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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

“Do you know why I love you? Do you know why I keep coming back to you time after time? Well, you’re hot, for starters, but it’s so much more than that. You understand me. I need my freedom, and you get that. You would never try to tie me down or hold me back. With you, I’m free. We’re together, we love each other, but I’m still free. You would never tell me how to live my life or impose your beliefs on me. You love me for who I already am, not for some idea of who I could be. You love me without being possessive, without being jealous. You live your life, I live mine, and we meet somewhere in the middle. And when we meet… God, is it good!”

“When are you leaving?” Parveen cut through crap.

“Soon.”

“Soon like mid-May or soon like tomorrow?”

Joliette didn’t respond. She was fixated on a pair of mourning doves fucking in the grass, the bottom spreading her purple-grey tail feathers for the top. Flailing in unison, the birds seemed stoic, disinterested. Flap your wings and think of England.

“Shit, Jol,” Parveen spat with such intensity the doves scattered to the treetops. “Why are you always doing this to me?”

Shrugging, Joliette asked, “Did you expect me to stay?”

“I never expect anything from you,” Parveen hissed. Knowing Joliette, she probably took that as a compliment.

“Did you know there’s a species of lesbian sea gulls in California?”

“I antalya escort bayan told you that.”

“Oh yeah.”

Parveen sat seething in silence, trying not to breathe for fear her slightest movement would send Joliette packing prematurely. No matter how angry she became, she never wanted her little sparrow to take flight.

“Aw, it’s starting to rain,” Joliette whined at the random droplets. “We should head back.”

“Why?” Parveen pressed, sparing herself the awkwardness of crying, Don’t leave me! I can’t live without you!

“See, that’s why I love you. I say something practical like, ‘We should get out of the rain,’ and your response is just, ‘Why?’ Like all the laws of nature don’t apply to you. Like the rain’s gonna fall and you won’t get wet. Like you’re superhuman.”

“How do you know I’m not?” Parveen challenged, brushing carefree wisps of golden brown hair from Joliette’s shoulder. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against that neck, white and perfect as a marble statue.

“We’re all human. No more, no less,” Joliette replied, gasping at fingers crawling up her thigh. “That’s the tie that binds.”

“This is human,” Parveen whispered, forcing her tongue past surprised teeth, tasting the minty gum sweetness of that warm mouth. Returning the kiss, Joliette unbuttoned her shirt like a park bench was the perfect gaziapaşa escort place for a last fuck. The skies opened up along with that white blouse.

Warm rain pelted Parveen’s scalp as she dug two firm tits from Joliette’s bra, sucking eagerly at those hard pink nipples. Sucking so hard she couldn’t keep herself from biting the tender buds. Biting so hard Joliette cried out in pain.

Thunder rumbled the ground as Parveen sank to her knees, escaping the rain under cover of Joliette’s floral skirt. Tearing her lace thong like a predator, Parveen threw the ruined garment into the grass and opened wide Joliette’s legs. Like a tiger, her attack on those juicy folds was fierce. Relentlessly, she lapped the nectar from Jol’s swollen cunt, piercing the flesh of her ass with jealous claws.

When Joliette cried out in the rain, Parveen planted her face against that screaming wet pussy, wrapping her mouth around those moist lips. She penetrated Joliette, thrashing furiously in that familiar fluid until her tongue muscles cramped from exertion. The flavour was tangy with an aftertaste of sweet, like sourdough bread chased by blueberry honey.

Parveen replaced her tongue with three fingers plunging frantically into Joliette’s cunt, a pinky beating against her asshole, pitiless as the storm from above. As driving rain soaking her gündoğmuş escort back, she swathed her lover’s clit in the supple warmth of her pursed lips. Sucking noisily, her fingers raced into and out of that moist lair like an indecisive housecat on adrenaline.

Shrieking against the sheet lightening, Joliette’s cunt was a vice on Parveen’s fingers as the sparrow of a girl gripped the park bench like it was trying to escape. Parveen was never so wet as when her fleeting lover pronounced her name at the moment of climax, harmonic as Swan Lake. Licking long and slow, slit to clit, she begged telepathically for Jol to stay until the orgasmic convulsions subsided.

Wiping the pussy juices from her chin against Joliette’s smooth white thigh, Parveen asked, “Where are going this time?”

The sparrow gazed into the heavens, droplets of rainwater falling from her narrow nose and chin.

“Do you know what I love about you?” Joliette asked rhetorically, tucking those perky tits back into her rain-soaked bra. “You respect me, respect my privacy. Know what I mean?”

Joliette rose to depart, long hair dripping as she bent to pick her torn thong from the green grass. She never left anything behind. Over the hillock, she disappeared into the blue-grey fog. Barely audible in the storm, the monogamous mourning doves cooed in consolation.

Like a war widow, Parveen carved their initials into the horizontal slat of the brown park bench, dry where Joliette had been sitting. The two were permanently attached now, living in a wooden heart on the public greens. Parveen might not know where in the world Joliette had gotten to, but she could always find this bench; its legs were cemented into the ground.

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