The Sublime Heat

This brief story is an entry for Literotica's Nude Day Competition 2020. Please read the other stories too, available from the Main Page. Be sure to vote and comment, it is how we know our stories truly get read. Mind that you can also do this anonymously without an account. Happy reading!

***

After I return home from my Sunday evening spinning class, you announce that the sauna is already hot. It's just one of those things that make Sundays complete: first the agony of a workout, then the blissful heat to cure my inflamed muscles. You always time it right. As soon as I'm in through the door you kiss me hello and tell me to go undress. And I happily oblige.

You always let me get myself ready undisturbed. The sweaty gym wear get thrown in to the washing machine, I go to the toilet if I must, remove the make-up if there should be any left. Once I'm good and naked (why bother with a towel?), I open the glass door to the sauna and take a seat on the readily placed towel on the bench at the corner, my usual place. There I can rest my back against the wall and have my legs rest on the bench before me. I glance at the thermometer on the wall: 80 Celsius, just as I like it.

I do not have to sit by myself for long. The bathroom door silently silently opens and recloses. I watch from the dimly lit sauna as your feet appear in view and at the other end of the room. You are loading the washing machine. Eventually your figure emerges from in front of the glass door, naked as the day you were born, with a can of beer for yourself and a ginger ale for me.

I watch you enter the darkness. You take a seat right next to me. The wooden panels covering the walls are plain and natural, giving everything a faint orange glow. I always wonder if it's the heat that is already messing up with my head, but the smothered light only seems to bring out the best of your body. Add in the pearls of moisture forming on your skin and my admiration of your body turns into animalistic lust. But I play it cool, just as you do.

You throw a splash of water on the stove. There's a loud hiss as the water hits the rocks, steam immediately rising into the air. The heat kisses my skin, leaving it wet where it touches me.

You ask me about my work out, sipping your beer pleasantly. Without a word you place my legs over your lap and begin massaging them. The soreness begins to fade away, as your fingers gently knead my legs. The moisture on my skin is working like an oil, with you sliding your fingers up and down my long thin calves with light pressure on your thumbs. I tell you about the work out with some difficulty, as your touch tends to make my train of thought to derail and crash. There's that smirk on your face again as I fumble for a word. I swear it was on the tip of my tongue. Under the shade of my legs, I see your cock change its shape. I try to cool my head with a sip of my icy drink.

There's a bucket with a birch whisk, or vihta as we call it. You tell me you bought it from the market earlier that day. You hold it over the stove and let the excess water fall on the rocks, creating a fresh aroma as the droplets evaporate. You hand it over to me and I bury my face in the hot leaves of the bouquet, breathing its cool fragrance deep into my lungs. Good for the skin, they say, as it opens up the pores. Sneakily you use the opportunity to move up your hands, to grope my thighs and squeeze their soft flesh.

I ask you if you'd do the honours. With a mischievous smile you take the whisk from me.

And then you whisk me with it right across my chest.

The leaves are soft; you could hardly hurt me. Yet you like how the skin of my breast blushes as you gently whip them.

You are diligent, not a spot in my body is left unmolested. You gently tell me to turn over, and I do as I'm told, rising up on my knees and arching my back as to make my ass look all the more squeezable. You can't resist.

There are many things you aren't supposed to do in sauna. Swearing is one: you don't want to piss off the legendary sauna elf. It is a holy place after all. But no one ever told me sex wasn't allowed. Hell, people used to give birth in sauna only a hundred years ago. What more pagan way of pleasing the gods than creating life in it. And that all starts with a fuck. A hot, sweaty fuck.

All this goes unsaid between us, of course, lest the elf should be offended. As cleansing as sauna is, our minds remain dirty.

My ass cheeks jiggle lightly with each impact. I look over my shoulder to see you lustfully inspecting my body. I ask you if it's my turn yet. You see the wicked grin on my face and happily agree as long as I promise to mind your nuts.

I kneel next to you on the bench. Like a tennis player, the whisk as an extension of my arm, I hit you across the chest. The leaves rustle against your skin, but they're gentle like the summer rain. All this time you look at my face, seeing how my body reacts to the sight of you, my pupils enlarging and my muscles tensing. Your member is already pulsing expectantly.

I climb on your lap, facing you. Your hands immediately find their place on my waist, where they slowly slip down to cup my ass. I reach over your shoulder and begin smacking your back. The familiar scent of you is intoxicating, and I know mine must be too; the smell of the opposite sex. My erect nipples press against your chest. Your groin feels hot against mine.

It is then that you can take it no more.

Your fingers grab into my thighs and lift me up. My arms wrap themselves instinctively around your neck. You lay me down on the bench. You caught me by surprise, and my chest is heaving, my breasts delightfully rising and sinking like two round buoys in the sea. Hungrily you bury your face between them, nibbling at one and then the other. The heat of your mouth surpasses the room.

It's a relief to have you all over me. I struggle to voice the urgency with which I need your fingers everywhere on my body. It all comes out as gasps. Desperately you kiss my lips, my face, my neck. In your passion I can hear your teeth clench next to my mouth as if my lips were red fruit you wish to bite in. My fingers rake through your wet hair, moving your lips to wherever I want them.

Your eagerness to please me makes me feel like a divine empress, placing my pleasure above yours. Yet if you wanted to, you could overpower me anytime. Instead your strength manifests as a violence in your efforts to please me: your kisses leave marks as do your fingers. I wear them like badges of honour.

You look up to me from between my legs, your hair dishevelled. Your fingers brush the wet folds. Their plump readiness makes you smile before you pinch your lips against my slit.

I immediately gasp as you gently suck that little opening. You look up to my face, the helpless light of my eyes shining in the darkness. It's not that I'm scared; I trust you completely. But the fact that you could probe such an intense response from my body with such ease, it almost angers me.

I grab one of your hands and bring it to my face. Your thumb slips through my lips. As I suck it gratefully, the flavour of birch leaves dissolves on my tongue.

I squint through the darkness but find myself being lulled into that euphoric, comfortable state. Your hands comfortably holding on to my thighs, I feel warm and safe. You gently caress the tight muscles that are spread in front of you, as if to make up to just having been so rough. Your tongue moves slowly across my slit; there is all the time in the world for us.

Finally I can no longer hold back my whimpers. The muscles all up to my lower abdomen begin to contract. While it takes a lot of work, all that is needed is a tiny spark to ignite the flame, and it spreads rapidly all over my body. Your eyes watch my sweet surrender.

Before that feeling has even been allowed to pass, you throw your cock into that bonfire. My entire body jolts from it in most unnatural instinct considering how madly I need its relief. Soothingly you pin me down and push deeper inside me. So many contradictions; I'm relaxed and tense simultaneously, desperate and fulfilled. I have it all and want more. You respond to my need by shifting the angle ever so slightly.

I shout like a bitch being stabbed. Rapidly you thrust into me with all the delight of friction. Dreamily I squint to the man in front of me, my saviour in that misty light. It is your sweat intermingled with the humidity, the orange glow, that finally takes me over. It takes me over into a psychotic nirvana for two whole minutes. You collapse into my arms.