Autumn

Also available in German
Herbst

She was always accessible, always nearby, and up for any mischief. Most of the time, she roamed from one lover to the next during the balmy July nights, giving herself unconditionally to her sensual desires and even confusing memories with actual events. She mixed up names and sex practices, sometimes forgetting how it made her feel. It was the time when she wanted to be touched; she wanted to feel life, filled with cocks, tongues, and fingers. Just before the summer ended, she reflected; she put the puzzle pieces together and couldn’t deny a certain melancholy that came with the gold coloring and the approaching change of season.

T. was her last fuck; he was one of those who always put in a lot of effort and whose main task was to give the woman supreme pleasure before he even thought of cuming himself. In his decadent master bed, she tugged at the white silk sheets, gazing up at the stuccoed ceiling as he brought her to climax several times. Between her thighs, the lotus silk became a pool. He loved it when he managed to lure out her juices; his expression changed the moment it shot out of her. As if he had revealed the secrets of all women, opened Pandora’s box and the bubbling pipe to the kingdom forever, he softened completely, his lips twisted into a satisfied grin, and his eyes glittered with bliss and sadness. It was that moment when he put his head between her thighs, pushed his fingers further into her, and began to catch her juices with his tongue. He drank her like the most delicious wine until not only the fine lotus silk was completely soaked but also his face. His sparse hair stuck to his forehead, combined with her juices and his sweat. When he finally climbed up, it reminded her of an ancient painting or, no, a movie scene where an Adonis-like youth exits the pool, wiping the wet strands from his face with both hands. She was already completely drained and convinced he had stolen all her climaxes before he spread her thighs wider, overwhelmed her, and buried his cock in her tightness. The stucco on the ceilings changed shape, the patterns coalescing into Da Vinci’s glorious supper. Satisfied, she lay there, letting herself be fucked, while drops of sweat obscured her vision like a heavy downpour while booming male groans made the ceiling lamp quiver, and the apostles witnessed a sinful redemption.

Sometimes, she thinks of J. and the hot nights in foreign hotels when he was passing through and ordered her to join him. J. didn’t ask; he made announcements, and each time she obeyed like a bitch in heat. He only had to write a message, and a moist heat emerged between her thighs, driven by the greatest longing; A longing limited to the essentials: his satisfaction and her surrender. It was as simple as that. When she knocked on the door of the Ritz, the Le Meurice, or the Chevalier, he was already standing in front of her, showered and ready, with only a bath towel swung around his hips. She smiled at him, he nodded and left the door open. She had a choice because he never asked her to enter. Smugly, he tossed the bath towel aside so she could examine his perfect butt as it made its way to the designer bedroom. Of course, she would follow; this man triggered a great desire that seemed so familiar and has always conveyed the feeling of love ever since. A fatal feeling of love that, with lack of attention, reaches its peak in the realm of the submissive and dominant. Carefully, she closed the door before positioning her high heels at the entrance and tiptoeing across parquet floors and lush carpets to the bedroom. J was already lying in the sumptuous box-spring bed surrounded by gold and bronze pillows, either staring boredly at the TV screen, polishing his fingernails, or sipping his champagne.

As soon as she reached the bedroom, she removed her stockings and panties and laid everything gently folded on the armchair. Then she went to all fours and climbed from the end of the bed to the huge cushions that led to his feet. He watched her every move almost impassively, waiting for her to bring his cock to her lips to breathe life into it. It was the only way to elicit a moan or a sigh from him, and when she did, it made her feel so powerful, as if she had entered a secret portal or the gateway to the Celtic Otherworld of Avalon. This gave her incredible pleasure so that her inner thighs became hot and wet while she drove his cock to the palate of her mouth, making deep up-and-down movements. Sometimes, she looked up at him, watching his face soften, his cheeks changing color, and longing become evident in his gaze. Then feeling even more driven, she spit on his glans and danced her fingers along the wet shaft until his cock began to pump. Quickly, she enclosed her lips with his length and let him slide all the way into her mouth. She wanted his seed; there was no doubt about it. When he came inside her, it filled her with a perfection that satisfied her for weeks, even months. It was everything she wanted: his satisfaction and disregard for her needs. As the ember wet her palate and his body twitched, a few love drops made their exhausting way down her thighs.

A., she couldn’t get out of her head. She kept trying to remind herself of the sentimentality of this encounter, which broke off at one point and left her speechless. With A. it was not only about sex, it was much more a friendly level that unfolded its enchantment and matured to a majestic size. The transition from summer to autumn added a special magic. While they strolled through parks, the copper beech carried its orange leaves gently through the air; they exchanged their favorite music and most intimate confessions and occasionally touched each other. Each touch aroused her; an electromagnetic shock passed through her as well as him, and time changed in the shape of the everlasting beauty of the burgeoning autumn. Her imagination held a thousand pictures of sweaty bodies rubbing against each other, kisses that tasted of the most precious fruits, and touches that merged hand in hand and felt so simple, almost weightless, as they made plans, laughed, and enjoyed their soul-mate company. After several innocent meetings, the desire for each other became too great that they decided to give in to their hunger and surrender to the act of love.

It was exciting, something that somehow seemed strangely alienating to both of them. They understood how to indulge their desires freely, letting people into their lives and starting all over again. It was easy, it was meaningless. This time, they felt true; they went a different path, which changed them. Never before had they made themselves so vulnerable, never before had they perceived touches, kisses, and caresses in such a way that the thought of the act itself made them literally shudder. They feared not feeling the same anymore or, worse, much more. When time came after an intense exploration of their bodies, they looked at each other and mutually agreed to perform the act; he guided his cock closer to her entrance while she lifted her butt a bit from his hip to settle on it. They did it with full consciousness, synchronously, without digressions, and when it happened, as she sat down on his magnificent cock and felt its full size inside her, tears involuntarily flowed from her eyes.

They felt the wholeness of the universe, the boiling blood in their veins, the unity of their sensual movements, her inner walls, how she clutched his cock while tensing again and again, his glans, how it penetrated to the deepest point of her vagina and semen and juices blended into one. They scented the special autumn air that made its way through the open window of his tiny loft apartment as she rode him unrestrained. They fell into a trance to the smells of leaves mixed with chestnuts, remembering the countless walks in which they had already evoked this invincible bond. At the peak of their pleasure with all the memories, with all the realities right before their eyes, they found their shared orgasm. It shook them deeply, like a volcano waiting for the biggest eruption in time immemorial; it poured over the whole earth and swept them away. Completely overwhelmed by this experience, they both lost their speech; warmth turned into coldness, vulnerabilities became an inscrutable hypocrisy. What remained for them was that moment and all the autumn days in the park that sparked prophecies of true intimacy.

In autumn, she always became quiet, changing her clothes as well as her lifestyle and hiding away until the next spring. Then, when the trees regain color, and the scent of new encounters and coitus bring her veins back to life.