Watching Skylarks.

Lying in the heat of the afternoon sun, they both felt tired after the long walk and a picnic lunch. His eyes were closed, his mouth restful, his arms outstretched. She propped herself on one arm, enjoying the opportunity to just watch him, quietly.
Her eyes roamed lazily up his legs, those thighs, across his chest gently breathing as he fell into sleep, pausing at his lips imagining the feel of them against her own. She reached out a hand, being careful not to disturb him, unbuttoned his shirt and placed her cheek on his skin and closed her eyes, she felt his arm reach around and hold her closer, and she too fell into a doze in the warmth of the Spring day.

The Skylark woke her. The beautiful rain of birdsong like a child's laughter. She opened her eyes and was dazzled by the brightness although the sun was lower in the sky now. She searched the clouds above for a sign of the small brown dot which she knew was the source of the sound. Finding it she held it in her gaze, watching, waiting, until it reached a crescendo and then fell from the sky and became quiet for a moment before it would rise again. She turned to look at him, lifted herself to gently brush her lips against his, he stirred but did not wake. She sat up, stretched, watched him again.

She could never just watch him without desire stirring deep inside. She traced a finger along the line of his open shirt, drawing circles on his muscular chest, around his stomach. She leaned down to kiss his soft skin there, barely brushing him with her lips and, as she did, almost involuntarily, her hand reached to his belt, unbuckled him and popped steel buttons, one after the other. She loved the sensation of popping those buttons. In that feeling was all the anticipation and memory of so many delicious moments together.

Shifting her weight she moved herself down his body, she felt him shift slightly also, his breath deepen. She allowed her hair to brush over his stomach as she kissed his boxers and slipped her hand inside to feel his cock. She heard him groan slightly, barely awake. She slipped his cock out of the fabric and savoured that first, greedy lick. Cupping him she sucked gently until he was entirely in her mouth, and she held him there. She enjoyed that he would awaken inside her, that he would come to awareness feeling her warm mouth around him... she sucked, rolling him around her tongue and smiled as she heard him gasp.

His hardness came suddenly, sending a thrill through her entire body. She moved him in and out of her mouth, sometimes sucking hard, sometimes simply enjoying a full lick with only her tongue, sometimes flicking her tongue teasingly over the head of his cock, her hands working his shaft and balls, and, her favourite, taking him so deep that her face could press against his body and breathe in his scent.

She became aware of his hips finding that particular rhythm, his body tensing, his breathing deepening and growing coarse. She was so lost in her own pleasure she sometimes forgot to notice his cues. He called her name, she sucked him hard against the roof of her mouth, sliding him in as he pushed past that tight spot in her throat, taking him so that he could cum deep inside her, drinking him down, loving the taste and feel of him filling her mouth.

She held him there once again. Feeling him subside, listening to his breathing return to a slower pace, feeling his body pulse with every movement of her tongue, enjoying the closeness to him, his skin, his scent and his pleasure.

They slept again in the afternoon sun, the Skylark raining down.