neck. Her soft naked thighs and calves were rubbing tenderly against her lover’s naked waste. Their tongues were swimming in their make-shift lake of warmth and saliva.
Bonnie’s legs, of their own will, took a few more steps forward. She was now so close she could feel their warmth. More tormenting she could inhale that sweet odor of the spring of life: Young lubricant scent emanating from the V shaped pit of their skin rapped cum flavored ice cream cone… Only deities know how long it had been. Only deities know how intoxicating that perfume was to her…
Slowly, the girlfriend broke the kiss as her head slowly tilted upwards to gaps for some air, to gather some much needed energy for the tsunami of feeling that was now eminent. Then it happened, Bonnie saw her face cringed in the most primal of expressions. Then the tension dissipated, leaving a stoic visage not unlike that of a drug addict that thanks the heavens, in a blissful moment of ecstasy, for creating a feeling that should not exist.
Experiencing the girlfriend climax had fueled Bonnie with whatever courage she needed. Her lips spoke before she had the time to think about it.
“I have been watching you…” said Bonnie in a soft unexpectedly sexually charge tone.
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They both turned sharply, startled by the realization that someone was there watching them, an arm length away. After the initial fright, the couple was more relieved that their stalker was not a cop or some self-proclaimed moral police. Surely it was neither of the above because the woman in question had her cleavage out and a restless hand on a visible and now panty less crouch.
Bonnie was scared too, she had heard herself say those words, but she had no idea how they were going to react. For all she knew she had turned them off, or worst the stud was going to take out his frustration on her because she had interrupted him. They did neither. On the contrary Bonnie noticed that they were both staring at her voluptuous breasts and in the case of the boy, his transfixed gaze was accompanied by an increase in the cadence at which he was penetrating his breathless partner.
Bonnie took advantage of the newly discovered effects of her naked assets and unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, revealing the full splendor of her femininity, contoured by a functionally useless bra. She noticed that their eyes widened in awe and respect of her forms. Bonnie could have sworn she heard the girl moan as she was revealing more of herself.
“You can touch them if you want…” continued Bonnie as she got closer.
The girl fixed Bonnie in the eyes for a few seconds, unsure and still waiting an approval that had already been granted. Caringly, she then turned to her lover to seek the other half of the approval that never came because he was too busy himself. Too busy resisting the temptation of an offer that wasn’t directed to him, while at the same time being tortured by the soft tight and musky palettes of girlfriend’s womb. The girl waited no longer. The feeling of caressing those imposing soft breasts from a complete stranger, and a female stranger at that was well worth the potential jealousy of her hypnotized gesticulating lover. But above all the girl wanted to touch them at least before they got caught and this time by a less contributing party.
Bonnie noticed that boy was now panting even more rapidly as his generously girthed member was entering and exiting the sacred alley of the naturally tanned girlfriend, like a devout religious nut job bobbling his head in front of a wall whose responses only he could feel.
Even in the relative darkness, Bonnie could make out the outlines of his superb lower torso. The light creases gave way to a picturesque site of valleys and abs. Not to be undone, his half taut pecs and biceps only added to the torment of any onlooker, male or female, screaming without saying a word: “ Don’t fuck with me or I’ll rough you up or fuck you silly .” In Bonnie’s case, she wanted both.
Gradually, the sensual high pitch moans of the repeatedly perforated girlfriend were once again rising in volume and intensity. The girl’s hand was still groping and caressing Bonnie’s twin cleavage, undecided on which she liked better. Bonnie instantly recognized the lamenting song of the girl. She had heard it before. It was the tribal song of a woman lost in the place where one is closest to climaxing but is waiting for a trigger event that will show the path to salvation and free her from the hands of the torturous devilish daemons of pre-orgasm.
Bonnie didn’t miss a bit. She used her free right hand and returned the favor to her still unnamed breast massager. She started by touching the young tit that was the farthest away from her; caressing and contouring the wood like erect nipples, providing them with the attention that only someone of the same sex would have the expertise to.
The young stud quickened his pace.
That’s when she noticed it. The girth on the young lad’s penis certainly had to be the largest she had ever seen. Mentally she pulled out her portfolio of conquests from her earlier years and confirmed that it was either the largest or she had been out of business for so long that anything wider than three large fingers would look like a personal record to her. Never the less, she could no longer wait to see it in full and the mere thought of it, the impossible anticipation was now flooding her pussy buried fingers with uncalled for torrents of musky elixir.
Bonnie removed the hook shaped fingers of her left hand, locked in her pussy and placed those same viscous fingers on the girl’s clitoral area, rubbing the whole region in a tender slippery concentric motion.
The young early twenties boyfriend quickened his pace further on his early twenties girlfriend, obviously increasingly excited by the depraved audacity that Bonnie was showing.
