Christos’ intense desire to touch me accelerated into almost a desperate thing. His hands were all over my breasts, my ass, caressing across my stomach, my throat, touching all the tender sensitive places that only Christos had ever touched. It was like he couldn’t touch me intimately enough, as if his fingers searched desperately for my very soul so that he could hold onto it and never let go. My heart was so open to him in that moment, I welcomed his need. I imagined my own soul flowing into his body to mingle with his. I was his to take, to embrace, to caress, to hold, to love.

I murmured, “I need you, agápi mou.”

He responded by unbuttoning my blouse with intoxicated languor while he licked my neck, the curve of my jaw, the lobe of my ear. He tugged the tails of my blouse out of my skirt and unbuttoned it slowly. Then he planted his warm palms firmly on my taut stomach before sliding both hands over the satin cups of my bra and squeezing my cleavage.

“Your breasts are perfect, agápi mou. I swear, whenever I’m around you, just thinking about them gets me hard. I always want to touch them and grab them. They drive me fucking crazy. I’ve never been so obsessed with breasts in my entire fucking life.”

For a second, I was startled by his crude language. But there was a humor to his words, a lightness, an unabashed desire. After a moment, I realized that Christos was expressing his joy. His simple, unadulterated joy. For me. For my breasts. His words had an innocence and honesty to them that warmed my heart, an innocence that I couldn’t deny.

I encircled his neck with my arms and smiled up at him. “They’re all yours, agápi mou,” I murmured.

“Really?” he asked almost shyly. It was so unlike him to be shy. But he was. For me.

I nodded and smiled at him. “For you, agápi mou. Only for you.”

He smiled wide while he unsnapped my bra in the front and it popped free, releasing my breasts. His eyes goggled and the grin on his face was now gigantic, like he’d never seen breasts before. “Fuck,” he grinned, “look at them. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He looked like he had discovered a treasure chest worth trillions of dollars. Maybe he had.

I glanced down at my breasts. They looked like my regular old breasts. I wasn’t going to argue with Christos. If they looked like treasure to him, so be it. My own smile widened.

I was all his.

He brushed his fingertips across my nipples and moaned, “Fuck, just touching your nipples makes me want to come in my pants.”

Him? The butterflies taking wing in my chest made me want to come in my panties. My nipples tightened into hard buds. Christos leaned down and flicked one with his tongue until it was wet and slick and straining. Then he showered the other with similar attention while massaging both with his hands.

My eyes were rolling into the back of my head as the familiar whirlwind in my chest coiled me into a tight knot of ecstasy. Every time he kissed and caressed my breasts like this, I was transported out of my body. I don’t know if I had an orgasm or not, but it really didn’t matter. The pleasure was immeasurable.

After a time, he paused and sat back on his heels. He gazed longingly down at my chest. “Fuck!” he smiled, staring at my swollen, heavy breasts and my engorged nipples. “You are a work of art, agápi mou,” he sighed.

Christos was excruciatingly happy now, a happy bomb waiting to go off. His happiness flowed into me, and I welcomed it. I felt relief washing over me. Christos’ joy was cleansing my soul, purging all the horrible stuff that had led up to today. The anxiety and worry and fear were all gone. Water under the bridge, a fading memory.

Joy was what lay ahead for me and my man.

He laid down beside me, propped on his elbow. He grinned, “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you looked in court today?”

“Mmm?” I moaned, still half dreamy with the pleasure circling between my sensitive breasts.

“After my case was dismissed, all I wanted to do was hike up your skirt and throw you on top of that defense table.”

“With an audience?” I snickered. I couldn’t decide if the idea was totally weird or a total turn on.

“I’m sure we could’ve asked the judge to clear the courtroom,” he smirked, “For a sidebar.”

“You mean the one in your pants right now?” I giggled. His cock was a hot rod of iron pressing against me through his slacks. “I think your sidebar needs some attention.”

I rolled onto my side and reached down to unfasten his slacks. Then my fingers snaked past the waistband of his boxer briefs and found his heat. The tip was hot and the shaft throbbed with need. I wrapped one hand around him and slid softly up and down.

He moaned in response to my touch.

“You like?” I asked.

He moaned again.

That was a yes.

I crawled under the blanket and he helped me get his pants and boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to pop free of the high zippered slacks. Under the blanket, I hunched over him in total darkness. I was going to have to use sonar, braille, or both. Who was I kidding? There was barely enough room under the blanket for me and his cock. I couldn’t miss it if I tried.

I took him into my mouth and went to work. The wetter I got him, the slicker I licked, the wetter my crotch became, the hotter I throbbed down between my legs.

I couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside me.

I surfaced from under the blanket and gave him a sultry smile while slowly stroking his manhood hidden beneath the blanket with one hand.

Christos unzipped my skirt with practiced ease. I think he knew his way around women’s clothing better than I did. Under the circumstances, that was just fine. He helped me slide out of my skirt, then I pulled my pantyhose down frantically. My core was clenching with need.

Christos dove under the blankets and went for my crotch. He slid around and down between my legs and lifted me up with both strong arms. His warm breath washed across my wet folds. Then his hot mouth was all over my core a second later. My eyes rolled back into my head once again as pleasure erupted from my center.

I was bucking into him seconds later. I needed this so badly I was on the verge of passing out with desire. It didn’t take long for a powerful orgasm to overtake me. I squeezed my legs against the sides of his head as I came against his face. My thighs and stomach quivered as my head lifted off the lounger. I didn’t cry out because we were outside, and I couldn’t escape the feeling neighbors were near, but I couldn’t stop myself from moaning low and long, over and over again as my orgasm coursed through me.

When the spasms of pleasure started to subside, Christos snaked his way up my body, his chest sliding across my stomach as he levered himself up on both powerful arms.

“Fuck,” Christos murmured while I floated in post orgasmic bliss, “you are soaking wet down there.”

I nodded at him through half hooded eyes.

His head hung down and he kissed me passionately, his face still covered in my wetness. His tongue slid into my waiting mouth as his cock slid home. He was inside me. Deep inside, his heat burning me from the inside out. He began a steady rhythm, pumping his manhood into my womanhood. He filled me up completely. His cock was a perfect match. He thrust steadily and I floated toward another hot climax minutes later. I moaned loud and long as my body released yet more tension.

I think maybe I was carrying more stress than I had realized. It felt so good to let it all go.

“Wow,” he whispered, “you’re on fire tonight.” Still inside me, Christos propped himself up on his arms and the blanket slid down his back, pooling behind him.

I felt a cool breeze across my breasts. I looked up at the moon and the stars twinkling overhead. Such a beautiful view.

“You okay down there?” Christos asked, slowing his rhythm.

That was when I realized that not only were my breasts exposed to the world, which wasn’t entirely new for me, but I had Christos’ throbbing cock inside my sopping pussy.

We were having sex outside. Passionate, hot, wet sex. I’d never done that before.

I nervously noted my outdoor surroundings. How loud had I been moaning? Was it possible that the neighbors had mistook my moans for air raid sirens and ignored us? Or had they been listening and snickering while I came? Was someone watching with binoculars? What about the squirrels in the trees? They slept outside. Surely we’d woken them. And the raccoons. They were nocturnal. They’d probably been watching during their lunch break. And what about the Man in the Moon? He had an unobstructed view the entire time.

I remembered some old black and white silent movie where the Man in the Moon had an actual face. Where had I seen that? Probably the internet. Wherever it was, I remember he’d looked pretty pervy. I’m sure I’d given him a good show.

I asked, “Can you pull the blanket back up?”

Christos raised his eyebrows and his thrusts slowed to a stop, “Aren’t you getting hot?”

So what if I was broiling? At least it offered cover from prying eyes. “A little,” I lied. “Why?”

“I’m dying under this thing. Mind if I get rid of it?”

“Uhhh…" I stammered, “what about the Man in the Moon?”

“Huh? Did I miss something?”

“He can see everything,” I whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

I pointed behind Christos. He turned to look at the moon.

Christos laughed, “Yeah, that guy is a total creeper. He’s always looking through bedroom windows around the world, watching people do it. Imagine all the times he’s watched people fucking in the history of man? Before man learned to hide in caves or build the first grass huts? Geez, the moon has seen it all. I think that means he doesn’t care. We’re just two more people amongst billions. He’s probably bored.”