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A bright yellow gibbous moon was hanging in a dark blue sky, the constellations faint in the lunar illumination, a few stray clouds here and there, an occasional meteorite etching a fleeting arc into the sky. Now and then, some of the clouds sailed across the pregnant moon, the night quiet, still, a perfect time, the moonlight slanting in through a window.

His mouth was fused to her wet receptacle, his tongue frantically licking the abundance of her aromatic juices as if his life depended on it, as if another morning might never come. She moaned deeply, throatily, her whole body quivering, her smooth thighs opening wider and wider to accommodate his hunger, his thirst, as if she would split open the night. She gasped when he touched her clit with the tip of his tongue, sighed when he took her delectable protrusion between his lips, sucked her, suckled her. His whole being became focused on the one spot, becoming the spot, becoming her.

With the moonlight touching their pale skin, she tore herself loose from his caresses, dropped across his body, grasped his erection with impatient hands. He groaned from the depth of his passion as she pulled back his skin with her skilled fingers and gazed at his throbbing penis with wide-open eyes full of wonder and desire. Then she began to rub and stroke him rhythmically, attuned to the moon, the cycles. Bending over him, she touched the tip of his glans lightly with her tongue to still her own thirst, satisfy her own craving, listened to the night revolve.

He grabbed her pendulous breasts to weigh them in his hands, fondle them and squeeze them until she moaned again, their bodies shuddering, their minds brimming with images of excitation, yearning, unquenchable thirst. It was he who gasped with unconcealed pleasure when she wrapped her searching lips around his glans and sucked him deep into her mouth, shivers of delight surging up and down his spine.

The night was thick with exhilaration, their room reverberating with their cries, the air alive, charged. Sparks of lightning flashed through their bodies, titillating their minds, stirring their souls. She sucked him until his body began to twitch and writhe from her ardent ministrations, then flopped back on the bed beside him, panting with excitement, thirst. He quickly climbed on top of her, her thighs already falling apart, her knees pulled up, and he thrust into her, she thrusting against him, the moon their witness.

As the night revolved through its cycle, they drove each other to the apex of their desire, screamed their primordial pleasure into the room, rocked through the completion of their union. Gasping for breath, they clung to each other in the triumph of their orgasms, thrusting more quietly a few more times, and falling apart in the chaos of their frantic emotions. As they lay there in the glow of their fulfillment, the moonbeams shifted across their bed and out of the room, completing the night.

© Peter Baltensperger 2014

Peter Baltensperger is a Canadian writer of Swiss origin and the author of ten books of various genres. His latest book of erotica is a collection of short fiction, Eros for Various Voices. His poems, short stories, essays, and articles have appeared in several hundred publications around the world over the past several decades. His erotic writing has appeared in print in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Erotica Quarterly, Sex in the City – Paris, The International Journal of Erotica and online in Clean Sheets, Black Heart Magazine, The Erotic Woman, Oysters and Chocolate and Every Night Erotica among others. He makes his home in London, Canada with his wife Viki and their three cats.

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