My breathing stilts as I look up and see her standing there in the dimly lit room. Her simple white smock contrasts sharply against her dark ebony skin, and a single copper bangle and tiny gold ear-studs complete this picture of assured sensual womanhood. She stands proudly with her shoulders straight, her neck regal and her face tilted up, her lightly rouged lips parted softly in a warm smile, and her eyes shining black coal in the half light. I can vaguely make out the form of her petite body through the clingy material, the swell of her tiny breasts, the curve of her slim waist and the span of her long slender thighs, the plane of her belly, and below it, that inviting cleft deep between her legs. The tunic clings to her hips and ends at mid thigh, and her legs are long and sleek and chocolate brown beneath it.

She pads towards me and reaches up on bare tippie-toes to kiss me full on my mouth, her tongue searching, her nipples grazing my chest through the thin cotton shift, and her hips and belly pressing hard up against mine. Together we slide the dress up her slight frame, up and over her head and along her slim arms. Her body is cool to my touch, sleek and lean and svelte, and the tiny black thong that clings to her hips and sculpts her mons disappears mysteriously between her thighs before resurfacing again behind, at the base of her back and high above the twin orbs of her pert little arse.

We kiss long and languid and hard, and I gentle and explore her sleek body with the palms of my hands and the very tips of my fingers, and then nuzzle and nibble her neck and shoulders and small girl-like breasts over and over and gentle and hard. Her nipples come alive in my mouth, swelling and engorging as I pamper them... and she pulls me closer and strokes and massages my spine and my thighs and my balls. She reclines on the bed and my face and tongue trace her taught belly and her neat navel and her woman hips and the slope and sheen of her upper thighs... and I test and tease and navigate the very edges of that tiny clingy satin g-string. The silky material dampens and molds... and clamps to the tight plump buds beneath it... and I can sense the quiet tremor beneath her skin as my lips push the miniature silk triangle to one side and my tongue laps and explores the heated flesh beneath it. Her pearl is hard and slick and glistening as I flick at it gently with my wet tongue tip, and then... below that... my tongue suddenly slides into a bottomless chasm of slippery heat. Her musk is strong and she sighs deep and slow... and my desire for her is growing with every tentative probing lick.

It is my turn, and she pushes me gently onto my back and kneels between my thighs. She bends forward, her breasts swinging freely and her hands on my hips... and she sucks my cock deep into her hot mouth! I flinch... an electric jolt... but the shock is quick and sharp and erotic and welcome, and I let out a long sigh of pleasure as she moves her lips and tongue up and down my stiff shaft. The owo is long and leisurely and wet, and her drool soaks my balls and drenches my thighs. Over and over and fast and slow and deep and wet and sucking and I can sense that faint quivering at the base of my balls and I just know I have to stop her before I fucking explode!

As if sensing my anguish, she gives my cock one last long languid lick, and then scoots forward on the bed, plants her thighs firmly on either side of my hips, takes my cock in her hand and then lowers herself agonizingly slowly down onto me. There can be nothing more erotic than watching your hard cock disappear tiny millimeter by tiny millimeter into those swollen wet folds deep between a sexy woman's heated thighs. I could write an ode to that exact moment, a ballad or a sonnet in praise of that erotic wet slipping grasping clenching intense excruciating electric moment of pure unadulterated lust and sensualism and desire. THIS is why god made man and woman... he put us here to fornicate and couple and copulate, all else is mere detail... he designed us precisely for this very moment.

Unathi Girl settles into that rhythmic backwards and forwards thrusting that Eve taught Adam, a rhythm that is as old as humankind itself. Her head is thrown back, her breasts bounce up and down and her hips buck and grind down upon me. The rhythm is slippery and wet and clutching and greasy and I match it rhyme for rhyme, pulse for pulse, throb for throb. Our bodies are taught and corded and sweating as we pump against one-another, and our breathing comes in ragged gasps and our skin is wet and steaming and our hearts trip like a jackhammer. I reach up and pull her forward and down against my chest, her nipples stabbing mine and our bellies sopping, my cock is her fulcrum, her swivel, and I piston back up and into her. We kiss and suck and bite at one another's mouths and lips and tongues, hot and gulping and urgent and potent, and I wrap my arms around her and pull her ever closer and ever tighter.

I explode.

And Unathi Girl wants to go again....


Unathi Girl... how do I lust thee?
Let me count the ways.


(with apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

Took me next to no time to get a lifter... GW, you are a master erotic storyteller...

Absolutely Sir!