TITLE: Monday

AUTHOR/PSEUDONYM: Talamasca

FANDOM:/

PAIRING: /

RATING: XXX

STATUS: ?

ARCHIVE: YES

E-MAIL: tala@nobbys.net.au

SERIES/SEQUEL: Part of short story collection due to be released either once we can find an independent publisher game or once i can afford to self publish...Australian publishers don't seem to want to take on the censors!!!!!!!

OTHER WEBSITES: http://www.nobbys.net.au/~tpsaer

DISCLAIMERS: No responsibilty accepted if this falls into the hands of minors...please be careful.

NOTES: Covered by International and Australian Copyright laws and all provisions apply, ie no mass copying, distribution or posting without the permission of the author.

SUMMARY: Erotic story of one couple and a day out of thier lives. Spiritual slightly in nature....interested to see what you have to say.

WARNINGS:Is EXPLICIT IN NATURE NOT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE LEGAL AGE IN YOUR COUNTRY OR STATE.



Monday, His story
by Talamasca

That particular Monday will live perhaps forever. At least until another day filled with the lasting images of open thighs reaching for sublime touches, arms straining at the prison of silks and cotton, muscles stretched with the desire to come again and again.

Moonday, luneday, looneyday, a touch of lunacy, intricate wonderment, the thrusting motivation of the unexpected. Minds wandering into realms of past fantasies where reality and unreality combine with the thrill of fear, uncertainty, trusting the love, trusting the care of her body and mind while finding the exquisite joy of submission. Druids everywhere-Moonday-the primitive, the magic in us. Human-animal procreative drive laced with the exotic, the erotic. Sophistication accenting the ordinary taking thought to the extremities, simplicity to complexity and beyond. Action lifted to ethereal planes of reaction, seeking more, seeking better, the best, the most, more, in every way.

Howl ! Howl! At the moon! Again! Again! You! Your face the mask of agonized pleasure laced with the purity of your pain. The purest of agony teasing, twisting nerve endings to ecstasy, ecstasy…..rising again….you thrust your way to a place, hips bucking, fucking back at my static hardness, thrust your way to a place I could not see, could not be, could not follow. I felt your contractions as you came, biting your lips, mouthing words with no sound. You ceased your anxious thrust. I started slow teasing at the servant mouth of your cunt, mini thrusts to tighten the sheath beyond. I watch you squirm as I always do. It gives me pleasure that connects me to you, sense to sense, mind to mind, feeling your departure, further, your return, asking more, eyes pleading, throat choking, demanding, your body centered a throbbing mass.

So many levels you travel, so many experiences you feel. I feel and know being woman too, so many feelings, so many assumptions, so many thoughts. Conflicting emotions, attitudes intervening. Background, history highlighting past and present. Upbringing influencing attitudes, changing need. Purgatory visited. A satisfactory place found full of experience and mind bending turmoil. All assisting the aggravation. Testing your needs. Taste the burning spice, aromatic as the musk of your jerking ass spinning my senses, driving me on, seeking the intense pain of my pathway. In all this I am me….alone……you alone….impossible to be alone without each other.

Remember? I watch you, my sensations rippling through me. Your shaking breast moving on your breath held chest fills my eyes. I look at your hole filled with my probing cock. I look away to your mouth. I remember but the experience is not held for long and soon I need to return. I remember well if I don't, knowledge will not help. Remember the action, emotion, sensation, pictures fading, pictures in my mind, feelings……you. To recount Monday will only be me, of you, for you maybe. You may not recognize me, or you. The discovery of some more of me, much, much more of you incidental. I have no need to read your mind you are never afraid.


~~~
Monday was a long time going to happen. Planning changed daily. A few stolen hours, a day, maybe more. One person became two…..a day with two, my desire dropped noticeably. Why so disappointed? Reality. Reality. Fantasy cannot be reality. Even fantasy based on the stories told. Fantasy woven, snatched from nowhere land as usual, but already lived.

Then……then there was Natasha….out of nowhere….sent.

On the phone.

(Not a surprise___________________why?)

A new voice.

(Not a new voice___________________)

Confident one second, shy, uncertain the next. Suddenly the day belonged to Natasha. Surreality. Weird. Un-plotted. Bent thoughts. Warped time. A place of dreams and thought combined. Changed. Gone. That's okay.

Different. It would be……different. Involved in other things, things much more close to the earth, our minds, intristic power. Injected uncertainty…..an added formality. Super glue on my finger tips. I met her in place of you. Her voice in my ear, knowing. Later gone, phone talk did not help. She was there with you. A gull with a broken wing. A wing you could not see, beyond repair. Soon she would be gone, perhaps, why? The magic was there with her surrounding you, sensing your place in time. The work of a guide. The depth of feeling you sensed was more magic, perhaps not what you wished. Some power was misplaced but an image floated just out of reach. The need to see the image conjured from her mind infected us, the day had never been. The two of you would come. One known, expected, filling the expectations I had with pleasure, a known considered factor, a merging of feeling at the very least connected. The other, unknown, promoted a carefulness, a restraint. Distance –phone talk, secure in the distance a hidden face. A denial if required. [Did I say that? Nooo!] Strangers lose strangeness in the illusion of words, sounding deceptive. Face to face for the first time strangeness dominates. Even after two, sometimes three meetings the 'I don't really know you yet' will dominate. It all takes time. Phone honesty may or may not exist. Unless of course we know each other first…..before.

'I exist…..for you…? I exist…for you….? I must! I don't exist for me—assertion. Confusion, assertion. Time…passes slowly. I exist for you. I must! I don't exist for me! Confusion. Assertion. Uncertainty. Confusion.

Time…… passes……..

It is still the two of you. I listen to you, both of you, phone talk. Constantly, constantly she changes. The adult. The child. A baby. Herself. All take their turn. I see you and her, you see her and we are not strangers anymore for we are a circle working for peace, sharing fears.

WE ARE A CIRCLE WORKING FOR PEACE, SHARING FEAR AND MIND GAMES

and mind games. For we, know much of other silent secret things, things

FOR WE KNOW MUCH. THINGS WE CAN FEEL A TRUENESS BORN OF

we whisper in our minds hidden from others, truths which are fantasies

ACCEPTANCE WITHOUT QUESTION THE PUZZLE THAT IS YOU NATASHA,

for our protection. Madness as sane as any worship. Reality full of path-

I PIECE TOGETHER WORD BY WORD. NUANCE BY NUANCE. WE MUST

ways that come and go, weave and turn, voices and visits, life within a life.

SPEAK WITHOUT FEAR THE DAY WE MEET. SERIOUS. FEARFUL YOU ASK

Parallels, divisions, layers. The sprites are playing, dancing slowly

ME QUESTIONS. QUESTIONS WHOSE ANSWERS ALREADY RIDE YOUR

laughing, non beings, human in form for now. In their midst is Puck, my friend.

MIND. I CANNOT SEE AN OPENING, YOU ARE BLOCKED BY A CHILD. I AM

A girl stands frozen in a movement to watch me. She holds his hand

UNCERTAIN OF YOUR PLACE HERE. I FEAR FOR YOU AND CALL OUT

neither child nor adult, not yet woman, budding breasts defining her time.

SILENTLY, SUMMONING. CONTEMPLATION. MAYBE THEN I WILL SEE THE

She is young, a smile hovers about her mouth. Who is she? Who is she?

ANSWER. MAYBE NOT. PERHAPS THERE IS NONE. READ ME IF YOU DESIRE.

My time is up. Has she come to collect? The fool is at her side. But I am he.

OPEN MY MIND IF YOU DESIRE. READ A LINE AT A TIME OR PENETRATE

Do I watch myself? No there is something else. A question.

PROBE DEEPLY, THRUSTING HARD FOR YOU MAY NOT BE WITH ME AGAIN.

Is she the messenger or the message. We will have to meet to wipe away

ARE YOU THE MESSANGER OR THE MESSAGE. TO MEET IS IMPERATIVE.

confusion. I feel strangely complete.

IS THIS A PUZZLE WITHOUT A PIECE OR A PIECE WITHOUT A PUZZLE.

Jam it in, absorb my being in the time it takes to jump from parallel to

WHAT WOULD YOUR PRESENCE DENY ME?

parallel. Every shift different, the same, a subtle change. You talked to me because you weren't coming on Monday but I insist we meet. What could you bring? Your question…….lingered. " What do you feel about Melissa?" Strange words, stranger because you could not speak, direct.

Later, a day later. The roar of diesels on the water. Affluence chasing effluence or is it the other way around? Reclining under a dark green canvas umbrella. A day later. A life later. Tuesday, a sunny bright day, cicadas on air, a strange birds cry cuts through the ambiance. The atmosphere breathes quietly, ruffling the flag, cooling.

Your question returns and out of time and into my presence the child returns, alone. I looked down at the water as she came gently to me the quiet smile playing on her lips. Your question was answered. The message, herself entered my being, life resolved for now, destiny set, I welcomed her.

When did not matter, nor life for that was already done. I would be there no matter how long it took. The secret is within. So you will meet again for that is your wish, may it bring you the peace you seek, maybe it will not.

Meanwhile I wait anew for the sprites to dance around the table. The stone alter of endless ritual. The white shawl shimmering at its foot as it falls silently back into the vault of the earth. A hand reaches for it, to bring to the dark eyes that weep silently for the unborn girl child. Destiny held in thrall. It will be but the mother is not to be found, perhaps she is dead too.

Melissa a light bought forward. A triangle is formed and in the space between the lines of my fingers and thumbs the magic broils and all that will take place is fixed, for now. Humanity must hold its breath as the black woman gathers her forces. The aura holds her but for how long. Puck's laughter flings against my thoughts echoing. The aura wavers, malignant eyes light up malevolently. Many minds brace, waiting, ready, always ready to resist. The black dwarf swathed in black- gold robes let the creamy effervescence of her swaddling shawl, a force of commiserate enfolding, slide slowly between his fingers.

There is no more he can do. He looks at me, our tears fall together trailing silently down frozen cold cheeks, burning our eyes. He lifts his hand, a farewell. Slowly he fades leaving his destiny imprinted in the air. He follows the child, to be with her, watching, guiding, considering her alone. Protecting the unborn fetus, hovering close waiting for time to pass. Lost to me. I must go. I must return. We will face it together the three of us, only a small part, a small part………yet?


Now another is here. Eyes that are made of longing tears welling along wide lids, joy teetering, held back, does not. An ancient mind and memory streaming from her head trailing into the darkness of time. Power glitters on her finger tips clothing her body faintly hiding the pulsating humanity which is failing for she cannot be. She has been summoned to stand strong against the threatening cloud until another gathering can be assumed. She watches the departure of the child's protector as he merges into the channel held open by a sympathetic medium. A smile on her face as she turns and lifts her hands, long fingers, pale skinned to match my own.

I feel the power serging along my nerves centre to centre as life returns, a new life filling my cortex, urging me forward. So she takes her place, fulfilled. Her energies are mine, beloved, belonging saturates my aging soul, renewing, replacing, holding me in place, to wait for the next time. The earth cushions my person, my wavering humanity. The partnership of guides glows pink and gold as they combine. The wildness flitted and flirted with death, challenging the merging of time, space and force, cheating a little, gaining both an extra few moments and forming a bridge to the future.

No longer here I watch now from where ever I am, me not me.

Monday should have been the two of you. You came alone to prepare me, opening the channel, making ready. Curled inside the protection of a aura made for her alone, enclosing. Hidden from the touch of those who sought to abuse the delicate embryo. Safe from the prying minds, the dark beyond the earth magic. From the space of my own pain.

I watch your exhaustion Natasha, soon it will be gone. Now you are safe, soon you will stand independent, alone, wield your power and we will meet at the correct time.

Thankyou, your work will soon be complete.

Monotonous, insistent, yet consoling the frog in the blackwater of the pool calls his mate. Night crickets chirp continuous sounds of a summer dance. Darkness gives up the struggle and edges silently to the west centimetre by centimetre wrenching the sun up over the horizon.

Somewhere nearby, high in the trees, the morning ritual of insane laughter ricochets from rooftops and walls, bouncing from rocks to water where the first glow of morning light ripples in the wake of commuter craft. Before the echoes have died the call of others joins in, calls of the forests filling the new day with songs of beauty, screeches of dominance, the cry of the hunter.

A hand hard against tight skin, you're dreaming.

Coffee black, honey sweet, sipped slowly. Rocks appear growing from the illusion of my private microcosm. Lightly burnt toast accepts the buttercup yellow margarine, absorbing it slowly. I shun the sweetness of sugar for the savory spice of promite and then in a contrary frame load the rich brown marmalade over the top.

I return to my contemplation of the coming dawn. The bay lights up, white hulls like fairy lights in a park at night. In the pond a thrash of water as a koi breaks the surface with a slap of its tail, a flourish of broken water.

My hand caresses the hard muscle of my chest. Hard nipples rise reminding me of the tease of teeth biting hard, tantalizing, arousing. I feel the response as blood pulses into my relaxed penis lifting it. It jerks and lifts as I recognize its presence in my mind, swelling more and more as memories flood and add to the temptation. The koi jumps again responding to the palm full of red pellets I cast into the water. A flourish of colour as the denizen's of the deep satisfy their empty gullets. If they have a God it is I . I cling to my ritual. The safety net of sensibility. Apprehension and libido fighting for supremacy. I thrust them down carrying outside the accouterments of my leisure.

The lounge and cushion determined to relax, determined to quiet the pounding doubts. The questions that cluster, like a swarm of dracule into the wings of my anxiety. What is happening? Are you late? Are you held? Have you slept in? slept late? Car won't start? Natasha's hurting, not safe, can't be left, idiots run amuck, green eyed monster lifts from the mire and attacks the unwary township searching for Alice or is it Goldilocks. Have you gone shopping? What?

The day is full of promise, warm, warming up, maybe it will be too hot. The stickiness forbidding. Sarong around my hips, another coffee in my hands, mince tart, book, writing gear, radio, tapes, shirt. Maybe it will be too hot! I settle on the hard yet resilient surface, bright with a Summer towel, covered by it's hugeness, another memory, of my first drive north, alone. My mind is full of possibilities, probabilities, sensations feeding off our phone talk, sensual, suggestive words, outlined actions, needs, desires, endless contact, mind, body, endless to exhaustion. Maybe. Discussion leading to discussion of life needs, sex, the future, the present, sex.

Discussion leads to talk/ touch imaginative scenarios, feeding the moments with erotic fantasy, buzzing thoughts of playback stirring up more memory of realities, the past mingled with the what I'd like to do, scenarios, feeding the moment with erotic buzz. Seeing the wild dream of you alone.

In the darkness, touching the full mounds of your breasts, running fingers over the smooth skin crushing them, pinching the thick round nipples till you close your eyes, involuntary moans falling from your out of control mouth.

You feel your way over my body, down my stomach to grasp my hard cock, wait then slide your hand up and down the length, down deeper, past the round tautness of my balls sliding fingers into brain jangling nerve centres, crevices of excitement.

In response I feel you up. A hand searching to reciprocate your actions. We talk of sexual preferences, sexual possibilities, needs, wants, hates, hang ups, hang ups of others. Passions, untried possibilities. Agree on things that turn us off, a tick, no crosses.

Distance , the long wire lending courage. Binding, tying, thoughts of gentle fabric tied hard, restricting some or all movement, denying avoidance, denying reciprocation, confined acceptance within the bounds of choice. Limits and perimeters. Shackles giving freedom to give without responsibility. Choosing to give over the right to choose, decide, deny, held hard and as horny as a unicorn in rut. The vision of the ties, positions locked in place, power surging, a slow climb pushing forward, holding back, orgasms rippling, exploding, wimping, limping away, returning with blending pain that threatened to tear muscles from their mountings and minds from their foundations, watching them roar screaming into the void, revealing the ultimate better than golf pleasures.

He found the silken tie of his yukata. To the pile he added a belt, woven from cotton, wide and strong. Memories of distant lands, wild with fluttering ancient magic, a different time full of ancient fear and magic crawling over the armor of passion flashed through his mind.

It was still only seven o'clock. The night before had teased senses, set new options, opened doors and pathways to a portal through which a new objectivity became visible. He was prepared for this. To wait. That was all that was left.

He settled back, forcing calm, denial a satisfactory block to fearful thoughts. The presence of his fullness lifting him to a higher plane where he floated on a dense cloud of apprehension. The tensions heightened to levels which boycotted sensuality, thrusting it to a different plane, a bondage itself, insensitive to him and his needs. Driving sensitivity hard towards a cliff of anxiety, hovering on the brink.

Celibacy. Enticed by the possibility of sensuous mind games. Holding back. The need to break the strain of waiting. The throbbing ache, the throbbing itch that demands relief. Floating in a writhing mass of exposed nerve endings he descended into the fantasy truth of Emma and Max.

Hours dissipated as words split endless seconds into celibate forces a deviate behavior at best. Now I understand the priests. Endless self domination waiting for the final single release. The story gripped him, bound him, carried him to a different world. Fringe sexuality, bi-experience, maybe, with you.

Vicariously he followed them as they sought to possess each other by letting go, indulging in each others experiences, making them their own. I'm far to possessive. An obsessive possessive. He urged them on in their quest, pushing the pace. Pulled by the erotic behavior, indulging in experiences he could only consider. The last chapter was read, lacking the violence of their love. Disappointment . He wrapped the present placing it with strands of coloured leather. The handful of strands, stirring to lift and swish swiftly through the air. Their magic conjured sensual thoughts of diversity. Unusual poignant sensations full of approval. He returned to sit, reading, watching the pathway, making the occasional correction to his work. His gaze flickered from paper to path, path to paper, visions of disaster littered his thoughts. He listed the possible scenarios again. He dismissed all but the crumpled car.

The broken figure sacrificed to the thrill of screaming tires, the limit reached suddenly failing to grip, giving up their purchase in the gravel road that badly needed repair. The metal barriers screaming in anguish, giving up, flipping the great machine, engine roaring high into the air.

Sudden silence, seconds moving like minutes. All happening faster than experience can record. The first contact on jagged rocks, snapping scrub, the exploding trunks of saplings as they are guillotined. They hurtle high and land smashed and broken in the trail of the flying car.

Sudden silence. The first scraping hiss on jagged rocks. It was good to know the danger was gone, for a while.

She tobogganed down the slope, her mouth a line of acute concentration. Brakes on hard, braced legs willing the machine to stop, to stop its hurtling death ride. A dull thud. Silence. The death drop of a hurting branch struck hard. The roof collapses crushed by heavy fate. Hugging the tree the car sighs, engine ripped from puny mountings, rubber torn, steel broken displaced by the un-moveable pink barked giant which looked down in silent disdain at the buckled mass of coloured metal the white flower fading. It shivered in the breeze. Impact.

The crushed flower of humanity straddling the flesh searing superheated metal casing of the engine that had fled the encroaching tree.


Violent steam vented into the shocked silence of the bush. A magpie dived upon the wreckage, a single call. His mate answered. They land tails-up on the fallen crushed branch. Eyes staring out. The pale face hidden underneath a mass of auburn hair resting peacefully on a broken wheel.

No blood seen to spoil the mask. Beneath the car it pools feeding the earth through the torn floorpan.

Above a frightened face peers down, clutching the broken safety fence, shivering uncontrollably. A deep breath to gain control. She scrambles down the steep bush slope careless of her clothes, stumbling, fear and tears, a mumble emerging from jumbling lips.

"No, it's not possible, no, no it's not possible." As she goes she thumbs the pad of her mobile summoning help.

Through the tangled thoughts, her face appears, smiling. The surrounding green envelopes her, brown top, black jeans, soft brown shoes, black bag hanging hard and in her hands a shiny red cello wrapped basket. The terminal fantasy flees with the reality of her presence. Delay, not disaster.

She walks past him declining help, strong and determined, loaded with bringings, talking through smiles, humming with sex and hot from exertion. Stops to kiss and be kissed, thirstily looking for his need for her, thirstily tasting urgency, savoring passion, projecting expectancy.

Waiting is done, responding to seeking hands, moving, into urgent clutching hands, clinging, moaning with pent up longing. Offers of drinks and food, unloading the bag, shoes gone, open skin sticky with heat, torn jeans beckoning hands to touch the heavy wetness of her sex. Together to kiss mouth on mouth, urgency held down hard. To hell with waiting. The need to touch and feel. Soft white skin separates the top from the barrier of belt and jeans. Hands searching the torn splits seducing eyes locking them on to inner thighs. Fingers searching to touch the covered wetness, as hot as waiting. Mouth strays, teeth dancing on a raised jaw begging him lower to bite down hard. Taunt throat straining for the pain of his need. My hands search under the hard zipped top, pushing under the full material seeking out the swollen nipples that crown soft mounds, longing to taste them with my tongue and teeth, pulling and sucking hard, hands hard, gripping, soft caresses, hearing the acquiescence of moaning release, small grunts of 'Uh!' urging me on to uncover completely the pale white mounds of delicious, succulent flesh.

I tear at her belt stud opening her belly to my eyes. I kiss it's tightness with my teeth bared, lifting her weightless form. My lips are back to taste her tongue as I carry her willing, half dressed body, to the pliant comfort of waiting silk and cotton. My shirt discarded I watch the mirrors to see the sides I cannot, increasing the power of my working mouth and hands. Legs of jeans that twist and jam against hasty actions, deliberately thwarting speed. Dark material, white skin, a G-string that moves to tease.

Dark wet hair, the pink ring of her tight pursed ass, the bridge cut by the band of darkness, the open lips full and swelling pinching the anemone of her protruding spongy blood darkened flower that hides her open depths.

In a single movement I rise hard. Her hands struggle assisting the removal, wriggling desperately. I grasp the ankles and pull hard. One leg is gone. I am tempted to fail the other, but no, legs spread that one slips away. The tormenting jeans are no match for our frantic hands. It is ripped away exposing again the dark dampness sticking to round valleys and hills of pink brown flesh.

She pulls at my sarong. It gives, sliding away from the threatening phallus.

Did I kiss her then entering the seeking thirsty hot desire of her cunt, thrust to relieve the silent screams of desperation? Did I restrain to bite her lips, her throat hard, harder till a murmur escaped her, warning but wanting? Did I bite down the tender flesh of arched back breasts, scarring the full thick nipples? Did I nip the soft stomach before lifting her thighs wider, separating the folds, nibbling the feathery scarlet flaps, sucking the moisture from every crevice. Did I cover her hood with my mouth seeking the hard clitoris under, hiding, shy? Did she come then squirming gently as I lapped the honeyed liquid flooding from her inner succulence? Did I long to crawl inside and suck the walls churning her mind to mush? Did I pass the hard muscle and point hard tongued into the sensitive circle of pulsing constriction?

Perhaps.

I give here more, sucking the sweet nectar from the deep vagina, it floods my mouth, wetting my face, diving again into the inviting sheath. I move again to tease the pulsing muscle, it opens, just a little, a promise perhaps for later. I lick every part I can soft tongue soaking up the sweet liquid, hard teeth impertinent, nibbling, biting hard, cutting into the sensitive nerves, flicking flesh to peaks of almost…..there.

Have I succeeded?

My hard cock pulsates against my gut, patient, waiting to explore. Lapping furiously at her open thighs I drive her over the top into her first explosive release, her body straining.

Her head lifted to watch my mouth at her mound. Her hands touch, grasp my head fearful that I will leave too soon.

I wait until she subsides, pulling me up. I scale the delicate mountains of her body, mouth finds mouth, tongues touch and intertwine as we connect, my cock thrusting to limits into her as she lifts to take all of me, thick with pumping blood, cum slavering from the shiny purple head. She tightens around me gasping as I thrust short hard fucks, long ramming strokes into her body. She grips my shaft, enclosing me. I give her space lifting my body, kissing her breasts, biting her throat.

Cunt hard gripping, a soft hand, fucks me, fucks me sucking at my length, sheath closed, hard movement back and forth along the full length of my hardness, chasing the orgasm she wants for me. Her words want, encouraging, pleading to feel my final release, wanting the sensation of warm sperm loaded fluid filling the depths of her cunt.

"Come on, come on!" She demands my submission.

I sense the first signals, the trigger hits, there is no return now unless she stops or I leave her. I give in totally to the approaching explosion, my mind out of control, hammering my body at her, hard ramming into the lifting legs, feeling the depth, beating together into the darkness, the void filling with the small death of my ecstasy.

She watches me lift the silk belt and waits, calm, silent as I clumsily tie her hands, testing the pain, releasing a little the cutting pressure from her fine boned wrists. ' Tighter,' she utters seeking the pain of the captivity she enjoys, aching for the tightness, her responsibility taken away, unmercifully bound to the corner of the bed. She pulls away increasing the binding, stretching her tolerance, savoring the tensing silk, fucking the tension, the restriction bringing freedom adding to the slow fucking with which I torment her grasping, jerking, hard sucking cunt hole.

I finger her from behind hands biting into soft cheeks. I enter her ass feeling my hardness against my thrusting finger. The cotton webbing rubs against her back as I slide it through.

Realization, need in her eyes, welcoming the final binding. Her eyes widen as she feels the tension spread over the taunt skin of her legs, pulling her knees hard back beside her breasts. She is bound to me her cunt wide open, vulnerable to my will.

My driving thrusts reach new depths, spearing her. I pull the ends of the webbing hard opening her legs further, driving deeper chasing her orgasm.

It folds up her mind, she tumbles fighting for air. The hand ties give no release heightening the freedom to give into the depths of her self. No mercy is asked.

Lanced by my iron hard penis I hammer the swollen knob against the hardness of her inner ring, seeking the cervical opening. My body bashes her crushing the hidden clit. The head scrapes back along the rougher skin of her G-spot, body held at the perfect angle to repeat the mind blowing action. Triggered again I gasp and grunt my way to a spurting climax coming hard again, again, again into her depths. I release my hold on the strap driving my hands down her back to cup her ass, fingering the lips of her cunt, caressing the tight wet hole, entering churning the muscle, feeling it give way to my insistent motion. She comes hard urging me to come again with her. My orgasm lasts returning and returning, waves crash over my body.

Her voice coaxes me. She wants to feel me lose it in her and matches me movement for movement.

Deep inside the safety catch flies off. I regulate my movement and allow the trigger to be pulled. Maintain the escalation. We slow our thrusting as I lose control, delaying. Tension builds and falls away to build again.

She hears them and waits. She sucks at my cock, tightening slowly the walls of her vagina, scraping the pumping shaft with the unevenness, the different textures of her sheath.

It starts.

I hear my voice tight in my throat. I think its my voice. If I were capable of thinking I would be sure but the boiling fluid is surging hard along the opened tubes to the sucking thirsty tightness of her insistent body, determined mind. Deep into her I come hard, ejecting the creamy milk, spurting great drops of testosterone driven loaded sperm, partnering her copious juices.

She releases easily, withdrawing from the soaking endearment of that ending. We are wet, the days heat envelopes us, not unpleasant.

We fall back muttering into a conversation which may have made sense. Caress, touch, speak and touch more, teasing passion again, sucking lips, tongues sliding over lips and tongues talking, searching mouths, searching necks for erogenous centres, increasing desire, biting down hard, urge to bite harder, drawing blood the pain hardening my cock to bursting, falling into the need to slide into her body, fueling the fires.

I reach down but her hand is there first pulling me into the heat, pushing back against me, gasping as I thrust hard from behind striking the coarser skin of her G-spot. I thrust again, seeking to strike exactly every time until she comes clinging to the pillow, arching into our connection. I slide back out of her, over the heavy dividing ridge between cunt and asshole, rubbing the pink circle of shiny skin surrounding the focus of that huge constricting muscle. Many times I slide over, past, wetting, pushing gently into the softening tunnel.

She feels the pressure and moves away. The shallow entry repeated many times builds her needs as she curls into the heavy breathing of her pain threshold. Pain and passion merge as she pushes gently back.

I return to enter her tightened cunt, thrusting into the depths, pushing out into the hooded place of her clitoris. Backwards to push into the tightness a little deeper and forward over the sensitive feathers to the hard raging clit, to cunny to ass, plunging in watching her in the mirror, her eyes wide on mine.

All the time the tensions builds, she comes again and again, cries of ecstasy waking the hot air swirling it outwards to ears that stir in recognition and those of course that do not understand. Lives of innocence. She turns on the bed welcoming me over her pursuing once again to pleasure.

She lifts her legs starting a driving rhythm which will not let go pulling hard on reality. The picture of our bodies is reflected in the door mirror.

My body dwarfs her, engulfing, crushing but not hurting the barely visible form beneath me. She hugged me, it is not submission, it is pleasure. My knees, my arms assist allowing a shape between us. Her cuny lips kiss my hovering cock before sliding down until her buttocks fall hard against my thighs. She makes love like she means it every minute, loving and caring in a way all of her own. Nurturing my capitulation as only she can and wants me to know. Again she wants my pleasure watching me fill her up.

The heat of the day slows our movements. Thirst and hunger calm our passion. I become concerned as time precious time is moving too quickly.

Only an hour had passed.

Sitting on the floor to plunder her present, attacking dark chocolate, mint centres, irresistible, while examing the book, more choc's, candles and puddings. My mind is content, filled with her caring. Scented oil, miniature manacles that symbolize her needs.

We open wine, a sweet easy wine while making lunch of ham and singed crinkle chips. Salad meat and wine outside sitting on the seat over looking the water. I pursue her with my greedy eyes, the white translucent fabric emphasizing the out of focus breasts beneath.

Her dark triangle plays with my mind tempting me, stirring my emotions. Her legs crossed beneath her showing the faint red lips of her sex through the fabric. I touch her when I chose too. She does not resist or pull away. She edges back into my hand as I tease her with my fingers opening her up. We work up our desire, savoring each touch our movements slow, slow… Everything becomes one. Eating. Savoring each morsel. Drinking. Sipping wine, savoring each drop.

She leans back into the seat watching as I spread her thighs wide until she is straddled on the broad cushion. The diaphanous material parts, soft darkness between, her long pubic hair hiding the twin mounds, the folds, the hood invisible yet.

Gently I part the darkness revealing the scarlet pads which peek out shyly from the pursed vertical mouth. Her lips part and she licks them with a pointed tongue. One movement, all the way around. I touch her, she gasps, sucking in sharply she moans a long sigh as I watch her arousal swell, the leafy furls opening. A darkness, a depth opens low, wetting, a droplet oozes out and pauses on the ridge of her perineum before running down into the crevice of her asshole and disappearing. My finger slides into the open flower, gathering the thick slime, I revel in it's texture, pulling it upwards lubricating all as I pass through on my way to the fabulous hood above. It gives way exposing the sensitive penal form, swelling to it's fullness, standing as tall as it could, red, shinning with the juices I leave in my path. Her body spasms as I press on it, rubbing round and round.

My other hand caresses her body, smothering her breasts. Her nipples rise, filling purple the rings of her aureoles lifting away to form her beautiful womanly arousal.

I move down again exposing the tiny open hole of her urethra, it moves alive under my thumb as I slide over it into the sheath, hooking upwards, finding and pressing, rubbing the sensitive spot inside.

She shudders with orgasm and opens wide sucking in all my fingers, stretching as I push the cone of my hand deep into her and out again slowly. With each thrust she grunts a savage 'Uh!'

Sucking in a breath, panting hard as I pump her sex. Her voice fills the air with pleasure and pain, responses torn from her semi-conscious form.

The toys are there beside us. The smallest gives her nothing and the larger brings discomfort and is discarded, it is to long and to hard.

We return to the cooler interior, passion escalating past the scope of public endurance. I am not aroused. The food and wine may be the cause. Just enough to ease inside her hotness which sucks me hard in seconds. She withdraws and moves to take me into the gentle vacuum of her mouth, velvet lips and tongue moving around the darkness of my glans. I thrust into her, pushing, penetrating her mouth. She arches backwards as I move to go deeper into her throat. Her mouth is wide, her lips grind hard against my body, her nose into the underside of my body, pushing into the tightness of my balls. The first swallow drags over the sensitive head. I know it will not take long and pull away not wanting yet to come.

Leaving her I fetch the strands of leather thonging from the bedroom. She shivers in anticipation as I tower over her. They fall across her body. Softly at first. She kneels on all fours. The coiled leather falls again and again , each time a little harder. I take her hands and tie them behind her back. She is open, I thrust into her ramming hard. She folds downward, her forehead to the carpet, back rounded, breasts swinging with each driving thrust. With each thrust I let the tails descend. It makes me harder, the thrill of power and dominance driven higher by her submission. Her asshole distends opening slightly each time I strike. Again I strike, the tendrils curve under her touching the fullness of her breasts.

'Yes.' Escapes her lips and I swing again, harder. 'Yes.' She gasps. I am thrusting deep into her from behind increasing the power of the stroke as I increase the force of the flying leather. Her voice lifts as she starts her climb towards her orgasm. I pull back fearing to hurt her and she cries, 'Don't stop, more, yes.'

I am bursting. I feel huge as I part and thrust enjoying the sensations, not wanting them to end. Her anus thrust outward, a hard muscular ring, pink and open. As I let fly again and again with the swishing strands I watch my cock thrust into her. She is open, fully. I thrust fingers into her beside my thrusting hardness and lance her asshole with my thumb. It grasps me and holds me still. Now she fights the bonds on her wrists until I release them. Now she pushes back at my probing thumb, at my driving cock, impaling on each, rolling her hips as she came again and again. I picked her up and pushed her on her back into the low seat, impaled still on my raging hardness. The leather strands cut her breasts, her stomach, her throat.

She watched each fall of the tormenting filaments and arched to reach them. I sensed enough and trailed the lines of leather, a soft caress across her skin as she fell away from the orgy of orgasms. We rested. The time was right to slowly part, to make the time complete.

Her story

For the tenth time since I took your words, your thoughts of that day from you I again tonight re-read those words trying to sort out the jumbled pieces inn my mind, trying to once again find my own place to start. Of course the obvious place to start would be the beginning , right? But then I have to decide where in fact that is.

Is it the start of the planning for the day? Is it the moment the sun peaked above the horizon? Is it the moment you took me in your arms and placed your lips on mine? Where is the start? A thousands starts, a million endings. That of course raises another possibility, start my telling of a tale at it's finish and let it find it's own way home.

In the end, and perhaps the way that works the best, I sat down and let it write itself, me, I'm simply the portal.

It has been many weeks since that day and maybe that too has helped, with the lengthening of time it has become easier to separate myself from the reality of the day and form the words I want to speak. I close my eyes and I'm back there, I can feel your breath against my shoulder, I'm with you, your hand upon my thigh, and I know that it's a day that will live on inside me, close to the surface for an eternity. It was a day of firsts, a day for us to finally learn all there is to learn, that is important, about each other, should we chose to see and be seen.

A day when I found and lost my true self in the same instant, a day when you gave me everything I could possibly ever want, dominance, submission, restraint, claws dragging across my back… Skin particles and blood trapped under your nails. My long hair draped across your chest as you grip my waist drawing me to you. A kiss. A small bite on my lower lip as you enter me.

Our time together seems to be more and more releasing the person I recognize as me. She's been hiding for a long time and it's a relief to finally see her again, tell me is she who you thought she was?

Occasionally as time has passed and memories have faded I've wondered if I was simply another muse, any other reality seemed to far away, for in the harshness of daylight, for two souls hiding, it seemed it was a dream. For what else could it be?

Memories of that Monday linger in my mind and my body, I read your thoughts of that day and my body responds, sometimes against my will, leaving me aroused and with no choice but to satisfy my body. Imagining you beside me, your fingers running the length of my quivering torso, teasing me into submission, willing me to respond to your needs, hands violently tweaking my tender nipples as you prepare me for your entry. I gently and slowly massage with featherlight strokes the swollen and aroused knob of my clitoris as I imagine your face, the weight of your body over mine, your hands thrusting deep into my cunt, wet and red, your hands take the place of my own inside my imagination. My hips thrust rhythmically against the stroking fingers. Higher. Faster. Higher. Searching for the climax that I want. Red. Engorged. Dripping wet I climax. My hand and the memories enough motivation for the desired release.

The interlude between pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. Such a fine line. The memory of my bound wrists straining against the slippery surface of the silk that held them captor. A first.

Never before have I surrendered myself so completely. Control. Yet no control. I was yours totally, a symbolic representation of the way I always come to you. Body. Heart. Soul. Despite everything. Despite the desire to hide, despite the realities of our past, our present and our future, despite my other commitments when I am with you I am yours. I am your toy to play with as you see fit, totally open, totally honest.

I'm walking towards you, to your arms, neither you taking me or me taking you within their folds but taking each other. Your lips covering mine, searching, sensing the need I tried for unknown reasons to suppress and hide, afraid of how vulnerable it would render me.

Within moments I lay sprawled across your bed, tied to a corner by bindings you had made in preparation for today. The knowledge that you had been imagining the possibilities, creating implements of restraint in my absence from you an instant turn on. As I allowed you to tie me up I imagined the images that may have been going through your head as you created the new toy. Images of my body, submissive and restrained beneath you, my legs parted, everything there for you to see, to touch, me. Me, unable to respond. Unable to touch you. The control yours as you slowly fucked me, the binds heightening each and every stroke, touch, all sensations, pain almost unbearable as the first familiar ripples of orgasm descend upon my body, near climax the sharp increase in pain brings me back before I reach the peak. The threshold crossed I cry out. Too much pain. Pulling tightly at my legs. way, way to far.

I grimace and you release some of the pressure allowing my over stretched legs to return to a more natural position. Going down on me as I fight my binds in a fruitless attempt at escape, you me tease slowly. Your tongue flicking over the sweet intricate pink folds of my flesh. You bring my clitoris to it's own erection as I cover your face in the flow of my juices, a sweet warm climax and I pull your face to me, you dripping like a child drinking a carton of milk too fast.

I take you in my hands, feeling your hardness between my fingers, wanting to give you somewhere to hide, if only for awhile, pleasure, assistance in forgetting, wanting to give you me, all of me. I slide my closed fist along the length of your shaft, reaching your balls I cup them in my hand and toy with them, dipping my fingers to tease the entrance to your asshole.

Biting my throat and arch of my neck I squirm in pleasure, enjoying the long forgotten thrill of sensual pain, longing for the feel of your nails slowly, deeply clawing their way down my back, over and over again, wanting you to lick the salty blood from the wounds as it flowed and gathered at the crest of my spine and then to kiss me deeply so I can taste my own blood on your lips, in your mouth, wanting to feel the climax I knew was on its way, wanting to feel you come with me, over the edge, the ultimate in the joining. Again testing the resistance you pull my legs back towards my elbows, a length of fabric underneath my body to assist your cause--the muscles and tendons although strained more willing this time to oblige you in what you seek. Roughly you pull on clumps of pubic hair gripping tightly, dragging your nails, hard and sharp across my pubic mound before entering me, holding me open with your hands so you can reach the full depths of my body. Deep inside me I feel the head of your cock pulsating close to my centre, the shake of your body, the warning that you are about to come pushes me forward, my own climax and pleasure coming form satisfying you. I watch you, enjoying the looks of pleasure and the looks of pain that cross your face, morphing my friend, my lover, into a stranger, the eyes of an eagle or crow, dark, watching, cautious.

Easing apart, small touches, the need to touch and be together still strong. A need for sleep hanging in the air. The heat forbidding it as you gently stroke my breast and belly as we talk. For if we are not eating. Not talking. We are fucking. We talked, for how long or what about not important. Perhaps it was about us. Perhaps not. Want and need burned in the air, our bodies barely touching, as our lips, bodies and minds, perhaps wanting to hide from our thoughts, or relive the experience just gone, or simply create a new one searched each other out once more.

Our lovemaking follows a distinct pattern of unexpected acts wedged in between predictability, so soon our lips, bodies and minds, perhaps wishing to hide from our thoughts, or relive the experience just gone, or simply create a new one searched each other out once more.

Reaching across for my exhausted body you pulled me close and rolled me onto my stomach. Fear of the intense pain makes me hesitate, your cock leaving the wet confines of my cunt is searching out my ass. Teasing it into submission. I move away, still fearful of the pain but wanting it too. Wanting the immense pleasure that followed the pain. Pushing your penis's throbbing head past it's entrance, in, out, in, out, loosening the very muscles that try to restrict your entrance. Abandoning my ass for now you return to the liquid warmth of my cunt, slow stroking movements in the heat of the day, searching, searching, but for what?

Your weight upon me I take you in my arms needing to feel you close to me, needing the comfort your arms bring, the connection that comes with the act of giving, of receiving, the pleasure of another so close. Every moment, every word, every look I mean for I don't have the time to waste with flights of fantasy, time is short, mine shorter. Me not afraid. How much you know and yet how little you know as the same time. I am always afraid. Fear drives me. Feeds me. Discarding our pleasure for now to fill the more urgent need of our hungry stomachs you return to the cool interior of the house while I rest, sitting outside in full view of those who chose to watch, absorbing in the warm sun and watching you prepare lunch. The shade of the large trees offering some protection from the midday sun. I enjoy you watching me. Your quick glances through the door. Safe knowing that you want my body. Comfort in my ability to arouse you, reassurance that my presence is desired.

Reassurance of who I am, the role I have to play. With nothing left to do but wait for lunch you return to my side on the cushioned surface. We again begin the slow teasing of each others bodies, slow easy hand movements as you reach out to run your hand over my body. A touch here. A kiss moments later. Passion building I want to throw caution to hell and make love to you here, outside, the sunlight warming my back as I fuck you slowly, for all to hear and see, proud of who I am, who we are. Alas not to be, people too close, inhibitions too ingrained. Pushing me back and covering the majority of my body, you instead pushed into my cunt with a cold phallic toy, in the heat of the day it's coolness is welcome, overwhelmingly pleasant, soon you opened me further with a larger toy, strange sensations, cold, hard, thick, almost too thick, the folds of my body having trouble accepting it's massive size. Enjoying the pressure it placed on my body, it's ridges causing a strange mixture of discomfort and pleasure. The chrinkle of a plastic wrapper as you undid and placed a centre filled chocolate within the confines the dildo had just left, I immediately longed to feel your tongue lapping at my entrance as I felt the chocolate melt inside me, sucking hard to recover the dark and rich desert. Could imagine your mouth as it covered me, your hot breath filling me, overflowing as you gasped for air. Taking both my hands in yours you led me inside, back to a bed that has become perhaps too familiar. Laying me across the bed you placed your lips over my chocolate covered ones, tongue pushing deep inside to remove the sweet strawberry centre and chocolate layer. Lifting yourself above me you entered me, face covered in sticky sweet chocolate, for a few moments before turning me on top of you, careful manipulation into a position where we both could enjoy the pleasures of each others mouth, both concentrating on the offending melted chocolate that had mingled with my juices….thoughts blur……outside…..inside….I'm lost….spinning, vision blurring. Images only colors. My sense of smell strong as you enter my mouth. Something I'd never done before, me sucking, sliding back and forth along the length of you, the position for my neck slightly awkward, a little uncomfortable, but not overly so as you fucked my mouth, slowly the trickle of your sperm filled my mouth, seeping from the edges and flowing down my face as I knelt in front of you, tangling itself in my hair as you gripped tightly the back of my head, it's smell filling my nose, my mind. It's aroma strong, filling the air…..did you leave me at this point? My first indication that you had been anywhere was you return, strips of leather in your hand, a multitude of colors. Reds. Blues. Greens and yellows. The first lash across my back, sharp. Painfully, violently caressing my skin, hitting me harder and harder on my command as you thrust deeper into my bent torso. Moaning deep in the back of my throat I felt the first stirrings of another orgasm. Gripping me tightly you pulled me back at the shoulders before grabbing hold of my wrists behind my back and binding them tightly. Pivoting me on my knees you turned me to face the wall before pushing me face first into the ground and quickly spreading me apart you re-entered me, leather still in hand occasionally still finding it's way to cross my back, losing all restraint I came, a shattering climax that shook my body and left me exhausted. Leaning back, resting for the moment against whatever we could find to support us we chattered for a few moments before lapsing into an exhausted silence.

Outside much later we watched all that was happening around us while watching each other, thinking about the day, thinking about time, so little of it to really do anything and yet just enough to ensure that the time spent is well spent. Sometimes not enough time is better than too much anyway, it stops boredom setting in and keeps priorities in order. Quietness reined and my thoughts wandered, here I am, happy to roll over in the middle of the night and find myself in your arms yet knowing that somewhere the road will end. Wondering what it is you gain from me being here, from my existence, what do you wish from me? Do you wish to change me? Capture me? Or just fuck me and let me be? Or do others have greater plans? Knowing no future only the moment for as long as we can make it last do you wonder how it will end? You fuck me because I am here. A way to escape. Pushing these thoughts aside I forget trying to figure it's place in my life and let my mind drift to the surreal memories of other days, nights and days, afternoons, moments stolen as your tongue traces my body, your teeth biting hidden inside the mouth that sucks on my nipples, slowly, tantalizingly, making its way to all the sensitive parts of my body. Again my mind drifts to thoughts of me, thoughts that cause me fear for I don't wish to cause you any pain, it is pain I am here to heal but I no longer wish to be anyone's puppet, the only binds that shall confine me now are yours as you fuck me, as you dip in and out of my body. I sometimes worry that eventually one of us will lose sight of how we began, that other emotions may intrude and real or unreal destroy what presently exists. I fear losing you because you are me, to lose you would be to lose myself and yet……impossible! To lose myself in the physical reality would be so easy but there is so much more, so many other reasons that I exist in the form that I do, if only I could spread my wings and allow myself to fly. Sometimes I feel like Alice in Wonderland listening to the Cheshire Cat's riddles. If only I knew where to go from here. Where do I go? Where do we go?

I wake in the middle of the night, alone but not alone, closing my eyes I can sense you near, feel your arms around me and I'm torn between what I know I must do and what I want. With no way to make the choice for there is no choice to be made. Yet your presence is with me always, a reminder of my place. A reminder of events yet to occur and as you hold me in your arms fondling my breast I think these things. Fear. Hope. All mingle as I hold tightly to you not wanting to be away from you and yet knowing the impossibilities of any other way. As time shortens so to does the paths from the main road. I must complete what I started.

To hide. Hiding. Running I reach for you and trailing my fingers along the length of your body I grasp your cock and slowly begin to build your arousal. Wanting to feel you inside me, wanting to chase the ghosts far from my mind. Afraid. Other hurts still too fresh to contemplate any thoughts, these thoughts. Always honest with you I now ran from that honesty, instead of voicing my thoughts, my emotions, I ran, I used my body to help me hide.

Straddling you I lowered myself onto your erect penis, moaning as I swallowed you whole, engulfing you with my cunt. Violently taking your mouth with mine, biting, sucking, attacking your neck and chest like a horny vampire. Trying to get you to respond, to cause pain, distract my mind from this reality



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