Temple of the One - 2

(cont. from: http://eroticsnippets.blogspot.com/2015/08/temple-of-one-1.html)

The priestess, although in fervent passion, noticed our presence outside her alcove and gently tapped one of the acolytes, motioning the younger woman to shift into her position. The elderly patron barely emerged from the musky trance for a second before she was plunged again into the loins of the young acolyte.

Gathering herself for a moment, the priestess then sashayed towards us, unmindful of her nipples, still pert from the ministrations she had received, and the jiggle of her breasts. A luminescent silver circlet on her brow kept her long dark hair out of her face. A white cotton loin cloth hung from the glimmering golden girdle that adorned her hips. When she came to stand in front of us, she barely reached my shoulders, and yet there was a calm ferocity in her eyes that implied an uncommon strength.

And in the same silence that she had guided me through the passage, the High Priestess nodded at her lesser and then at me, and left us. I was now under the tutelage of this fiery priestess.

She didn't offer a greeting or a smile but she reached forward and clutched my arm, just above my elbow and tugged me closer. The hand burnt my skin with her passion as she impressed upon my lips a scorching kiss. She made me bend forward into an awkward stance for the kiss which was tapping into the water element inside me.

The steam of passion that misted around us let loose the fire inside me. It asserted it's hold on me; I say it like it's something different from me but it it's not, I'm it, and it is a part of me.

My raging fire met the priestess' inferno. With my primary element fully awakened, I pulled her small frame closer to my body and leant in, crushing her full breasts on my lean abdomen, and threatening to sweep her off her feet. I was inflamed with desire, yet she held her ground and her deft fingers invaded my loins and worked their magic. It was heat as I had never experienced before and its intensity seared through me, fanning my own flames even further.

Just when I thought I couldn't handle it any longer, the priestess relinquished her embrace. My heart raced, driving the blood to my skin in an attempt to cool my body. No one had ever made me sweat like this before. There was no doubt that I had much to learn, even about my primary element.

The priestess smiled; her pixie face lit up like a little girl presented a surprise gift. She led me inside her alcove to the elderly patron. She gestured me to take her.

Temple of the One - 1

Hush! 

The Head Priestess chastised me silently before I even opened my mouth. She turned and glided down the passage, towards the sanctum; I followed, in her wake.

The sunlight dimmed and the steady flame of the torches, mounted high on either walls, lit our path in a red-orange glow. I could hear the faint sounds at the end of the corridor, they were offerings to the One. 

I was going to see the spectacle of the patrons and the priestesses with their acolytes. I was an acolyte now, not a neophyte, I reminded myself. I was going to meet the priestess under whom I'd serve and learn and one day if I was truly blessed as they claimed me to be, I might experience the Visitation. I tried to calm myself and slow my thundering heart. I didn't want the Head Priestess to chide me again.

The songs of passion were clearer now; I picked up the individual notes. A keening, a grunt, a moan, a growl, and the percussion of flesh slapping on flesh. We arrived at the end of the passage. 

This was the sanctum. There was no idol or shrine like in the temple of the lesser gods and goddesses, for the One was everywhere life thrived, and in the sanctum, life was celebrated in its primal form, stripped off all trappings of society. 

I tried not to stare at the tangle of flesh, engaged in coitus in the alcoves set into the walls. I was but an acolyte fresh, the visions and the sounds and the aromas, worked their magic inside me, drawing both fire and water from my body, my dominant elements. 

The High Priestess halted before the mouth of one of the chambers. Inside, a priestess seated high was serviced by a patron, an elderly woman with grey hair and splotched skin. The woman was lapping at the nectar dripping from the priestess' cunt, while two acolytes kept her imprisoned in that position. Fire and water - sapphic dominance. My breath caught at the tableau before me, this would be where I begin my service to the One.

Lost Soul

Hazel held the red rose close to her heart, Amy loved roses. She fought back a tear as she knelt beside a grave. She had to set things right.

Amy Breech

1992 - 2011

Beloved Daughter

In our memories, you forever blossom.

The black marble headstone bore no other words. Hazel knelt besides it and placed the rose at its base. She took a chalk out of her pocket and wrote 'And Sister', next to the words 'Beloved Daughter'. A sad smile tugged at her lips as she ran her fingers across the chiseled name. Amy always brightened up whenever their father presented her with a rose from his garden, Hazel reminisced. Those were the most pleasant memories of her days in her parents' house. The days of innocence. Her parents still loved her back then. Maybe they still did, but Hazel was her mother's daughter, proud to a fault.

If stating her love for another was a sin, then it was something that she was willing to go to hell for. Hazel had left home and moved into an apartment of her own soon after the fallout. Amy had been their bridge and now she was gone. 

Her thoughts drifted to Tess, her girlfriend; it helped assuage her heartache to remember that come what may, as long as she had Tess besides her, she could take on the world, and win.

With a final caress to the marble, Hazel stood up.

Goodbye Amy.

She was about to turn back and leave when she saw a woman in a black dress with a white hat emerge out of a crypt. The woman saw Hazel looking at her. Hazel was rooted to the spot - never had she felt an attraction this strong, not even with Tess. She gazed for long into the woman's eyes. And then she remembered herself. She shook her head and blinked once. When she looked again, the mysterious woman was gone, vanished as if she were just an illusion.

Hazel chided herself and left the cemetery. She boarded the bus and sat at the back. The ride was a long one. A few minutes into the journey, she heard a soft moan from the seat behind her. It was the same woman in black and there was a girl with her, a ginger-head. They were making out oblivious to all those around them. The woman noticed Hazel watching her and looked straight into her eyes, the girl too turned to face her. It was Tess. Hazel stared, transfixed at the entwined pair. The bus jolted when it hit a bump in the road, and made her blink. When she looked again, there was no one there. She stared hard at the empty seats. Surely they had been there just a second ago. She could never have imagined it. It was too vivid.

The bus halted and she got out, trying to make sense of what she saw. She had to walk through the park.

The park was relatively empty despite the clear sky and warm sunshine. She turned into a path secluded by a thick copse. There on the bench beside the path was a couple, too intent in their intimacy. As Hazel drew closer, she saw that it was that same Woman and Tess. Tess' school girl skirt was hiked way up to her hips and her panties hung loosely from one ankle. The woman was fingering Tess furiously while kissing her neck. Hazel froze. She told herself that she was imagining things but the fact remained that far from feeling outraged she was thoroughly aroused. The woman halted her sensual assault on Tess and turned to look at Hazel with her hypnotic, silver-grey eyes.

"Is everything all right, ma'am?"

"Huh?" Hazel turned towards the voice.

It was a park warden. He looked concerned.

Hazel looked hurriedly at the bench, it was empty.

"Yes," she stammered. But the man looked unconvinced.

"My wife has this, you know."

"What?"

"Absence seizure, you were staring at nothing for a good couple of minutes there."

The possibility of an illness rattled Hazel. Her sister had died in an accident, she had run the car off the road on a zero traffic lane. The doctor had said something must have distracted her. Maybe this was it. Maybe she has whatever Amy had.

"I'm fine. I can manage," Hazel said.

She walked on, thinking about the strange visions. She needed to talk to Tess before she consulted a doctor. She walked up the steps to the mansion and almost went inside when it struck her. This isn't my apartment building. What's happening to me?

She would have walked away had it not been for Tess' voice coming from inside. Her head told her to leave. It was probably another hallucination but something more powerful tugged at her, inviting her inside. She went in of her own free will, curious.

She crossed the huge dark living room, and went up the ornate stairs. She arrived at a long hallway. There were rooms all long the corridor. The third room on the left. It was instinctive. She went in. The room was an exact replica of her bedroom back in her apartment. And on the bed was Tess, naked, and touching herself.

"Tess?"

"Hmm..." Came the half lidded response.

It was her. What was she doing here? But this was her home, why wouldn't Tess be here. Her mind went a little mellow as if she'd a little too much to drink. She didn't want to ponder. She just needed to rest. 

She watched Tess play with herself for a few moments. Tess moaned. It fuddled Hazel's thoughts, just enough to trigger her own arousal. The erotic daydreams(?) she had while retuning home brought out her own hunger. She began stripping her clothes off, all the while her eyes drank in Tess' sinuous body twisting with pleasure on the bed; one hand buried in between her thighs and the other tugging at her nipple piercing.

Once naked, Hazel joined Tess and cupped her breasts. Tess moaned louder. Hazel moved further up and kissed her. The smooth metal bead on Tess's tongue massaged her. 

Hazel remembered the way the dark haired woman had nuzzled and sucked Tess' neck while fingering her, melting her. She wanted to do that. She removed Tess' hands and replaced it with her own. The reaction she got out of Tess surprised her. Tess drew her closer as if she wanted to meld with her body. 

Hazel was taken by the power she wielded over her, she continued all the while Tess trashed beneath her in pleasure. She strummed the red head way past her climax and with her relentless action she was rewarded with successive orgasms.

Hazel yearned for a release of her own. She teased apart Tess' thighs and wedged her own in between. Their bodies fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Hazel began to sway on Tess's thigh, which was now wet enough to let her slide and stimulate her clit. Tess's pierced snatch ground on her thigh. It pushed Hazel over the edge into the bliss of a climax.

The high of the orgasm cleared up, leaving her even more hungry. Tess lay besides her catching her breath, her perked up nipples stabbed the air each time she inhaled. But Hazel sought something more. The woman from the cemetery. What was she? A mere phantom of her imagination? She wished she were there. She wished she'd take her like she did Tess in her dreams.

The door opened. Hazel turned her neck to see who it could be. It was the woman. Her dark hair streamed past her pale shoulders, her lips - red as blood would have riveted Hazel but it was the silver-grey eyes that enthralled her. Hazel wanted her. She wanted the woman to take her. It wasn't a carnal desire. It was something more, something primal. A longing in her very soul.

The woman in black, pulled at a knot and the silk dress she wore melted off her body and puddled on the floor. Hazel held her breath watching the pale skinned beauty  climb on to the bed and lie besides her. Hazel expected a blast of heat from her but all she felt was a vacuum, drawing her towards it, like a moth to the flames.  

Hazel leaned to kiss the blood-red lips. The moment she touched the lips, the room shifted. It was darker now, the mattress was softer and the bed, bigger. But no Tess. Tess,  the name echoed inside her head. Who is Tess? She tried to remember, but it felt like peering into a muddy pond in the middle of a moonless night, futile. The effort sapped her will and focus. Only the persistent need remained.

The woman's kiss was soft and insistent. Hazel yielded readily. She revelled in the invasion of her mouth and the submission of her tongue. Hazel let the woman take her. A cool hand cupped her searing hot sex. The contrast only made the heat from her own body that much more intense. 

Hazel embraced the woman, urging her closer. The cold, hard nipples crashed into her warm flesh. Smooth and soft, yet Hazel could sense the hard muscles beneath the woman's skin. But that was as far as her thoughts remained coherent. Two fingers  teased apart her nether lips, sliding up and down the slick pink flesh, while the pads of the palm massaged the clit gently yet firm. A finger penetrated her. Hazel shuddered. The finger delved deeper into her sopping vagina. Hazel moaned in to the the woman's mouth, the warmth of her breath was consumed the second it left her.

The woman broke the addictive kiss. Hazel opened her eyes. Hazel hadn't touched her and yet the woman seemed to be in rapture, as if Hazel's very presence was giving her a rush. But Hazel was far too gone to think now. The woman lowered her mouth to Hazel's breast and sucked on it. Sparks splintered form the nipple under assault and spread down her torso, joining the fireworks that the woman's fingers were setting off inside her sex. 

Hazel arched her back, drawn taut by the sensations that blitzed through her body. It was as if the woman was waiting for this. She let go of Hazel's breast and clamped down on the fully stretched neck. 

Fear, and desire erupted in equal measures. Hazel, at that instant, understood what was happening but it just a fraction of a second of total clarity brought on by fear. It was  lost just as fast, plunging her back into the wanton haze. She felt the throb of her pulse where the mystery woman was kissing. It resonated with the one in her vagina.

The woman swept Hazel's hair away from her neck. And then it came. It was pure bliss, nothing like anything she had ever had. Not on her own, not with Tess. It was drawing her very life out of her, merging it with something ancient and powerful. She didn't writhe, just a silent gasp of surprise. Her pupils dilated and yet all she saw was blackness. It was cold.

*

Hazel opened her eyes. By all rights it should have been dark - pitch black but she could see as clearly as in daylight. The ceiling was low at about eight feet, and it had murals painted all over it. They were of a woman in various settings. She seemed to be a queen or something. People bowed or knelt before her in all the different settings. What was this place? She looked around her, the walls were close too. It seemed like an empty store room of some sort. Why would anyone paint murals in a store room? She sat up. Her hands were on a marble platform. She got off it to see it better. 

It was coffin. She backed against the wall, fast. This was a sepulchre. She panicked and looked for a way out. There was stone door, sealed shut. She couldn't get out through that. She screamed hoping to attract someone's attention. Something shimmered through the door. She mistook it for sunlight at first but then the shimmering stopped and a figure solidified, a woman. She was wearing black. Was it her? She backed away fast.

"Amy?"

The woman looked at her with both pity and scorn, a look that only a sibling can give you. 

"I saw your scribbling on my headstone. Touching."

"Amy?"

"I think we've already established that."

"You are dead."

"Give the girl a golden star."

It was Amy. But did that mean...?

"Am I dead?"

"Technically, yes."

"Technically? What does that mean? Am I having some out of body experience? Did I have an accident as well?"

Amy laughed. "That's cute, sis. But you are in deep shit, you know."

Hazel stepped up to Amy. It was then she realised that her sister looked insubstantial. She placed her hands on her shoulder expecting it to pass through her but it rested on her. She however felt the same coldness she had felt when the woman had kissed her. She backed away again.

"Haze, remember that woman you were drooling at when you visited my grave?"

Hazel would have protested but her sister was right. So she merely nodded.

"She's a vampire. A very old one at that."

"A vampire?"

"You banged her, didn't you? Or was her who banged you?"

"So, she killed me?"

"Nope. She did worse."

"Worse than being dead? That's not possible."

"Tell me, Haze. Can you see clearly in here?"

"Yes."

"So didn't you wonder how? There's no light inside. And no light can get inside either. Don't you think that's a little weird?"

Being locked up inside a tomb was weird. Talking to her dead sister was weird. Being able to see didn't rank as high in the list of weirdness.

"And you have a cool scar on your neck by the way."

Hazel felt her neck. There it was on the left side of her neck, two small slightly raised bumps.

"Ames... Am I... Am I a vampire?"

"Finally. I knew there was reason we were related."

"That's a good thing, right? I'm not dead then."

"Hello? I just told you were in deep shit, remember?"

Hazel looked blank. She was not dead. She was moving about and talking. It was to her dead sister but still that was something.

"The hot vampire chick you banged. She has your spark, your soul. You need to get it back."

"My soul?"

"Stop repeating stuff. Just listen. You need to dig up my grave and take a small piece of me with you, my pinky would do. That way I can do where ever you go. Oh, and you have to wait till sundown. Go out now and you will get the world's worst case of sun burn, ever."

Hazel was processing what her sister had told her. It was crazy.

"How did I end up back here?"

"You never left the cemetery. You were all teary and emotional. Easy prey for a vampire to glamour you into their lair."

Hazel looked at the marble coffin. She dropped her voice to a whisper.

"Is she in there?"

"Nah. She's like this grand poompa of the vampire circle. You don't expect her to hang around here all day, do you? The only thing I don't get is, why did she turn you instead of draining you?"

"You are worried that she didn't kill me."

Amy shrugged "I could have used the company. The guys around here are all old farts. Not exactly fun. Do you want my help getting your soul back or not?"

Hazel wasn't sure. What if all this was another hallucination too? There was only one way to find out. She had to get outside. She needed to call Tess. She would be worrying about her. She ought to text her. My mobile! She searched the floor for her clutch. It wasn't there.

"If you are looking for your mobile, it's lying just outside."

"I need to call Tess."

"Yeah. And what will you tell her?" 

"Can you open the door?"

"Sis, you're a friggin' vampire. You can punch open the stupid door whenever you want. Tell me you tried to push open the door before you went all banshee?"

Hazel looked sheepish. 

"Well, that settles it. You'll stick to my original plan - Get out after sunset, dig a piece of me out, and go kick some vampire butt."

 

*

My Loving Dom

He caressed my thigh, the tantalising proximity aroused me to an extent. His thumb settled on a spot and kept brushing it. Curious to see what had caught his attention, I raised my head and glanced down at his fingers. It was a scar. He saw me looking at it.

"What happened?"

"It's old." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Tell me how you got it." The insistence in his voice was authoritative. Maybe he felt a little guilt that he wasn't there for me; I wouldn't put it past him to take on that romantic notion.

"My dog bit me when I tried to wrench my homework from her mouth."

He stiffened against me.

"What about this one?" He indicated a near identical scar on my other inner thigh.

I remained silent.

"Tell me."

"She had a daughter," I said.

Brewing Love

It was supposed to be a quick fix, just hard fucking; his penis sure was rearing to go. I spread my legs open, heels pointing in the air - I wanted him to drive in hard and deep. He didn't disappoint. With unerring aim he penetrated me, stirring a ghost of an orgasm - I drew in a sharp breath and my eyes rolled back. When I recovered, I saw his face, an inch above mine, his eyes had lost the mad hunger for satiety. Instead there was something else... Something more.

He leaned into kiss me; his pubes caressed my clit while his penis throbbed deep inside me. The kiss burned me, making me even hotter. His rock hard chest crushed my tits, and his back curved to fit his midsection with my abdomen. The kiss was intoxicating like no other that it nearly managed to distract me from what I was after - a release.

I clawed his back to remind him of his duty but it did nothing to deter him. He brought his hands up and ran his fingers through my hair holding my head by my temples. He drew out my tongue and sucked on it; an echo of what my vagina was doing to his penis. He pulsed against my walls even as I tried to crush him, draw him in.

At long last he broke the kiss and withdrew so that he was just inside me. It was a slow and slick; his thick head bumped along all my ridges before resting at my entrance, stretching it a little wider than his shaft did. Finally, I thought, for some real fucking.

I was surprised when he sank into me with the same, slow tortuous motion. This time though his pubes brushed against my clit as he went in, setting ripples racing through my abdomen. I turned my head to my right, dazed from the heat and pleasure. He inhaled deep along the length of my neck, his hot breath washing over me before his mouth clamped down on my neck, sucking and licking the tender flesh there. His right hand let go of my hair and reached down in between us and made a small swipe where we were fused together and he pulled his fingers away. I watched the glistening fingers as he breathed in the tangy scent. he locked gaze with me and sucked the love potion soaked fingers. He moaned.

"What are you doing to me?"

That was my line, but I didn't begrudge him that. And then it began, the steady pumping of his penis into my sopping sex. I wrapped my legs around his back and held on hard as he worked at burying us both into the mattress.

The heat of friction was scorching, especially at my clit. I was nearly there but without any warning he rose up on his knees, lifting me along with him. I yelped.

"I won't let go," he said.

I wasn't going to let go either. Somehow he found enough room to pump into me in that position. His arms moved down to cup my bottom and he squeezed my cheeks in his hands. I clenched my PCs hard and returned the favour. He used the support beneath my bottom to bounce me a few times before he sank on to his heels.

He was breathing hard. I took over and went jack-hammer on him. I had to lean back to give me the right angle. It allowed him to take my nipple into his hot mouth. It sent me over and I clamped down on him, squeezing him, drenching him. My muscles convulsed from the assault of pleasure firing from the ends of my nerves. Within moments I was reduced to a slack, semi-conscious sack of flesh. I leaned back into the bed to rest my tired body and ride the dampening wave of orgasm.

He wasn't finished yet. He lowered himself on to me once again and started to pump - it was a sedate fuck. His penis moved in time with the weakening pulse of my climax, prolonging the bliss longer. His mouth found my neck and he licked the mild sweat that coated my skin. He licked all the way up to my earlobe which he nibbled. It tickled and I squirmed around a bit. Somehow that triggered his own climax. I felt him shoot hot sperm into the bulb of the condom, his penis pulsed with each spurt.

He continued his languid motions till he began to shrink at which point he promptly withdrew out of me to avoid spilling his sperm inside me. I felt his absence, it was a cold longing, every inch of my skin demanded the heat that we created together. I watched him dump the knotted condom into the bin. I didn't realise how lithe he was until then.

We just fucked once and it seemed like it had lasted forever. I turned to lie on my side when he joined me back in the bed again and spooned me. His freshly dried and shrivelled up penis rested just below my tail bone, and in between the cheeks of my bottom. His sweat slick chest plastered to by back. I wanted another go.

Maybe he read my thoughts for his penis started to harden and probe me. I smiled before I reached out to grab another condom from the bedside table. Maybe something more wasn't bad after all.

First Time

I wasn't gay and nor was she. If anything I blame that one perfect moment. I knew her, probably better than I knew myself. We were just standing together, enjoying the peace that had descended on our night street. It had been a while since we uttered any words. That glorious silence bears a little of the blame too. 

I think it was me who started things first: the way the street light bounced off her skin, bathing her in a soft glow; it was almost as if she was revealing her soul. It drew me towards her. I touched her hand, she stopped gazing at the starry sky to look into my eyes. I was fascinated by her skin, I couldn't tear my eyes away as I caressed her arm. It was silk. And the trail that my fingers left seemed to glow a light crimson. It was only so far I could resist the magnetism of her eyes. I met her gaze. A small part of me feared reprimand and rejection but the second I met her gaze I knew what was on her mind - It was me; it was the moment.

The thing that happened next, I wasn't sure about. I believe it was both of us simultaneously deciding to kiss the other, it made more sense. It also assuaged a little of the residual guilt that I harboured. It was as chaste as the first kiss I ever had. A soft brush of our lips and the hot mingle of our breaths. If ever there was something that felt right, then that was it; her lips on mine tasting of the strawberry that flavoured her red lipstick.

I should have stopped then, withdrawn from the moment and got my head on straight. Instead I took it further. Darting between my lips I let my tongue question her succulent lower lip. She answered. We let the tips of our tongues meet. I had to hold on to her shoulder for support as the electricity rocked through me. My half lidded eyes closed completely. I was lost.

With reckless abandon I intensified the kiss, plunging my tongue into her sweet mouth. The faint taste of butterscotch still lingered on her tongue. We were no longer standing apart but pressed together, her hand at my waist while mine circled around her neck.

I had no idea what was happening to me on the inside. No boy I had kissed ever felt this good. It was beyond good, it was perfect. As if this was meant to be. But it wasn't. The part of me that screamed to me to end this and pretend that it never happened, was listing reasons that were becoming all too hard to ignore.

I pushed away. We both stared at each other surprised, not at the kiss that we shared but at my will to pull away. The moment passed. The glaze that clouded my vision lifted. She was once again my best friend - someone with whom I enjoyed hanging out with, someone who annoyed me with her reckless driving, someone whom I envied her relationship with her mother, someone whom I admired for her courage, someone with whom I shared my most intimate secrets. This would be one more secret. 

She giggled suddenly, a second later I joined her. It all felt a little naughty now that the moment had passed. Almost like the first time we sneaked a picture of a nude guy posing on the beach with his surf board, into my room. We were still the same straight girls. This was just an accident. I had never even looked at another girl like that before.

We said good night to each other and retreated to our homes, her house was the one directly across the road to mine. I stood at my door and looked over at her house, the light from the hallway spill on to her threshold before it went dark again. I looked back at the spot and then at the lamp that witnessed our kiss. It seemed like a dream all of a sudden. But I knew it was real, my lips were still wet from where she french kissed me and if I took of my jacket and tops, I was sure I could see the red marks of her fingers on my hips.

I don't know if we would ever talk about what happened. All I know is that it just did. I'd carry that moment with me always.

Writer's Block

I stared at the laptop, hoping that words would magically appear on the screen. No luck so far. The cafe I was sitting in was deserted save the pony-tailed waiter who kept trying to catch my eyes. He was cute but not my type. There must be others in the kitchen or the baking section but they don't make an appearance. My third cold coffee was nearly drained, and I emerged from the screen to order another. Just then a family walked in; the man was holding a little girl, about three in his arms, and the woman carried a small red clutch. She was curvy and her soft, tanned skin strained the fabric of her dress, she probably held on to her pregnancy fat. I spied a hint of a deep, sensuous cleavage over the neck of her tops.

What a waste!

I nodded at the waiter to bring me another glass. He rushed to the get me my coffee, ignoring the couple. I made a mental note to tip him better. I sipped the sweet drink and sighed my approval. He gave me a toothy smile, like a kid hoping he'd get a cookie for good behaviour. I smiled back and returned to my laptop. He hung around for a few seconds and then he left to serve the couple when I kept looking pointedly at the screen.

The couple didn't seem to mind the priority I got. They were still choosing which pastries to order, well the little one was choosing and it couldn't make up its mind. If it were me, I'd have just bought one of each and tasted them all.

The woman's laughter made me look up. The little girl had smeared the side of the man's face with pineapple cream. The woman joined her daughter to help clean the man's face. She swiped a finger full of cream off his face and sucked it, all the while looking into his eyes. 

God!

Her husband or boyfriend wasn't bad looking either. Maybe...

Nah.

I would prefer to have her all to myself, without anyone butting in. I have had threesomes before, but I never enjoyed it. You had to divide your attention between two people and that was never satisfying for me. If you were in bed with me, you better focus all your attention on me. That was how I always have been, even way back to my dorm days in my boarding school.

Those were sweet memories. There were eight of us in the dorm. And by the end of the first year six of us had had sex with each other. It all started quite 'innocently' when I dared one of my roomie Patricia, Pat as we called her, to kiss me. The other girls were watching and Pat didn't want to seem a chicken. She leaned forward to give me a chaste peck on my lips, but I grabbed her head and crashed her lips over mine. I didn't get to French kiss her though. As I continued to kiss Pat she stopped struggling, and the girls' initial gasps and 'oh's turned into a very tense silence. I knew they were watching us, intently. I let go of Pat and smiled. She was still standing with her lips slightly parted, hoping I was just taking a breather. And there began our descent into decadence.

Soon we progressed to embraces and groping, and from there to full blown sex, tribbing and fingering. We still had reservations about going down on someone. So while the six of us were swapping partners each night, the two of the prudes, Mary Hamish and Harriet Devon kept their silence. They didn't want to cross Darla, my sweet girl, Darla. At thirteen years old she stood nearly five ten and she had arms as thick as the bed posts. Darla Goodsbody. Her father was a neo-rich, he apparently made his wealth making fertilisers. Just standing beside her made you look tough. It was with her that I enjoyed the best. She wasn't the best of kissers, but she had a body that was nearly twice as big as mine.

The reason I preferred Darla was that she could smother me with her body, I liked to lie beneath her and let her beguilingly soft skin meld with mine. Even when on top she managed to envelope me, draping her legs over mine, using me petite bottom to grind my snatch with hers. Sex for me wasn't just the penetration or the kisses; it was the congress of skins and sensations, the synchronisation of pulses and breathing, being suffused in the primal aroma. We swapped around pretty often; it wasn't the person, it was the pleasure they could give. We had a great time.  

Since then I've had both men and women, and I preferred women; tribbing requires a level of intimacy that penetration just doesn't offer. Besides, not all guys are cuddly, and some just want to use you.

The family was seated now, the woman was facing me while her husband faced the other way, the girl sat beside him. The couple was focused on the little thing as it ate it's treat. It was stuff like this that made me wonder whether I was missing out on something.

I called the waiter to bring me another glass. He was just as prompt as ever, like a conditioned pet. The woman had made me horny; all her curves begged me to go explore them. But she was with someone, off limits. Just my luck. My waiter wasn't though. He was nowhere near my type but he'd have to do in a pinch. I rose up from my table and walk towards the restroom looking at him, hoping he had enough sense to notice my invitation.

  

I shut the door behind me, and stood facing the mirror. The door opened. It was her. She smiled politely, and I returned the gesture. She looked firm up close and I quickly revised my imagination. She noticed me looking at her, checking her out. I didn't stop staring.

  

"You have a great body."

She giggled. "Thanks."

"Was that your kid?"

"Yeah. Her name's Rose. I'm Sylvia, by the way."

"Kaitlyn Cedars." I shook her hand.

"Oh my god! The Kaitlyn Cedars?"

"Yes." I felt a touch of pride.

“I've read all your stories."

My pulse raced. The devil whispered in my ears, take advantage.

"Tell me, what is it that you like the most about them?"

"The tenderness," she replied promptly, "and the way you describe the sensations."

I recognised the look in her eyes, I have seen it before, lots of times. It was hero worship. I whipped out a card from my pocket and handed it to her, asking her to call me if she felt like it. She knew what I meant. I wrote lesbian erotica and an invitation for further conversation with me could only mean one thing.

She took the card, tentatively. I thought it was out of politeness but then she smiled coyly as she slipped it into her red clutch. We parted.

Back at my table, I found my muse and the words started flowing. The waiter hung behind my chair at a respectable distance hoping to get lucky. Sorry, boy. Not yet.

One Encounter

     I back the car up my driveway. The whole street's quiet since it's a week-night. I park it just outside the garage door, and flip on the cabin light. I look at Annie, sitting demurely in the passenger seat, the Goth make-up looks very natural on her as if she's been doing it for ages. I click open the seatbelt and let it whiz back into its place. I lean sideways to take my second taste of her lips and tongue, they are still a little cold from the drinks we had at The Pink, the local lesbian watering hole. The kiss is just as intoxicating as the first one I stole from her in the bar's restroom; it has a mysterious metallic hint to it. It robs my breath away. 

     We get out of the car and I lock it. She's waiting for me by the front door even though it's open. Maybe she thinks it's going a little too fast. I hope that she's not having second thoughts about this. It's been a while since I actually brought someone home with me, and I don't want to scare her away by being a little too insistent. She was fun to converse with back at the bar, I enjoyed listening to the stories of Kings and Queens through the ages. The way she said it, you'd believe that she was actually there when it all happened. But seeing her all quiet and reserved now doesn't fill me with much hope.

     I invite her in, hoping that she'd accept and not ask me take her back. She steps inside. My heart skips several beats and the flutter I felt in my stomach, back at the bar when I first approached her, is back again. I guide her into the living room and take her leather jacket and hang it along with my own coat on the hanger. I ask her to sit and wait a, while I go fetch some more drinks from the kitchen. It should loosen her up a little. I whip up a small batch of Bloody Mary and pour it into two glasses.

    I head back to the living room. She's flipping through this month's Reader's Digest. I hand her a glass and settle down beside her.

     "You were telling me about King Edward," I remind her.

    She takes a sip from her glass and sets it down on the Ottoman before she answers. "What more can I say? He wasn't like the other nobs; he didn't mind what colour his lovers were." 

     I laugh and move closer to her, my hand brush against her bare arm. Her pale skin is cold. 

     "Do you want me to crank up the temperature a little." 

    "Nah. It's all right," she says, and rakes a hand through my loose hair, pulling me into a kiss. It's slow and sensual, her lips hold my tongue hostage while she uses her tongue to tease mine. I lift her legs and lay them over my lap, closing the gap between us even further. For someone so frail looking she sure has a strong embrace. 

     I rub her back through her t-shirt, it elicits a moan from her, and it signals a need. I break the kiss and rest my forehead on hers. I smile, feeling a little giddy and slightly breathless. She's calm, but her pupils are dilated, they betray her excitement.

     I lift her t-shirt, all the while looking at her for any objection. None comes. I pull it over her head and she assists by rising her arms. She's wearing a black bra, it makes her skin look even paler, even sexier. Heat courses through my body, and it melts my cunt.

     She feels wonderfully cool and soft and smooth, her body saps all the heat mine radiates. I nuzzle her delicate neck, just above the velvet choker she's wearing and I'm rewarded with a purr. I picture her beneath me in my bed, with nothing on but that choker; my urgency builds.

     I slip my legs from underneath hers and get up, intent on taking the action to the comfort of my bed. I tug her arm but she pulls me back onto to the sofa, and swiftly straddles me, pinning my hands above my head. Once again that beguiling strength manifests itself.

     She plunders my lips as if starved. I return her fervour. She let's go of my hands and cups my face, intensifying the kiss, crushing my lips. I am too far gone. All I can do is hold on to her as she sets the pace.

     She paints my face with kisses and licks. I lift my hips a little to meet her pelvis with mine. I buck and grind. It's not enough.

     She moves down to my neck. I tilt my head to give her better access. She pays attention to every inch of me skin there, sucking and licking. I soak through my panties and my clit throbs. I manage to get a leg over hers and I start tribbing.

     I rock on the sofa, my eyes are half lidded, dazed by such intense foreplay. I'm getting off grinding my crotch against hers. But she stills my crazed movements. I'm panting. She draws my gaze to hers. Pure hunger. She needs me. She needs me bad.

     It happens in a blur, one second we are locked in gaze and the next she's at my neck again. I hiss at the sharp sting that follows. Something hot trickles down my neck, but I am too tired and sleepy. She's soothing me with one hand, running it up and down my hair. I sink further into the darkness. It doesn't sting any more.

*~*~*

Submission - The Switch

     I wake up with a start. The lights are still on and it takes me a minute to realise that you are spooning me, like a real couple. I suppose that at this point we are. I don't deny that I love you. But you are ruining my resolve, shattering things that I worked for years to build. You are making me vulnerable. It just won't do.

     Never have I let anyone run any aspect of my life. Even sex was a scramble for gratification, and as etiquette dictated, to gratify. This impersonal, yet more intimate sex frightens me. It presupposes that I trust you explicitly. A trust that I have never given to anyone.

     I scrape my thighs off our mingled congealed essence. You left me wanting and I was too tired to do anything about it then. This tactic of yours, to make me submit, it will inevitably make me long for you. That's not happening. I need to level this play field before I lose total control. I think it's about time I took my pleasure at your expense.

     I reach for your cock and massage it back to life. You stir and awaken. A bleary eyed smirk greets me. I grin back. Oh, you have no idea.

     I straddle your midsection and grind my crotch on you swaying for a silent rhythm, while you shift to a better position to let me ride your cock. But that's not going to happen, at least not yet. It is surprisingly easy for me to let go of any restraints that might have once stopped me from doing what I'm about to do. Your smile falters. I slide myself right up to your face. Holding on to the head board, I hover over your lips, still swaying to the ethereal beat. 

     You hook your arms around my thighs to pull me down to your mouth. You expect compliance. But I'm here to salvage my mind. I'm here to show that I'm no pushover. I swat your hands away. It's your turn to heel. 

     I lower myself just enough to let you lick my slit and pull back. You crane your neck to reach my pussy but I push your head back on to the pillow and hold it there. This time when I lower myself to your waiting mouth, I push harder, grind myself over your lips. Your bristles are prickly and so I desist that soon. You lap at my folds, guiding your clever tongue back and forth. I hold on to the head board for dear life. There, so nearly there. 

     I teeter on the very edge as you suck on my clit with a relentlessly. I grab your head and crush it against my pussy, as the first of the orgasms rock through me. You have yet to surface for breathing but I don't let go. I need you to taste me, drink me in; feel helpless as I had felt hours before. Something tells me your are enjoying this; my unrestrained desires. Maybe this is what you were hoping to achieve. It's not bad, this lustful abandon. 

     I relax and let go of your head. You take in deep gulps of air and stave off the darkness. I let you recover while I do the same. I didn't imagine that to take total control could be this taxing. This sweet ache in my muscles and the tingling all over my body blot out every thought in my head. Yet, one thought or rather a craving is pretty insistent. My pussy demands to be filled. I give in.

     I slide back to your pelvis. Your are rock hard. Good. I don't waste time lubing your entire length with my juice. Again, you try to regain a modicum of control, some measure of say, but I'm in no mood for that. I pin your arms to your sides with my legs. It's not a strong hold, but that doesn't matter. What matters is the idea. The idea that I'm in charge. 

     It feels good to have you inside me the way I want it. I contract my vaginal muscles and give you a nice, good squeeze. I am rewarded with a groan. The ride begins. I take it slow, testing angles that I find the most pleasurable. Yes! I support myself with my hands on your abdomen and start moving in earnest. I can sense that you aren't going to last long but I'm nowhere near done. I have to delay you. I pinch your nipple hard. You grunt. I guess I succeeded in shift your focus. 

     Sweat trickles down the valley of my spine as I go jack hammer on you. The tendrils of pleasure snake all over my body. I grab my own tit to relieve some of it. I take my other hand off you to play with my clit, a booster to reach the finish-line. Just a little longer. My muscles start to tire even with the mattress assisting me in my endeavour. Not yet. I push myself hard, risking a cramp. It hits me. I melt all over your cock. I slump forward on to you. My breathing is violent and heart threatens break out of my chest. 

     Believe it or not, I have a sense of fair play. As the orgasm courses through me, I use the extra impetus to clench your hard cock, still nestled inside me. A few good squeeze later I get you off and you stop your restricted humping. 

     Lying there with you, I feel just as confused as I was before I took you. It is still too early in the relationship for me to decide. We are good together, both bed and otherwise. You are good. But I still need more time to get the hang of this, us. I'll meet your demand for trust, only if it is reciprocated. Because this is my life and I have every reason to be strong.

Submission - Taken

     The water drips down from my body while I wait as for you. I can't believe I actually gave you oral in the shower. I look at myself in the mirror and see the same familiar features, nothing's changed. But that's not entirely true. You are changing me on the inside. I still don't know whether this is good or bad.

     Before I have time to contemplate any further, you wrap me in a towel and pat me dry. You do it with a gentleness that surprises me. It makes it harder for me pin you - the beast or the gentleman.

     You lead me back to the bed, the towel wrapped lightly around me. It provides me a sense of safety; safe from you. I can't place the exact feeling. How can you frighten and entice me, both at the same time? What are you doing to my mind?

     Unanswered questions flit through my head when I'm brought back to reality with a jolt. You've removed the towel. I'm naked again, but it's consoling, that so are you.

     You face me towards the bed while you stand behind me. Then it comes, after what seems like an eon of silence, the single command, "Bend forward."

     You emphasise it with a slight push to the middle of my back. I lean forward till I'm resting my palms on the mattress. I crane my neck back to see what you are up to. Your eyes are focused on my bottom. I turn my head away, the intensity of your stare burns me.

     You widen my stance, giving you an unrestricted view at my unguarded, naked pussy in the bright light. The air is cool as it caresses the most intimate part of me. I can sense you take it all in, every fold, every puckered bit, every little goosebump. I try to stay still and hide my feelings. I don't even know what I'm trying to hide. I hope that the impassive look on my face is mirrored all over my body, but I'm wrong. My pussy pulses with a life of its own. I am betrayed by my own body - my greedy pussy has revealed my own wantonness.

     I flush all over. Was that embarrassment or arousal? Then suddenly the air around my pussy changes. It's warm. Your fingers peel apart my nether lips even further. I can feel you looking right inside me, all pink and wet and inviting. My heart's thumping inside my chest, but the throbbing pulse is everywhere.

     Then you invade. I shy away from it, shocked by the soft, hot, and wet touch. But you grab my hips and keep me closer while your tongue flicks at my entrance. Your nose is nudging against my other hole, I definitely need to get away. But it's futile to struggle against your herculean strength. Maybe it's just me who isn't trying hard enough. Your violation, while it scares me, it also feeds my ego. The idea that someone could worship even that part me sends a thrill rush through my body.

     I know I'm gushing. It can't all be your saliva that's trickling down my thighs. You continue to tease me with that wicked tongue of yours. All I can do is try to clench you tongue each time it penetrates me. My knees and elbows threaten to buckle as I lose every other sensation save the ones at my core.

     You withdraw. The cool air fills the spot you just vacated. And without any warning you enter me, harder and possibly even bigger. The easy of your entrance is a testament to my arousal, my desire. You hold yourself in position by placing your hands on my hips, grabbing none too gently the soft flesh there. When you start to move it's not gentle either, it's not even remotely polite. You are using me, plain and simple. The angle of your penetration affords me little pleasure, so I bring down my hand to play with my clit. You don't approve. You pin the offending hand behind my back and continue pounding into me.

     My other hand slips and I'm slumped onto the bed. Now the angle is ungainly for both of us. Yet you don't skip a beat as you just reach forward and yank my hair back, forcing my torso up. It smarts. I am essentially being raped, my brain tells me. But there's something else, or the lack of it. I'm under no pressure to please you. Your pleasure is your prerogative now, and I'm released from the burden of having to cater to it. All that's required of me now is this submission.

     I'm nowhere near an orgasm but I've never been so aroused or even this wanton ever. I sink into my role as you toy. A sharp sting on my bottom punctuates the teasing pleasure. I clench instinctively. Sensing that it was just the one I relax and I'm immediately treated to a second slap on the ass cheek, and more clenching on my part. You caress the sensitive skin that you just hit, it tickles. The immediate sting is replaced by pleasure instead. It lulls me into relaxation, big mistake. I scream when the blow lands; tears well up in my eyes.

     Before I can get over the pain, you come inside me. The hot spurts coat my insides, suffusing me with liquid warmth. You go slack against my back. The thundering of your heart rocks through me, and you are breathing just as hard as I am. I haven't come yet but I'm exhausted. How, I do not understand. You have exhausted me. I sink into to the mattress, and you fall on top of me.

     I couldn't believe that I had let you use me. The sting of that final slap still hurts but it's dulled down, sending a prickly sensation down my legs and up my spine. The tiredness claims what little thought I have and soothe me into a deep sleep.

(to be cont...)