“Wait! What does that mean? We're not going to like, get naked and have sex on this stage, are we? ‘Cause I'm so not okay with everybody seeing those parts of me.”
“Nudity is optional,” I assure her. “Take it as far as you want, so long as the task gets completed.”
I kiss her once, dipping her low, and as soon as she's back on her feet nice and stable, I release my hold on my physical form. Itstarts with my toes, melting and liquefying and heating up to the perfect drinking temperature. Then my legs join, my torso, my arms, and finally my head.
I left my mug hidden so that I wouldn't be tempted to fall into it, because if my wife is about to put herself out there, then I should too.
It's very difficult to not give in to the dire urge to touch my wife in this form, but I stay maddeningly removed like a good boy. It takes a little longer than I expected for the crowds to clear out, but I expect it's mainly because my wife is holding an overabundance of caution and giving them extra time.
The moment Devon’s ready, she turns to me and I feel her attention like a flame caressing a beautiful, professional, stainless-steel pot. One with an even, nice heating element that’s perfectly settled in the middle of it.
She doesn't scald me though, she takes care of me, stepping toward me to get the process started.
She still has no idea what to do, but when she closes her eyes and tips her head back gently, I know she's trying to reach into whatever instincts she has within her body, urging them on.
The delicate arch of her neck is so beautiful, so I decide to start there. I creep toward her, climbing on the air itself until I've surrounded the entire column of her gorgeous neck like a warm chocolate scarf.
She gives out a little cry of surprise at the contact, and I know it'll leave a beautiful mark later; not hot enough to burn her, just enough to make her a little pink, short term. Something to remind her I was here.
Something very special happens in Trash Haven when a shifter takes a mate. They're able to share the joy of that mating, theenergy of it, on the night that they announce it to the world. This is a special ceremony that this town has been observing for years, and every time a shifter takes a mate here, the adults look forward to it.
We never, ever talk about it afterward, but it's definitely a rite of passage.
I push her shirt and bra strap off of one perfect shoulder, baring it to the cool air of the night. Her coat has already fallen to rest on her elbow, giving me plenty of space to work.
Just that little bit of skin exposed has all of me nearly ready to froth in excitement. But I cannot do it too early; I must give my mate a perfect experience tonight, because this is the most important time we'll ever join. This here sets the tone for our mating and is believed to predict how happy our mated life will be. The harder I get her to come, the more happiness we will find in each other.
So what, we’re all a bunch of voyeurs. A little voyeurism is good for the soul.
I creep over her skin, just close enough to touch while leaving a pocket of air. I want to drive her crazy, get her desperate for me before I actually touch her. I do some laps around what skin I can most easily access without getting her clothes wet, dancing up and down her neck, touching every erogenous zone that I can.
It doesn't take long for the first whimper to tumble off her lips, or for her to reach a shaky hand up to undo another button on her shirt. She's a good girl and keeps her coat on, because she knows I want her warm for this. Her eyes remain closed, and I wonder what pictures she's seeing behind them.
I roam over that fresh exposed skin with a deeper touch, a single drop of me falling between her luscious, perky breasts. That one drop sinks down into her bra, to that wonderfully warm anddark space between each breast. It's like my own little personal cave, and I'm ready to set up camp and become a neanderthal for her.
I tease the edge of that bra, again, not wanting to touch any more fabric because once I do, it will take far more energy to pull myself out of it. Cotton wicks moisture too well. It’s too absorbent. I could graze it briefly as I did with her strap and shirt, but I'd rather spend my energy on other things.
When Devon realizes what my game is, that I'm only touching skin that I can reach easily, she gives me more. At this point, I have a feeling she's already starting to forget about the crowd of people in front of her. To be fair though, it is quite dark out at this point of the night. Sure, there are strings of lights strewn about the town like always, but there are also lots of trees here, blocking out the bit of moon and starlight that tries to reach for her and steal her from me.
Keeping her modesty intact, she pulls one of her cups away from her breast, giving me a nice bubble of air to slide into. I take advantage of that quickly, going all the way in as I completely encapsulate her nipple, saturating it with my warmth. She cries out and falls to her knees, becoming even more affected when I begin a mating dance upon the taut bud.
She might not recognize it as such, but I make myself bubble, aerating myself and dancing upon the very tip of her nipple and around the edges of it, squeezing myself inward and caressing her. I know this is something only I can give her, something nobody else can replicate. By the end of the night she'll be craving me again, demanding I do this for her often. At that point, my life will be complete.
I continue on this way, switching to her other breast at one point, doing everything I can think of to make her feel good.As her hands begin to shake and knead at her side, her body convulses a little. I can feel the desperation rising within her as if it were my own, a neediness far greater than we've yet experienced as a couple.
She lays down on the stage, the impact of which sends me up to her throat, decorating it like a beautiful necklace. Any liquid I can paint her neck with is a good look in my mind.
She unbuttons her shirt completely, fully lost in the moment. Since nobody's behind the stage, nobody else can see her perfect rosy nipples as she pulls her bra away from her body; it's only for me. I attack both nipples at once, making her positively thrum with need.
I need her to stay on that edge, and when she reaches for her pants to unbutton them, pulling them away from her skin as much as she can so that I can dip into her magical lady cave, the flavor of it sends me into a tailspin. I lightly tug on each hair that I pass through, each perfect curl vibrating under my liquid touch.
Her scent melds with me, the thick, syrupy richness of it making me become more viscous, slicker, easing my way around her skin even more. I find her most treasured nub, slipping inside the hood of it with the deftness that only a drop of silky hot chocolate could accomplish. I make myself nice and thin, such a small droplet dancing back and forth around that nerve center, that she starts screaming for me.
It's like a little water slide just for me, providing me with endless entertainment, her quivering bit of warmth perfect for me to spin around like an amusement park ride. Voices in the crowd are calling for more, demanding I do other things, and I'm more than happy to oblige.
The crowd at this point is full of other voices crying out as they copulate, lovers meeting up and celebrating the joyful union I have found with my mate. The magic of our souls being brought together dances over the crowd like glitter, infecting all of them with an atmosphere of light and love. It's intoxicating, almost as much for them as it is for me.
I need Devon's orgasm to hit her so hard that she passes out though, because only then will I know for sure that our union will bring the best kind of joy for the rest of our lives.
