1. The Fisherman's Wife


    Date: 6/24/2017, Categories: Flash Erotica, Author: GoBigCatGo, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    Waves gleam under the moon, heaving warm, salty sighs over her legs on this clammy night. Too hot to sleep, on both sides of her skin, she has come out to the lie on the cliff top. For air, for relief, and to be closer to her husband, still somewhere beyond the horizon. A gust-ghost lifts her nightgown; her hands join it along her thighs, and then swirl in eddying currents between. In the ocean’s white noise, she hears her lover’s whisper and recalls their last time. Before he went back to work, back out to sea. How precious that evening always was, and how bittersweet, though this was never expressed in any other way than with their bodies. That man! How fine, tall and strong. The envy of all the girls in the village, the kind of man who could make you feel safe and cherished with the briefest glance, or just by saying your name. After their bath, he had carefully laid her out on the bed, and kissed her nakedness from toes to lips, laughing at the impatient buck of her hips as he skirted her mound, at the arch of her back when he took the valley route between her breasts and straight to her lips. She smiles even now, her hips rocking impatiently at her tapping finger, and stroking the knot of her nipple under her gown. How her nipples strained for his touch when he kissed her lips. And when he finally kissed them, holding each breast to his face like a precious fruit, how it made her sex throb and yearn instead. She slips a finger into herself and isn’t surprised to find her ...
    juices waiting, though not as wet as his touch made her, when he would let it stroke lightly down between her legs while flickering his tongue at her nipples. On the clifftop, she impatiently pulls off her gown. The sex-slippery fingers of one hand take the role of his tongue at her nipple, while the other guides her to the brink of orgasm, and then turns over onto her front exactly as he had flipped her. His kiss would snake up her spine to the sensitive dips at her neck, while he his hard cock brushed her skin, teasing her with it. He bit her buttocks and while she yelped, he opened her legs. She splays now to the sea instead, letting the moonlight replace his eyes, taking in the waiting folds. She slips her finger deep and curls it, just as he did, seeking her special place and dabbing little bursts of joy. Then, as now, she clenched against wriggling fingers and gasped, lifting her hips up into the air. Explicitly spread and fluttering inside. She opens her intimate lips, echoing the deliberateness of his careful fingers, remembering the delicious respect he would pay her rude parts. She imagined him committing them in detail to memory, ready for the long cold nights at sea. She lets the hollow breath of the ocean replace his at her indecent spread, now. But she still imagines it is his, having rolled from his mouth across miles. From some dark and distant sea. The keen ache for his kiss down there is ten-fold in his absence. How he enjoyed eating her, as much as she did ...
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