|Tantric Tradewinds Ch. I
by Kenneth Auslandur ©
When they finally did get in a few dives, Keri and Al immersed themselves in the deep solitude of the ocean. While neither one of them wanted to admit it, they had grown to be more than friends or even casual lovers. They had not seen each other since college. They were both married to other people and living miles apart. That distance seemed to great to traverse until they reintroduced themselves online a few months earlier. They decided to avoid the topic for now and just enjoy the diving and the relaxation of the tropical trade-winds that kissed the shores of Cayman Brac.
The diving had been wonderful. They chose to do two acclimation dives to brush up their skills and re-establish their buoyancy control. In another day they would be diving the Tibbett's wreck. They had gone their separate ways after the dive boat docked. Keri had some serious tanning to catch up on, and Al had a thick novel he had been yearning to dive into.
Al found a wonderful mangrove sheltered hammock and was soon deep into his novel before he realized that half the afternoon had already passed. Since he had promised to cook dinner, he decided it was time to go into town and stock the galley. He marked his place in the book with a rueful smile and grumbled to himself that he should never have let her know what an excellent cook he was.
The sun was low, but still hours from setting. Keri rested on the chaise, enjoying the ocean view from the deck of their rental cottage. She smiled at a man strolling by down on the beach. She let the sarong around her body slip from her curves. Her bronze skin in sharp contrast with the white bikini forced the man to take a second look. She looked over her magazine at her body and was appreciative that she could still turn heads with her stunning figure. Most women her age would never be caught outside their back yard in a suit cut as radical as this. She loved to tease other men with her body, and especially enjoyed the look on their eyes when they came closer and realized she wasn't a nubile and silly teen girl to be taken lightly. The amusement turned in her mind and frowned with consternation realizing that Al had never taken her lightly. She wondered if he had any success in resting or was he equally distracted with pondering the state of their relationship.
It had been his idea to eat lunch alone and take a break, which, he reasoned, was probably for the best. He was confused by there relationship and was fairly certain that she was in a similar state. Had they really fooled themselves. Did they think this was just to be a reunion of old college friends that happened to share a latent passion for Scuba diving? Who were they trying to fool? Al rummaged around in the kitchen gathering items to make dinner. A wonderful breeze of the tropical tradewinds blew through the kitchen window. Al stopped for a moment and took a deep breath relaxing in a tantric meditation. Every part of his body was alive with desire for Keri. It would be a betrayal to his senses if he did not make love to her tonight. He resolved that he would no longer flirt with her. He would take her and devour her.
Keri sighed and flipped aimlessly through her magazine pages. She was entirely too occupied with thoughts of Al to actually do more than flip through the glossy pages. This was supposed to be a friendly dive trip for them; however, they had managed to flirt toward making love several times, and she wasn't even totally unpacked yet. Playing with fire. She knew that she was attracted to him from the moment she saw those hazel eyes for the first time in years. Here she was a married woman acting like a giggling schoolgirl over a very married man.
With two of their five vacation days already spent, this was her first afternoon alone since their flight landed in Cayman. They had decided for safety sake to only spend three days diving together. She wanted to abandon that safety. She needed to feel wanted and connected, and Al seemed to make her melt into that happy oblivion. She wanted to lift out of the scruples that bound her. While she loved her husband, she never felt intimately connected with him after the honeymoon wore off, and she had wondered if a woman ever achieved such a dream relationship. She knew the answer before she even asked the question. Al made her feel that way. He always had even before they were both married to other people.
Al continued to work feverishly in the kitchen, dicing and chopping vegetables and creating nothing short of a culinary masterpiece. He checked on the two bottles of Piersporter chilling to perfection in the small bungalow refrigerator. Everything would be wonderful tonight. His senses were sizzling and buzzing. He savored the anticipation of the conquest. He would seduce her, because he knew that while she struggled with their relationship, she needed him to seduce her.
Keri looked up and watched as another man strolled along the beach and stared hard at her. She loved to see men's faces follow roam over her still bouncy and full chest. She dipped her eyes to her magazine, but watched as the man licked his lips and let his eyes roam over her long tan legs. She enjoyed the power she had over men. That power, however, was elusive with Al. While he would look at her with similar hunger, she always trembled under his gaze. She always sighed and wished to be devoured. She thought about getting up and strolling for a distraction, but walking the shore alone seemed pathetic. Maybe she should wonder into the village plaza and shop, but shopping meant that she would have to cover more skin, and frankly she liked the way her heavy round breasts and full hips filled the swim-wear. Instead she satisfied her exhibition need--lounging on the porch, laid out in full view, less than 100 feet away from the high tide shoreline. She watched the man in the sand and surf stumble as she turned over and loosened the strings of her bikini. Inwardly she smiled at her small victory over the other sex, but knew she had only won a small battle. Perhaps losing the war could have benefits. Her mind filled with fantasy images of being dominated. She pushed guilty feelings and worry from her mind and dozed slightly in the warm tropical sunshine.
His warm hand touched her ankle and followed a line up to her thighs. She woke up to the sensation. Her pleasure hindered by the worry that her legs weren't thin enough. His tongue on the slight hallow of her hip made an icy tingle flow through her. The power of his lips on her flesh excited all of her at once. She resisted the temptation to open her eyes and place her palm on his neck and encourage him to proceed. She wanted to let him be in control. For a moment, she pretended that she was still dreaming.
He sat on the edge of the chaise, and his hands slowly roamed along her bronze skin. Occasionally, he dipped down and kissed her sweet brown skin. He knew she wasn't sleeping, but he wanted to see how long she could maintain her facade. He partly turned to look at her directly. He stared deep into her soul as his hand slid further up her thigh than it had been since they dated years ago in college. He felt her tremble at this bolder touch and smiled.
Her thoughts were manic. She wanted him but, fear had her. While she had suspected that they would make love, she never imagined that one of their cottages would go empty while they co-habitated for the entire dive vacation. Now his hand was caressing her inner thigh. Was their any way what they were doing could not be wrong? The question she could not deny asking herself. It did not matter, she would not say no. In that moment of determination, she wanted to find reassurance that she was not dreaming; that what was happening was real. She utter a small sigh and tried to continue the pretense that she was napping in the warm tropical sunshine as his fingers twirled along her smooth flesh. It tingled, but the sensation was mixed with warning signals. She told her friends that she was not going to have an affair, she knew herself better than that. But this, what they were, was not about lust. Almost from the moment she met him, she wanted to know what it was to kiss him, to be held by him. She was certain it could not be lust. She had felt lust before. It was hot, and prickly, and waned with orgasm. This desire for him was like nothing else. Anger, endearment, confusion and dismissal ran course through her mind. The only power she had to fight her desire for him was fear. This fear was not about her husband finding out, but about this married man refusing her. She still wasn't sure if all of his romance and seduction was merely a game for him. They had met online, after years since they dated for goodness sake. How could this power he had over still be so strong? The only thing they both had in common was their love of diving. She did not know his feelings and the possibility of rejection wounded her. With this fear, she could restrain herself from ravishing him. The desire for him grew, despite her motivations to get rid of these feelings; feelings for this man she should not want.
The unspoken attraction pulled them together. This attraction also burned her: her conscience, love-life, and faith. There was the safety in the quiet struggle. She could be free to feel exactly what she wanted to feel without anyone knowing. Perhaps it was too late to ask whether she should have allowed the mental compromise. For now, she did not have the desire to struggle against her feelings for him. Before this trip, she tried to content herself with self-pleasure whenever she had received one of his emails. She had started to actually lock herself away a few months ago, masturbating for long periods of time as she read his words-each keystroke was like a forbidden touch. She had become addicted to the idea of touching him. She enjoyed the sensation of the forbidden fruit without tasting it. That restraint barely held on their first night on the island. They had arrived late and he had carried her luggage to his bungalow. They were both exhausted and her breath caught when he suggested they just sleep in his bungalow for the evening. Her heart sank when he became the perfect gentleman and slept on the guest bed. She had almost walked to his bed and made love to him in the middle of the night.
Now the departure day seemed to already be soon -- it made her more anxious about returning home, leaving this place, leaving him. It was the stolen caresses that fueled the fire that slowly consumed her failing morality. While they only exchanged deep glances and light touches, the idea of the heat from his body wrapped around her, intoxicated her. Each accidental touch was a thousand deaths. Now as his hand boldly encircled her mound quivering beneath the fabric of her suit she was perched on the brink of oblivion. She entered into the beauty of the moment. They came to this moment through hours of talking, enjoying each other company.
They had a union of souls. They were kindred spirits. She and he became the world, and no one else matter or cared. He was connected to her, and even if today was to be their last day, she was his, and he was hers. The sweetness of what was happening filled the painful emptiness that into which he fit perfectly. Her fear faded and, for one pure moment, she knew what is it like to love. She tasted the desire to fill and complete the one who has made her whole, and that man was not her husband. Finally she opened her eyes and looked up into his face. His eyes showed no evidence of the battle that confused her.
Al took a deep breath and stared into her lovely eyes. The fragrance of gentle flowers and the sound of the surf set a seductive scene. He could not blame her; the moment was right for what was to become of them. Before this night, he felt the presence of a hesitation so heavy that he was sure she did not want to cross the line and go too far. But now, with so few hours left, he would risk hurting what they were just to have he wanted. He bent down slowly and kissed her very slowly and deeply. One finger slid gently under the fabric of her bikini.
She wanted to spend her life kissing him. Warm waves of passion bathed her eyes, breasts, hands, back, and her very center. All felt alive, new, aching to be kissed with those lips. She could not recall ever having a dream that made her feel like this. She gave herself up to the moments as they fell like the rain, in concert with each other, swelling like a string quartet. She heard music without the power of instruments.
They created the dark and silent place were the senses are more aware. Each touching, tasting, and taking in the scent of their lover. They were caught in the moment and even if this was to be their only moment they were making the memories that would surely last their life apart. That span was non existent here in this place filled with only the liquid sounds of two lovers in their new embrace, he was free. The newness of her sent strong currents of energy through him, his mind fought against the urgency of his body. The anticipation was delicious.
Dream and reality blurred as she surrendered once again to his touch. Right now, he desperately wanted just her. Only twice when she seemed to move away a bit did his mind threatened to shame him back to the sacred vows. The ones that he swore to someone else. But each time, he would resume the probe of her mouth with his tongue, stroking the underneath the thin Lycra that covered her very moist and humid garden. He was all here with her. And it was quiet as before. He could remember when he was in high school. It was a time that kissing was a way to distract his girl from the awkward struggle of undoing the hooks. Then, in college, he began to realize the power the kiss had over a young lady's objections. He fell in love with the look of the woman in his arms, weakened and melting after he kissed her. Now, he was melting.
He did not mean to be this open to her, to trust her like this. But it felt too good, giving so much, so openly to her. He did not want to hold back. At that, his mind silenced and he kissed her deeply wrapping his arms around her, keeping her still just enough. His desire grew too and caused him pain in the position that he was in. He slid and twisted, seated at the edge of the chaise. Their mouths hotly played together as he laid himself along beside her, stretching out his legs and then fitting her chest and mouth on top his own. Her breaths became soft pants. His hands guided her hips to meet his. On top of him, she swayed and rocked instinctively, almost imperceptibly, her hips were riding little waves.
Her mind toggled between wanting to remain in this kiss and telling him that she wanted to stop this--affair. She tried to pull back, but felt herself passing the point of no return. She thought that if she could keep her briefs on, that there would be less to recover from. Maybe if they walked away from this the burden of the secret would not be too much. They might be able to salvage their marriages and return to a more platonic friendship and save themselves from having a secret that would devastate their families. They could stop here; kissing one last time. Ultimately, she wanted to keep this pure. She wished sex didn't always carry emotional baggage. She like what they were, but how could that continue to be when they returned home again, if this continued. She knew that if she made love to him, they would be more than casual lovers on a tropical fling.
His hands were on her buttocks, pressing and smoothing the skin, spreading and cupping them. Warm glistening moisture from her inner lips moistened her briefs. If she were with her husband, she would have taken them off by now. Here she was with a man she had not seen in years and now that they were reunited had only known for a little while. She clung to the idea that if her bikini bottoms stayed on she was still innocent; they were the last door between her as wife and adulteress. She felt trapped in the arch of that doorway.
He turned slightly on one hip and his right hand maneuvered between her thighs. His finger slid once again under the Lycra and inched against her moist slit. It dipped into the silkiness and he touched her clitoris. When she moaned, he broke the spell of the kiss to look into her eyes. His lips curving slightly in amusement at her innocent confusion and complacent submission. His left arm angled and propped his head. He could see the gray crests of the black ocean. The sun had set since he walked onto the porch. The ocean air carried the scent of her, waving soft whiffs under his nose. Without thought, he removed his probing finger and tasted the wet excitement that had coated his entire palm. Carried by the wanting, he moved down her barely clothed body, and hooked his thumbs under the briefs of her bikini. With his hands fixed to the sides of her hips he held her from struggling he began to remove the fabric from her bronze skin.
She slid her legs up to impede the removal, but he was oblivious to the objection. His hands covered her bent knees and press them outward. Once again, she felt his tongue, this time on the smoothest of her skin. Time stood still as the tiny flutters of orgasmic pulses rippled through her. The soft chestnut curls barely contain the sensitive swelling. It seemed to being reaching up to kiss him. His whole hand touched her vagina, then stroked the line from her pink pearl to her center. One long thick finger disappeared within her sweet walls. She was melting all over again. He pleasured her slowly and slipped her bikini from her writhing limbs.
His sun kissed flesh blended well with her skin. Sounds of his chest hair on her breasts echoed the rhythm of his legs rocking between her own. Her chest heaved into his as she breathed. Her hands rubbed at the muscles of his backside, then soft lines from her nails invigorated his thighs. His cock was strained and taut. This time, the moan came from him. There was a moment of silent stillness, full of peace. He left the warmth of his kiss on her lips to move down her body. He took the pink gumdrop shaped nipple into his mouth. The feel of her breast in his mouth made her shiver. It was an eternity of caressing the full mounds with his hands and face. Then, at last, he left the dark summit to take a mouthful of the smooth caramel skin and pressed his stiff flesh past the moist petals into the pink silky glove. The motions were long rolling crests of rising and falling, tender peaks that broke over and again. His face, hands, legs worked to stimulate the rest of her body, forcing his memory into her soul.
Their lovemaking was a tempest. It was a crashing stormy sea that was wet and powerful, relentless and awesome. Her heart pounded like rain on the deck of a listing ship. She felt as though she was dying and being born at the same time. Lightening and thunder flashed and died. The calm water yielded to the waves again building on the horizon. Her arms and legs hugged him as they created a new tide of heat and friction. The sex and feel of someone new, someone who had an intimate awareness of her made her giddy. She was drowning in the waves of pleasure and orgasms, one sewing into another until she felt the surge in her fingertips. Her energy flushed over her in pulsing waves. When their chest came together in a deep grinding thrust she could feel the heartbeats join. Her buzzing pulse joining and intensifying with his own electric pulse. The power of his release flowed from his head, spine from the base of his cock and erupted within her. The rhythmic and concentric waves of her sweet muscles were gently massaging the shore of his throbbing volcano.
Everything within him, was set free.
To Be Continued...
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