Delights"( M-solo F-solo voy exhib ) The day wore on, slowly, through noon and into the slow hours of the long, sinking sun. She was alone, as she ever was on these seemingly endless spans of mid-afternoon drudgery. But something inside her was restless and seemed to whisper to her toward some kind of motion... go somewhere, anywhere... don't waste another afternoon like you have all the others before it. But she had no plans, no goals, nothing to draw her from the dark, comforting shell of her apartment, with its light, cool breezes and its drawn shades and its enfolding oneness. She decided to pick up a book and perhaps lose herself in it for a while, letting her mind skip over the open fields of someone else's imagination. But before she had scanned the first paragraph, she realized that it was hopeless. She was hopeless. And restless. And in need of something, though what, she could not figure out. She rose, suddenly, as if having come to some decisive conclusion, slipped her feet into the shoes, waiting by the door, scooped up the book and the key to her apartment and walked out, into the hall. She had decided. She had to get out, if only for a little while, a brief escape. The park was large, wide and flat, and ringed by trees through which small dirt trails twisted and wound. At first she thought it might be nice to settle on a bench, feel the gentle breeze through her hair and abandon herself to the images in the volume that dangled from her hand, but the restlessness pulled at her and she began to wander, aimlessly, like an athelete walking out the kinks before some desparate contest. About halfway along the well maintained trail that ringed the edge of the park, skirting the dark rim of enfolding trees, she spotted him. He was standing far ahead of her, on the path, in her way, a mere indistinct shape on which she could not make out any detail... a man... young, or so he seemed, his body, clad only in the t-shirt and tight shorts, well muscled legs and large, hard chest. His hair, glinting in the sun and whispering that it was the color of a buttercup and as fine as spun gold. Thoughtlessly she found herself wondering if he had a nice, tight ass, and she smiled, a secret, wicked smile. But she could not tell if he did or not because he was currently turned... to face... was looking at her... examining her as she was examining him.... to distant strangers, filling in details with their imaginations and wondering at possibilities. She felt the blood begin to rise in her cheeks and the light quiver in her stomach as she speculated as to whether his gaze on her was as tightly focused as hers was on him. A thousand ideas flitted across her mind in a split second and she felt her leg hesitate during a single step. She focused quickly on him once more and wondered if he had noticed, and smiled, and secretly been pleased that the mere distant sight of him had on her. But then, he slowly turned, and began to move, a few loose, casual steps, like an animal about to hunt, and then broke into a jog, away from her, along the path. She could feel her heart sag with a disappointment that she realized was totally unreal, sighed and moved along the path, already lifting the book and forcing herself to begin picking out the words there with her mind. When next she looked up from the book, placing the woven images on hold for a moment, she was now nearing the far corner of the park, where the path turned and moved perpendicular to the right. And just in the corner, nestled among the overhanging limbs of the trees, she noticed a small path, beginning to wind through the woods and quickly being lost in it, out of sight. What the hell, she thought, and turned onto the wild path, ducking her head to avoid a low branch and beginning to move along it, between the trees. The path wound back and forth, up small rises and down small drops, and then turned a corner to a very small, almost cozy open area amid the trees. And there, just in the center, the path running beside it, was a huge rock, the kind children love to scale and leap from and feel brave and free. But the area was totally deserted now, and her legs were beginning to ache a bit, so she casully decided to scale this tiny mountain and settle down upon it's height, which she quickly did. She stopped for a long moment, listening to the rustle of the wind through the trees and a deep and peaceful calm washed over her. Then she turned her attention to the book once more, now losing herself in it more easily. She did not even notice as she began shifting her position as she read, first to her side, propped up on her elbow, and finally onto her stomach, the book open before her, her chin resting on the back of her hands as the palms pressed into the coolness of the rock... and her eyelids dropped and she began to drift... and passed gently into sleep. She opened her eyes. She had been asleep. But for how long? The sun was lower in the sky now, she summized, it's rays cutting through the foliage overhead at a flat angle, as if playing out the last few lingering minutes before dusk. She reached out with her senses and found the wind still murmuring through the leaves, that soothing whisper of comfort and carelessness. And she felt at peace once more. She stretched her body, tightening muscles and slowly easing them, a delicious sensation, and then carefully rolled over and sat up. She saw him. The same shirt, the same shorts. But this time, he was laying on the ground at the base of the rock, on a wide patch of soft grass, his front pointing at the sky, his limbs casually draped, as if he were some magnificent cat sunning itself. She could only see him from the chest down, as his head and face were hidden by the edge of the rock on which she now sat, but what she could now see, a bare dozen feet below her perch, was already stirring her. He was finely built, a wonderful body, decking in light garments which clung to him, showing off every well maintained muscle in his chest and legs. But her eye fixed upon the crotch of the shorts, where there was a well sized bulge of flesh beneath. She almost moaned, perhaps even made some small sound, as the tingle of this sight rolled through her, and quickly froze, terrified that he had heard the birthpain of her arousal. But he did not move, and the steady rustling of the trees above her, she hoped, would have drowned it and swept it away from his ears. She focused on him once more... he was beautiful. Perfect. If ever she had the opportunity with such a form, she knew she would ravage it with a madness she had only dreamed of. Somewhere inside herself she felt the fluids begin to move and swell at the thoughts that cascaded through her mind... and she fixed her eyes on the bulge in his shorts, and wondered at what that hidden treasure must be like to touch and taste and slide deep into herself. He moved. A slow, languid motion, and she froze once more, fearful that her thoughts had somehow screamed down at him and made him aware of her growing lust. But he did not dart, nor flinch nor react to any lightly sensed intrusion. He merely lowered a single hand in a long, slow arc, until it came to rest upon that bulge in his shorts. And then, as if the most careless, casual thing in the universe, she saw his fingers slowly curl, pressing on it... and uncurl... and curl once more... and she realized with flush of new heat that he was stroking himself. Her breath began to quicken as her body leapt to attention, drinking in this new stimulation. Her eyes watched as, even around his wide, soft- looking hand, she could see the bulge begin to swell, and stretch upwards, filling his tight shorts with the awakening demon of his sex. Her own hand reached down and the tips of her fingers instantly found her nipple, already tight and hard and tingling beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. She pinched it, a sweet punishment for it's delicious misbehavior, and it reacted with a wave of sensation that awakened her sex and increased the flow deep inside her. Below, she saw his other hand stretch down and take the waistband of his shorts in it's grasp, as the first hand, slipped under the frontal fold of cloth and found the tab of the zipper. If he had known she was there, the slow, sensuous parting of those metal teeth that held the cloth together could not have been more arousing. And then she saw the beast blossoming beneath the parting fabric. It was huge, she thought... a true demon of flesh that her eyes told her instantly would fill her to the bottom of her sex, stretch her beyond any previously felt limits and probably destroy her soul each time a hard stroke of it milked yet another wave of cumming from her. Without thought, her other hand slipped down as she shifted herself, turning, rising to her knees on the rock, and slid to cup her own sex. Even through the fabric she could feel the moisture, soaking the cloth and as she curled her hand against herself, pressing the material against her clit, she felt the shiver ripple up inside her... up where she now wanted that demon to stab and fill and possess. And she focused all her lust into her very center, and wished it out to him in hot silence. His hands drew back, his thumbs hooked the waistband of his shorts and his hips rose from the grass, causing her to moan softly, imagining those hips beneath her, driving that monster deep into her, straddled above him. With a slow, almost lazy stretch, the shorts slid down his legs, over his bent knees and fell, casually around his ankles. Her own hands answered, drifting to the button that closed the top of her shorts, slipping it free, taking the clasp of the zipper in her fingers and sliding it down. Waves of cool breeze brushed her now naked belly and the chills added yet another sensation to the heat boiling from within her. The shorts parted and fell away, like the petals of some dying flowing, to a heap just above her knees, and her sex stood now covered only by the thin, sheeny satin of her panties, it's center soaked with her arousal. Quickly she hooked them and slid them down to join the shorts at her knees. His hands moved once more to his now jutting cock, and she watched with fascination as one of them lightly circled it's girth with a single finger and thumb, just beneath it's bulging head, and the other slid under it's back, to the tight sphere of his balls, the tips of the fingers slowly beginning to pet them, lightly. Her own hands responded, one settling on her sex, feeling the soft hair beneath it, a single finger pressing in, parting the engorged and throbbing lips and sliding slowly down, following the sinking curve of her, turning to slip upwards, inside herself. The other hand brushed lightly on her buttock, and slid teasingly down it to her thigh, before slipping in, between her legs and sliding upward, to take a fingertip of her wetness... then slipped slowly up, behind her, to that tight ring of her other invasion point, and pressing, parting, penetrating.... filling her. His hand began to slowly stroke, sliding down the huge fleshy cock to it's base, then back up, just to the bottom of the head, before reversing to feel it's length once more. His hands were slow, unhurried, as were her own, sliding gently into and out of herself, feeling the mix of tingles and flashes from these two centers of her sex crackle against each other somewhere deep inside her. He moaned, and as if to answer, her fingers quickened their pace inside her, the stroking urgent now, the sensations building and sparking outwards. She watched, sodden with the sight of him as his own hands suddenly reached a hard pace upon his cock and his balls, like some mad piston driving in a steady rhythm through a surrounding ring made by his hand. She found her own strokes begin to match his, and the waves began deep within her, her release announcing it's emmenant birth. There was a flash of tiny sparkle on the head of his cock and she realized it was the pre-cum... that his body had a wetness of it's own when tormented and teased. Her own sex answered with a sudden grip upon her fingers, an urge to yet more stroking, more sensation, and then she heard his moan from somewhere deep inside himself, his hips rising his hands flashing and then the grunt of release and his body stiffened, trembling. Her own cumming leapt up and flashed through her, rippling waves of it filling her, washing out along her limbs as she saw his cock begin to spurt his hot, milky fluid onto himself, splashing against his chest and stomach. In her mind she felt it splash inside her, upon her, between her lips and another wave roared up to surround her, fill her and carry her away with it... Her fingers slowed and fell motionless inside her, as she drank in the last fleeting pulses of the storm that had soaked her body and her soul. His hands slowed too, and fell still, and they were both motionless... a pair of lovers who had never met, never even touched... now forever joined in this shared exstacy that only one of them was aware had been consumated. Then she saw him slowly move, as if his entire body were weary and battered by some mighty struggle, and take the waistband of the shorts, pull them up, over the raised knees, and beneath the hips now held aloft with some effort in their exhaustion, his fingers slowly beginning the delicate work of re-sealing the monster inside them. And as he did so, she slowly slid her own fingers from herself, reached dreamily down and took the panties between her fingers, dragged them back up to cover her now-satisfied sex, and return once more to fetch the shorts and pull them into place. She watch his hands as the carefully closed and sealed his shorts, and found she was matching their movement with her own hands, so that when his task was done, hers was as well... and when she saw him sigh with the contentment of the act, she smiled, and inside she thought a grateful 'you are most welcome, my love' at him... this unseen stranger, this faceless body, this untouched lover... and then she eased herself down, rolled languidly over, crossed her palms beneath her on the coolness of the rock, laid her cheek upon them, closed her eyes and let herself drift back to sleep.