Colors Of The Wind
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by Max Ibach
Category: Science Fiction/Suspense/Thriller
Description: This is a modern day romance where sexual abstinence is not an option. Aspen groves on mountain slopes and dark timber stands provide sanctuary between sexual encounters at a Safe Ranch. This is the story of a less than simple pair of military specialists designated as Recon Team Cobra. These two hardy souls devastate every terrorist cell within rifle range along their route of travel. Their designated mission is to; "Locate and eradicate terrorist cells wherever they exist in your area of operation." Their area of operation consists of most of the state of Idaho. A sniper mentality governs their mode of operation as they travel the border between Texas and Mexico. For years terrorists have been afforded safe passage by a corrupt government that no longer exists. Their initial foray concerns border crossings along the Rio Grande River. They step off the grid of normal society when they abandon their horses to travel afoot. They wear gillie suits and back packs so they can more effectively hide from their pursuers. The lives of the Cobra team become enriched by the number of things they learn to live without. Cameron Hale and Slater McBride assume their role in the history of a nation with something less than child-like innocence. They are both more alive than they have ever been before, as they travel a land where death awaits them beyond every bend in the flow of their lives. They experience love and mutual satisfaction every waking moment they are together.
eBook Publisher: Double Dragon Publishing/Double Dragon eBooks, 2012 Double Dragon Publishing
eBookwise Release Date: January 2012
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [339 KB]
Reading time: 216-303 min.
His world is suddenly filled with erotic cosmic fire caused by the thought of frequent lust maintenance with the black haired beauty sitting across the room from him. Her eyes are so green that he can tell their color from thirty feet away. Her face is the much desired oval contour that every woman longs for.
Her eyes are slightly tilted up at the corners, with to-die-for, long, dark, lashes. Her upper lids are tinted a metallic green with the lids heavily outlined by dark eyeliner. The total effect is that her eyes draw his vision the way a flower draws a butterfly.
The tempting creature sits angled away from him on a bentwood chair directly across from the entryway. One of her long shapely legs is casually draped over the other. The leg is on display beginning several inches above her knee. The slender beauty extends below the hemline of a dark green silk chiffon dress. The dress coats her upper figure as though it has been applied with an airbrush. The material barely conceals her breasts from public scrutiny. He believes that he can see her nipples through the thin fabric, but the light is not good enough for complete certainty.
To him, the dress and her posture proclaim, "Behold, fresh sensual sex fruit."
She possesses an immortal bust line above a narrow hand span waist that explodes into a small round, bubble butt posterior. A prolonged glance at her creates the need for extended carnal comfort with her but he instinctively knows that's not going to happen without a protracted courtship. This one is a trophy to be pursued, courted and eventually married.
The sight of her fills his jock with a shuddering seductive opulence. Dear God she is gorgeous. The vision of her causes his heart to stutter as heat floods his body. He longs to hear her inarticulate cries of pleasure as his name is ripped from her throat during orgasm. At that moment her butt would be arched high up off the bed with her long legs involved in the pulsing rhythm of orgasmic servitude.
Later after she has expended herself during a period of extended torment inflicted by his thickly swollen tumescence, she will lie shuddering beneath him. Only then will she bring the soles of her feet to lie pressed against the warm hollows of the backsides of his thighs. Her posture is the pose of complete submission.
He will lie deeply seated and motionless as he listens to her terminal whimpers. He must retard his sexual interest in order to postpone his own percussive ejaculation.
A session with this trophy temptress will require mind control to delay his possible premature gratification. He imagines the introduction of his love piston into her. The effort will be marked by female gratitude as her pelvic muscles tighten inexorably to grip him like a clenched fist. In his lust filled mind, he imagines her husky voice begging for mercy.
He takes a long slow pull at his vodka tonic while he considers how to approach her. During the swallow Slater notices that his own lips have gone soft while considering the underside of a pleasure yet to be realized.
The thought of benign neglect for the evening has suddenly vanished. He glances at her again. The sight reduces him to a goblet of fire. The woman is so very lovely and alive-looking that he must either possess her for at least one dance. With an ancient instinct guiding him he crosses the room to introduce himself. He extends his right hand as he murmurs, "Hi, I'm Slater McBride. You are the hottest women I've ever seen, will you dance with me?"
She ignores the proffered hand. One look into his eyes and she knows that he will not be bed-optional. This man will demand total enslavement of her body. The barest hint of a blush tinges her cheeks.
While she looks up into his face, she imagines a stallion standing over her with flared nostrils. He appears ready for the sort of bursting star gratification that she experienced with her late husband. She fears her bodies reaction if she dances with him.
The man wears an expensive shirt that displays a devastatingly muscled upper body. She had watched him as he hung his sports coat where it now dangles from a coat rack behind the bar.
Cameron's stomach muscles clinch in response to his smile. When he pins her with his toe-curling look, her mind forms a phrase, "Tall dark stranger, come teach me all your tricks."
Her body recoils from the total arousal of every female hormone. The feeling catches her so off guard her knees grow weak as she considers options. She wants to tell Maggie to take their "no man tonight," pact and shove it, but she hesitates. Maggie casts a sideways glance at her roommate.
Cameron feels emotionally vulnerable. She puts all of her earlier bathroom fantasies to rest. She dare not go onto the dance floor with this man because his handsome appearance has caused her insides to dissolve into goo. She dare not feel her body against his. Given the chance he will very quickly have her worshipping at the alter-of-saint-whatever-his-name-is.
An inexorable fear grips her as her endorphins run wild with the ultimate thought of her inevitable submission. "This is the one, her body screams, this is the master of all your future sexcapades."
Her breath catches in her throat as he stands slightly bent at the waist with his arm extended, staring down at her. He looks so fit, bronze, and dreamy. She imagines his lips branding hers. She questions the innovative experience of having him take her into his arms. The last thing she needs is for this man to punish her sexually. Her shower related fantasies remain high on her list of needs for the evening.
This man fulfills every trembling measure of her desires. He would use all of her ample parts. One segment of her brain screams, "Don't go with him," while another demands that she fulfill her immediate need to mate. There cannot possibly be another situation for her that will equal this one. She'd had the same powerful urge about a year after her husband died. She decides that the urge for participation will be as destructive this time as it had been then. The urge had moved her so powerfully that it had nearly claimed her life. The disappointment of that temporal event had so overpowered her, that for a brief instant she had considered suicide.
Now she wants to be involved in another Skirtgate where exposure is claimed only by mutual consent. If she were free from the possibility of an agency assignment, then she would seduce this one. In a flash she knows that the act would be extremely pleasurable. Unfortunately she's not free, so she dare not go with this heavenly stud. He would become the master of her future if she allows her estrogen-filled madness to over power her.
Cameron's current actions are being closely monitored by her roommate. The roommates had agreed to help each other keep their legs crossed to prevent involvement with some horny man who would use them and then abandon them in a rented room some place. They had made a mutual pact beforehand that neither of them would go home with anyone to be used in the forbidden fashion.
Both women are astonishingly attractive, in supreme athletic condition, hot looking, powerfully playful, and frolicsome. Both are recovering from broken hearts, so they feel unusually vulnerable, thus the pact of the evening. Cameron had lost her husband to cancer. Maggie had lost her longtime lover to another woman. Both are currently employed by the Black Ops Wing of the federal government.
A scolding expression flickers across Cameron's face as she offers, "I profoundly do not care. You are definitely not my type."
Her comment is like the glimmering fragments of a shattered rainbow, to Slater McBride. He was not prepared for her to refuse him. Before he can respond, she looks away toward another quadrant of the room.
He decides that he has been summarily dismissed, so much for the hot-Kelly with the great rack. Apparently his breast fiber infatuation will get him nowhere with this one. Obviously there is a shortage of sex crazed victims at this elevation in the building.
He turns away to again seek refreshment at one of several bars in the room. The sexual heat he initially felt remains with him. He glances back at her. His mouth still covets the seductive curve of her neck. Their eyes meet again from thirty feet away.
As they look at each other, a telltale blush files across her face. The blush further enrages his grossly swollen erotic armature. The sight of the woman has handcuffed his heart.
"Good," he mutters to himself, "she probably won't admit it yet, but her womanly yearnings appear to be at a fever pitch. I'll try her again later."
He goes outside to his car where he sits behind the wheel and masturbates furiously. His pork sword is so rock-hard from mentally devouring the temptress that he has to relieve his condition. While he strokes off, he fantasizes about her taking his swollen member between her perfect lips. The thought causes him to quickly explode into a handful of tissue.
The explosive conclusion instantly relieves the internal pressure. After a few proficient final strokes, he thoroughly drains Clyde before packing the long thick ridge of flesh back inside his jock. His virile part has not grown out as much as it has grown thick since his early teens.
Without a current love interest, his constantly voluminous body part maintains a status for which there is currently only one available cure. With the thought of her still foremost in his mind, he changes into a different shirt. He exchanges brown threads for black. He ties the black tie in a half-Windsor as he returns to the party. His tie clasp consists of a set of miniature command pilot's wings.
He reenters the second story party room to stand watching his target of the evening through the leaves of a tall potted plant. While he watches, she turns away two other prospective suitors. Following each rejection she looks toward where he had been standing at the bar.
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