Message-ID: <372.repost$980811050430@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/14088.txt>
From: desdmona22@aol.com (Desdmona22)
Subject: {Desdmona} The Discernible Heart {MF, Rom}
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-Id: <1998080812262000.IAA27587@ladder01.news.aol.com>

Disclaimer:  This is intended for mature readers who aren't offended by
sexually explicit stories.
                   This story may be reprinted in it's entirety with
disclaimers and author included.

Quick Note:  Thanks to the many of you that have offered and given your
proofreading skills.. and to one in particular,  he knows who he is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The Discernible Heart
By Desdmona22@aol.com
Copyright 1998

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


   The first light of day shone through the window.  I yawned and
scratched the back of my head.  I shuffled forward into the
doorway, into the square of filtered light.  I stretched my hands
upward onto the doorframe.  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.
I basked in the warm sun, feeling the heat on my naked skin.

   I opened my eyes and saw the Black-eyed Susans wilting in a
vase on the windowsill.  I smiled.  Mark had picked them days ago.


                                        **********************


   We had decided to take a walk through the reserve.  Or, rather,
I had finally convinced him to take a walk with me.  Mark liked
nature, but he had always called our local reserve the "sissy"
part of nature.  Not at all like the real, "formed over time"
kind, not like the mountains and rivers that surrounded his
hometown.

   For several months, he had been flying in every couple weeks to
visit me.  He had always used some excuse to avoid visiting the
reserve in all his previous visits.  But this time, he had finally
said yes.  Now that I had the opportunity, I was determined to do
my best to dislodge his "sissy" theory.

   I drove us to the reserve while he chattered on about this and
that.  But he fell silent when we got out of the car.  He took my
hand as we began the hike down the flat dirt trail.  Our feet
barely made a noise on the soft earth.

   We walked along under the canopy of trees.  The branches meshed
together above us, like a giant profusion of arms.  The trees
seemed to be supporting each another.  We stopped.  He leaned back
and stared straight up.

   "Wow," he said, "did they grow naturally like that?  Or were
they trained?"

   "They grew that way over time.  When I was a little girl, they
didn't reach together.  They just sort of bent towards one
another."

   We both stood, straining our necks upwards.  The sun filtered
through the leaves and spattered across the path.  A few minutes
passed.  We looked down at the same time and caught each other's
eyes.  We smiled.

   We continued along, hand in hand.  I guided him around a corner
to walk past a big field of flowers growing wild.  On a backdrop
of green grew a myriad of colors and textures.

   I pointed to a small yellow flower.  "Bet you don't know what
this is!"

   He shrugged.

   "It's a buttercup.  It catches the sunlight and it gets so warm
in the center that bugs like to come and sit there."

   He gave me a big smile.  "So what you're saying is that even
bugs know the center is where the heat is?"

   I tried not to giggle, but I couldn't help it.  He grabbed my
hand and boyishly brought it to his mouth.  I thought he was going
to kiss it when instead he held it in front of his mouth, like a
microphone and broke into song:

     Why do you build me up
     Buttercup
     Baby just to let me down
     Spin me around
     And worst of all
     You never call, baby
     When you say you will
     But I love you still
     I need you,
     More than anyone darlin'
     You know that I have from the start,
     So build me up
     Buttercup
     Don't break my heart.

   "Okay, Mr. Foundations," I said, "follow me."

   He grimaced, and I laughed.  He hated it when I knew the
artist.

   As we walked along, neither of us could keep from humming.

   "Okay, big guy what song do you have for this one?"  I pointed
to a sort of hairy flower with yellow and red-brown petals.

   "Uh, what is it?"

   "It's a Black-eyed Susan."

   He thought for a second.  He grabbed my hand, repeated the
microphone pose, and belted out:

     Black-eyed Susan,
     You make us nervous
     Because we're very aware that
     You don't care.

   He must have seen my look of "what song is that?"  He answered
without me asking.  "It's Morrisey."  This time he smiled smugly.
I still giggled.

   "Ah!"

   We walked along again.  We entered the woods along a different
path.  There were still flowers and plants all around us but I was
in a hurry to get to The Three Sisters.

   I hadn't told him about The Three Sisters on purpose.  I wanted
him to see them, and I wanted to see his face when he did.  We
rounded the corner to where they grew.  He didn't disappoint me.

   "Jesus!"

   He stopped and stood in silence at the sight before him.  In a
small grove stood three trees.  Their trunks were so big around it
would take four people reaching hand to hand to surround them.
The height and breadth of the middle one outscored the outer two.
The bases of the trees were twenty or thirty feet apart.  But the
most noteworthy thing was how their tops reached heavenward and
joined as if holding hands.  Branches intertwined like fingers.

   "These are the Three Sisters, and they've been around since
before Columbus discovered America."

   We stood side by side, and instinctively joined hands.  His
around mine.  I fingered his wrist and like I always did, I zeroed
in on his pulse.  The beauty of the moment was marked with
silence, except for the rustling of the wind through the trees.

   He turned to me, cupped my face, and kissed me.

   "What was that for?"

   "That was for making me come here."

   I smiled.  It was an old joke between us.  "Making you come is
one of my favorite things to do," I said.  We both laughed.


                                        *************************


   The memories still sparkled.  And now, as the warmth of the
morning sun seeped through me, I sensed him moving directly behind
me.  I heard his bare feet on the floor.  His body moved closer to
me, so very close, stopping just inches from mine.  I heard his
breath.  And then his fingers touched my shoulders.

   My instinct was to move back into his embrace, but I denied
myself and stood perfectly still.  I reveled in the exquisite feel
of his hands as they began to glide up my arms, slipping over my
biceps, curving around my elbows, lingering at my wrists and then
finally, covering my hands, our fingers intertwining.

   I breathed deeply, I smelled him, and my heart raced.  He edged
closer, and his soft, warm lips touched the juncture of my neck
and shoulders.  A jolt of electricity charged my veins.

   "Let me take the lead," he whispered in my ear.

   I willingly obeyed.

   His fingers caressed the length of my hands, light feathery
touches between each digit.  Running over my knuckles and then
back up.  Flicking my nails.  Our fingers interlocking again.

   With hands clasped, he moved our right hands together down to
my breast.  Together we touched, seeking the nipple.  Catching it
between our forefingers and thumbs--rubbing, pinching, tweaking it
erect.

   All the while his moist mouth lingered over my neck, sucking,
gently nibbling.  My head fell back against his chest and I moaned
softly.  The emotion built as our hands continued the search.  His
hand guided mine as we moved down over my chest to my stomach.  He
made lazy circles over my abdomen and I gasped.  I felt the
unmistakable pressure of his arousal against my ass, and I pressed
back into it.

   His left hand, covering mine, guided our hands down, around my
hip, behind my back, and onto the bulge in the front of his
shorts.  I grasped with him as we took in the length of his
hardened penis, and my palm settled around the glans.

   Our twined right hands descended from my breast.  He traced
down my belly, seeking, probing further and further with slow,
tantalizing movements until we met the edge of my protective hair.
Our fingers pointing downward towards my heat.

   His cock lurched in our left hands.

   Our right hands applied a little pressure to the bud amidst the
hair.  The moisture around it lubricated and eased the path.  I
moaned again, this time a little louder.

   "I want this for my very own," he whispered.  My knees buckled,
and my weight shifted back against him.

   "God, I want you, Mark!  Make love to me."  Somehow, the words
came out of my mouth.  Where the power to speak came from, I don't
know.

   His body pressed close behind me, turned me, and guided me to a
chair.  We moved together in a dance, slowly, back, body to body,
heat to heat.

   His hand left my left hand, but I stayed put, lingering on his
penis.  Together we worked to rid him of his shorts.  He raised
his hand and gently enfolded it in my hair.  He used his strength
to bend my body downward towards the chair.  His engorged penis
pressed against me, leaving droplets of his cum smeared across my
skin.  The air blew across the droplets, and I shivered.

   My body ignited from the passion and the nearness of him.  The
burn began in the core and spread into me.  I wanted to let it
rage.  I leaned over and grabbed onto the seat of the chair,
supporting my weight against it.  His left hand rested against my
ass to support himself.  Our flesh touched, the contact of bum
against groin spurring us both on.

   He removed his hand from my hair and reached for himself.
Using the head of his cock, he glided it over my lower back, down
between my cheeks and to my aching cunt.  I was saturated, my
juices allowed him to slide easily back and forth.

   "Please!"  I begged.

   He entered me, just the head, my mind went blank as my ability
to think wavered.  I only needed and desired the completion he
offered.  He slid all the way in.

   "Oh god!" I cried.  And I followed with a litany of "Oh gods!"

   It was everything I wanted.  As he moved, slowly at first, we
were consumed with the heat.  He moved faster.  Each thrust filled
me completely.  My inner walls vibrated with the feel of him and
clung to him as he entered.

   He draped himself over me, reached under and, using his
fingers, he caressed me again.  He touched my clitoris, and I
jumped with the burst of feeling.  I moved my hand on top of his
and we continued to rub.

   Bracing himself, he stood.

   "Oh Mark!"  I screamed.

   I felt the cum as it rose into his shaft.  The jerking.  The
throbbing.  He exploded into me.  Followed by seconds of stillness
as I reached for the same paradise.  And I reached, I grabbed, and
I toppled over.  I shivered as emotion surrounded me, and tears
fell gently from my eyes.

   He collapsed against me, whispering my name.

   "Marie... Marie... Marie!"

   I felt his breath against my back.  I grabbed his hand and held
it against my chest.  A heartbeat was discernable, not sure if it
was mine or his, not caring.  Then realized it was both.  We beat
as one.  And at that moment, I realized the power of nature we
could bring to one another.  When we connected through touching.

   And I was in awe of it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Discernible Heart
By Desdmona22@aol.com
Copyright 1998


-- 
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>