The Thigh Diaries
...where he could hold her under the starlit sky, there, under the eaves of whispering trees, the soft loam beneath them, he could be hers, and she could be his. And for one night of a passionate embrace, they where together.
She would always remember his arms holding her gently, but with the strength of his desire for her; his firm, calloused fingers so lustfully gripping her waist, his sweat dripping onto hers and mingling in the rhythmic crush of their bodies. His breath falling on her shoulder carrying the heat of a devotion, his devotion for her.
The straps to her dress had long been torn asunder and discarded to the surrounding grass. When they first embraced, she thought only for a moment of her belongings. They were shed slowly with anticipation gripping her stomach like another one of his fingers.
Four hours, only the panting and sighs of love broke the silence of the dew-filled field. As they lay with each-other he caressed the contours of her body, and she felt every moment of his touch as a lifetime of ecstacy...