Making Love to a Chinese Blossom - Sex Stories

Making Love to a Chinese Blossom

Her black hair, wet with rain, clung to the sides of her face. She stood outside his window, looking in and motioning for him to come join her outside. He picked up his stereo speakers, placing them on the window sill, and then put an old blues vinyl on the record player, setting it up to blast raw electric guitar out into the stormy summer afternoon. He ran out his sliding door, hopping the rail of his patio to join her on the grass. The guitar whined and vibrated across the humid air as he slid his hand around her waist and onto the small of her back, pulling her in close. They moved slowly against each other under the cool rain which fell in giant drops upon the trees, and the river, and their skin; skin which slid smoothly, sensually, to the music. They had never danced together before. Both of them were caught off guard by this new and sudden proximity. A few months earlier he wouldn’t have had the courage to reach for her hand, with a golden ring and promises made to another man. Now she was in his arms, her graceful face wet and delicate. He kissed the raindrops which rested on her cheeks, and then he kissed her eyelids, running his hand up her back, letting it rest in her messy hair, holding her head as she rested her face upon his chest. Dancing was not his forte, but moving to the blues with its steady rhythm was easy. He had wanted to hold her since the day they met, and now, thanks to the wanton rain, he held her small, rain-soaked body to his. Her dress clung ...

... to her, outlining every feminine feature she possessed. The music, raw and honest and alive, turned his heart to fire. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said softly into her ear, his stomach in knots, not wanting to miss his chance, not wanting her to walk down the aisle. She didn’t say anything. She just pressed her head a little harder against his chest. “I don’t want anyone else… I’d rather die old and alone if I can’t love you…” She pulled back and looked him in the eyes, still silent, not surprised by his love, but by his sudden openness. Her stare penetrated, and pried into his soul, searching him. His stomach turned, and he could feel his knees shake. Then her eyes moved to his lips, her face still wet with summer spontaneity, and she leaned in, pressing her mouth to his. He put both of his hands on her face and took her kiss in deeply. After a moment she clutched one of his hands and pulled away. She started to walk back towards the apartment, pulling him along, sliding the door open gracefully as she led him to the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and let his hand go. He moved in behind her and put his hands on her waist, kissing her neck as she removed the engagement ring from her finger, and put it on the dresser by his door. He wasn’t sure what it meant. Was she now declaring her engagement over, was her heart for the taking, or was this just a temporary pause on the inevitable? Would she still take an oath, and swear her heart and body away, under the law and ...