The Feather

High above the trees, just below the clouds a single feather floats. It twists and turns, rises and falls at the mercy of the winds current. This quill dance is important, this plume was symbolic of a woman carried by the soft caress of a man's touch.

The windswept feather landed on their outstretched blanket as quietly as a breath of fresh air. Currents of its own wrinkled the blanket; a wicker basket, some uneven sand, and the weight of two people doing their own mating dance.

A foot, tan with red nail polish, unknowingly reaches out and touches the barb of the brown and white striped feather. The toes curl around it as more of a reflex than a planned procedure.

The fibers of the hawk feather brush the tan leg opposite the foot. A new noise interrupts the serenity of this Mountain View. The sound, if the feather could register noise, would be similar of the young hawk fledglings. It is the gentle music when a woman laughs.

The man looks down at her feet and sees the plumage stuck out from between her toes. He reaches down and pulls it out. Slowly and just barely he makes the feather tip dance up her shapely legs, starting with her ankle.

There are more squeals of delight. His bass resonances mixed with her alto vibrations are the perfect symphony in the outdoors setting.

The feathers dance is choreographed up to the woman darkly tanned knees. There is a shadow cast over her legs as the blond haired man leans closer to kiss this raven-haired beauty.

As their lips touch the feather is still floating up to her thigh. This causes a convulsive thrust of her womanhood into the air. She relaxes and lowers herself back to the ground. The two lovers continue to kiss; the man still covers the woman's bronze colored body with the feather. The tip is circling her right breast and the nipple grows from the stiff touch of the bird of prey's feather.

The man and woman move away from their passionate embrace. The forced dance of the feather carries it to wrap around the other nipple, which also rises to the occasion. This time the feather is followed by the man's hand. He pulls on the darker flesh encasing the tip of the breast between his fingers and thumb. He brings his hungry mouth to her suppleness. He takes her womanly curve into his mouth; his tongue now dances around the areola. She moans with pleasure. She sits up, bending at the waist and lowers her head behind her to arch her back. Her arms are supporting her from behind.

Her long raven hair drapes down into the many folds of the blanket. Her black tresses surround her place like a pool of ebony gold. Her locks are as soft as a whisper.

The man senses her complete surrender, stops teasing her breast to look down on this work of art. He has a sense about him that he feels that the gods did spend a little extra time on creating this earth bound angel.

She has the most beautiful hazel eyes he ever wants to look into. Just thinking of her eyes takes him to a warm, safe place to hide from the problems of the world. Her face is a living Picasso, a work of pure beauty and grace. The white of her perfectly shaped teeth can warm even the Eskimos igloo on a long winters night.

She lifts her head, looks into his eyes, and then she brings her arms up from the blanket and puts them around him. They come together and kiss. The man, with his free hands caresses her womanly curves; her breasts, her thighs, her waist. The kiss is filled with passion, with love and with commitment.

The feather is still in the man’s hand and the woman felt the gentle tickling of the fibers. To her, even though the feeling adds to the sensuousness of the moment, wants to feel the man’s soft strong hands on her. She reaches for the feather and puts it in her hair.

She feels the spirit inside of the feather. She feels like a bird in flight, flying over the trees, soaring in the wind current looking down on the blanket below.

This feather, these feelings, awoke an animal inside of the raven-haired woman; it opened up her heart to feel her inner-Indian. This couple benefit from these intense inner feelings.

She pushes the man onto the blanket. She rolls over and straddles, his chest pinning his arms to the ground. Her hair falls on his chest. These dark locks carry him away to a place where she is…high above the trees and landscape.

She teases him by moving her ass around on his mid-section. She also moves her head so her hair dances across his neck, chin and chest. Then she leans further forward bringing her round, tan breasts close to his mouth. Close enough to tantalize but not close enough for his tongue to feast on the luscious nipples.

He arches his back, easily lifting her body to reposition her on top of him. The tip of his manhood finds it way between her legs. It almost touches the warm spot of pleasure it searches for. He flexes his stiffened cock so it runs lengthwise of her pussy.

She smiles because she knows that he is at her mercy, even though she wants him deep inside of her, she is not willing to relinquish the control that she now has. Giving into to one of his desires, she leans close enough for him to touch her ripe melons. She feels his warm, wet tongue on her.

He not only flicks his tongue over her hardened nipples, but also kisses and fondles them with every inch of his mouth that he can.

The moans escape her mouth and he once again arches his back, lifts her in the air and realigns his cock between her legs. He is rewarded with finding her warm, wet pussy. They fall back to the blanket covered earth. He’s inside of her and both of them enjoy their newfound closeness.

They stay in this position, not moving, for a few seconds. Her body melts around him like whip cream on hot apple pie. Then she begins to ride him for all he’s worth.

Her hair flows down her back and into the gentle breeze like water breaking through a natural dam. The sensations coursing through her body have the same effect on her. The closer she comes to reaching her climax, the harder and faster she thrusts herself down on him.

The man is lifting up in perfect time with her. They will orgasm together. They will collapse in each other’s arms together. They will become one, like a quill to a feather.

The End