textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/carrie.txt

                             Carrie In the Sun

The sun blasts us as we trudge up the hill.  Midges buzz in an
annoying cloud, and the thick, dew-wet weeds leave sparkling
beads of water on our legs.  The beads of water collect and
combine, to trickle down my thighs and calves in small runnels,
cooling my sweating legs.  The heat of the sun brings a light mist
of sweat to the rest of my body.  My thin shirt sticks to my skin,
and I've unbuttoned it, unsnapped the front-clasp bra to free my
breasts. I feel the sweat between my heavy breasts as it joins and
forms slow trickles of coolness that slide down my tanned belly,
to soak into the waistband of my cotton shorts.  I'm bathed in heat
and sunlight and shadow, sweat and dew, a primordial soup that
makes my nipples rise and pout.  As I climb the hill, the crotch of
my tight shorts presses against my clit with each rise of my legs,
sending trills of sweet delight through my body.

I hold my lover's hand, grasp it tightly.  He walks in front of me
on the narrow woods trail, his arm almost perpendicular behind his
back as he pulls and tugs me up the hill with him.  His long, light
brown hair is plastered to the middle of his sweaty back, while the
soft tendrils on each side airily float in the slipstream his body
carves in the air on our uphill trek.  Sometimes a small wisp
catches for a moment on an intruding branch.  When he tugs it
free, the branch sends a small shower of cooling dew into my face
as it whips backwards.  I live for those moments.  I'm fascinated
by his hair, by the way it floats towards me as we walk; the soft
tendrils are alive, teasing me, calling me forward.  I watch his
hair, rather than where we're going.

Our joined hands are slippery and it requires a conscious effort to
keep contact with each other, a contact we're both hungry for. 
Neither of us loosens our hands, although it would be easier to
climb unencumbered.  I like the feel of his hand in mine,
remembering the way his hands have caressed my face, my body,
my breasts, my pussy.  A shudder of desire rushes across my skin,
forming goosebumps, as I anticipate his hands wiping away the
sweat from my aching body when we get to the top of the hill.

We reach a sharp upward turn in the trail, and Harold lets go of
my hand, so he can climb across the log and onto the wide boulder
that blocks the trail.  Once up, he turns to face me and offers me
both his hands.  I grasp them, hike my leg so high my knee hits
my chest, and thrust downward on the log while he hauls me up. 
I stop to gain my footing on the log, and look upward at him,
where he stands on the boulder.  He grins through his beard.  I
grin back, and place my foot on the boulder while he hauls me up
to his level.  I fall against him, laughing, and wrap my arms
around his waist.  He buries his face in my cleavage, his hands
grasp my round asscheeks as he pulls me to him, lifting my feet
off the ground.  He lets out a mock bear growl, and slides his face
quickly from side to side on my sweaty breasts; his tongue and
beard wipe up the moisture.  His beard tickles, and I scream with
laughter, head thrown back, breasts thrust forward.  He leans
backwards against the boulder, pulling me against him.  I wrap my
thighs around his leg, melding as much of my body to his as I can,
despite the heat and sweat.  Against my thigh, I feel his cock
rising up hard and strong in his cutoffs.

He holds me still for a moment, stares directly into my eyes, still
grinning.  The look in his eyes has a sudden intensity.  It
electrifies me, makes the light downy hairs on the back of my neck
rise up; sends goosebumps of desire running across my skin like
small, fierce brushfires.  Sunlight flickers and sparks through the
leaves overhead; patches of light and shadow travel across my
skin, chasing the goosebumps, as the wind picks up in the trees. 
A small, involuntary "uhn" escapes from deep within my throat as
I close my eyes and lean forward, aching to be kissed.  I feel his
lips lightly, delicately caress mine.  The tip of his tongue flickers
against my parting lips; his beard and mustache tickle my cheeks
and chin, and he pulls away.  Disappointed, I open my eyes,
breathing heavily.  He pushes me gently away, takes my hand
again.  Still grinning, he jerks his head over his right shoulder,
towards the remainder of the trail.  He turns to go, pulling me
with him.  I follow.

The trail becomes rockier, steeper, and the thick weeds thin out to
grass and clover.  We are almost at the top.  The woods turn to
meadow and we come out into full sunlight and gently rolling
grasslands.  A barbedwire fence blocks the way and the trail
angles to the left to avoid it.  The fence guards a field of deep
green clover, thickly starred with sweet smelling white clover
flowers.  An undercurrent of buzzing is almost subliminal as
honeybees flit across the field, heavy with their burden of pollen
and nectar.  The sun pours down onto the field with incredible
intensity.  The clover flowers are so starkly white in the sunlight
I have to squint to look at them.

Harold places his foot on the bottom wire of the fence, and pulls
the next wire up, forming a tunnel for me to cross.  I crouch down
and scramble through.  It's his turn, and I separate the wires for
him.  As he crosses, I deliberately let go of the wire, laughing. 
Now his jeans are caught on the wire, the top wire catches on his
butt, and the bottom wire catches his crotch.  "Hey!", he yells,
stuck, on his knees.  "Next time I need to be kissed, you kiss me,
boy!", I say with a wicked grin as I turn to run into the meadow. 
"Hey!  You aren't going to leave me here, are you?" he says. 
"Yup, sure am!" I cry over my shoulder.

I run into the middle of the field, stirring up bees and tiny,
delicate white butterflies from the thick flowers.  The butterflies
rise in a cloud around my head, brush against my face, and
catching the breeze, are gone.  As I run, my blouse peels off and
I let it go, let it flutter from my fingers for a moment before
loosing it to the breeze.  I stop and take off my bra, kick off my
shoes, dig my toes deeply into the cool, wet clover, the slightly
damp earth.  I hold my arms out and begin to spin and whirl, a
pagan dance to the heat, the sun, the bees, the flowers.  I'm dizzy,
drunk with life and sun and summer, drunk with love, drunk with
lust.  The sun has ceased its mad whirl through the cosmos, and
the earth no longer spins around the sun.  Now the sun spins
around me, follows me, anoints me, and my pattering feet are
what cause the earth to spin on its axis.  Laughing, I fall to my
knees, prop myself up with my hands, so dizzy that the earth still
spins beneath me.  I fall to my side, and roll over onto my back,
crushing the cool clover beneath me.  My heavy breasts, with their
hardened, pouting nipples, fall to either side, exposed to the hot
sun.  I peel off my shorts and lie spread-eagled, caressed by the
sun, fucked by sun, my ass and my cunt exposed between my
wide-spread legs.

I rise up and my breasts slide easily against my chest, lubed by my
sweat.  Below me, I can see the river, sparkling into a thousand
diamond shards of sunlight.  Only the shrill laughter of children
playing can be heard from the campground below, joined by the
high, sweet cries of red-winged blackbirds in the summer trees. 
I look but I can't see the fence, or Harold.  I roll over on my
stomach and begin to weave crowns of white clover flowers,
letting the sun and wind play with my ass.  I hum softly to myself,
plying the green strands and sweet white flowers.  My bare pussy
is pressed against the earth.  It throbs and swells as I spread my
legs wide and begin to gently hump against the warm earth,
imagining my lover is beneath me.  I squiggle my breasts against
the earth, digging tiny holes for my swelling, aching nipples. 
Beneath its surface heat, the earth is cool.  

There is a preternatural stillness as the wind dies down.  The birds
have become silent, and the bees have stopped their soporific
droning.   In the distance, there is a deep rumble of thunder, so
far away that I feel it through the earth rather than hear it.  The
wind picks up, bringing a welcome coolness and the smell of rain. 
I roll onto my back again, place the crowns of flowers on my head
and one on each breast, tweak the swollen nipples.  I spread my
legs to the sun and the wind, and reach a hand down to caress my
smooth-shaven mound, sneak a finger into my wet slit to flick
against my clit.

I close my eyes, lost in the sensations...the growing intensity of
arousal, the heat of the sunlight on my skin, the cooling caress of
the wind drying my sweaty body.  The heated scent of my swelling
pussy mingles with the sweet smell of clover and damp earth, the
scent of the on-coming rains.  I hear swishing sounds by my head,
and the sunlight is suddenly blocked.  I look up.  Harold stands
over me, naked, his swollen cock in his hand as he strokes it
gently.  The head gleams redly, engorged.  The silver ring in its
pierced end sparkles in the sun with each stroke.  He steps over
me, straddles my waist, still stroking his cock.  Fascinated, I
watch as a drop of pre-cum glistens in the sunlight on the edge of
his cock, trickles down the ring, stands poised on the ring's edge
before dropping to join the sweat between my breasts.  The drop
is like oil spread on water, sending shock waves of intense desire
through me.  My fingers part my swollen labia, begin to work
themselves deeper into my wet cunt.  They squish in and out,
hungrily.  My juices join my sweat to run down the crack of my
ass.

My lover steps back, places his feet between my legs.  Sharply, he
kicks my legs apart, exposing my pussy and my busy fingers to
him.  My heavy breasts jiggle with the movement.  As he strokes
his sweet cock, my sticky hands travel upwards to my breasts.  I
caress them, tease and tug at the flower-clad nipples, bring the
nipples to high, puckered points.  He watches me, continuing to
stroke his swollen cock.  My hips begin to rise upwards in time to
his strokes, as though I were already fucking him.  In the distance,
thunder rumbles again, louder, coming closer.  The wind lashes
the trees, clouds race across the sky, hiding the sun.  

Harold falls to his knees, between my thighs.  I reach up, remove
the flower garlands from my breasts, and place them on his head. 
He is my lover, my Bacchus, my satyr, with his long hair and
beard blowing in the wind, his rampant cock swinging between his
legs.  His long silken hair hangs down on either side of his face. 
The ends trace patterns in the sweat glistening on my chest and
breasts, becoming dark and heavy with their burden of moisture. 
I'm alive with desire.  The small downy hairs on my skin are
electrified by the ozone of the on-coming storm.  My aching pussy
opens and closes hungrily, like a fish gasping for air.  He guides
his cock to my swollen pussy, the ring on the end parts the lips. 
He stops, leaving the ring and the head of his cock just inside my
pussy.  He leans forward and begins to gently nip and kiss my
swollen nipples.  I thrust my hips forward, hard, impaling myself
on his hard, glistening cock.  As he enters me with one quick,
deep, delicious thrust, the heavens open and the rains come, borne
on the edge of the wind.  

We are soaked, drenched in warmth and wetness, our bodies
slapping against each other, slippery with rain, covered with grass
and flowers and sweat.  I begin to cum.  Hard, hot spasms travel
outward from my cunt.  Explosions of ecstasy smash into my body
so hard I rise up from the ground.  I cry out, but my voice is lost
in the rolling thunder, borne away on the gusting wind, drowned
in heavy patters of warm summer rains.  I cling to my lover while
the rains pour across us,  My orgasm shudders and jerks through
my body, leaving me spent and panting, lost to the wind, to the
rain, to the sweet smell of his skin, the clover, the earthy wet
smell of the ground, the heated scent of my cunt and his cum
rising from between our legs.