Erotic etude 8

It was one of those angels, which is best seen from the ground. Which he did. Armed with antiquated binoculars, he crawled to the distance to the smell of the innermost piece of wild beach, where she performed the daily birth of the foam. Why binoculars, you ask. But how to see without a feather on the skin amber, wheat curl hair sparkle in the eyes ... A handful of grains of sand, hidden from the hourglass there, where for the time being does not look time. He liked to alternate greed, armed with Zeiss lenses, with bare eyes from a distance, walking toward her on the ledge of a hill and stumbling on its stearic figure. He touched her eyes and imagine she responded to his ghostly touch - shuddered, straightened, sometimes even smiling at nothing. He still could not understand or know it only felt that she was being watched. And maybe not even feel, but simply acted with the natural grace of a cat, which spit, watching her or not. She resorted flushed from the guest house, and he has long taken the position at first looked on from afar swept hairstyle on uneven beads of her tracks on the crumpled dress, flying off to the side, as the cartridge cases. Then, as a director of a non-existent film, he clutched his close-up. Catamaran binoculars, you see first, and these types of rapidly bringing it to a favorite detail. He savored each and long, staring at her with an almost scientific, excessive meticulousness. e was a bruise or a mosquito bite, over which he had not sighed, there were strands of hair, which he had not combed through her lashes. He held her gaze for each finger, especially with the ever-favorite little finger bitten nails - a true barometer of her mood. Wet, sprinkled with beads of sweat, she was rushed to a running start in the waves and the sea for a long time were selected by it in the poor boys. However, it remained the things that, after all, still have a replica of her body. Time passed - and return it to the sea shore eyed. She came out with a spinning head after a long voyage, he was emptied face down on a towel and froze him like a painted lady on the map by appointing his red suit trump card in the whole universe. Then she fell asleep with his hand under his cheek and funny frowning. She frowns, I suppose, on the hand, unconscionable that, left unattended hostess, set off on a journey through the body, trying to wake him whether, or to lull even stronger. Hand checking for all the treasures that are supposed to have the young girl remained satisfied with her inspection, and fell on the most intimate, as a watchdog. Then he fell asleep and the hand, and just loved little finger, hooligan offspring, climbed deeper than it should be a faithful guardian, and tossed and turned for a long time there, settling. And there, staring - and stopped frowning eyebrows. He never knew that her dream. He did not want to know. That he was not interested. Then she woke up and walked into the bushes to do what she could, frankly, to do, and in the water, but preferred to reason on land. e we will hide in the course went through binoculars, and no butternut droplets do not fall into the sand without a gourmet savoring shameless boyish look. You can talk for a long time as she bathed again, how to dress and how to run away towards his own footsteps, but now it goes about it. And that's what. One day he had a rival. The same cat lurking in the grass that is different from our hero three things: age (he was older), impudence (which he had more) and the lack of binoculars. Instead, the boy binoculars was a camera, he snapped, as the beak, without any fear of being discovered. Which, incidentally, happened on the same day and was accompanied with her hand ahami oohs and in which, in truth, it was more fun than embarrassment. She somehow cover up the opponent came out of his ambush, and they quickly hit it off. We hit it off too well for the first day of exploring. The sea and the sun, the eternal pimps, quickly spun a couple of awkward in his arms, and they were delivered on a towel, crumpling it and scooped sand. The piquancy of the situation gave that in between the arms together they looked at him and giggled. And it was very painful. ie because the girl was not an angel. She was not an angel, he knew it from the start. ie because the opponent acted smarter and braver himself. e because both with obvious contempt reacted to his silent shadows in the grass. And just because it was all over. And it will never happen again ... the first time he stood up, turned the binoculars and looked at them for the last time. And the old optics, the type of all, wisely reduced their size to random memories.
© Mr. Kiss, one hundred fragments of feelings, 1998-1999