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From: kristen78@aol.com (Kristen78)
Subject: Kristen's collection: (Alya.txt
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Here's a pretty story..........K
[ from Kristen's collection ]
__________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age
(Under 18 years old) PLEASE DELETE THIS
FILE NOW!
__________________________________________
Scroll down to view Story
Archive name: (Ayla.txt
Authored by: Jean A.
Story Title: Alya's Story~
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
This story describes a sexual relationship between a man and a
woman. If sex offends you, or you are under 18 years old,
please delete this file now!
`````````````````from Kristen's collection`````````````````````
It reminded Ayla of the small river in her valley, with its
fuming, churning waterfall blocking the way upstream.
They let the current carry them along, splashing each other and
laughing along the way. Ayla loved the sound of the mans
laughter. Though he smiled, he didn't laugh often, tending
instead to exhibit a more serious demeanor, but when he did, it
was such a big, hearty, exuberant laugh, it came as a surprise.
When they got out of the pool and dried off, it was still warm.
The dark cloud Ayla had noticed earlier was gone from the sky
above them, but the sun was lowering toward a black and brood-
ing mass languishing in the west.
She kneeled on the sleeping bag,and began to comb her wet hair.
The man sat beside her and began to comb his own hair with a
three-pronged comb, struggling with some tangles.
"Let me do that for you," she said, getting up on her knees
behind him. She combed loose the knots in his long, straight
yellow hair, a lighter shade than hers, admiring the color of
it. When she was a child, her hair had been almost white, but
it had become somewhat darker and now had an ashy golden hue.
The man closed his eyes while Ayla worked on his hair, but he
was aware of her warm presents behind him as her bare skin
brushed against his back now and then, and by the time she was
through, he was feeling a warmth from more than the sun.
"Now it's my turn to comb your hair," hr said, getting up to
move behind her. For a moment, she thought about objecting.
It wasn't necessary. He didn't have to comb her hair just
because she'd combed his, but when he lifted her thick hair
off her neck and pulled it through his fingers, like a caress,
she acquiesced.
Her hair had a tendency to curl, and it tangled easily, but he
worked carefully, freeing each snarl with very little pulling.
She closed her eyes, feeling a strange, shivery delight. He
mother had combed her hair for her when she was a little girl,
but no man ever had before. His combing of her hair gave her an
intense feeling of being cared for and loved.
And he discovered that he enjoyed combing and brushing her
hair. The dark gold color reminded him of prairie grass, but
with sun-bleach highlights that were nearly white. It was
beautiful, and so thick and soft, handling it was sensuous
pleasure that made him want more. When he finished, he put the
brush down, then lifted up the slightly damp tresses, and,
moving then aside, bent down to kiss her shoulders and the back
of her neck.
Ayla kept her eyes closed, feeling the tingles caused by his
warm breath and soft lips as he brushed them lightly over her
skin. He nibbled at her neck and caressed both her arms, then
reached around to hold both breasts, lifting them and feeling
their pleasant substantial weight,and the firm, upright nipples
in his palms.
When he reached around to kiss her throat, Ayla lifted her head
and turned slightly, then felt his hot rigid organ against her
back. She turned around and took it in her hands, enjoying the
softness of the skin that covered the warm hard shaft. She put
one hand over the other, and moved them firmly up and down, and
the man felt a surge of sensation, but the feeling magnified
beyond measure when he felt the warm wetness of her mouth
enclose him.
Letting out an explosive sigh, he closed his eyes as the sen-
sations coursed through his body. Then he opened his eyes a
crack to watch, and could not help but reach for the soft
beautiful hair that filled his lap. When she drew him in
farther, he thought for a moment he could not hold back and
would give it up at that instant. But he wanted to wait, wanted
the exquisite pleasure it gave him to pleasure her. He loved
to do it, loved knowing he could. He would almost be willing
to give up his own pleasure to pleasure her... almost.
Hardly knowing how she got there, Ayla found herself on her
back on top of the sleeping bag, with the man stretched out
beside her. He kissed her. She opened her mouth a little, just
enough to allow his tongue entrance, and put her arms around
him. She loved the way it felt when his lips were firmly on
hers, with his tongue gently exploring. Then he pulled away and
looked down at her.
"Woman, do you have any idea how much I love you?"
She knew it was true. She could see it in his eyes, his bril-
liant, vivid, unbelievable blue eyes that caressed with their
look, and even from a distance, could send shivers through
her. His eyes expressed the emotions he tried so hard to keep
under control. "I know how much I love you," Ayla said.
She was grateful to be with him, her love for the tall man who
was holding her in his arms was beyond anything she could
explain. And his powerful need was directly communicated to
Ayla's warm and inviting body. Suddenly he was kissing her
neck and her shoulders and her breasts, as though he couldn't
get enough of her.
He suddenly clutched her to him tightly with fierce need. She
held him, too. Then he stopped and took a deep breath. He
wanted to make it last, and he wanted to use his skill to give
her the best he could - and he was skilled. The man looked
down on her, watching her breathe, loving the sight of her
full, womanly form, and delighted in the mere fact of her
existence. His shadow fell across her, blocking the heat of
the sun. Ayla opened her eyes and looked up. The brilliant sun
behind him gleamed through his hair surrounded his shadowed
face with a golden aura. She wanted him, was ready for him,
but when he smiled and bent down to kiss her navel, she closed
her eyes again and gave herself up to him, knowing what he
wanted, and the pleasure he could make her feel.
He held her breasts, then slowly ran his hand along her side,
to the curving in of her waist and lush swelling of her hip,
then down her thigh. She tingled at each touch. He brought his
hand back up her inner thigh, feeling the special softness
there, and over the springy golden curls of her mound. He
caressed her stomach, then bent to kiss her navel before he
reached fro her breasts again, and kissed both nipples. His
hands were like gentle fire, feeling warm and wonderful, and
left her burning with excitement. He caressed her again, and
her skin remembered every place he touched.
He kissed her on the mouth and gently, slowly, kissed her eyes
and her cheeks, her chin and her jaw, then breathed into her
ear. His tongue found the hollow of her throat and continued
down between her breasts. He took each one in his hands and
held them together, delighting in their fullness, the slight
salty taste of her, and the feel of her skin, as his own
desire was mounting. His tongue tickled one nipple, then the
other, and then she felt the deep throbbing surge as he pulled
it in his mouth. He explored her nipple with his tongue,
pressing, pulling, nibbling lightly, then reached for the
other with his hand.
She pressed up to him, losing herself in the sensations
coursing through her body, and centered on the seat of
pleasure she felt deep within. With his warm tongue, he found
her navel again, and as a light wind blew cool on her skin, he
circled and then dropped lower, to the soft fur of her mound,
then for a quick moment to her warm slit and hard node of her
pleasure. She raised her hips to him, and cried out.
He nestled between her legs, and with his hands, opened her to
look at her warm rosy flower of petals and folds. He dipped
down to taste, he knew her taste and loved it, then reached up
higher for the small, hard node, she cried out again and again
her breath coming faster, and the serge inside building. All
feeling was turned inward, there was no wind, no sun, only the
rising intensity of her senses. He knew it was coming, and
though he could hardly hold back himself, he slowed and backed
off, hoping to draw it out, but she reached for him unable to
wait. As it came closer, building, growing, tightening with
anticipation, he could hear her moans of pleasure.
Suddenly it was there, the powerful shuddering waves seizing
her, then with a convulsive cry, crashing over her. She burst
with the spasm of release, and with it came the indescribable
desire to feel his manhood inside her. She reached for him,
trying to bring him to her.
He felt her spurt of wetness on his tongue and, sensing her
need for him, raised up, clasping his eager shaft to guide it
into her deep and welcoming well. She felt him enter and
raised up to meet him as he plunged into her. The embrace
of her warm folds encircled him, and he penetrated deeply,
feeling no fear that his size was more than she could hold.
That was part of the wonder of her, that she matched him.
He pulled out, feeling the exquisite pleasure of the movement,
and with complete abandon, plunged in again, deeply, while she
raised up tight against him. He almost reached his peak, but
the intensity backed down, and he pulled out again, then
pushed in again, and again, with each stroke building higher.
Pulsing with the sensations of his movement, she felt the
fullness of him, then his drawing back and filling her again,
and was beyond feeling anything else.
She heard his strong breathing, and her own, as their cries
mingled. Then he cried out her name, she rose to meet him, and
with a great overflowing burst, they felt a release that
matched the fiery sun in it's glowing flame as it shot it's
last bright rays into the valley, and dropped behind the dark
and rolling clouds, outlined in burnished gold.
--
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