HOT CARIBBEAN NIGHT

(Inspired by picture accompanying  From The Ash's "Tug of War".)      
     
Tropical Caribbean night - so hot and steamy the fan turns idly powerless to cool us down, who have become additionally warmed by the rum we have drunk and the buildup of foreplay between us.      
A jungly atmosphere, conducive to reducing ourselves to the naked level of our so-called 'savage' ancestors who carried on the reproductive cycle of life against the African wilds, and later in defiance of slavery's captivity here.      
     
I help you to unveil, I see a well sculpted torso of mulatto version of Greek god, honed by your work in the plantation fields and in the docks. A complement to the youthful slim figure I possess now, at the stage before age, motherhood and diet turn many of us into mother goddesses.     
In return you strip me of all I wear except the chain necklace, explaining you like it left on me to remind that I belong to you, its giver, when you act to possess me.      
     
You look down upon my smooth body, shining with glow of sweat upon my limbs, breasts and other curves.    
You also take in, with your eyes and smelling nose, the aroused wetness between my thighs.  
"The bitch is truly on heat tonight", you joke.      
     
I beg you to take me, now, but not upon my back; "Now you have said the B word - do me - like a dog!"      
     
You grip my shoulders and turn me around, on my feet, to the bed, onto which you push me face and breasts downwards as I stumble forwards.  My feet come off the floor as my legs trip against the bed's edge and I feel you grab around an ankle and move it to one side as if to make sure I don't accidentally kick the male parts of your anatomy.    
 
I am no sooner prone, then with a fist you grip my hair like a rider seizing a horse's reins and jerk my head backwards towards you as you get astride a thigh, then place your knees between both, so my legs are unavoidably drawn apart.      
     
Then, with one hand in my hair and the other on that ankle, you drive your rod-like manhood, whose tip brushed my skin as you made those moves, towards and into my welcoming open, dripping nether lips and begin thrusting back and forth, with your back to the window and my back pushed down by your forearms when you have let my ankle go.      
My erect nipples are driven into the mattress, creating new waves of sensation that take over my body, meeting those coming from the other end where your manhood is occupied.    
     
Respondingly I push up my butt so my core and clit keep meeting your thrusts.
And so the rhythm builds, underlined by my heavier breaths and moans.   You keep on with the thrusts as my walls rhythmically tighten around you, until we both come.  
   
At that moment my hands which would normally drive fingernails into your back, are clenched in fists grabbing a corner of a sheet and almost tearing it apart as my arms spread out.      
I overflow onto the sheets beneath my loins, my juices mixed with your seed.      
I slump into the mattress, leaving no space between body and sheets as your own arms let go the weight of your satisfied body and you become as flat prone as I am, your front on my back.      
     
For a moment, between gasps, I felt I had died, then I feel your lips kissing the sides of my neck and nuzzling through the hair you have let go of, and your hands clasp upon my shoulders.      
You roll off me onto your left side and I prop myself on my own right, and spend the rest of the woken time in the afterglow, gazing into each other's eyes and talking before sleep takes over.