Last Quarter

The last quarter moon hangs in the sky surrounded by stars on this warm and beautiful summer night. The foam created by the waves breaking on the shore washes over the sand and retreats back to the sea, illuminated by the soft light of our planet's only natural satellite.

The waves crash again, but this time they wet a pair of feet walking barefoot on the damp sand. The feet belong to a COUPLE. They walk shoulder to shoulder, close to each other, but not touching. Her stomach still aches, that fluttering sensation some call butterflies; although he's not exactly her type, she finds him almost irresistible. Perhaps because of his sense of humor, his intelligence, his quick wit, or simply because he listened to her talk for hours, truly listened to her. For the first time in a long time, she feels like someone is paying attention to her, not just because of her looks.

He still hasn't gotten over his nerves. She's really pretty: brown hair, honey-colored eyes that shine even more in the moonlight. He's never been out with a girl like that in his life. Not only is she gorgeous—too gorgeous for him—but she's also nice, funny, they share similar interests, and, most importantly, she's interested in him.

A wave crashes a little closer, splashing them and causing her to lean into him. For the first time, their bodies touch, and something magical happens. They stare into each other's eyes, pressed against each other, unable to separate. Their breathing and heartbeats quicken; he feels like his chest is about to explode, hers feels her heart racing. Their lips meet, and there's no turning back. Their tongues tangle with the intensity of a first kiss, that kiss desired and longed for. Their hands roam each other's bodies: he grabs her firm buttocks, which form a stunning ass; she caresses his back. And, before they know it, clothes begin to fly with the desperation of a castaway searching for water.

In the blink of an eye, they're both naked. He grabs her gorgeous breasts, kisses and touches them desperately, but also gently and lovingly. She caresses the back of his neck and pushes him up. She kisses his mouth again and kneels, her face level with his robust and powerful masculinity...

She grabs it in her hands, caresses it, and begins to kiss it, running her lips and tongue over it. He stares at her, unable to believe what he's experiencing; she stares back, staring at each other. She opens her mouth and takes him all the way inside, making him gag slightly, but she keeps going...

After a few seconds, she stands up, stares at him, places her hands on his chest, and pushes him. He falls onto the sand, and she straddles him. She grabs his cock and, little by little, begins to thrust until he's completely inside. She arches with pleasure, digs her nails into his chest, and begins to move frantically, as if something were pushing her, with a burning desperation...

His hands on her buttocks accompany each movement until they both explode in a moan of pleasure, melting at the same time.

She falls on him, kisses him, caresses him under the waning moon, just as another wave washes over them. But it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters to them. There's only the two of them.