With Lon, under the watchful and lustful eyes of Balfor and Laurin, Joli's found that fringe of consciousness where pleasure consumes every sense, drawing out each moment into a prolonged experience of need and fulfillment and more need.  Her svelte, effeminate body writhes and bucks in response and she stares, her crystal-blue eyes wide, into Lon's face as her body reaches a climax that takes control of her and sets off a chain reaction of nerves and muscle contractions that is nothing short of spectacular to witness.<br/><br/>Lon's thick shaft, stretching her tender sex and filling her with powerful thrusts, is clenched in a primal rhythm.  Wetness flows, a blessing of youth and arousal, and his crecendo is met with a vocal eruption as Joli comes wildly, beyond shame or self-awareness.  Her small round ass bucks up off the blanket below them to meet each thrust, her right hand clenches his pec in a twisting, powerfully massaging clench as her left sinks in at his back; she pulls him harder and faster with her crossed feet at his ass.  Her eyes try to close, though she won't let them, for she will not accept that she could miss any of this moment.<br/><br/>Her climax carries her through a wave, another, then finally a sustained thrumming of a peak.  It eases before an aftershock wracks her, the lightning strikes dissipating, returning, easing again.  She senses his need too-- she can feel that need through him, sense it in the urgency of his thrusts and the clenching of his face.  Gasping and crying softly with each breath, she tugs at him weakly, her arms weakened by the passing storm, urging him to bring his hips to her face, or her breasts-- to let her give him that sweet release.