World Sex News
New extreme porn guidance (4 Dec 2008)
Britain's Ministry of Justice has issued guidelines on what constitutes extreme porn, and the new offence that is due to come into force on 26th January 2009 [4 Dec 2008] more
Nerdy science virgins
A new study of 185 students at the University of Sydney, has found that male nerdy science students are most likely to be virgins, and female art students, the least [4 Dec 2008] more
Christmas encourages teen sex
A poll of youngsters aged 13-17, found that a third felt they were more likely to have sex over Christmas [4 Dec 2008] more
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The English summer evening can be graceful. The sun, seeking shade
beyond the edge, posts a golden apology on leaf and pane. At this
time I would dream with glazed vulnerability and romantic thought.
A lonely yearning, heightened by glass barriers.
An interior and solitary person, I sought the plump cottage `with
space' to range in my small, confined world in safety. It neighbored
a twin, separated by a tall, derelict stone wall running the acre
length of a matching riotous garden. A small green door set in the
wall, testifying that neighbors had not always sought apartheid. This
doorwas fast-stuck by generations of ivied suckers.
I never sought to tame my jungle of frenzied creepers, wildshrubbery and
overblown fruit trees. The view from my scullery windowwas a daily summer
surprise of changing color and shape. An accidental happenstancemuch like
my erratic life.
The twin remained empty for the first eight months of myrule. Then
the woman came. She slipped into the grey stone walls withease and
quiet. After the initial invasive flush I welcomed herremote companionship.
The terror of neighborly descent waned and I continuedin my hermitage.
Nothing seemingly altered. Her garden remained a matchingriot.
Then came the summer evenings and the glasshouse.
It rose painfully amidst the shrubs during a day of workmanlikeshouts.
It filled fast with fernage and exotic blasts. At firsta seeming huge
blot of curving glass, I watched the sun bless it warmlyand approved.
The woman visited the glasshouse in the evenings. I discoveredthis
accidentally whilst rummaging in my attic. Through thetiny, grimy window I
could see her vista. Her privacy was assured by the gardenwall were I
elsewhere in my cottage. After the initial shock of thatfirst
sighting I shamelessly took station in the attic in anticipationof her
further forays.
She had a ritual. She would stroll the distance from therear door to
the glasshouse lifting her face to the farewell of day;testing
the breeze. The apparently random journey would bringher to the
glasshouse. She would pause before the door, shed her clothesunthinkingly
on the grass, then enter.
I saw her only from the rear. Naked, wide-hipped, not tall.A slight
turn, a shifting of heavy auburn hair, a sullen swell ofbreast. I,
cramped and cross-legged for an hour awaited her exit,then an ashamed
voyeur, I eased downstairs to ponder in accustomed yearning.
After the second sighting I cleaned the window and soughta cushioned
comfort. I tummied, elbow propped in dreamy viewing. Mynest
established, tea and biscuits...a week passed in rearnude appreciation.
On the seventh day I was rewarded. I remained longer thanthe hour and
she emerged. She looked straight at my attic window. I froze,clearly
outlined now the sunspray had given way to silver pane.My cove was dark
but I was a silhouette in the light of the stairwell backlighting.
The woman was proudlined. Her deep brown eyes warm and direct. She
stood, a looselimbed statue with toffee-tipped curvedbreasts,
swelling stomach and dark-downy crotch. She bent calmly, collected
her clothes and glided from view.
The next evening the green wall door was forced ajar, trailing
jumbled ivy streamers and bruised earth.
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In a dream I passed through the torn green portal and entered her
glass sanctuary. The mute light filled with fine billowing mist. Her
greenhouse was served with overhead sprayers. One reasonto be naked.
Benches of ferns, fronds clasping damply over aisles.The strong musk
of chipped bark, wet peat and dewey mud. And her, poisedglittering
with fine droplets, nude beside the orchids...lips slightlyparted,
feet slightly parted.
The woman unclothed me gently while I moved in silent-limbed
compliance. Our pile of cloth sprawled small on the lawn. She took my
hand and smoothed my fingertips across the down of an orchid head. It
slid in smooth giving, a warm, moist velvet. The stamen bumped its
small erection in my palm, the bruised petals a pungent protest.
Then, turning my palm up she placed it, with hers to cup myown
pudendum. I felt my clitoris perk stamen-like in my palmand my
fingers sought my warm satin, my own moist folds. We slipped
our fingers in my wet well and my breath shortened.
She met her tongue to the orchid, eyes closed, she lickedthe down.
She closed softly around the shedding stamen and rolledgently. A fine
yellow powder coated her lips when she rose and broughtthem to mine.
I sucked her bottom lip, tasting, her tongue feinting.
Then we lay, the damp bark sponging beneath us. She sighingas I
spread her, kneeled to her opening to suck her buttoningtoffee-tips
with rolling lips and soft nipping. A heady dip and pungentswirls of
bark and her scents. She unveiled in finger parted labiaand pink
whorls and crevices. She tasted thick and spicy and shiftedcreamy
over my face. My tongue was caught and tucked in hollowsand small
silk caverns. Her voice...low, quick and foreign, encouragingwith
small growls. When she came, she trembled hard againstmy lips
and spilled her precious pittance in my moving mouth.
We crushed together, peering down at bulged mamma. She courted me
with an eager mouth and sighs. She tore the orchid from its dark stem
and trailed it over pink aureole and inner thigh. She worked the
crumpling bloom in my sopping cleft and brought it, with her lips, to
mine to taste and mix. Bending my legs hard up she curved my hips,
shouldering my knees. Her tongue sought and forced past my pursed
anus, a firm thrust...small muscling demand. Her heavy auburn hair
wove wetly on my tensing thighs as I shamelessly rode her, her nose
riding slittily. Her hands grabbed and mashed my breasts, stomach and
swollen mound. When I shuddered she groaned in ecstasy.
Afterwards we traced each other with fern fronds. We peeredand
compared and laughed, small, deep intimate sounds in themist. We
touched and rubbed, tasted and experimented. Our womanhood meshed and
fit, bonded and acknowledged. A glass committed etchingof flesh
shapes. I learned her name was Eve. THE END
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