“Hah, Gustave, you are as stubborn as my father. You always want to go in your own direction. Ah well, you’re still young and frisky.”
Their lips roam freely about each other’s faces and upper bodies. Delicious torment consumes them until Lena’s soft moans cut the silence of the evening, followed closely by the harsh breathing and heavy panting of a man in the throes of release. They collapse in each other’s arms, and for many moments there is only the rushing of the waters, the clicking of crickets to disturb their soft breathing.