A soft evening replaced a bright day. Then he gave way to a velvet night. A full moon, flaunting, went for a walk through the sky, accompanied by a retinue of blue stars. The waves became silver, reflecting its round camp.

Pygmalion and his Galatea sat on the shore.

“Now I understand what you wanted from me,” Galatea confessed in a whisper, clinging to her beloved.

She raised her head, looked at his face and suddenly said:

- I have long wanted this myself ...

“But why didn't you ... go to my meeting?” - surprised Pygmalion.

“I didn’t know what exactly I wanted,” she smiled. “Sometimes you looked at me like that, like ...” she was embarrassed, “as if pierced through me, your eyes burned me all over and ... and I could not bear it.”

“So you looked away?” - he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. - And when you left, left me alone, I wanted to die from anguish, as if you were taking a piece of me with you. I was so lonely and woeful at such moments. But you came back, and it became easy for me, as if the sun was peeping through the thunderclouds.

Galatea smiled her soft smile and touched his cheek. Kissing her thin fingers, looking into her eyes, Pygmalion said with excitement:

- Darling, forgive me!

- For what? - she was surprised.

- I ... should have guessed, should have understood ... And I, a fool, also blamed you!

“Your guilt is not in it,” the smile transformed her plump lips again. - It was just that and everything ... neither you nor I are to blame.

The artist's gentle kiss was her answer. He barely touched her mouth, carefully, as if afraid to hurt, began to taste the aroma of soft and warm lips. Slightly sucking one thing, then the other, enjoyed their trepidation and helpless gullibility. Galatea felt dizzy, and it seemed to her that some unknown force lifted her above the ground and made her soar in the air. Closing her eyes, the beauty gave herself to this force. She came back from the touch of warm sea waves. Holding his beloved in his arms, Pygmalion stood in the water. It turns out that his hands were the unknown force that raised her. Galatea embraced his neck and pressed closer. Having felt a rush of passion for a long time, Pygmalion with glee caught the return heat of her body.

- She loves Me! He exclaimed to himself. - She loves Me! My ... forever mine!

He put it on the wet sand. Galatea moaned, stretching out her arms, looked at him with wide eyes, which dimmed the stars with their light.

“My happiness,” Pygmalion whispered and spread his obedient legs.

In the moonlight and glitter of water, her skin seemed golden, and the blooming pink “bud” with its swollen petals became almost scarlet. The “Matoire” [1] of Pygmalion seemed to already exist as a separate life. Covering it, the artist gently touched the "bud", with a tantalizing movement between the petals, as if playing with them. Galatea moaned, arched, and twisted her legs around her lover’s back, bringing her “flower” closer to his loins. Her body sank with a slight shiver.

“Pygmalion ...” she moaned, as if asking him to stop the sweet agony.

He smiled at her and moved the matoire into the narrow passage of the bud. Easily entered the wet and soft core, slid, all accelerating its course. (Especially for eroticspace.info — sexitails.org) Then retreating backwards, penetrating forward, holding Galatea's elastic ass with his fingers, Pygmalion moved deeper and deeper. Galatea's trembling body moved in its rhythm.

The last wave of passion at once covered them. Pygmalion threw his head, made a strange sound of a wounded beast. Galatea screamed, arched in his hands with a flexible vine and huddled with an internal shock. Smiling happily, he sank down on the sand beside her. For some time they lay, just holding hands, then Pygmalion raised her and, giving a gentle kiss, carried her into the house.

[1] Matoire - (French matoir) steel pestle with a rounded, studded with spikes thickening at the end.