moonchildlover 65F
522 posts
8/7/2005 5:42 pm

Have you ever been kissed, a long slow kiss, lips apart, wishing it would never end. Kissing is sex to the lips, sweet kisses.

suthrngntlmun 76M

10/14/2005 9:29 am


Foreword. In 1963, Navarre Beach was a desolate strand with no development at all from the west fence of Hurlburt Field on far to the west of Navarre Pier. It has been years since I visited Navarre but I’ll bet that it is no longer desolate and undeveloped. The place is too beautiful not to have been by “progress?”

Anyhow, this tale was inspired by an actual happening on the night of the Full Moon in October, 1963. Only one other person can attest to the veracity of this tale. I don’t know her name and never did. I didn’t ask and she didn’t tell me. As far as I can recall, I’ve told the story to two people. Forty years is long enough. Since no names are mentioned, nobody should be offended.

I’ve known that I was a “Child of the Moon” most of my life. Early on, I was a sleep-walker and, from what my parents have said, it often happened on the Full Moon. The Lunar influence hit me with its full effect with the onset of puberty.

In college, I met several other “Moon Children.” We compared notes and realized that, to a greater or lesser degree, the moon had a strong influence on us. Several of us got together occasionally and proceeded to get seriously screwed up on a potion that was distilled back in the Shelby County hills. Might as well, couldn’t sleep. About this time, I realized that some girls were similarly afflicted, one of whom showed me something that could be done that would ease the symptoms somewhat without leaving a hangover the next morning.

On the night of the Full Moon, October, 1963, I went to bed early. I knew the symptoms. The influence had grown stronger the past two nights so I figured I’d have go to bed as soon as I got in from school if I was to get any sleep at all. Dinner was 2 fifteen cent McDonald Hamburgers, an order of fries and a chocolate shake. On first year school teacher’s pay, this was a pretty common meal for me.

I don’t know what time it was. Bright moonlight streamed into my window. It could have been almost any time after dark. Wide awake. A night of tossing and turning awaited me. In Ft. Walton Beach, I‘d met no other “Moon Children.” “When the going gets tough, the tough go fishing” so I headed my ’55 Chevy for Navarre.

West of Field Nine at Hurlburt, there was no traffic and precious few lights. The moon was so bright that I could have driven without headlights. A few miles later I made a left turn, and crossed the tall bridge over the ICW to Navarre Beach. There were three or four cars in the parking lot at Navarre Beach Pier.

I loaded my tackle and Ice chest onto my pier cart and headed out. Back then, there was nobody to pay after about 5 in the afternoon. You just went fishing. If you only fished a few hours and left before daylight, it was free unless you stuffed a buck in the “Honor Box.”

Absolutely nothing was going on that night. Lots of bait rustling around the pier gave a promise of Kingfish in the morning. I left the cart on the pier and walked east along the beach. Hard packed sand made easy walking.

A quarter mile or so down the beach, I noticed the glow of a cigarette. I had walked to within ten feet of someone before I realized they were there. Three more steps and I would have tripped over them. I said, “excuse me” and started to detour around them. “No problem,” she said, “I’ve been watching you ever since you got on the beach.”

“Whatinthehell was a girl doing on the beach in the middle of the night,” I thought as I looked around for somebody else. She noticed that I was looking around and said, “There is nobody here but me.” “Are a Moon Child too,” I asked. She hadn’t heard the term “Moon Child” but readily agreed that she definitely was.

She patted her blanket, inviting me to sit down. I sat, brushed sand off my feet off the blanket and we began to talk about the moon. I told her about the group of “Moon Children” I’d met in college and how we coped with the problems. About this time I realized she was totally naked. Not one stitch.

I didn’t say anything but I think she was waiting for me to notice. The moon was bright enough to read the headlines of a newspaper. I’m not blind, in fact, with my glasses on, I see just fine but, in my defense, the moon was behind her and the way she was laying hid salient portions of her anatomy, those that would contrast with white skin.

She realized that I had noticed she was naked at the exact instant. She rolled over and everything was revealed. No doubt existed now. I may have blushed. I even looked away but after a few seconds realized that she’d had time to get her clothes on before I got to where she’d spread her blanket.

She jumped up and said, “Let’s go swimming.” Now the moon was reflecting off her body, I could see details, details that I liked. What choice did I have? No red-blooded young man would have picked “A.” I opted for “B,” and stood up shedding my clothes.

“Wups,” I thought, turning my back toward her. Hell, I was 21, naked, on the beach with a real hottie. Who wouldn’t have had the same problem? She solved my problem by running knee deep into the surf. I followed and when the first cold wave hit my conjones, the problem was resolved nicely. “Too cold,” she gasped, grabbing my arm as she ran back out of the water. We dove for the blanket and somehow managed to occupy the same spot.

I couldn’t hide it now and it didn’t matter. In about 30 seconds we became best friends. I won’t go into all that transpired in the next several hours but fast and furious was followed my not so fast, fun and games, and sometime later, slow and dreamy then a nap until almost daylight, waking stuck together from navel to knees.

We dressed without speaking. Embarassed? I think not. We walked hand in hand back to our cars. When she got into her car, I leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.

She started her car, backed up and as she turned to leave, gave me a wave.

I never saw her in anything but moonlight. I never saw her again, never knew her name but I have never forgotten my favorite “Moon Child.”

whynotsebring 58M
5 posts
12/24/2005 5:46 pm

A kiss you may say is just a kiss. But to me it is so much more. A kiss of passion and soul the most intimite part of ant soul. A kiss unlocks all the gates of passion of any human soul, no more intimate can there be.

186 posts
2/6/2006 5:53 pm

The kiss is the most important sex act. You can tell a what type of lover someone may be by the kiss. I kiss like I'm making love to a woman, when we kiss you will imediately know just exactly how I'm going to suck your nipples and the rest of your breasts. You will also know exactly how my mouth will make love when I'm between you legs.

Kissing a woman as she cums is extrodinary.

I love the kiss.

gary32311 64M
5 posts
2/11/2006 9:14 am

I love to kiss a lady. lips parted, tongues touching, twirling around each other. the kiss is so erotic. kissing is the first part of foreplay, the kiss may linger on the lips or cover other parts of the body, like kissing the neck, shoulders, eyes, ears, slowly working your way down the body and kiss everything from head to toe and all in between. AdultFriendFinder

Become a member to create a blog