He released her nipples and gripped her hips, kneading her flesh as he arched his hips in a circle, their bodies adjusting to each other, taking on each other’s form and shape.She finally slid her bra off her arms and tossed it on the floor while Stone’s cock drew back, angling for a deeper, harder thrust. He repeated the motion several times, finally settling into a steady rocking thrust, easy but firm while Rena’s body rocked against him.The contrary motion of their arching bodies soon took on a life of its own while each of them were lost to their own world of hot need. Stone’s left hand moved back to grip Rena’s nipple while his right hand slid across her hip until his thumb found her engorged clit. When his thumb began rolling back and forth across her slick node, the rhythmic grind and rock of her hips grew more erratic.Stone was thrusting into her clasping core with long, gliding strokes while Rena’s body gripped him like a hot sleeve. The speed and pressure of his rolling. He quietly told me he loved me then, together, we cut a piece and fed each other.That simple act meant so much to me. For hours, we sat around a fire pit talking, telling jokes, swapping stories. Ten naked people. Ten happy, naked or mostly naked people. My favorite story was told by Chuck. It was an American Indian story about anger, love, and the strawberry. The strawberry’s tartness reminds us to be careful of our words. The sweetness reminds us of the sweetness of love.Peter and Jillian reminded their guests that there was a late morning flight to be caught for Fiji. We stood, hugged and kissed the two departing couples good bye promising hospitality should they venture east toward us. They did the same for us. Gina seemed pensive as they departed. She was coming off a sexual high. I understood.Peter and Chuck secured the pads, repositioned the chairs, and made sure the fire pit was covered with a screen. We girls cleaned the kitchen. Mother went in to shower and go to bed.Chuck.
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