He looked up at the night sky that was littered with hundreds of thousands of suns burning strongly thousands of light years away. Yeap. Stars were indeed suns. So technically suns were also stars. The black velvet sky was mesmerizing to him, as if it told him an entire other story. Stories of another world, of another dimension. A cool breeze swept across the city, dragging the city’s heat from the surface, and also seemed to usher all the worry out from one’s soul and into the dark night.

He leaned against the balcony’s rail, a cup of green tea in his right hand, not that it was actually green in colour. It was honestly more of a light yellow and its taste was refreshing after a meal of salad with some leftover roasted chicken. The yellow onions left a bit of a taste in his mouth, not that he was any fussy about that, but he knew that it would soon wash away. The chicken was juicy and even tastier than the day before when he’d marinate it with salt, pepper, oregano, lemon juice and stuffed it with some bacon.

He turned and faced the interior of the small apartment which was cosy and had its lights in the kitchen burning away. He still remembered the day he chose the apartment. It looked run down and gloomy, its walls grey and the paint cracked. The floors were dusty and the ceiling had wires still coming out of it. It was something no one would want to buy immediately. Too much work had to be done to refurbish the place. Ghost stories were also rumoured around the unit. Everyone’s stories were inconsistent and obviously a hoax. But he’d immediately fell in love with the unit. The living room was small, indeed it was. Enough only to fit a couch for two and a coffee table. It was the kitchen that did it. It compensated for the lack of space in the living room.

The kitchen was big. It had a centre section with a sink and a table counter while the two sides of the kitchen walls had cabinets and counters and the third was the stove area. It was not a closed kitchen. It opened up directly to the living area. That left two rooms and a single bath with a glass cubical. Since one room was directly behind the living area, he’d demolished the wall and opened the living room, making it more spacious. The other room was big enough to fit a king sized bed, a cupboard, a working desk and two bedside tables.

A young lady suddenly walked out of the kitchen area, a glass in hand, also filled with tea, brewed not long ago. As she joined him on the balcony, the breeze caught her long hair, playfully sending it into a beautiful mess. She smiled at him and asked, “Something on your mind?”

“Not really,” came his reply.

“Contemplating life again?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.” He smiled shyly.

She laughed gently but with no effort to keep the laugh a secret.

She was pretty. At least he thought so. No, she did not have a ridiculously straight set of teeth. And neither had she got them whitened. She did brush them two times a day and flossed after every meal. Her eyes were sort of almond shaped they seemed to sparkle even in the faintest of light. The plain white cotton blouse she wore outlined her petite frame and her rounded breasts. No, they were not huge, not near big, but neither were they small. He didn’t understand cup sizes, but he knew his preference. Not big or huge.

He was half a head taller than her and wore three-quarter cotton pants, and plain white cotton T-shirt almost similar to hers. The breeze easily found its way through his short cropped hair and cooled his scalp, a feeling he often enjoyed. His eyes seemed distant when he looked at the sky or every time he lost interest in his books.

He gulped down his tea and moved in next to her. Her were arms on the rail, glass of tea in her right hand.

“You make nice salad,” she said, breaking the awkward silence.

“Thanks.”

“And chicken.”

“Thank you.”

“I had a great dinner.”

He did not reply to her statement this time, just looked at her and then looked away in to the night sky.

“You’re quiet,” she said, shifting her body slightly to face him.

“Erm, I don’t have anything to say at the moment. Really.”

“Try this. Think of a topic and start to say something about it.”

The night breeze turned into a slight stronger gust of wind and he felt the soft material of her short black pleated skirt flap against his pants.

Think of a topic.

“Okay,” he said, brushing his hand against his mouth. “Erm, remember the other day that game of truth or dare?”

“Yeah, we were in the library’s reading section and nearly got chased out.” She chuckled.

“I’d like to try it,” he said suddenly and quickly, his mouth dry.

There was a still silence and the wind picked up again, rustling the leaves of the trees in the park down below.

She’d still remembered the game a week ago. She’d dared him tell her one of his darkest fantasies and it was still clear in her mind as if he’d told her a minute ago.

“… one of my darkest fantasies is to have a girl sit on me.”

“Sit on you? That’s silly. C’mon.”

“I mean her womanhood right at my mouth and I just please her.”

“You mean sexually?” she’d whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Shouldn’t have brought that up.”

She couldn’t reply him. Her heart was racing faster than a band’s drummer and also harder than that. She could feel it thumping away in her chest cavity and, cliché as it sounded, felt like it would just detonate like an atomic bomb.

“I’d like a bath,” she said, turning to the shower, her voice with a mild hint of anxiousness that she was trying to control.

“Okay.”

She stopped after a few steps and turned around. Her heart was thumping even harder and she could almost hear it.

“I…I’d like to try mine too,” she blurted.

Think of a topic.

He recalled the game just as well as she did. He kept playing the conversation again and again in his mind. Not that he wanted to. Well, he did try to stop himself.

“…Now tell me yours.”

“I’d like to have a sensual shower. With someone.”

He snapped back as he heard water patter down on the tiled floor of the bathroom.

Slowly, after sliding the door to the balcony shut, he made his way to the bathroom and discovered the door was left ajar. Upon stepping into the bath cubical, he had already stripped down to his birthday suit and his manhood was at attention in anticipation. Not that he expected bathroom pleasure, but the figure right before him under the shower was nothing but stunning.

Her skin was a slight shade darker at her neck, arms and legs where the sun never left it, and her back was lighter in tone. Below the small of her back, it was almost perfectly rounded, toned and sculptured from the days they did lunges, squats and runs together in the university’s park. Her long black hair seemed darker as the water cascaded down. Her thighs just below her butt had a slight hint of the so-called orange-peel but it was not obvious, barely noticeable. Imperfect perfection, he thought.

“Join me,” she whispered, as if she sensed his presence.

He stepped in closer and joined her under the cascading water, soaking every inch of his skin. He rubbed the bar of soap in his hand and applied the slippery substance to her shoulder as she moved her hair across her right shoulder and down her chest. He began to slowly massage her shoulders; they felt so tight and tense. She breathed out, enjoying the sensation of his thumbs gliding across her shoulders. He then ran his thumbs down the sides of her spine, right to the small of her back, applying pressure to it, then doing the same as he ran his thumbs back up to her neck. He felt the fine hairs on her back that everyone had. hers were very fine but evident to touch.

Some men were extremely fussy. Not him.

Imperfect perfection.

She breathed out again.

After doing the massage technique a few times, he came closer to her, applied more soap and eased the tension in her shoulders again.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six circular motions with his thumbs. His hands glided down her chest slowly, then closer to her breasts. He cupped them and massaged them slowly in circular motion. They were firm yet soft. Her nipples hard. Maybe from the water cascading down; maybe from his touch; maybe from anticipation; maybe from the massage; maybe from all of those things.

She didn’t stop him.

Slowly, his hands went further down to her belly, drawing circles on it, as if he could paint an abstract art of them in the shower, of the moment.

He snuggled his head on her neck gently, and then turned and kissed it. It sent a tingle down her spine as his lips touched. She was drowning in the moment of it, savouring the sensations.

“May I?” he asked, letting his fingers trace lines further down below her belly button to the triangle of hair that existed naturally down south.

“Hmm…” She whimpered, and a shiver of excitement coursed through her body.

Her pubic hair was combed as his fingers raked through them. Slowly reaching her womanhood that was now drenched with water and moisten by her essence.

Unshaven. Not waxed, not trimmed.

Imperfect perfection.

He felt a slight bump at his finger tips and knew he had reached her clitoris’ hood.

She whimpered again and let out a soft moan.

“You’re hard,” she whispered.

He was now hugging her, not tightly, firmly, and had his manhood between her bottom cheeks. Her body heat was warm against his chest and belly, comforting to hold.

“No sex,” he whispered back. “Just pleasure.”

“I never told you this but you are a confusing philosopher.”

He reached further down and moved his fingers in a slow circle.

She moaned again, smiled then breathed, “I like the intellectual challenge, though.”

“You’re intellectually challenging, too.” He smiled, their dark brown eyes, almost black, connecting.

He massaged in a slightly faster circle, making her moan as thousands of receptors were stimulated in her clitoris. He sped up and slowed down, faster and slower, in circles and in lines. He could feel the slight difference between the fluids at his finger tips. The water had washed away the soap and what was left was the water that flowed down her body and the slow release of excitement from her womanhood.

Her whimpers and gentle moans filled the bathroom, echoing gently around and filling their ears. The fingers on his right hand continued while his left hand traced back up to her firm breasts and slowly massaged them, occasionally rubbing her nipples between his thumb and index finger. The sensations that she was immersed in could not be described. Comfort from his hug, relaxation from the massage and pleasure from his foreplay. It coursed through her body, down her spine, a heightened amount of biological electric current that filled her head.

She let out an involuntary gasp and moans as his finger entered her.

One. Then two. She was wet on the inside too. Between moist and wet, not dripping. There was a difference. Her hymen had been torn already from all the exercise they had been doing. Running, sprinting, and cycling. She was a sports girl, a casual one, but she loved it especially when they spent time with their friends.

His fingers sped up and slowed down the way they had when massaging her clitoris. His fingers were slightly curled and pressure was applied to the walls of her inner womanhood. Her back was arched slightly and her head was tilted back, their cheeks touching, her mouth slightly gaping. He planted slow and gentle kisses on her neck, letting his lips linger sometimes a little longer, sometimes not.

Moving his index and middle fingers with varying speeds, he massaged her clitoris hood gently with his thumb, stimulating her clitoris beneath, and sending waves of pleasure through her entire being. Her breath was quick and sharp, with occasional moans. She had her right arm up and around his neck, bringing him in closer as if wanting him to experience all that she felt.

“Kiss me,” she said somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

“French?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

His heart thumped harder than he’d expected it to, making part of him hope it would not be fatal. Slowly, he brought his lips to hers, touching it gently, feeling the soft flesh intimate flesh of another being’s, possibly an angel’s. He felt her mouth part and decided to follow suit, tilting his head so their noses wouldn’t collide.

She suddenly giggled and pulled away. Facing him, her hands went to his chest, which was hard from push-ups. She gazed into his eyes, trying to understand what his mind thought, at the same time feeling his heart beat, hard but not fast. Her gaze slowly drifted down to his belly, seeing a mildly sculpted frame, no packs but they were almost surfacing.

Imperfect perfection.

An oxymoron.

She looked back up at him and said, “You’re shaved.”

“I got itchy when I did sports. Became a habit.”

Her left hand ran down his belly, passed his belly button and brushed against where there used to be thick hair. Her touch sent a jolt through him, followed by a tingling sensation. She smiled gently, knowing the power she had but also aware of how he could make her feel. It was mutual, the feeling, and they’d both knew it.

She stroked his manhood up and down a few times before he leaned in closer to her, head bowed low, his right hand behind her neck, and brought her forward to meet his lips. She got hungry all of a sudden and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, tasting his lips fast, then slow, then drawing away, slightly breathless.

The two turned off the shower and towelled down using the same towel, the cotton soft against their skin. She took his hand and guided him to the only bedroom. She did not have to look back to know that he’d watch her full bottom sway as she walked. She’d caught him more than a few times looking at her rear whenever she was turned away. But she loved how she could get his attention. Not that she ever tried to.

They knelt on the bed, a spring-less mattress, bouncy and comfortable all the same.

“Now your turn,” she said.

They kissed again, fingers interlocking, her breasts pressed to his chest. He could feel her hard nipples, the warmth from his body and her breath from her nostrils. There was a sweetish aroma or odour in the air. Not heavy. Maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe not. Her lips seemed sweet and she even smelt likewise.

Pheromones. Normally emitted from the underarms and pubic regions.

Awkward when you’d actually think about it. Sexy yet in a weird way.

Natural imperfect perfection.

He liked it.

She pushed him on his chest gently, smiling gently and then unknowingly let out an anxious yet excited giggle.

Strangely cute.

She didn’t do that all the time but when she did, she did it right, at the right time, at the right place, making him melt.

He adjusted himself with his elbows and she arched down to kiss him again. She gently raked her trimmed nails up his belly to his chest as she knee-walked, straddling him. Her womanhood now at his chest. She could feel his heart beating faster within its cavity, actually throbbing against her moist womanhood.

He smiled gently, yet shyly, again. He felt that familiar feeling of arousal building within his chest and belly every time he’d steal a glance at her butt or her beautiful legs whenever she wore short shorts or skirt; whenever he’d steal a peak at her pale underarm; whenever he’d stare at the back of her shirt, blouse or singlet, noticing that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

A scent new to him made its way to his senses, waking him up, heightening his senses. Probably more pheromones from her womanhood that now hovered right above his mouth, inches away. Its moisture glistened in the light from the table lamps, her lips slightly opened. He wrapped his arms around her thighs that were now on both sides of his head and she lowered herself slowly.

She was not shy at all about her sexuality. She was a very opened person. She watched those films filled with passionately explicit contents, however she didn’t watch certain genres. He knew because they’d shared the fact for only a brief moment, and that he’d actually caught her watching it once, but had quickly left without alerting her. She knew his type of genre because she’d seen some on his portable hard drive, and actually watched a few.

He parted his lips as her southern lips came into contact with his. Her eyes were closed tight, her breath short and quick. A tingle jolted up his body as he began slowly kissing and gently sucking on her womanhood the way he had kissed her – slowly, lovingly and passionately.

Her womanhood represents her, is her. Respect it, love it and make love to it.

It is part of her.

His mouth now cupped her womanhood, his upper lip just at her clitoris hood, his lower lip below her entrance and his tongue lapping slowly and gently. He sucked as if he were trying to drain her of her fluids that made her wet, but did it gently, not hard. She moaned quietly, her inhalations and exhalations sharp. The sensations she felt were better than anything that had been felt or described. Definitely better than the times she’d pampered her womanhood while thinking about the times she’d teased him.

Her taste was interestingly intoxicating, and it sent him into euphoria. Her essence was indescribable – it was somewhat like his pre-cum, slightly salty, but was also sweetish. Not exactly like that, but somewhere there.

He quickened his licks and increased the pressure of his suction, drawing more moans from her, quickening her breath, making her arch back in bliss. Her hair hung down, brushing against his manhood at attention. He slowed down, teasing her, then quickened again, stimulating her. Her womanhood ground against his parted lips, forwards and back, side to side, in slow and sometimes rough circles.

How long it had been, she had no idea. Time had seemed to lose its meaning as she straddled his mouth, making sure his nose was not covered entirely, only lost in her tuff of hair. She was there for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. She had no idea. But she was sure she was close. That feeling of heightened ecstasy every time she made love to herself, right before she’d start to shudder and struggle to keep her own body in control.

She let out a powerful moan, and a muffled scream of pleasure as she tried to pull away from the source of stimulation. Her belly was contracting in waves and she was quivering hard, her orgasm riding through her, filling her. The ecstasy was nothing she could put words to. Maybe it wasn’t the same for everyone. Maybe it was. There again, maybe not. But she didn’t care about that, she just let it flow through her.

He didn’t let go when she started to convulse in pleasure. He was in heaven with his mouth to her lips, licking and kissing, prodding with his tongue, stimulating with his lips, doing anything he’d known, seen or learnt from those short movies. But what he did, he did with love. There was a difference.

Her juices really began to flow. Not like squirting or dripping. Just flowing from her southern lips, wetting his lips and mouth. He sucked hungrily, downing every last bit of it.

She began to giggle and laugh when he hadn’t let go and the waves that washed over her had long subsided. She was her talkative self again, but also flirty when she was with him.

“Cool down, soldier.”

He stopped but did not let go, her womanhood now above him again, his eyes looking distantly into hers.

“I can’t let you go,” he said softly, licking his lips. “I’m in heaven.”

She giggled and laughed again. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her southern lips gently again, letting the contact linger for longer. At the same time he gently inhaled her scent, not wanting to let go, but he did. She slid down and lay prone, half on him, half on the bed, her breasts pushed to his chest. Their heat lingered on in the atmosphere that consumed them, dividing them from the outside world. Their legs intertwined and her knee was at his erect manhood, a trail of glistening fluid flowing down. His arm was wrapped around her, holding her close as they embraced in a kiss, mouths parted, tongues dancing to an unheard melody.

They eventually lay back, sinking into their pillows. He stared at the ceiling, not thinking of anything, just enjoying her presence. She let her gaze wander over his body, wondering if he liked her as much as she liked him. Love was too big a word but like was too small all the same.

Synapses fired in her head at unreal speeds, conjuring up fantasies, creating situations and outcomes. She looked at his shaved pubes and the hair that was beginning to surface. She moved her head and said, “I propose a Dare.”

Looking down into her eyes, he said, “Let’s hear it.”

“Well actually it’s two Dares in one day. For each of us.” She drew circles on his chest as she spoke.

“Don’t leave me hanging.” He began to smile as he could not phantom what she had in store for them.

“Okay,” she said and propped herself up on her elbow, her firm breasts proudly displayed. “I tell you tomorrow.” She leaned in to kiss him.

“Oh-ho, you are such a tease.” He laughed and tickled her sides.

She laughed and giggled as she playfully fended off his attacks. They stopped as he loomed over her, his lips an inch from hers, their breath colliding invisibly. He leaned closer to kiss her and she laughed again, turning away just in time, and he ended up kissing her below her ear.

“You are one naughty girl,” he said between a laugh.

“I am. And I know you like that.” Their foreheads pressed against each other, smiles engraved on their faces.

He fell back on the bed, sinking in again, and she snuggled up close to him, feeling his warmth. She gently rubbed her knee up and down against his manhood and he pulled her closer to him.

With a reach of his arm, he flipped off the lights and darkness sank into the room’s every corner, as if preserving the heat and erotic atmosphere and love for the day to come.

___

**This is entirely a work of fiction - and I hope you guys enjoyed it**

**Since this is my first post, I look forward to your comments to improve my future writings. Cheers!**