Paradise Finessed Book Cover From my place of concealment, a movement caught my eye. I glanced upwards. A spread of dark wings threw a momentary shadow over the sunlit glade. The reclining beauty by the pool was joined by a second Angel, sweeping in from the high crags and eyries above us where the Angelic folk normally resided. The newcomer landed elegantly, ruffled her wings and looked around with a licentious grin on her face.

This Angel I recognised: it was Raphael. Her dark hair, almost black in the sunshine, spilled in soft curls to her waist. She had arrived without sword or breastplate or robe, and her deep bronze shade of her naked skin contrasted wonderfully to the glowing paleness of the reclining beauty. Raphael knelt close to the other Angel and kissed her passionately on the lips meantime running a hand sensuously over the other's belly.

"So, Zophiel, I see you have a certain most-urgent need," she murmured, barely loud enough for me to hear, "I would love to help you with its resolution."

"Raphael!" Zophiel exclaimed, her - or perhaps his, I should now say - hand slipping away from his rigid cock, "Should we? This is not the way things are done here!"

"Perhaps not before," Raphael answered, her smile broadening as she looked down at the other's still-rigid member, "But now might be the time for a change. And I think you will appreciate a little help, don't you think?"

Without waiting for an answer, Raphael bent over Zophiel, taking his engorged dick into her mouth. Or at least, as much as she could accommodate: his member was so large that she could barely get a fraction inside her. Zophiel moaned as Raphael's lips and tongue swept over his raging erection.

"You need more, don't you?" Raphael murmured, pulling away, "Lie back and let me take care of you."

Zophiel said nothing, but lay back as he had been instructed. Raphael squatted over him, her wings spread wide above her, parted her pink lips with her fingertips and pressing herself down over his erection. Instantly, he cried out involuntarily, his back arched in ecstasy and delight.

It was amazing! It seemed that Raphael could take the full length and girth of Zophiel's immense manhood inside herself. She was so capacious, so accommodating; he entered her so deeply, with every thrust seeming to get him further inside her.

As I watched, their movements became steadily more intense, their cries of pleasure and encouragement louder and less articulate. Zophiel could remain still no longer, it seemed, and he began to thrust his hips up against her, pounding hard inside her. At the same instant, it seemed that both Zophiel and Raphael gained the orgasms they both wanted. They writhed and thrashed, somehow balanced on a narrow edge between continued pleasure and ecstatic release.

Previously, I had often observed the boys at their playtimes often enough, pleasuring each other with hands and mouths and asses. Sometimes they would use those oils which exuded naturally from certain trees or the kernels of particular fruit which grew in the Garden, to massage one another's torsos or to slide their engorged penises between lubricated fingers, or to ease their passage into their rear openings.

But Raphael had shown me how accommodating my own most sensitive opening could be, how much pleasure Zophiel received from entering her, and how much pleasure Raphael received in return. As the Angels lay together, their glorious bodies intertwined in the sun and both exhausted by their lovemaking, I thought to myself: why couldn't I have sex like that?

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