(copyright John L. Ferri, firstname.lastname@example.org)
Frankie & Sally
(A "love scene" in the sytle of the Romance genre)
Embraced by the warmth of the fire, Sally undid the buttons of her blouse and tossed it off her shoulders. In a ballet of naive exhibitionism, she arched her back and lowered her arms to allow the blouse to fall -- it didn't, compliments of static -- and required the alternate (and rapid) raising and lowering of her lovely shoulders to loosen its hold. The garment eventually slipped between her and her chair, but not until Frankie had witnessed a show of synchronized mammary undulation that some seismographs had probably registered. Then when she reached back to retrieve it, the already obvious stresses on her well-filled bra increased such that a garment of lesser ability would have been reduced to shrapnel. She tossed the blouse aside and said, "Frankie, it's your deal . . . and stop gaping."
"I'm not gaping. Smirking . . . maybe. Grinning . . . possibly. But gaping . . . definitely not gaping. And if I am gaping, I deserve to be gaping, even though I'm not." Frankie, who was most definitely gaping, was thinking that women had the advantage at strip poker since they required two undergarments, whereas males required only one, to cover vital areas; didn't care, and dealt the cards. He also thought that the next hand could get interesting because Sally had only a bra and panties left while he had jeans and underwear.
"I'll take three," Sally said, and added, "Damn," as she tossed three unrelated cards to the center of the table.
"None for me," Frankie said, and added, "Hot damn," as he moved his cards closer to his chest and passed the top three cards from the deck to Sally.
After arranging the cards in her hand, she said, "Not a bad draw, even if I do say so myself," and put down three jacks.
Frankie laid a ten high straight sequentially on the table and said, in an obviously insincere apology, "Sorry."
"I'll bet," she said and stood up, half smiling.
The integrity of the bra was again tested as Sally reached behind to undo the fastener. Once undone, the article was removed with another shoulder maneuver -- this time forward however -- that required the repeated twisting of her upper body and caused a random rotation and horizontal vibration in each orb. She faced him directly, her nipples distended and quivering while bathed in the warm tones of the burning logs. After reassuming her usual erect posture, Sally dealt without looking directly at Frankie. After she had arranged her cards, she gradually looked up and gazed into Frankie's eyes.
Frankie gazed lower.
This was the first time that Sally had ever brazenly bared her bounteous beauties before a beau. In the past, under passionate circumstances, they had been unveiled, fondled, and even suckled -- all with her permission, yet without her direct help. Now, her breasts were bared by her own hands, and intentionally flaunted. Yet, she was not embarrassed, and actually felt aroused. Sally definitely had the proverbial "hots" for Frankie.
Frankie's concentration on the card game was gone. He couldn't look away from Sally's breasts; they seemed to defy gravity as they floated above the surface of the table. He forced his eyes from her rosy crests and found that she was looking directly at him.
"Frankie! Are you going to pick up your cards?" she asked.
After realizing that he was obviously gaping, and on the verge of drooling, he said, "Yes . . . the cards." He had only subconsciously registered Sally dealing the cards, and was completely mesmerized with the effects of the motions of shuffling and dealing as her left breast rhythmically pulsed with the cadence of the delivery of the cards, while her right swayed to a tempo unheard, yet unmistakably present. As he slowly fanned the cards in his hand, he found it difficult to determine the significance of the three queens and two aces. "I'll take three," and he tossed two queens and an ace to the table. He was distracted, but he wasn't stupid. Losing his pants would be a move in a winning direction.
"I'll stay with what I have," she said as she arched her back slightly, forcing her already engorged nipples to protrude even more. Sally took three cards from the deck and passed them to Frankie.
He picked up the cards and, after fumbling with the arrangement, was now the proud holder of an ace high straight. Sally called, said she had two pair, displayed two jacks, and said, "These and these." After pondering briefly, Frankie folded, threw down his cards, stood up, lowered his jeans, lost his balance, and promptly tumbled backwards over his chair.
"Frankie! Are you all right?" she asked as she strolled to his side. "Frankie!" She leaned over him with a little concern, with a slight smile, and definitely with those pendant mounds.
He didn't move but opened his eyes and looked up. Even though Sally was well endowed, gravity seemed to ignore her as she swayed above him and gracefully undulated with a pendulum like motion that somehow made the physics of swinging bodies suddenly seem vitally important. Her position caused her already engorged nipples to harden and seem ready to explode.
He eventually untangled himself from the chair, propped himself up on his arms, and said, "I don't think I bent anything that can't be straightened out again."
"I'll see what I can do to help," she said and moved closer. When they were only inches apart, he slid his hands up her slender waist and surrounded both breasts, slowly rubbing her nipples with the pads of his thumbs. His hands squeezed and rotated.
Sally purred, "Oh, Frankie," and arched into his body. Their lips moved closer and touched. His tongue reached out and her teeth parted for its entry. Her hands moved around his neck and she stroked her fingers through his thick, wavy hair. As their tongues caressed and his hands massaged, they both leaned slightly, lost their balance, and rolled against the card table.
After regaining their balance and returning to a half-seated position, their eyes gradually met. Frankie lowered his head and began biting and kissing as he progressed down her neck. He continued his downward excursion until his lips were locked around a quivering nipple, his tongue charting the perimeter of the swollen tip. His hand stroked its twin. Both rosy peaks were throbbing; one in his hand, the other between his lips.
Sally sighed and, as she tossed her head back, thrust the tip further into his mouth. "Oh, Frankie," was all that she could say between her labored breaths. As soon as she was able she managed, "Let's lie down. Please."
Frankie asked, "How about the floor?" which was where they were anyway.
He and Sally had been dating for a only a few weeks and had not gotten past the passionate kissing and fondling stage. He was surprised when she accepted his half-joking offer to play strip poker. Now they were together at his cabin, she was topless, one breast was in his hand, and the other was in his mouth. A phrase from a beer commercial came briefly to mind, but was soon forgotten because of other pressing matters.
After kicking off his jeans, he quickly retrieved an oversized comforter from the nearby couch, doubled it, and spread it on the rug a few feet from the fireplace. Sally joined him as they snuggled down into the soft folds of the blanket. She said, "Frankie . . . ," as she ran her palms from his stomach to his back and slowly pulled him closer.
He could feel her nipples as they pushed and strained against his skin as though they were trying to siphon nourishment from him. And being sucked dry was currently at the top of his list.
He answered, "What?" and started to slide his hand into her panties when she arched her hips. He understood and slipped them down as she obligingly raised her knee and removed one leg from the lacy garment. Sally then reached down, lowered the panties over her other leg, and tossed them to the side.
Frankie moved his hand to the downy curls between her legs and slipped his finger partially into her wetness. With a quick and shallow breath, she parted her legs slightly and whispered, "I've never done this before," almost apologizing with her tone.
"Done what?" he said as he leaned over, kissed her, and synchronized the rhythms of his tongue and finger.
"This. Well, not this. But . . . well the next stuff. You know. I've never . . ." she said, gasping at the ever deepening strokes probing into her slippery softness.
Frankie looked a little surprised and said, "You've never? . . . at twenty-four? . . . never?" he said and added a mate to the finger still inside Sally.
"Well I tried a few times but I couldn't do it with just anyone. It never seemed right until I met you." Sally felt herself tighten around the fingers that would soon be replaced by something much larger.
"I didn't know that you felt that way about me," he said as he gently withdrew his fingers but kept his hand on her mound. He wasn't sure how he felt about her, but he knew that there was something about her -- something that kept her in his thoughts and in his dreams more than he would like to admit. Frankie added, "Are you sure?"
Sally sat up slightly said, "Well let's see. I'm completely naked. You've just determined that I'm a quart low with your fingers, and if you don't take your underwear off soon, the crotch is going to explode. Yes, Frankie, I'm sure."
As he maneuvered to remove his briefs, her hands slowly encompassed his waist and gently urged him closer. Their lips touched, her breasts were against his, her rose-tipped nipples again burrowing into his flesh.
His pulsating manhood was strategically positioned between her legs, and Sally slowly parted them so that the throbbing head of his erection could slowly pass along the sensitive valley of her womanly desires. She gently thrust her hips upward and found that by doing so, his hot flesh nestled in the warm, moist folds of the portal to her femininity. She continued in this sensual rhythm as her breathing became deeper and unsteady.
When she started to gyrate in slow insistent circles, Frankie obliged by rocking with Sally's every thrust.
"Frankie . . . this . . . feels . . . so . . . good . . ." she managed between thrusts as her hands massaged the muscled planes of his back in a motion that matched the rhythmic pulsations that each had developed. Between labored breaths and frenzied writhing, she continued, " . . . so . . . so . . . good . . ."
"Sally, I have to get something. I need a few seconds."
"Frankie! What? . . . Oh . . . ," she said after she realized what Frankie meant. "Should I help, or something?"
"I'm counting on it," he said as he retrieved a package from his nearby pants pocket and removed a condom as he sat next to Sally on the blanket. "Do you know how it goes?" he asked.
"I've seen a few demonstrations with a banana, and this seems quite close," she said as her hand just barely encircled his virile masculinity. She began to stroke, slowly at first, completely fascinated by the contours and texture of his manhood. As the primal rhythm of her hand increased, Frankie turned and lowered his lips to her breast and gently rolled the pink tip with his tongue. He whispered, "If we keep this up, we not going to need the condom."
Sally quickly sheathed his glistening member and then lay back invitingly with her legs parted, the damp petals of her womanhood exposed and waiting -- hoping, begging -- to be impaled by his hot bulging shaft. This gift that could be given only once was about to be bestowed on someone who had just fallen backwards over a chair trying to get his pants off. Yet she knew her feelings could be trusted.
Frankie moved closer to Sally. Even on her back, her breasts were beautifully formed and rose with every heaving breath. He positioned himself over her, kneeling between her knees, and gently caressed her aching breasts. He leaned forward and settled his entire weight on her writhing body. As they kissed, he guided his member to her passion-moistened depths, and slowly, carefully eased himself just barely inside her.
Sally clenched and shuddered but raised her hips slightly to further drive his swollen saber into her hot, wet sheath. Frankie lowered himself again and as Sally heaved in passion, her resisting flesh split and he slid into her slowly and gently until he was completely inside her. "Are you all right?" he asked when, suddenly, she encircled him with her legs and drove him even deeper. He could feel her pulsating -- contracting and releasing his erection until he eased himself back for fear that he would explode.
"I'm fine," was the verbal reply, but her body language said much more as they began bucking and arching and colliding in almost perfect rhythm. With every withdrawal, she arched her hips and heaved beneath him so as to protest the removal of something that she now claimed as her own, if only for the moment. "Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . ," came in ever louder and higher pitched moans.
Frankie kept up the rhythm that Sally had set and maintained it relentlessly. With each stroke, he slid his engorged flesh completely into her passion-moistened depths. Their breathing was in gasps -- as though the air had thinned. Her body rose up and pushed as he drove his member to its hilt with each thrust at a increasing pace. His mouth was against her neck. His breathing was fast and hard. Sally's breaths came in punctuated gasps.
He could no longer resist the increasing passion, her wriggling against him, her sighs, her legs pulling him into her ever deeper. With one final thrust, he shuddered and exploded inside her. She could feel his seed spill into her moist depths, feel the warm gush even through the condom. Dazed and motionless but still deep inside Sally, Frankie could feel her early spasms contracting against his manhood and began a slow short rhythmic stroking that soon became full length plunges of his still-aroused flesh.
Sally began to heave and writhe, naked flesh against naked flesh. Frankie increased the pace and deepened the penetration. Each thrust brought a corresponding reply when suddenly Sally reached around Frankie, pulled him against her, and began gyrating and grinding herself into him. "Yes . . . yes . . . Frankie . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . ," came as she heaved, and convulsed into a chain of explosions. The sensual waves continued as Sally was seized by great shuddering clenching spasms that squeezed and milked the throbing heat within.
(To be continued . . . eventually )