Tell us your greatest sexual Fantasy

Three


From a nearby room music played. To Canu’s ear, it sounded like the sweet lyrical, chime like notes of a lyre. He began to dance, his legs despite the mornings trek and the rushed sex, felt like feathers. He was a bird, a bard and a jester. He was great to watch, he took a ballerina’s stance and twirled on his toes, his unholstered bits, jiggled and wiggled no quivering fat ass and canyons of fat, a lithe form that bent with the music and performed with apparent ease.

‘Don’t stop,’ Dury spoke softly.

Canu danced forward, then away. It was like their lusty fucking, he laughed, kicked his heels upwards, whirled, and capered away. Spinning and leaping. It seemed the unseen musician was setting the beat and Canu danced, he voice sang out. Moonstruck by the Fae, many would have said. The moon itself seemed to swell from behind the veiled windows, dancing in its own naked splendour. ‘Fuck me, I’m getting laid and without having to pay!’ He sang and sang.

Suddenly the music waned, but still Canu cavorted, his pallid skin glowing in the moons light, his pink nipples dancing a jig of their own, he was like watching a wagons wheel, spinning wildly in the dark.

Dury watched, rapt in her attention, an avid lusty gaze. Wetting the corners of her mouth with a tongue made sopping from desire, she caught Canu as he danced to her side. Taking him by the buttocks, she opened her mouth and let his length slide. Her face buried in his pubis. Canu let her suckle; he reached for her nipples, with saliva dripping fingers, making, them silver in the moonlight.

Dury’s mouth and tongue performed a dance of their own, quick and darting. She strummed his length, taking him deep in luxurious slurps. Her folds opening the longer she took. The unmistakable smell of lust permeated the chamber, its pungency adding to both their desires.

Falling onto Dury, Canu slides his cock up and down her slit, she presses her thighs into his, and his cock is caressing her cunt. His hand comes down, gripping his manhood, touching the tip to her glossy wetness, he moves it upwards, and plunges deeply, held tight he falls, together the meet.

Dury’s hand snakes between them both, touching her wet curling hair, then her thickened outer lips. Two areas of wetness greet her fingers, her own juices, and the sweat of Canu. She feels a warm liquid trickling between her swollen lips, feeling his swelling tongue deep inside she draws her legs up and imprisons him. Nipples as hard as coral, her feelings are intense. All she can feel and sense is his member pounding, moving, and circling. Every inch of her love canals walls moving with him.

Suddenly he stops, Dury can’t she grasps, and grasps, slamming him back into her, his skin rubbing her clit, until she comes and comes. More Dury’s senses scream, more I want more.



Canu and Dury lay quietly, catching their breath. Fingers entwined. Staring at the ceiling, gently Dury rolls atop of him. ‘I want more!’ her eyes speak for themselves. Her pussy slips along his length. Her nipples grazing his lips, teasing him into the now, a broadening length wakens from a short slumber. Rising slightly, her greasy self-slides down his shaft, inch by inch, she lowers, her and his skin burning with desire. They take this round slower.

Canu watches her mound, wonderful soft auburn hair surrounded by white flesh, the heavy ridge of her breasts, bouncing as she rides, jiggling, clenching. He thrusts upwards, she tightens her muscles, and million little fingers grip his cock. Faster they move, mouths hunting greedily. Burning tongues seeking, this is no perfunctorily sex.
It’s a meeting of Disciples to be.



Daylight splashed across Dury’s face. Warm liquid honey, she grip’s her pillow, a warm breeze gusts into the chamber. Canu is gone, the evidence that he had been there was the indentation on the pillow and the stickiness between her legs.

Anemo smiles with the memory of their joining. Wondering if he does too!

© Findbotr August 2007