DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my imagination. Characters belong to Open Book Productions.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

X Marks the Spot
By itsalovestory


My hands traverse over your beautiful landscape. From the twin peaks of your bountiful breasts, stiff with your arousal to the flat plains of your firm stomach, soft to my hands, falling apart like clay to the silken rivers of your thighs, shaking and quaking like the earth will give out from underneath us at any moment.




Your freckles map out the path I must take, the journey I must travel. Here. Then, there. Over this bend. Under that untamed forest of hair.


My lips, and teeth, and tongue so hungry to discover, find a cave so dark and wet and warm. I flick, and suck, and lap. You groan, and thrash, and scratch.

You guide my exploration of your terrain, pulling my hair and pushing your hips. I've learned to not go against mother nature, against you.


It seems that X marks the spot where all your treasures are unearthed, and they come flooding out from the hidden depths for us to enjoy.

And, I realize in that moment as I've found the fountain of youth, drinking greedly, it's not over; it hasn't ended.

We've just begun.

The End

Return to Venice Fiction

Return to Main Page