Sexual Solstice by Tracey B. Bradley

her scalp, and then moved her leg over him. “Wow, I do not want to break it off.”
    “You can just ease down on it.”
    Gillian gently guided Cliff’s cock between her legs, closing her eyes as she felt the tip touch her. Soon she was rubbing it all around her opening as if she herself was the tease. “Oh God.”
    “Oh God is right. This is the best kind of torture I have ever endured. Oh. Oh. Oh.”
    She kept tickling the tip against her clitoris and then finally she brought it close and felt the head press, push and then slide in.
    Cliff writhed. “Oh Shit.”
    “Relax. Be gentle. I’m not new at it but I am a novice. Oh that feels good. Oh Cliff shove it in me.”
    His hips responded and his lean torso rocked as each muscle joined in for the gyrations. Gillian leaned forward and swung her hair across him. He spoke. “Ooooh that tickles. Oh jeez don’t stop.”
    “Likewise.”
    “You’re torturing me.”
    “Oh, you’re f…f…”
    “Fucking? I know.”
    “No. You’re mmmm, you’re fulfilling me. Whoa. Oh boy. Oh. Oh Cliff!”
    Cliff responded to Gillian and vice versa, until the two were moving in unison, the low sun coating their bodies in the little hotel room.
    With each motion her body tingled and she became covered in Goose pimples again and again. She hadn’t felt this kind of ecstasy ever; sex with boys had been mechanical, routine, rushed, and solely for the purpose of pleasuring the boy. Now she was rocking in a kind of a trance that was transporting her beyond the realms of pleasure to a place that joined her to everything, the sky, the ocean, the hot breeze, all combining to energize and empower her with the most sensuous of experiences. Everything seemed to radiate from deep within her womb, her bum touched Cliff’s thighs, her stomach felt so vulnerable and free, her breasts sparkled with energy of billions of stars. She raised her head to leave cliff exposed and no longer draped in hair, and as she threw her head back in ecstasy their voices combined to express an orgasm that was as close to unison as one could be. Gillian arched her back. Cliff clenched his jaws his fists, his toes, his stomach, and then he exploded inside Gillian.
    Gillian went still, her thighs tightened, her back straightened, her arms reached down at her side, her fingers spread grasping the air. Then her body went limp and she collapsed onto Cliff. “Oh, oh, oh,” she whispered. “Please don’t move. Don’t ever move.” 
    “I can’t.”
    “Oh that was wonderful. You were wonderful.”
    “You were. You are. You are wonderful and sexy and beautiful, and, and––”
    “––and?”
    “And way too good for Nathan’s Finest.”
    “I’ll be moving. It doesn’t matter.”
    “Awww? Moving!?” Cliff pretended to whine.
    “I’m going to Jolly Old England.” Gillian mimicked a posh Brit accent.
    “You do that well.”
    “I have to. I just don’t feel like I fit the Long Island persona, you know?”
    “Now you really sound Brooklyn.”
    “I want to go to King’s Road and trade my duds for something funky and way out. I want to sit in a pub and watch rugby or whatever the hell they play. I want some British pomp and ceremony and something different.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes.” I’m leaving in September. School starts late. Public Relations at London University.
    “Funny.”
    “What?”
    “Oh nothing.”
    They lay on each other for a long moment as the sun set and the light shifted. Eventually Gillian eased her way off of Cliff and the bed.
    “Can you pass me my pants?”
    “Never, you must never, put these pants on again. You must show the world what I have witnessed––the strong hard and perfect cock of Cliff.” She took his pants and passed them to him. “I hate doing this,” she said. “Ooops.” Cliff’s wallet dropped to the floor scattering his various id cards, driver’s license, social security, which Gillian scrambled, half naked, to retrieve. “You do have a lot of