I follow his instructions, turning to the right, and I feel the warmth of the sun against my face.
"We are standing in a ray of sunshine," he says quietly.
I close my eyes, though it is not necessary with the blindfold.
"I love the sunlight on your skin," he says, his fingers sliding along my jaw.
The tips trail down the center of my throat, and I swallow.
They slide lower, between my breasts, then over one, his thumb rubbing the nipple.
"I love watching you react," he says, continuing to touch and tease.
"Mario."
"Turn around," he orders.
"Wh-what?"
"Turn around," he repeats.
My breath catches.
"Trust me, amore."
His voice is firm but gentle.
And I trust him.
"Turn," he says again, and this time, his tone brooks no argument.
My body responds before my mind can catch up.
I turn, and his hand settles on the middle of my back.
"A few more steps."
The grass is soft under my feet, and the breeze ruffles my hair.
"Stop," he says, and his hand goes to my shoulders, pushing gently.
"Sit," he orders.
I go down until I feel a soft blanket under me.
Awkwardly, I lower myself with my hands still bound behind my back, useless.
The blanket is soft beneath me, and the sun is lovely on my skin on this unseasonably warm day in Autumn.
He presses on the middle of my chest, and I lean back slowly until I'm lying on the blanket.
It's a bit awkward with my hands behind my back, but I manage it. In fact, my bound hands sit right at my lower back, pushing my hips up.
His hands roam over me, touching, teasing, torturing, and I moan.
He presses his lips to my ear.
"I want to fuck you in the sunlight. I want the warmth on your skin. I want the sunshine and the birdsong and the wind."
