Moonlit Skin, Silent Plea

The rain had finally stopped, leaving the air thick with the scent of wet asphalt and something else, something primal and electric. We’d just finished, the afterglow of our passion still clinging to the humid night air. He lay beside me on the cold, damp pavement, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, slick with sweat and the remnants of our shared ecstasy. Moonlight, fractured by the clouds, cast an erratic pattern across his skin, highlighting the sculpted muscles beneath his t-shirt. I smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of my lips, and shifted slightly, letting my bare feet slide back into the cool, dark water of the abandoned swimming pool. It wasn't exactly ideal, but it was intimate, private, and utterly perfect.

He reached for my hand, his touch hesitant at first, then firm and possessive as he squeezed it gently. I returned the pressure, my fingers interlacing with his, a silent conversation passing between us, a language spoken not with words but with the heat of our bodies. We sat in comfortable silence, lost in the lingering sensations, our bodies communicating volumes without uttering a single sound. The air hummed with unspoken desires, a tangible energy that crackled between us.

Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet, pulling me with him into the cool embrace of the water. He slipped back into the pool, the shock of the temperature sending a delicious shiver through my system. He moved towards me, his movements languid and sensual, and placed a hand on one of my feet, tracing the curve of my ankle with a calloused thumb. A soft giggle escaped my lips as he leaned down and kissed the top of my foot, the rough texture of his lips a sharp contrast to the smoothness of my skin.

Then, without warning, he pulled me closer, drawing me into his arms with surprising strength. He held me tight, his body molding against mine, and I instinctively shifted my legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his embrace. He looked up at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement, the turquoise water reflecting in the depths of his irises. He smiled, a slow, captivating curve of his lips, and leaned down to kiss me, the taste of salt and water mingling with the lingering sweetness of our lovemaking. But instead of allowing me to sink into the water, he pulled me forward, plunging us both beneath the surface.

“Billy!” I squealed, the cold water shocking my senses, stealing my breath. It was a desperate cry, a plea for warmth and comfort, but he didn’t heed my words. He held me close, pulling me deeper into the pool, his arms wrapping around my waist, anchoring me to his body. The water was icy, biting at my skin, but I didn’t resist. Instead, I clung to him, burying my face in his chest, seeking refuge in the warmth of his presence. We fell into a comfortable silence, our bodies pressed together, the coolness of the water a stark contrast to the heat of our passion.

As the minutes passed, the clouds continued to swirl overhead, obscuring the moon and plunging us into darkness. The pool became a swirling vortex of shadows, amplifying the intimacy of our shared space. I wrapped my legs around his hips, clinging to him with desperate intensity, my fingers digging into his jeans. The scent of his skin, a potent mix of musk and sweat, filled my nostrils, driving me further into a state of heightened arousal. He held me firmly, his grip unwavering, as if determined to keep me locked in his embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice husky and low, his hand stroking the back of my head. The sensation was electrifying, sending shivers down my spine. “You’re amazing.”

“I love you too,” I replied, leaning into his touch, my voice breathless. Then, impulsively, I leaned down and kissed his tattooed shoulder, the intricate design of a coiled serpent a stark reminder of his past, a story hinted at beneath the surface. I rested my chin on his shoulder, savoring the feel of his muscles beneath my cheek. The wind picked up, rustling through the trees lining the perimeter of the pool, and sent a shiver through us both.

“Let’s go inside, my love,” he said, his voice laced with a playful urgency. He twirled the end of a ringlet in his fingers, a small, insignificant detail that somehow felt deeply intimate. Without hesitation, I nodded, eager to escape the chilling embrace of the water.

We climbed out of the pool, naked as the day we were born, and made our way back towards the house, the damp pavement clinging to our skin. The boys were already asleep, lost in the tranquility of their dreams, oblivious to the passionate encounter that had just taken place. The silence within the house was a welcome relief after the intensity of our shared experience, a comforting blanket of stillness.

We walked upstairs and slipped into the shower, not bothering to strip our clothes, as they lay soaked and clinging to the cold pavement outside. The hot water cascaded over us, a soothing balm against the lingering chill, washing away the last vestiges of the night. As we sat there, suspended in the warm embrace of the shower, our bodies intertwined, I found myself drawn back to memories of our first encounter.

It had been two and a half years ago, in the sterile confines of an airport terminal. I’d been traveling home from a long and arduous business trip, exhausted and emotionally drained. He had rushed towards me, his face alight with joy, his eyes sparkling with tears. We’d embraced with a desperation born of longing, clinging to each other as if afraid to let go. He had kissed me in the middle of the crowded terminal, a passionate, fervent kiss that sealed our commitment to one another. And then, as abruptly as it had begun, it was over. We’d said our goodbyes, promising to stay in touch, and he’d disappeared into the throng of travelers, leaving me with a bittersweet ache in my heart.

Now, as I stared into his eyes in the shower, the memory returned with a vengeance. The years of distance, the missed opportunities, the longing glances across crowded rooms – it all flooded back, accompanied by a fresh wave of emotion. He pulled me closer, drawing me into his lap, his arms wrapping around me with a possessive tenderness. He kissed my head, a gentle, loving gesture that instantly melted away the lingering sadness. He held my face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his lips, and the kiss was everything I’d ever dreamed of, a passionate reunion of souls. It was as if all the time apart had been erased, as if we’d never been separated at all. The world faded away, leaving only him and me, lost in the intoxicating pleasure of our reunion. The scent of his skin, the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his lips against mine – it was all overwhelming, consuming, utterly perfect. He pulled me deeper into the kiss, demanding more, feeding my desires with every touch, every caress, every stolen breath. It was a moment suspended in time, a perfect encapsulation of our love, a testament to the enduring power of our connection. As we finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, I knew, with absolute certainty, that nothing had truly changed. The fire in our hearts still burned bright, as passionate and intense as the day we first met.

Did you like this story? Moonlit Skin, Silent Plea look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.