2 comments/ 7084 views/ 0 favorites Festival By: jamesdixon Hungerford Bridge on a Friday evening. The sun beats down and I have Radiohead in my ears to hypnotise me against the minor irritancies of City life as I hurry my way to the train station at the end of a long week. Ambling tourists criss-cross my path to admire the view of the City of London, while I behind my shades admire their breasts, their legs, their tight buttocks in cut off shorts. Fellow office drones hurry alongside me, each picking the most efficient route through the throng, to make it their wife, their husband, their lover, their friends, or just a lonely glass of cold beer to start the weekend fun. 'Jim!' I snap out of my reverie, confused momentarily, scanning around to see a familiar face, taking the speaker buds from my ears. There's a big-breasted 40-ish woman grinning at me. She's wearing the biggest, ugliest pair of polka-dotted sunglasses I've ever seen. My mind races to think who this woman is. Someone from the football team's wife? 'Fancy seeing you here!' she says, smiling once more. The accent gives it away. Perfect English but a distinct Germanic accent. It's Ingrid, the wife of Wolfgang, our Austrian winger. They both work for a German merchant bank in the City, and I've met Ingrid a couple of times at football club socials. We had a pretty good chat both times, but being drunk on both occasions all I remember of her is that we shared an interest in classical music. And that she has stupendous breasts. Typical man. 'Hi Ingrid, great to see you. I love your sunglasses!' Liar, but a person could only wear something that hideous if they really loved it. She fingers the glasses with pride. 'Chanel! E-Bay! A bargain.' She's smiling again. I said the right thing. I take the beat in the conversation to take another look at her. She's tall, nearly as tall as I am, her hair is pulled back from her face into a ponytail, but leaving a stray flop of thick dark hair across her right eye. Her vertically striped summer dress is pulled in at the waist by a thin belt in a way that emphasises both the fullness of her chest and the delicious chunkiness of her hips. The outfit is finished off with what I hope are white stockings and a pair of red strappy shoes. I like the shoes. I like the stocking-clad legs more. 'So where are you hurrying off to?' she asks me. I end my lascivious thoughts and look back at her face. 'Oh, meeting friends in Covent Garden. We're supposed to go and watch a film later, but to be honest I'm a bit whacked so I might just head home.' Her face drops. 'Oh, that's a shame. I was about to ask you if you wanted to go a concert. My friend dropped out at the last minute and I have a spare ticket. It's Zimerman.' Her lips curl up at the corners as I see that she's wondering if I'll get the reference to the legendary Polish pianist. It's a hot ticket, one that I wouldn't turn down even if it wasn't in the hands of such a beautiful woman. It takes me about a second to decide to go to the concert, but I prolong the uncertainty a little just for fun. I tease, 'What's he doing? If it's anything too Tuetonic I might not be able to digest it.' 'Chopin études first half and Lutoslawski for the second'. 'Chopin...how romantic. I hope Wolfgang wont be jealous.' Bad move. She scowls. 'Wolfgang can go fuck himself. Do you want to come or not?' Wow, fiery. This could be interesting. 'Okay.' We turn and head back across the bridge towards the Festival Hall. The sun lights up the beautiful white Portland stone of the façade and we chat about music as we make our way through the crowds, discussing recent concerts we've been to. As we stroll I steal glances at Ingrid from the corner of my eye and also notice the looks we get from passers-by. Looks of envy. I reckon we look a pretty good couple, me in my charcoal suit with pale green-striped shirt and emerald tie, and her in her well-fitting blue-striped summer dress. Successful, smart and attractive. Just that we're not a couple. Too bad. I feel a large amount of envy for Wolfgang, and curiosity as to what he did to piss off this beauty beside me. In the Festival Hall there's the usual pre-concert crowd. Mostly middle-aged and above, well-heeled Londoners, a few foreigners showing off trophy wives, a smattering of Chinese students, harassed-looking parents with sulky teenagers in their worst best outfits. Their chatter echoes through the main bar, the sound increased by the clatter of heels on polished floors. I hate crowds. 'Let's go upstairs, I've got my Member's Card with me, we can get away from the masses and have a quick G and T before kick-off.' She takes off her sunglasses and puts them away in her handbag. 'Whatever you say.' She says it with an ironic glint in her eye that I like. We ascend to the sixth floor in the lift. It's the first time I've been able to get close enough to her to smell her perfume. I breathe in deeply. Citrus, but with a depth of something else, something like coffee. Quite masculine. Heady stuff. An awkward silence in the intimacy of the lift, during which I revel in the blueness of Ingrid's finally unmasked eyes, an intimacy broken by the doors opening onto the Members' Bar. 'What would you like to drink?' 'I thought you already told me I was having a gin and tonic.' She's raising her eyebrow at me, teasing me. 'So I did', I smile, 'Grab a table and I'll be with you in a sec.' I turn to the bar as if to order the drink but turn back after a second so that I can admire her full backside as she stalks off to find a free table. The bar's fairly busy, but a lot more relaxed than downstairs. The bartender is looking at me sullenly as I order our drinks, and a couple more for half-time. A Polish girl, rather plain, but with perky breasts under the statutory RFH logo-ed t-shirt. On another night I might have asked her if she wanted to skip work and come to the concert with me, but not on this one. Taking our drinks I find Ingrid sitting in a sofa beside a low table. A prime spot. Through the broad glass windows there's a panorama of Westminster with boats cruising along the Thames beneath the busy skyline. But my eyes aren't attracted by the view outside, they're drawn to the way that Ingrid's skirt has ridden across her thighs, the material stretched tight just above her pressed together knees. Already my mind is calculating just how far up her legs I might be able to see when I sit down myself. I put the drinks down and as I sit down also take the opportunity to glance at her wonderful breasts. I think briefly about how they would feel cupped in my hands fucking her from behind, and feel the stirring of an erection in my boxers. I need to settle down a little, this could end up being embarrassing. 'Thanks for the drink, but we'll have to be quick. The concert starts in twenty minutes.' 'No problem. I ordered the same again for the interval -- to save us queueing.' 'Oh, you think of everything don't you?' 'I think about a lot of things.' I notice that she has parted her knees slightly, allowing me to see slightly up the inside of her thigh, but not quite high enough to decide whether she's wearing stockings or tights. 'Are you enjoying the view?' She's smiling ironically at me again. I look out of the window. 'I've seen it so many times I barely notice it any more. Especially when there are more attractive prospects in the room.' 'I don't know what you mean?' I look at her steadily, more boldly than before. 'I think you do.' She smiles, slugs back the remains of her drink, and gets up. 'Come on, let's get to our seats.' The seats we have are in the choir, behind the piano, but virtually on the stage. Practically the whole of the rest of the auditorium is visible to us, as well as the pianist himself. Zimerman is a revelation, bringing out the drama and romanticism of Chopin's music to the full. I find myself lost in the music, closing my eyes for the last piece in C Minor, the rolling, restless music filling my chest with tension, before finding release in the last ringing chord. It is only as I hear the audience applause that I open my eyes and realise that my right hand has been gripping Ingrid's thigh for who knows how long, while my left has scrunched the concert programme into a tight roll. I know I should take my hand away, but enjoy the feeling of the sheer fabric of her dress sliding along her smooth skin for just a few seconds more before I release her, apologising for getting carried away as I do so. 'Oh, I don't mind at all', she says, 'There are few people who get quite so intensely wrapped up in the music.' 'Chopin does that to me', I say, a little embarrassed by my emotion. 'I'm so glad to have bumped into you, it's almost providential that I met you on the bridge.' 'Providential!' She's grinning, her eyes twinkling, 'You're so melodramatic.' 'Is that a bad thing?...I think I need a drink, I'm not sure Lutoslawki's going to be able to live up to that.' 'I'm just going to the loo', she looks at me, she seems a little flushed, 'I'll see you in the bar.' I make my way up to the bar and pick up our drinks. No tables being available I stand against the railing by the window, gazing at the sun setting over London. Nelson on his column is silhouetted against the reddening sky, surprisingly close. Life feels good. Ingrid seems to take a very long time to return from the bathroom. Now, I feel a hand on my waist, slipping something into my jacket pocket. From her perfume I know that it's Ingrid. I can feel her breasts brushing against my back as she leans into my ear. 'That's a little present for you', she breathes in my ear, 'But don't look at it yet. I'll tell you when.' She takes her drink from my hand and moves around to come beside me, sharing the view. She's leaning against the rail and I can look down the top of her dress if I drift my eyes that way. I drift my eyes that way and forget to drift them back. 'You know the Chopin was so good, I'm not sure I'm in the mood for the second half,' she says, eyeing me sideways. I look up. Caught! 'Oh really? Well, I guess we could just have a drink here.' 'Don't you still feel like you need an emotional release?' People are drifting back to the auditorium, hurried along by the bell. 'I guess....' I put my hand in my pocket. I feel a small, silky bundle, like a handkerchief but more complicated. And it feels warm, slightly damp. Confusion in my mind, I put a questioning look to Ingrid. 'Those are my knickers Jim. When I went to the bathroom I had to bring myself off. The combination of the music and your hand on my thigh had already got me halfway to an orgasm. I fingered myself through my knickers and thought of your fingers being on my clit. I hope you don't mind?' Mind?! My cock springing to hardness in seconds as I listen to her. 'I might have to take myself in hand if you keep talking like that.' 'Oh, I rather hoped you'd let me do that. The concert's started now, if we go to the bathroom we should have some peace and quiet.' 'Your place or mine?' I quip. 'Oh, yours.' I lead the way to the Gent's. We go in and I turn to face her. 'No, I'm not going to fuck you, or even kiss you. Face the mirror'. I face the mirror, watching her in the reflection. She comes close to me once more, again pressing her breasts against my back. I can feel her fingers unzipping my fly, searching inside my boxers for my hard cock and freeing it through the material. I sigh as I feel her peeling back my foreskin, causing my bell-end to swell even more. She removes her hand briefly to dip into my pocket and pick up her knickers. I watch in the mirror as she inspects them, smells them, then wraps them around my cock. 'How does that feel?' she whispers into my ear. All I can do is let out a groan of lust. She's stroking my cock up and down now, slowly. Her thumb and forefinger have formed a circle that she uses to rub the length of my shaft, squeezing me expertly. I can feel her full breasts in my back, and I look through half-closed eyes at her face smiling at me in the mirror, her blue eyes flashing at me as she starts to increase the pace of her strokes. My balls tighten as I feel the excitement of orgasm begin to twitter in my stomach. Her left hand comes around to delve into my trousers and squeeze my balls, digging her nails there, rooting underneath to cup my balls as her fist pumps my cock. 'Are you going to come for me darling?' she whispers, and then kisses the back of my neck. 'Yesss', I breathe, feeling the spunk rising in my balls. Closing my eyes I can feel nothing but the wonderful caress of her long fingers sliding up and down my shaft. Then as I feel my cock start to twitch I open up my eyes to see her looking intensely at my face in the mirror and I feel my hot spunk spurting out of my cock, Spurting all over the sink, up to the base of the mirror. Long, thick wads of come landing all over the ceramics and the last strokes drippling into Ingrid's used silk panties. I let out a huge sigh and shudder, my hips and cock twitching in the aftermath of orgasm, collapsing back against Ingrid, luxuriating in her arms wrapped around me still. She carefully wipes my cock with her knickers, folds them up and deposits them back in my jacket pocket before zipping me up. 'Now, let's go and get that drink', she says, grinning. 'And this time I'll choose.' Festival This was written by a close friend of mine who sent it me cus she thought it was something I would like, what do you know? It was :P -------------------------------------------------- I've never been one for festivals, the noise and crowds terrify me. So I was naturally panicking when you took me by the hand and led me through the gate into the biggest crowd I have ever seen in my life. Twenty-five thousand people milled around a tiny stage, completely dwarfing it. I couldn't see any faces beyond about fifty metres away, it was just a blur of colour and noise. I began to wonder if my drink had been spiked or something, this attack on my senses couldn't actually be this vibrant. I had no idea who was on stage, and most of the crowd probably didn't either. The people I could make out near me looked like they were on a cocktail of drugs, and were just enjoying the noise and people. My heart was beating fit to burst, and the hand gripping yours with such fear was clammy and cold. If you'd looked into my eyes, you would see the pupils were dilated to such an extent that the iris was practically non-existent. I was shaking so much that I resembled someone with advanced Parkinsons, my jaw was set into a death mask, and I wasn't sure if my bladder would hold out under this much stress, yet I felt strangely alive. You turned back to face me, eyes dancing. You opened your mouth, but the crowd drowned out whatever you said. I nodded and attempted a smile, probably looking like some Frankensteinesque monster. Your eyes laughed and you dragged me onwards. The crowds seemed to go on forever, but eventually they started to thin, and we could see trees, fields, a river in the distance. The noise gradually died down as we continued, but never comepletely vanished. The muffled throb of the music was to be my lullaby for the two nights. Not too far away from the crowds was the temp encampment. Hundreds of tents, of all shapes, colours and sizes, dotted the horizon. Great twelve-man tents mingled with tiny scraps of material that seemingly wouldn't sleep one man. Even though it was fairly far away from the main crowd, it was still buzzing with activity, like a hive on red alert. People scurried between tents, carrying pots and pans, food and drink. Groups of intimidating-looking youths lingered around, looking for trouble. Flushed faces, red with the exertion of screaming at the stage, passing us as their owners dragged themselves to their tent for a few hours kip. We reached our spot, marked with a fluttering pennant with our names. A fairly large tree was nearby, offering shade for me to sit in while you struggled with the tent pegs. Eventually the place we would call home for the next 48 hours was ready. I crawled through the opening and surveyed it. Small, but cosy. The majority was taken up by the 'bedroom', a large, padded space with a double sleeping bag and 4 pillows. It looked pretty inviting after all those hours travelling. I wrapped myself in the sleeping bag, and even though it was only 3pm, sank into a blissful sleep. I woke a few hours later, concious of you watching me. You were propped up on one elbow, eyes on my gently rising and falling chest as I breathed. I stretched, and craned my neck for a kiss. Your lips touched mine, and you rolled over so that one leg was over mine, and we were closer. I deepened the kiss, running my tongue along your lower lip, just how you like it. You respond with a low groan, almost a vibration. You bring a hand up to my throat, tracing along the curve of my jaw with your fingertips, and I feel that familiar spark start in my stomach and work it's way down. I gently bit your bottom lip, rolling it between my teeth, and run my fingers through your hair, bringing your head closer to mine and smashing our lips together. At that moment, a large group of people chose to walk by, singing raucously. This brought me back to where I was, in the midle of a field with twenty-five thousand other people. I look up at you, my eyes glinting. You're panting slightly, and your erection is obvious, pressing into my leg. I roll over and crawl out of the tent, pausing to wriggle my arse in your face and chuckle mischievously. You follow. Once outside the tent, I scan the field for a suitable place. At the edge of the throng, by the river, is a large sprawling tree with drooping branches, a weeping willow. This is perfect. I take your hand, and this time it is me leading you through the masses. At the tree, I pause to check whether anyone has seen us, and duck under the branches. They form a kind of room, surrounding us with a leafy veil. Outside, I can see glimpes of the crowds waving and dancing, and I know that they have no idea. Inside, it is cool, the leaves seem to emanate their own light, green and luscious. Grass forms a soft mattress, on which we lay down and continue what we started. Your hands rove up and down my body, squeezing and stroking. Your tongue dances a pattern on my throat, interspersed with nibbles and kisses. My heart is working overtime again, but this time I'm not panicking. The proximity of so many people is exciting, any one of them could glance over and see us. You tear yourself away from my neck to kiss me, and I pull you on top of me. Our breath mingles, for a second you gaze into my eyes, and then you slip a hand up my top and into my bra. Circling my nipple with one finger, you pull my top off the other shoulder and undo my bra, pulling it to the side. Switching hands, you pinch my other nipple while you take my top and bra off of the other side. When I am naked from the waist up, you move your head down to suckle one of my nipples whilst stroking and squeezing my other breast. I arch my back under you, and hook my fingers in your jeans. A soft curl of pubic hair tickles my fingers, and I delve deeper, until I can feel your cock throbbing between my fingers. I squeeze gently, and you groan into my chest. Quickly sitting up, you rip my jeans and underwear off me, and fling them to the side. You perform the same treatment on yourself, disrobing faster than I have ever seen before. In a trice you're laying alongside me, your hands are working their way down my body. I part my legs slightly, and you slip your hand between them. I shiver as I feel you touch my clit, and you slide a finger inside me to collect some lubrication, which you then rub into my clit. My body starts to shake, and I beg you to put something inside me, anything. You oblige with a finger, working it in and out slowly but firmly, making me sigh with pleasure. You speed it up until I'm rocking and moaning underneath you, and then, when I'm right on the brink, you thrust extra hard and extra fast, making me scream out my orgasm. When my breathing has returned to somewhat near normal, I turn over and motion for you to lie down. You do so, and I lean over you and kiss you. I nuzzle your neck until you tilt your head, then I lick around your ear, biting the lobe gently. You groan, and your hand strays down to your erection. I bite your neck, and lick a trail down to your nipples, circling each with my tongue. I flick across them a few times, making you start to stroke your cock, and then continue on my way down until I reach the base of your cock. Taking it in my hand, I kiss up and down the shaft before wrapping my lips around it and taking as much into my mouth as I can. Swirling my tongue around the ridged tip, I move my head back until only about an inch is inside my mouth, and quickly duck back so it is all inside. Raising my eyes, I can see you watching and trying not to move too much. Our eyes lock, and the unspoken question is answered. I remove your cock from my mouth, licking all the way around and kissing the tip. You roll me over onto my back, pressing me into the ground and nuzzling my neck. Pressing your cock to the entrance of my cunt, you move up and kiss me softly on the lips, before thrusting into me so hard I yelp with a mixture of pleasure and pain. You keep up this punishing pace, fucking me like I've never been fucked before. My breath comes in short gasps, and my back arches towards you. You sink your head to my breast and suck my nipple, bringing more pleasure than I could ever imagine. As my orgasm builds, I dig my nails into your back and bite your shoulder, before letting go and throwing my head back, screaming at the world. After my orgasm has subsided, you slow the pace to a more gentle thrust, letting me recover. You kiss around my neck, licking away droplets of sweat. I reach up and kiss your lips, nibbling the lower one until you groan with pleasure. I grip your cock with my cunt, and you start to thrust harder again. Beads of sweat form on your forehead, and I wipe them off with my hand. I whisper something in your ear, and your eyes widen, before you nod and get off of me. I turn so I'm laying on my side, and you do the same. Shuffling down so my head is about level with your bellybutton, I grip your cock in my hand and stroke it up and down, slowly and firmly. You sigh softly and lay back, letting the feeling spread through you. I carry on stroking, sometimes adding my tongue to the mix, licking the tip of your cock. After a few minutes, you start to thrust back against my hand, so I stroke harder. Your breathing speeds up until you're panting, and small moans escape your throat. I bring your cock down to touch my belly, the cold, smooth skin adding another sensation. Moving down, I place your cock between my breasts, tilting my head back so you can see, and rubbing them on your cock. Your moans increase, and you thrust harder. My cunt pulses with excitement, moisture dripping from it and sliding over my thigh. When your cock touches my neck you gasp and realease, spurting a lava flow of come over my neck, my breasts and my stomach. Your cock twitches in my hand as you come more and more, I can feel your seed running down my stomach onto the ground, to fertilise something other than me. Puffing out your cheeks and blowing air upwards over your forehead, you sigh happily. I move up and you turn me over to inspect your handiwork. Impressed, you kiss me softly on the lips. We cuddle there, under the tree, for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the people who are so close by. Then we get dressed and saunter out, a casual facade, but we're both trying to hide our grins. Back in the tent, I turn to you and wink before saying 'You know, I suppose festivals aren't that bad'. The next two days will be fun. Festival I've never been one for festivals, the noise and crowds terrify me. So I was naturally panicking when you took me by the hand and led me through the gate into the biggest crowd I have ever seen in my life. Twenty-five thousand people milled around a tiny stage, completely dwarfing it. I couldn't see any faces beyond about fifty metres away, it was just a blur of colour and noise. I began to wonder if my drink had been spiked or something, this attack on my senses couldn't actually be this vibrant. I had no idea who was on stage, and most of the crowd probably didn't either. The people I could make out near me looked like they were on a cocktail of drugs, and were just enjoying the noise and people. My heart was beating fit to burst, and the hand gripping yours with such fear was clammy and cold. If you'd looked into my eyes, you would see the pupils were dilated to such an extent that the iris was practically non-existent. I was shaking so much that I resembled someone with advanced Parkinsons, my jaw was set into a death mask, and I wasn't sure if my bladder would hold out under this much stress, yet I felt strangely alive. You turned back to face me, eyes dancing. You opened your mouth, but the crowd drowned out whatever you said. I nodded and attempted a smile, probably looking like some Frankensteinesque monster. Your eyes laughed and you dragged me onwards. The crowds seemed to go on forever, but eventually they started to thin, and we could see trees, fields, a river in the distance. The noise gradually died down as we continued, but never comepletely vanished. The muffled throb of the music was to be my lullaby for the two nights. Not too far away from the crowds was the temp encampment. Hundreds of tents, of all shapes, colours and sizes, dotted the horizon. Great twelve-man tents mingled with tiny scraps of material that seemingly wouldn't sleep one man. Even though it was fairly far away from the main crowd, it was still buzzing with activity, like a hive on red alert. People scurried between tents, carrying pots and pans, food and drink. Groups of intimidating-looking youths lingered around, looking for trouble. Flushed faces, red with the exertion of screaming at the stage, passing us as their owners dragged themselves to their tent for a few hours kip. We reached our spot, marked with a fluttering pennant with our names. A fairly large tree was nearby, offering shade for me to sit in while you struggled with the tent pegs. Eventually the place we would call home for the next 48 hours was ready. I crawled through the opening and surveyed it. Small, but cosy. The majority was taken up by the 'bedroom', a large, padded space with a double sleeping bag and 4 pillows. It looked pretty inviting after all those hours travelling. I wrapped myself in the sleeping bag, and even though it was only 3pm, sank into a blissful sleep. I woke a few hours later, concious of you watching me. You were propped up on one elbow, eyes on my gently rising and falling chest as I breathed. I stretched, and craned my neck for a kiss. Your lips touched mine, and you rolled over so that one leg was over mine, and we were closer. I deepened the kiss, running my tongue along your lower lip, just how you like it. You respond with a low groan, almost a vibration. You bring a hand up to my throat, tracing along the curve of my jaw with your fingertips, and I feel that familiar spark start in my stomach and work it's way down. I gently bit your bottom lip, rolling it between my teeth, and run my fingers through your hair, bringing your head closer to mine and smashing our lips together. At that moment, a large group of people chose to walk by, singing raucously. This brought me back to where I was, in the midle of a field with twenty-five thousand other people. I look up at you, my eyes glinting. You're panting slightly, and your erection is obvious, pressing into my leg. I roll over and crawl out of the tent, pausing to wriggle my arse in your face and chuckle mischievously. You follow. Once outside the tent, I scan the field for a suitable place. At the edge of the throng, by the river, is a large sprawling tree with drooping branches, a weeping willow. This is perfect. I take your hand, and this time it is me leading you through the masses. At the tree, I pause to check whether anyone has seen us, and duck under the branches. They form a kind of room, surrounding us with a leafy veil. Outside, I can see glimpes of the crowds waving and dancing, and I know that they have no idea. Inside, it is cool, the leaves seem to emanate their own light, green and luscious. Grass forms a soft mattress, on which we lay down and continue what we started. Your hands rove up and down my body, squeezing and stroking. Your tongue dances a pattern on my throat, interspersed with nibbles and kisses. My heart is working overtime again, but this time I'm not panicking. The proximity of so many people is exciting, any one of them could glance over and see us. You tear yourself away from my neck to kiss me, and I pull you on top of me. Our breath mingles, for a second you gaze into my eyes, and then you slip a hand up my top and into my bra. Circling my nipple with one finger, you pull my top off the other shoulder and undo my bra, pulling it to the side. Switching hands, you pinch my other nipple while you take my top and bra off of the other side. When I am naked from the waist up, you move your head down to suckle one of my nipples whilst stroking and squeezing my other breast. I arch my back under you, and hook my fingers in your jeans. A soft curl of pubic hair tickles my fingers, and I delve deeper, until I can feel your cock throbbing between my fingers. I squeeze gently, and you groan into my chest. Quickly sitting up, you rip my jeans and underwear off me, and fling them to the side. You perform the same treatment on yourself, disrobing faster than I have ever seen before. In a trice you're laying alongside me, your hands are working their way down my body. I part my legs slightly, and you slip your hand between them. I shiver as I feel you touch my clit, and you slide a finger inside me to collect some lubrication, which you then rub into my clit. My body starts to shake, and I beg you to put something inside me, anything. You oblige with a finger, working it in and out slowly but firmly, making me sigh with pleasure. You speed it up until I'm rocking and moaning underneath you, and then, when I'm right on the brink, you thrust extra hard and extra fast, making me scream out my orgasm. When my breathing has returned to somewhat near normal, I turn over and motion for you to lie down. You do so, and I lean over you and kiss you. I nuzzle your neck until you tilt your head, then I lick around your ear, biting the lobe gently. You groan, and your hand strays down to your erection. I bite your neck, and lick a trail down to your nipples, circling each with my tongue. I flick across them a few times, making you start to stroke your cock, and then continue on my way down until I reach the base of your cock. Taking it in my hand, I kiss up and down the shaft before wrapping my lips around it and taking as much into my mouth as I can. Swirling my tongue around the ridged tip, I move my head back until only about an inch is inside my mouth, and quickly duck back so it is all inside. Raising my eyes, I can see you watching and trying not to move too much. Our eyes lock, and the unspoken question is answered. I remove your cock from my mouth, licking all the way around and kissing the tip. You roll me over onto my back, pressing me into the ground and nuzzling my neck. Pressing your cock to the entrance of my cunt, you move up and kiss me softly on the lips, before thrusting into me so hard I yelp with a mixture of pleasure and pain. You keep up this punishing pace, fucking me like I've never been fucked before. My breath comes in short gasps, and my back arches towards you. You sink your head to my breast and suck my nipple, bringing more pleasure than I could ever imagine. As my orgasm builds, I dig my nails into your back and bite your shoulder, before letting go and throwing my head back, screaming at the world. After my orgasm has subsided, you slow the pace to a more gentle thrust, letting me recover. You kiss around my neck, licking away droplets of sweat. I reach up and kiss your lips, nibbling the lower one until you groan with pleasure. I grip your cock with my cunt, and you start to thrust harder again. Beads of sweat form on your forehead, and I wipe them off with my hand. I whisper something in your ear, and your eyes widen, before you nod and get off of me. I turn so I'm laying on my side, and you do the same. Shuffling down so my head is about level with your bellybutton, I grip your cock in my hand and stroke it up and down, slowly and firmly. You sigh softly and lay back, letting the feeling spread through you. I carry on stroking, sometimes adding my tongue to the mix, licking the tip of your cock. After a few minutes, you start to thrust back against my hand, so I stroke harder. Your breathing speeds up until you're panting, and small moans escape your throat. I bring your cock down to touch my belly, the cold, smooth skin adding another sensation. Moving down, I place your cock between my breasts, tilting my head back so you can see, and rubbing them on your cock. Your moans increase, and you thrust harder. My cunt pulses with excitement, moisture dripping from it and sliding over my thigh. When your cock touches my neck you gasp and realease, spurting a lava flow of come over my neck, my breasts and my stomach. Your cock twitches in my hand as you come more and more, I can feel your seed running down my stomach onto the ground, to fertilise something other than me. Puffing out your cheeks and blowing air upwards over your forehead, you sigh happily. I move up and you turn me over to inspect your handiwork. Impressed, you kiss me softly on the lips. We cuddle there, under the tree, for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the people who are so close by. Then we get dressed and saunter out, a casual facade, but we're both trying to hide our grins. Back in the tent, I turn to you and wink before saying 'You know, I suppose festivals aren't that bad'. The next two days will be fun. Festival "Mine were an old people, and were old even when this land was settled. And now they were scattered, and shared only the rituals of mysteries that none living could understand. I was the only one who came back that night to the old town as legend bade, for only the poor and the lonely remember." -H.P. Lovecraft, "The Festival" *** I never knew what led my parents to cut themselves off from the rest of our family, but for my entire life prior to the events I'm about to disclose I knew nothing of them. On the few occasions I broached the topic both my mother and father said nothing, which suggested to me some particularly painful secret for which the only salve was silence. They would have had me believe that the three of us were alone in the world. If only that had been true. I was nineteen years old the day everything changed. Both my parents were gone by then, lost in an accident, and their secrets with them. Imagine my surprise when an invitation to a family reunion arrived in the mail. The letter was handwritten and addressed me by name, coming from someone who claimed to be my maternal grandfather. It said that the family had heard about the accident and wanted me to attend "the Festival" this year, whatever that means. Astonished, I wrote back immediately and said I would be there. I was almost giddy, not only from knowing that I'd soon meet the family I thought lost, but also from the possibility that any number of mysteries might soon be resolved. I had never been to New England before, and it was not what I expected. I guess I imagined a kind of rolling Normal Rockwell scene, but the landscape I discovered from the window of the train was spare and quiet. It left me unnerved, troubled with thoughts about what might be just past those hills, or that field. My alleged grandparents had a great old house on the outskirts of Kingsport, and I arrived on their doorstep in the early afternoon of a brisk winter day, suitcase in one hand and invitation in the other. It was the Yuletide, near the solstice, the time of the year when old customs invade our modern world, bringing the lingering ghosts of ancient pagan ways. The house was a secluded place, the only landmark at the end of an isolated dirt road near a sprawling (but rundown) orchard and some dramatic cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. There was not a soul in sight, but when I knocked a woman a few years older than me, a green-eyed and auburn-haired beauty in a unseasonal white sundress, answered the door. My heart gave a little flutter at the sight of her; she might as well have been an angel. She peered through the screen and asked, very politely, what I wanted. I held up the letter. "I got this in the mail. My name is Charles, and—" "Charles?" She pushed the screen open. "Is that you?" I was unsure what to say. "Well, I am me. Always have been." She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me as tightly as she could. I swooned a bit. I was shocked to find that she was crying and I did my best to comfort her. "I can't believe it's you!" she said. I am often in disbelief myself," I said. She pulled back, wiping her tears. "Oh, of course you don't recognize me. I'm Celia. We're cousins." My heart rolled over and died. I put on a brave face. "Celia? The name is almost familiar, but I don't think that I remember." "You would have been very young the last time we met: Four or five years old, at the last Festival that your parents attended. I'm sorry for getting so emotiona. It's just wonderful that you're here." "I'm sure it is," I said, sounding perhaps not as enthusiastic as I should. I was still longing to somehow turn back the clock on her use of the word "cousin." She was beautiful and charming and witty, and I cursed the universe that we should be related. If I'd met her on the street a week ago neither of us would ever have known the difference, I thought. But we hadn't. She took me inside. The house was dark, and looked in need of a good dusting. Knowing what I know now, it wouldn't surprise me if they'd only recently re-inhabited it for my sake, to keep up appearances when I met them. "I was so sorry to hear about your parents," she said. "Of course, I barely remember them either, but even so." "Thank you," I said. "It's been difficult." "I lost my parents too, when I was just a teenager," she said. "Grandma and Grandpa have been all I've had for years. We can't make up for what you've lost, but family is still the best thing for you now." We met Grandpa on the back deck, where he was, for some reason, looking through stacks of decades-old periodicals. He looked up once, nodded, then did an actual double take upon seeing me. He took me by the hand, for the moment unable to say anything. Tears welled in his eyes. For my part I was startled. He was a tall, wizened, gray man with spectacles, the lines of his face so deep and hard they look as if they'd been painted on. It was startling. "My boy!" said Grandpa, when he could talk. "Let me look at you." He kept saying this over and over, and would not stop shaking my hand. "Grandpa, give Charles a seat," Celia said, breaking us up. I sat across the table from him, and Celia sat next to me, her legs crossed. I enjoyed our proximity in a way I shouldn't have. The deck appeared rundown, paint peeling and wood splintering around us, but it was enclosed and insulated from the cold, and the furniture was comfortable and free of wear. Through the glass enclosure there was a beautiful view of the old, dark oak trees that peopled the property. "I'm sorry," Grandpa said, sitting again. "I got carried away. You don't know what it means for all of us that you're here. Your poor mother and father! We hadn't seen them in so long, and when we heard the news—" "I'm sure they would be happy to know how much they meant to you still after all these years." Grandpa wiped his eyes and cleaned his spectacles. "It was a damned fool thing, the argument that sent your parents out of here. So much time lost. Every year at Festival, I think of them." There was that word again. "What's this I keep hearing about a festival?" I said. Celia laughed, a little too loud. "Oh Charles, you didn't know? I'm afraid the entire family is a bunch of wicked pagans." I must have looked confused, because Grandpa chuckled. "It's a family tradition of sorts," he said. "It goes back, oh, to long before I was born. Something we've done every year, for always." "What exactly is it?" I said. "It's just as bad as you think," said Celia, talking in a loud whisper. "It's all masks and bonfires and chanting and wicked idolatry. We might as well sacrifice an ox on an altar while we're at it." Grandpa waved a hand. "It's all a lark, of course," he said. Back in the Old Country, it was taken very seriously, but now it's just a tradition. You'll see what we mean." I was about to ask about the mention of the old country, because my parents had never talked about our heritage or history and I was very interested to know where the family line originated, but I was interrupted by the arrival of Grandma, who burst in from the kitchen and smothered me with hugs and kisses on the cheek. She was a rotund woman who barely came up to my chest. She fawned over me and repeated what I expected was to become a common refrain about how good it was that I was here so that the whole family can finally be together again for the Festival. That word came up so often that the back of my neck started to prickle at the mention of it. Grandma and Grandpa (even now it feels strange to use those names) interviewed me about my life for an hour. I didn't think anything I had to say was that intriguing, but they swooned over every detail. Celia, meanwhile, watched us with a detached expression, occasionally touching my hand, which made me jump. Grandma echoed the sentiment of how good it was to see me and how much she regretted the falling out with my parents. When I asked whatever had happened, she frowned and did not reply for some time. "I guess it's just that your parents didn't want you growing up with our...customs," said Grandma. "Like the Festival," said Grandpa. "Right," said Grandma. "They felt like we were, oh, backward and arcane. They didn't want you being in that environment. They thought it would turn you strange." I mulled this over. "That doesn't sound like something serious enough that you'd never speak to each other again?" "Your father was a stubborn man," said Grandpa, and that was true enough. "And so was I, then. If I'd known what it would cost us I wouldn't have gotten so angry. But at the time I told him that if he wasn't willing to act like a part of this family then he shouldn't be a part of this family. I never saw my son again. And now I never will." He began to lose his composure once more, and Grandma took him inside to lie down before the others arrived, leaving Celia and I to get acquainted. I wondered at the story. What was it about these traditions that would cause such a schism? I felt an unnamable dread, but Celia's face and voice and affection put me at ease. She took me for a walk around the grounds, showing me the orchard where everyone would gather that night and then admiring the view together from the sea cliffs together. We stood, hand in hand, watching the ocean and smelling the salt breeze. I snuck glances at her out of the corner of my eye; God she was beautiful. "Celia?" I said. "Hmm?" "Grandpa called my father his son, but the invitation said he was Mom's father?" Celia paused. "They were very close, your dad and Grandpa. They knew each other for a long time, even before he married your mom. And, you know, he's getting older now, and he doesn't remember things as clearly as he used to. I think he'll be having his last Festival soon. Not this year, but soon." And then she leaned on me, her head on my shoulde. "Isn't it beautiful here?" "It is," I said, as the surf crashed below. She hugged me and I leaned into her harder than I should have. She didn't notice. "I've missed you so much," she said. "It's strange, because we were both so young the last time you were here, but I've never forgotten you. When we were children we stood right on this same spot, looking at the ocean just like this, and then you kissed my cheek. It was the sweetest thing. I think about it every year." I felt my blood rise. For the first time in my life I felt a real and profound sense of belonging, of being with people who loved me. For although my mother and father had never denied me anything and I'm sure that, deep down, they must have loved me, our relationship had always been one of tension. Only now, with Celia, did I feel the first hints of real affection. The sun was going down by the time we went back to the house. Our feet crunched in the shallow layer of frozen snow. There were lights on in the old place, and cars arriving on the road. In twos and threes and fours, the family was coming. It was time to meet everyone. They were all here, the aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins I never knew I had, and the great relatives and the great, great relatives too. Children five and six and seven years old scampered and played in the snow while the older ones, teens and preteens, congregated in bunches, talking amongst themselves and holding their own private family congress while the older crowd spread throughout the house. Grandma and Grandpa beamed at everyone and Celia shadowed me, never far away, as I was put through the paces by a hundred grinning cognates who wanted to hug me and look at me and tell me how sad they were about my parents, and how happy they were that I was here. I felt like an awkward celebrity who never wanted fame. I noticed something strange as the evening wore on. I wanted to ask Celia about it but found no opportunity: I met many uncles and aunts and more distant relations, and almost everyone was accompanied by at least one child, but none of them seemed to be married. There were no husbands, no wives, and nos of any kind. The teenagers and young people brought no boyfriends or girlfriends along, and talked of none. There were blood relations, but only blood relations. Perhaps, if I had been more discerning, I would have noticed that although each child acknowledged one parent at the gathering, they also each seemed to have a particular affection for one other person of the opposite sex as that parent, an aunt or uncle or cousin with whom they seemed to have a particular rapport. But I had no time to consider the matter then. We all talked and laughed through dinner, and then it was time to prepare for the Festival. Celia had explained a bit of it to me already, but I was still unclear on most of the concept. Everyone assembled outside and a dozen or so went on ahead to the orchard to prepare a bonfire from the dry kindling collected earlier in the week. Grandma went among the rest of us, passing out certain ceremonial garments (robes of coarse brown cloth, of the same sort worn at such gatherings for millennia, as I understood it). When the whole lot of us were dressed we walked, side by side in pairs, to the appointed site, some pairs carrying lit torches, and along the way we sang, though I cannot now remember the words or the tune of those hymns. I was bewildered by all this, but had been warned by Celia and our grandparents to expect strange things and assured that it was all in good fun, and in keeping with our heritage (ambiguous though that seemed to be). We formed a circle around the sticks and brambles piled high in the old orchard, and one by one the torchbearers threw their burning brands onto the stack, setting it ablaze. Flames danced and sent gouts of foul black smoke into the night sky, to greet the waning moon. The light of the fire lent the faces around me a ghoulish quality, almost as if we were a host of devils. Thus far I was confused and unsettle but not yet frightened or wholly alarmed. Backward though they may be, these people were the family I'd searched for all my life, and they had taken me in and accepted me as one of them. I did not understand these rites and mysteries, but I understood that they mattered to everyone here. In spite of the lurid trappings, I felt a sense of belonging, and that sense wrestled with my primal revulsion. But it was when the songs ended and the next vocalizations were uttered that I became truly horrified. I am reluctant to call these invocations "prayers," as they were surely as blasphemous as any words spoken by any creature on this earth, but they were, at least, a manner of address to some higher power, some nameless, faceless godhead, some setebos or demogorgon buried in the detritus of time. One passage in particular will remain forever engraved on my memory: "Ia, Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!" I had no idea what such a ghastly orison could mean, but it chilled me to the marrow. Indeed, the phrase seemed so obscene that, as I mumbled it in reply with the others, its toxicity polluted my flesh. The robe felt restrictive and claustrophobic. And what were they doing now, what was this thing they were bringing forth, this strange idol twice as tall as a man, ancient and fetid in appearance, hammered together from the bones and antlers of animals? What grotesque figure was it meant to encharacter, and why did they show such obeisance to it? Unlacing my fingers from Celia's I pushed through the crowd, ignoring their alarmed stares, and when I was outside the circle I ran from the clearing and the orchard and those strange words that filled my head with thoughts of unknowable, squamous things and vestigial powers lying long dead in Cyclopean mausoleums. I ran, in a sense, from myself, for as much as I loathed these thoughts and the words that engendered them I could not, even now, wholly disassociate from my sense of kinship with them. I didn't stop running until I came back to the house. Looking as it did now, empty and dark, the peeling whitewash of the wall faintly reflecting the distant flames of the revelry fires, it seemed all the more a crypt, though the crypt of what manner of thing I dared not imagine. I discarded my robe at the door and went in alone, wandering the isolated halls and lonely, unkempt rooms, searching for some lingering sense of intimacy and belonging I'd experienced here only a few short hours ago. I felt like a ghost wandering the walk of its dreary inhabitance, haunting myself. It was Celia who found me, of course. She caught up with me as I explored the third floor bedroom, the loneliest and most misbegotten place in the house. I sat on the edge of an old bed with faded, yellowed sheets, looking at the wallpaper print and asking myself what I was doing here. This room had windows on two sides, one facing east, toward the ocean, and the other facing west, toward the orchard. It seemed to me that the bonfire must have grown to a conflagration based on the intensity of the through the lace curtains on that side. Celia still wore her Festival costume, and in the dark of that little room she seemed the grim specter of death, pale face and hooded robe and all, come to collect me. She sat down and leaned against me. I felt immediately foolish for the intensity of my and for leaving and making a spectacle of myself. Celia, seeming to read my thoughts, rubbed my shoulders and said, "No one is mad." "I don't know what came over me. No, that's not true. I know exactly what it was." "The Festival must seem strange if you're not used to it," she said. "Especially if you didn't grow up with it like we all did." "I wouldn't mind if it was just strange," I said. "But I didn't expect to feel so...alien. I came here wanting to belong." "Poor Charles," she said. "You've never really known where you belong because your parents never told you. But you really are one of us. Grandpa always says that the real meaning of the Festival is family. Those who take part in the rites all belong together. It reminds us of how important we are to each other." I wanted to believe her. I wanted to feel what she felt. She made it easy to believe. But something held me back still... "Don't worry about it," said Celia, massaging my shoulders again. "You'll feel it when you're ready. Your body will tell you. Belonging is in your flesh and your blood. And look at you, never comfortable in your own skin. It's no wonder you can't hear what your body is telling you. Let me show you the way." And then she kissed me. Not a chaste, affectionate kiss between family members, but an encompassing, penetrating kiss that consummated our afternoon's courtship. I would like to say that I objected right away, but in truth I allowed it go on. I would have liked for it to go on forever. I did, however, eventually break away and object. Celia asked, with the stark naiveté of a child, "Why?" "Because we're cousins! First cousins!" "What does that matter?" "It matters because—" and I stopped. What higher power could I invoke? God? The law? These things seemed trivial. I could cite only my own nameless fear, insubstantial and unarticulated. "We never knew we were cousins until today," said Celia. "If we had met on the street a week ago, we would never have known the difference." These were, of course, my own thoughts from mere hours ago, and when confronted with them my resolve crumbled. I let her kiss me again. the feeling of her trembling lips on mine, the ambrosial scent of her hair and her breath, and the promise of her body, the promise of the of unity and communion that I craved, lulled my better judgment into a dreamless sleep from which it would not awake until it was too late. I let her lay me down and give me kisses one by one, tiny, teasing kisses that filled me with the most remarkable sense of calm and unreason. I imagine that it must have been like the state of being one of those happy, simple animals who have no concept of the world around them except for the immediate gratification of their most simple needs. She kissed me with her soft, coral-colored lips and I felt her tender tongue dart against mine. I lay back on the old bed and she was next to me, rolled half on top, stroking my cheeks (I winced when I thought about her soft hands touching the roughness of my five o'clock shadow, but she didn't seem to mind), letting her gentle fingers glide over my features and down my neck. "I've been waiting for you all my life. I was so lonely without you, Charles. We were meant for each other." Festival My mouth pressed against her throat and she gasped. Her skin was smooth and clean. She held me as close as she could and pressed herself into me, and through the thin fabric of her sundress (how could she not be cold, wearing only that all day, I wondered. Even when we went outside she had worn only a thin jacket over it?) I felt the angle of her hips, the smoothness of her thighs, the prominent rise and fall of each perfect breast. I kissed the roundness of her naked shoulder. You're wondering if I feel ashamed, now, thinking back to that time, about the ease with which I'd given in to unabashed lust for my blood relation. Perhaps. But knowing everything I do now, understanding everything about our coupling in the light of the revelations to come, I feel perhaps that this seemingly unnatural act is the most natural thing I've ever done. Maybe the only natural thing, because it was the only time I was not divorced from my true nature. I don't expect you to understand, though you might understand better soon. I was gentle with her at first. I was afraid of being too rough. She seemed...not fragile, but somehow sacrosanct. I thought she might really be an angel of some kind, and that to use her too roughly would be blasphemous. But her thin limbs proved surprisingly strong, and she twined her arms around me and pulled me to her. I felt her aching with need. She directed my hands to the buttons of her dress, letting me undo them one by one. The only light we had appeared dim through the lace curtains of the windows but her white dress and pale, smooth skin shone in the dark, like a ghost. I wanted to touch her all over, to take her right then and there, but she would not allow me near her again until I was completely unclothed, smiling at me with her little smile and teasing me not to go too fast as I removed one garment after another. She took childlike glee in flinging them across the room. Finally finished, she gave me a nod and a smile and then she invited me in for more kisses and caresses. She leaned her head back and pushed her body against me while my lips roamed lower, following the curve of her. Ah reader, if you only knew what it was like, this woman who was so much more than a woman, how each and every thing about her was enough, in itself, to satisfy me for a lifetime just on its own, and how the gestalt of so many lifetimes of perfect bliss coalesced into this, my Celia. I remember pausing over her soft, perfect breasts and their rosy petite nipples, and how she ran her fingers through my hair and whispered, "Go on." And then she gasped and moaned as I drew one into my mouth, licking it. The almost helpless noise she made set a tightness in me, like I was a spring that had been wound too many times and needed release. I expected to wake up any moment, but I did not, though sometimes I wonder if perhaps everything since has been the dream, one long, hazy, somnambulistic escapade from the waking world. I found that her legs were spread and wrapped around me, and that she was saying, "Love me. Please, love me." I wasn't sure if I could—not because of the lack of incentive or desire, but because I had no way of knowing if I could survive such a union, my senses and affections already overloaded by what was had gone on to this point. "Please," she whispered again, and despite my doubts I could not say no. I pushed into her, and she clung tighter and tighter to me, and that's when I found that what she'd said was true, that it really was our bodies that told us when we belonged, and that this was the moment when they did, and that my entire life until then had just been a prelude. How long were we there? Less than a night, that's all I can say. Less than a night exalting in the warm, soft, smooth, loving experience of Celia's body. Less than a night of her tiny, barely perceptible exclamations: "Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" I loved her then, truly and completely, like a tiny hot flame in the center of my chest, and some few embers of that fire remain even now, and will remain as long as the memory of my one most perfect love stays with me, which in all hopes will be forever. I consummated our forbidden union by releasing a torrent inside of her, and she gratefully received it, telling me all the while it was what she was born for. And I, naive even then, did not suspect the ramifications of the declaration. She dozed, only half-asleep, in my arms. I wondered if the others had noticed we were gone? What if they came looking for us? What if they discovered us here? I began to feel ill, and though I wanted to stay there all night I instead began creeping about as quietly as I could, reuniting with my discarded garments and wondering how we would cover this all up. And it was then that I saw something moving outside, a flutter, against the window. It looked too big to be a bird. I went to investigate. Celia, waking, trailed behind me, a sheet wrapped around herself for warmth. Though I was now dressed against the night air in the drafty old house, my flesh crawled and my hair stood on end. A shadow passed over the window again, and I pulled the curtain aside and saw— There are no words for what I saw, and if there were you would curse me for teaching them to you. It was winged, of that I'm certain, and the fluttering of those awful membranes held it aloft under the window awning. But what to say of that figure to which the wings were attached? How can I tell you of its unspeakable awfulness, of its loathsome, verminous, scabrous anatomy? How to communicate that bilious corruption of flesh and form, those turgid masses of biology at cross-purposes with nature, the cast-off filth of evolution twisted to such unwholesome ends? It was a thing; that is all I can say of it. I screamed and fell down, and had I been alone in the room I think I would have divested myself of my sanity at once. Only the comforting presence of Celia provided a rock for my mind to grapple onto rather than being dragged away in the torrent of mortification. But that shelter would not stay with me for long, as I saw her face animate into an unspeakable burlesque of affection as she beheld that horror at the window and cried out in ghastly ecstasy: "They're here! Friends from the Old Country!" She flew to the window on the west side, throwing open the curtains and bidding me come see. The light I saw was not from the fire, not from any earthly conflagration, but from an eerie, feverish manifestation of creeping lights, some aurora borne of places and things unknown, that lit the sky over the orchard. Silhouetted against the phantom flames I saw the fluttering, wheeling, blasphemous shapes of unwholesome things, dozens of them, and below heard the sounds of inhuman merrymaking from my own kin. "What are they?" I said. "The descendants of our brothers from the other world. The rites of the Festival are meant to bridge the gap between us and them for a time, but it usually doesn't work." Her eyes shone. "I'm sure it's because you're here that they've come." I could think of nothing to say, except for questions that I dare not want truthful answers to. Celia, though, provided them anyway, whispering in breathless tones: "Now you see why you felt like you never belonged, Charles. You belong here, with us and with them. We're all creatures of two worlds, and that means we don't really belong to either. We only belong with each other, like you belong with me." She went to kiss me again, but for the second time that night I was running. I think I went mad then, for though I meant to run to the orchard and find my grandparents (in the meritless hope that they would disconfirm what I was just told) I instead ran the opposite way, a frantic, single-minded dash toward the cliffs and some phantom notion of freedom and escape. I stood at the precipice and looked down into the black waters and wondered, hysterically: If I were to jump, would I find that I could fly, like they did? I'm not sure how the others found me, although I suspect they were there all along and had only sent Celia after me as their envoy while they waited. The robed figures of my aunts and uncles and cousins appeared, telling me not to jump, begging me not to break up the family again. My grandmother wiped tears from her eyes and said, "We wanted to tell you, Charles. We're sorry. Don't be afraid." I felt the wind at my back and the loose dirt giving way under my heels. Celia, half-dressed, came through the crowd, running to me until I put up a hand to stop her. She froze in place and shook her head, hair blowing in the wind. "Please, Charles," she said. "We love you. I love you. Don't go." I almost relented. Even in the face of this ungodliness I might still have joined them, might still have seen a glimpse of the Old Country and learned the true history of my lineage. But at the very moment one of the noxious, fetid creatures descended from the blackened sky and landed just behind Celia. It called to me in a gelatinous voice and held its arms out in such a graphic mockery of affection that every fiber of my being rejected it. Almost effortlessly I leaned away, and I fell, and I let the ocean take me in, becoming one with it and seeking a home on its lonely floor. *** I came to three days later in a hospital in Arkham. They said that a fishing boat had found me washed up on a sandbar a half mile out. A miracle, they called it. Once they got me talking they asked if I had any family, anyone that I wanted to contact? I told them no. I knew that a fall like the one I took was impossible to survive. And the hours drifting at sea, unconscious, and the effects of exposure, lying on that barren beach until some wayward vessel retrieved me? Impossible too. Nothing could have lived through that. Nothing human. Although the hospital's tests detected no abnormalities, over time I've become aware of certain discrepancies in my physiology. It makes me wonder about the Old Country, that strange world beyond this world where my family line originated. If the other inhabitants of that place are such freakish abnormalities, what chance that a separate race, human in every likeness, would emerge from the same manic environment? Wasn't it more likely that my ancestors would be of the nature of that place, rather than this one? And what of Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young? When that daemonic entity passed into this world to birth its progeny countless eons ago, might not those creatures have grown acclimated to this sphere? Mightn't they, over millennia, have taken on the character of creatures native to the earth, to the point of now resembling them in almost every way? Might they not form a reclusive clan of New England eccentrics, forced by their small gene pool into generations of incestuous couplings to propagate themselves, bound together by their ancient rites and mysteries, relics from the time and place beyond the stars from whence they came? What, then, am I? A man? A monster? Or something in between? I wonder these things at nights, when I think of what my parents tried to protect me from, and contemplate the singularities of my flesh, and know the greatest fear that can be known: the fear of oneself. And they haven't forgotten about me, my family. Every year without fail, no matter where I've moved or what precautions I take, the invitation arrives, asking me to come to the Festival again. There are even times, in the dark twilight hours of the Yuletide, when I want to go. I still want to feel loved, and to belong. And I want to see Celia, my betrothed since birth, to look on her face and— But no. That's something I can never do. Perhaps if things had been different, if my parents had not turned their backs on the others and tried to protect me from the truth when I was so young. But now I'm too much a part of the human world, though of course I'm apart from it too. Celia was right about that much: We belong nowhere if not with each other. Celia writes every year too, and the message is always the same. Those nights when I know the Festival happens, I sometimes fancy that I can hear her words carried to me by the eastern wind: "We love you. We miss you. Come home. "Come home." Festival Ch. 02 I have to stop walking, I must. My feet hurt so. But when I stop walking I start thinking. Thinking of him and the cruelty within him. The cruel way that he treats me in this sham of a marriage. 'All dressed up and nowhere to go.' How can you say that? How can you say that in a text? And with the usual excuse of having to 'work late'. Working late with that bitch Fiona from the energy desk in some noisy bar in the City I'm sure. Or worse in a hotel room. I don't even love him any more. I can't remember what it feels like to love. Or to make love. Or to feel loved. To feel desired. And I had put so much effort into making myself feel desirable today, one last effort at an evening out together. I feel like throwing these tickets into the Thames. But I may as well go to the concert. I'm all dressed up with somewhere to go. Just no-one to go with. And then I see him. Him. I remember him. Three weeks ago at that stupid football club. He was the only thing good about the evening. Wolfgang late as usual, hell knows where he'd been. Various brain-dead footballers and their terminally vacuous wives. And him. He was drunk, but he was charmingly drunk, talking about classical music but keeping his voice hushed like it was some embarrassing social disease, to have taste. Embarrassed to be talking about such things in a room full of 'jocks'. And he desired me, I could see it. And now there he is, marching towards me. I feel my spirits lifting, my shoulders straightening. I should talk to him. 'Jim!' He jumps like he's been shot in the back. Cupid's arrow perhaps? Now he looks confused. Shit, he doesn't even know who I am! Fucking men. Perhaps it was just the booze that night. Oh well, I've got to go through with it now. I put on a smile. 'Fancy seeing you here!' He still looks confused, but less startled. He must have come from work, what does he do? Something he doesn't like I seem to remember, office work. His suit is very well-cut, and he's had his hair trimmed since last I saw him. I like that. Masculine. And though he's rather short he looks muscular, like he's bursting with vital energy. Rather attractive. I can see him thinking, looking at me. And then, 'Hi Ingrid, great to see you. I love your sunglasses!' Joy unconfined in my heart, he does remember me. My hand goes to the sunglasses that I was using to keep out the unwanted world. He knows what to say, the charmer. I should calm down, I'm not a teenager any more. But instead I blurt out, 'Chanel! E-Bay! A bargain.' I can't even say a proper sentence. I can see you looking at me Jim, running your eyes over me. I need to get his attention again, 'So where are you hurrying off to?' Maybe he's free this evening? 'Oh, meeting friends in Covent Garden. We're supposed to go and watch a film later, but to be honest I'm a bit whacked so I might just head home.' Shit. Oh well, why would he want to come out with me this evening anyway? He's probably meeting some English girlfriend on a Friday evening, and he's just being polite. But isn't it worth just testing him a little? If he knew it were Zimerman that I have tickets to...I remember he told me he'd just bought his recording of the Debussy Preludes the last time I saw him. He was raving about it. 'Oh, that's a shame. I was about to ask you if you wanted to go a concert. My friend dropped out at the last minute and I have a spare ticket. It's Zimerman.' He's smiling. I know he wants it. I know it. 'What's he doing? If it's anything too Tuetonic I might not be able to digest it.' He thinks he's so cool, but I know he's sold. 'Chopin Etudes first half and Lutoslawski for the second'...'Chopin...how romantic. I hope Wolfgang wont be jealous.' Pain! Like a knife in my heart. Wolfgang. I don't know whether to spit or cry...but revenge would be sweeter. 'Wolfgang can go fuck himself. Do you want to come or not?' 'Okay.' Correct answer, Jim. We walk off together. I'm oblivious to the surroundings. We could be anywhere. All I can think of is this man beside me. A man I barely know. I haven't been out with a new man on my own for fifteen years. We're inside now but my mind is filled with thoughts of this man beside me, a man of muscle and purpose, but sensitive too. Like Wolfgang. Fuck. Fuck. Forget Wolfgang. 'Let's go upstairs, I've got my Member's Card with me, we can get away from the masses and have a quick G and T before kick-off.' Kick off! I take off my sunglasses. Bloody football. 'Whatever you say.' In the lift I hold his gaze. He has deep brown eyes. Intense eyes. I feel excited being so close to him. He seems dangerous almost with that intense look to him. I wonder what lucky woman looks up into those eyes when he presses his cock into her. 'What would you like to drink?' He's enjoying himself, I can see it. But he needs to lighten up a little. 'I thought you already told me I was having a gin and tonic.' 'So I did.' I smile. 'Grab a table, he says, 'and I'll be with you in a sec.' I turn, see a last table free and flop into the chair. My feet now that I've sat reminding me how sore they are. I look up and see him talking to the barmaid. He's not talking, he's flirting. Why should I be jealous? Why? She looks like a Pole. Everyone's a Pole in London nowadays. But attractive in a boyish kind of way. Fuck her, he's mine for the next hour at least. He's returning. I glance at my watch, we haven't got long to the beginning of the performance. 'Thanks for the drink, but we'll have to be quick. The concert starts in twenty minutes.' 'No problem. I ordered the same again for the interval...to save us queuing.' I can see him looking at my legs. I like my legs. My breasts I always felt were too large. Men like them, but to me they're things to be managed. But my legs, I love showing them off. I'm going to test him. 'Oh, you think of everything don't you?' I can see him thinking. Thinking about my legs. 'I think about a lot of things.' I let my legs part slightly as I lean forward to take my glass in my hand. Let's push him a little more. 'Are you enjoying the view?' I look innocently out of the window. Now he's looking out of the window?! He should be looking at me! Perhaps he's not that interested after all. 'I've seen it so many times I barely notice it any more. Especially when there are more attractive prospects in the room.' Charmer. 'I don't know what you mean?' I ask. 'I think you do.' That's direct. That's good. No more English reserve. Satisfied, I say, 'Come on, let's get to our seats', and head off to the auditorium. The seats we have are in the choir, behind the piano, but virtually on the stage. Practically the whole of the rest of the auditorium is visible to us, as well as the pianist himself. I can't concentrate on the music. Half of my mind is taken with this semi-strange man beside me. The other half with my failing marriage. The first six études pass by without my registering a note. And then during the seventh....during the seventh he grips me! Fingers on my thigh, his hand across the hem of my dress. Does he know what he's doing? The seventh etude is slow, and Zimmerman is playing with the tempo, drawing out the emotion of the bass melody, falling and rising. And as he does Jim's hand is on my thigh, no longer gripping but squeezing, caressing, making my spine tingle. I should stop him. I glance at him, but he has his eyes closed. I glance around our neighbours, they follow the pianist, as do the people I can see in the front rows. And here I am being pawed! Pawed or caressed? If it feels good isn't it a caress? And shouldn't I submit to it? Submit to the feeling inside, the sensation of his palm on my dress, the sensation of his fingertips curled around the flesh of my thigh, a sensation that is transmitted directly to my pussy, making me wet, making me breathe shallow, excited breaths as the swift eighth etude begins. Four more after this! Four more pieces of music that I count by as his hand drives me to the brink of orgasm while he sits there rapt and seemingly unaware of the effect he's having on me. The music's stopped at last. At last? I didn't want it to stop. And the spell is broken. He's realized. He's apologizing to me. I should slap his face, but I can't help telling the truth, in a fashon. 'Oh, I don't mind at all...there are few people who get quite so intensely wrapped up in the music.' 'Chopin does that to me', he says. He looks as embarrassed now as he did that night when last we met. He's looking at me intensely again, making me feel the welling of excitement in my chest again. 'I'm so glad to have bumped into you, it's almost providential that I met you on the bridge.' 'Providential!' I squeak. Calm down. 'You're so melodramatic.' He doesn't take the opportunity to lighten up. He's serious. 'Is that a bad thing?' he says. No, it is not. And then he says, 'I think I need a drink, I'm not sure Lutoslawski's going to be able to live up to that.' Me neither. I think of his hand on my leg again, and the wetness of my pussy. If I don't make myself come now I'll barely be able to hold a conversation for the rest of the evening. 'I'm just going to the loo', I say, 'I'll see you in the bar.' I push my way through the doors of the lavatory. Oh great, both stalls occupied. Looking in the mirror I notice the flush of excitement in my cheeks and across my chest. I'm beautiful. What man wouldn't want me? Want to fuck me but also to have me forever? God I need to come. I hear both doors of the stalls open simultaneously. Out of one comes an old bag with more make-up than flesh in a gaudy Versace suit. Gold rings everywhere. Either Essex or Russia. From the other stall that boyish Polish barmaid. We make eye contact and she looks at me knowingly, like she knows what I'm going to do. Christ, now I'm blushing. But I must do it, I'll wait till I hear them go. Once inside the cubicle I hear the loo door swing open and heels clack away, fading as the door shuts. I squeeze out some wee, just as the first pips go to call people back to their seats for the second half. Peace at last. My knickers are pulled down to my knees, below the tops of my hold ups. I can see the wet patch in the gusset where my juices have soaked into the fabric during the concert. When he had his hand on my thigh. Oh God yes, think of that. I push my knickers down to my ankles and take them in my hand, brining them up to my nose. I let the smell of my pussy fill my nostrils before putting my knicker-filled left hand on the edge of the toilet seat, spreading my thighs apart to around ten to two on a clock, leaning forward, taking my weight on my hand and feeling my inner labia kissing apart. Quickly now, he must be wondering where the hell I am. The index finger of my right hand going directly to my clit. I'll only need to touch my clit to come this time I'm sure. Rubbing gently, working my juices around the nub of my clit, my head down with eyes closed as I picture his strong hands on me, caressing me. Now two fingers either side of my clit rubbing swiftly backwards and forwards, manipulating it, making beautiful jolts of electricity in my body. Leaning forward more now, and oh, panting, I can't help panting, taking my bottom lip between my teeth in a bid to keep quiet, but losing myself to the rhythm of my fingers and their skipping, flickering beat around my oh so sensitive clit. Oh God now I'm thinking of him taking out his cock and fucking me, plunging his cock deep into my pussy, filling me. As I do I lean back, putting my hand behind me so that I can support myself while I push two fingers of my right hand inside my wet, wet pussy. Hearing the squelch of my juices as I fuck myself with rapid movements of my hand, imagining his cock there bringing me to orgasm, bringing this flooding sensation to my swollen cunt and, as the orgasm sweeps over me, squeezing my thighs together, my fingers squashed against my clit and my hips rocking back and forth in a wave of mind-fogging pleasure...closed eyes, enjoying... I relax and mop up my pussy with my knickers, I can't put them on again! Shit, I need to clean up and get back to Jim, he'll think that I've gone. I open up the stall door and as I do I see the swiftly retreating back of someone in a black t-shirt and jeans passing out through the loo door. That Polish girl I'm sure! Shit, I thought she'd gone. Shit, shit. Fuck it, what does it matter. Christ I'm still so horny, masturbating just made me even hornier than before. Sometimes one orgasm just isn't enough. As I walk around the corner to the bar I realize, as I swing my handbag onto my shoulder, that I'm still clutching my moistened knickers in my hand. But fortunately there's not many people around, only desperate drinkers slugging down their wine as the pips sound once more. The barmaid is back on duty, but I look at her out of the corner of my eye. I certainly don't want to see her again. I can see Jim standing at a rail, looking out at the sunset over the Thames. I can tell he doesn't realize I'm here and I take the opportunity to enjoy his profile against the subdued blaze of the evening sky. And I look at him and feel another wave of desire for him. I just might do something extraordinary for this man this evening. I approach him silently and lean in to his ear, 'That's a little present for you, but don't look at it yet. I'll tell you when.' I take my drink and stand beside him, unsure of what to do next. What I want is to feel his cock inside me, but I'm not feeling that reckless just yet. Thinking. Thinking that I want to see his cock, I make up my mind. 'You know the Chopin was so good, I'm not sure I'm in the mood for the second half', 'Oh really? Well, I guess we could just have a drink here...' He's so polite. I need to push him a little more. 'Don't you still feel like you need an emotional release?' He looks confused. He says, 'I guess....', just as he feels in his pocket in his hand. I can see the outline of his fingers under the fabric of the suit curling around my damp knickers. If I'm not brazen enough to have his cock in me yet I at least want to see his spunk. I must be frank. 'Those are my knickers Jim. When I went to the bathroom I had to bring myself off. The combination of the music and your hand on my thigh had already got me halfway to an orgasm. I fingered myself through my knickers and thought of your fingers being on my clit. I hope you don't mind?' The white lie doesn't matter, I want him to picture me fingering myself like that. 'I might have to take myself in hand if you keep talking like that.' Are all Englishmen this hard to get? And yet, the idea of him taking himself in hand gives me an idea. 'Oh, I rather hoped you'd let me do that. The concert's started now, if we go to the bathroom we should have some peace and quiet.' 'Your place or mine?' he jokes. I'm not walking back past that bloody barmaid, she's had enough fun for one evening. 'Oh, yours.' Now he's in a hurry, taking me by the hand and almost pulling me to the Gents, pulling me through the two doors and turning to face me. Oh no, that's not part of the plan. I want you Jim, but I'm still a married woman. 'No, I'm not going to fuck you, or even kiss you. Face the mirror'. I come up behind him, my body squeezed against him, my breasts pressed to his back. My fingers unzipping him, taking his already hard cock out of the fly of his boxers and out through his trousers. It feels different to Wolfgang's, Longer, not quite so thick. And un-cut. Oh, that's nice, that's very different. I peel back his foreskin gently. I can feel his cock growing, growing and swelling because of me. My pussy tingling with excitement once more, reminding me...I put my hand in his pocket and take out my knickers, the delicious scent of my pussy once more filling my senses, then wrap them round his cock. My lips to his ear once more...'How does that feel?' He groans. I grin at him in the mirror and rub his cock up and down, slowly. My fingers and thumb circle around his shaft and pull his foreskin back and forth over the head of his cock. My sensitive fingertips feeling every bump of his rigid cock. He's completely under my control. I want him inside me but I also want to be inside him. I want to wank his cock and stick my finger in his arse, get that cock jerked swollen hard. Digging my other hand inside his clothes now, rootling for his balls inside his boxers, finding them and gently digging my nails there, just centimetres from his arse. And stroking him faster now, our bodies closed together and my hand jerking his hard cock. 'Are you going to come for me darling?' I whisper in his ear intensely. Looking at him in the mirror I can see that he is ready. He sighs, 'Yesss', and I kiss him on the back of the neck just as I feel his balls tightening beneath my fingers and watch spurts of hot, sticky white spunk arcing through the air, landing on the basin in front of us. Such a lot of spunk that it makes me weak at the knees with desire for him, for his cock. And his cock still spurting its last drops into my knickers, mingling with my own fluids on the silky material. I can feel him relaxing and lying back on me as I clean up his cock, putting my now sticky underwear into his pocket. He's not ever going to forget me. I grin. 'Now, let's go and get that drink'...and this time I'll choose.' Festival Ch. 1 "This is going to be such fun!" Natalia said as they descended the wide stone steps leading to the Cathedral Cavern beneath the plateau village of On the High Place. Rick slipped his arm around her waist. "I hope you enjoy it." He couldn't help but marvel at his good fortune, to be on his way to a holy Dorianite festival with a loving and lovely woman, his bride-to-be. Villagers and travellers gave the both of them appreciative looks as they came into the warm, spacious temple of stone. Down here, sheltered from the winter weather above, the hot springs made the caves almost tropical. At the guidance of some of their new acquaintances, they had dressed accordingly. Rick wore a maroon silk shirt that did little to conceal the width of his shoulders and the sculpted muscles of his chest and arms. His cream-colored trousers clung to his long legs. His hair, clean and shining, was tied back in a simple horsetail that dangled most of the way to his waist. He felt mildly self-conscious as local women pointed and stared. He knew he was tall, dark and handsome, but that was Dorian's doing and not his own. As for his impressive build, well, anybody could do the same with enough sword practice. It wasn't as if he was anything special. Natalia, on the other hand ... in her every step, her every movement, he could see Dorian's generosity at work. She had inherited her mother's ivory skin and changeable, northern-sky eyes, not to mention the glossy blue-black hair that would have fallen to below her hips if she hadn't twisted it into a redoubled plait. Her long shirt was fine, snowy-white linen trimmed at the neck and sleeves and hem in frothy lace, and was so thin that a bodice or vest should have been needed to preserve modesty. Natalia had opted to go without, which left the ripe curves of her breasts clearly defined and visible. Her nipples, already tight with anticipation and excitement, stood out in little pinpoints and made Rick feel somewhat delirious. She also wore a colorful skirt, purple and blue and silvery silk all woven together. It was drawn high on one side, exposing shapely leg to well above the knee. A matching scarf tied off the braid in her hair, and a pair of low blue slippers finished the outfit. Yes, by the gods, she was beautiful and strong and gutsy. All the things he'd admired in women, all the things that he and Damon both had looked for ever since they met Raven and their lives had changed forever. And best of all, Natalia was accompanying him to this festival, not that they might just share each other's pleasure but that they might share each other's delight in the pleasures of others. He still shivered when he recalled that night with Sorcha. How he and Natalia had begun talking about it, how he'd been tempted to lie and declare her the only woman he could ever want. But she had been understanding, no, eager, to invite Sorcha to share their bed. Not grudgingly, as if she feared that she would have to make allowances to keep him. Not angrily, planning to make him pay by witholding herself from him. Openly, honestly, with a sincere and reverent wish to make all three of them happy. He hadn't wasted any time, but swiftly fetched Sorcha to their room. Natalia's only wish after witnessing and enjoying their copupling had been that their wedding might be speeded along, that she too could finally, fully experience the entirety of Dorian's Gift. The Cathedral Cavern was not actually a cathedral, although it was certainly a cavern. The ceiling soared, majestically adorned in rock formations and glittering crystals. The floor was a sea of smooth, frozen ripples. At one end, several springs both hot and cold trickled down the walls and through a series of ponds and basins before all ending in one large pool. Already, the shores of that stone lake were littered with discarded clothes as people swam and played and caressed in the water. Low tables were stacked high with soft blankets, furs, cushion, and woven mats for the comfort of the festival-goers. Several were already in use. Natalia gasped in surprise, this being her first sight of so many men and women entwined in so many different ways. Rick glanced at her, and was thrilled to see only excitement in her eyes. Rising color pinked her cheeks, and she leaned to press the whole length of her side and hip against him. He dropped the arm around her waist to give her bottom a good squeeze. "So," she said as if they were strolling through the marketplace, "see anything you like?" He let his gaze sweep the room. "Oh, yes." The women of On the High Place were on the short side, and rugged as many of the mountain people were. Some of them had an aristocratic beauty that bespoke Turan heritage, while others had the wiry build of Crysians. They all conducted themselves with an openness that would have been unusual even in an Orelarian village. Here in the Chaos Mountains, marriages involved many people, and there was no such thing as adultery. Even more unusual was the number of dwarves in attendance. The village atop the plateau looked as if it held a mere couple of hundred people, but the rocky bluff was honeycombed with caverns and tunnels where hundreds more, human and dwarf alike, lived in very close harmony. Even co-mated harmony. The dwarves tended to be protective and jealous of their women, often binding them with severe social strictures. herefore, it was a surprise to Rick to see dwarfwomen, and especially ones in various states of undress, cavorting with dwarven and human males alike. He'd seen (and felt) naked elfmaids aplenty, and had sampled beauties from a variety of nations and regions, but if someone had told him a few weeks ago that he'd have the opportunity to get better acquainted with Reghar's rare jewels, he would have greeted this with some disbelief. Still, here he was, and as he looked at them he saw that they were quite different from what he would have expected. For one thing, they didn't all have beards. Some did, but these seemed to be the older females, and the beards were fine and downy. They did all have long, thick hair where a man's sideburns would be, and many of them had braided these and adorned them with gold beads or jewels. Their faces were broader and flatter, with thicker brows and more deep-set eyes, but there was a rugged beauty about their features that made Rick think of a view of mountain peaks against the sky. Their coloration tended toward earth-tones, though here and there would be a blond. From something Mokik had said a long time ago, Rick knew that golden hair was muchly admired. Evidence of their greater physical strength was apparent in their thick, densely-muscled limbs. The smallest dwarven female looked capable of combatting the average human male, with a better-than-even chance of winning. But, despite their sturdy, compact bodies, they were undeniably feminine. "Hello, handsome and beautiful," someone said. "Going to stand here watching all day, or are you going to join the fun?" It was Deegie, the seamstress who had outfitted Natalia. She had gotten her voluptuous body into a tight emerald-green tunic, left unlaced so far that her full breasts bulged into the V of the neckline. Her skin was the shade of almost-translucent white that was often found in redheads, so pale that the veins could be seen tracing along beneath a smattering of freckles. Her red curls, much more carroty and springy than Sorcha's auburn hair, were fluffed about her heart-shaped face. "There's just so much to see," Natalia replied, smiling. She and Deegie had hitten it off at once despite their many differences. Deegie, for instance, was involved in a loose orbit of six co-mates and ten children all sharing the same house. Deegie was bouncy, flippant, quick to laugh. She also had the expected firey temper, but hers was more like a spark landing on the skin -- a sudden pop and a sting and then gone. "Like Trish's candy shop," Rick added. "Too many treats and not enough pennies!" Deegie brushed her breasts against his arm. "Oh? That looks like a full purse to me!" "Want to count my coins?" She deliberately let her eyes rove over his body. "Hmmm ... I think I can change a shilling!" "Yes," Natalia said, "but can you change a crown?" In a distinctly Turan gesture, she rubbed her hand along Rick's thigh in such a way as to pull the fabric of his trousers taut over the swelling at his groin. Brought on by the anticipation and sensually-charged atmosphere, he was already well-aroused. "Honeypot," Deegie laughed, stroking Natalia's arm, "give me two bells and he'll be lucky to manage sixpence!" "Oh, yeah?" Rick grinned. "We'll see about that!" He gathered the redhead into his arms and claimed a long kiss from her soft, ready lips. She was an enticing bundle, rounded in all the right places. "In two bells," Natalia predicted, "you, Deegie, will have gotten your year's wages and an extra tuppence for Yuletide cheer!" "Is that so? Well, mayhap I should introduce you to my friend Iduna. She's a moneylender's apprentice and needs to study ... foreign currency." "Rick's always interested in extending the hand of diplomacy," Natalia said. "It's just a matter of where he puts it." He was proud and pleased at their clever banter, although mildly embarrassed to be the center of their attention. He paused a moment to thank Dorian for letting him meet Natalia and letting her be all that he ever hoped for. The goddess image on the far wall seemed to smile lovingly at him. "Iduna!" Deegie called. "I think I need your financial expertise over here!" A dwarven woman turned toward them, flinging her earth-brown tumble of hair out of her face. She had eyes like diamond ore, dark yet glittery, and wore a topaz-colored velvet skirt and halter. She was a striking beauty by any standard (except possibly elven), and Rick was even more intrigued. Natalia, a sly smile playing about her lips, glanced up at him. "Should I find Damon? Are you going to need to borrow from the group fund?" He kissed her firmly. "I've got the group fund." She returned the kiss, darting her tongue into his mouth. "Don't spend all of it!" "I'll save a few farthings for you." "That's very good of you, Rick. A few farthings, eh?" "Well, a couple of pounds, then." "Better." She pushed him toward Deegie. "Have fun! I think I'm going to go ... talk ... to Jesse." He wasn't the only one to watch her cross the room, and by the way she carried herself, she knew it. Many eyes were upon her, and she was loving it. "We don't often have visitors who see things our way," Deegie said, walking her fingers up his chest. "Oh, sure, Paskaarni men will join us, but only if they are traveling without their wives or sweethearts. And the Turans -- ha! Amazing, the things they believe!" "I've been all over the world," he said, turning his attention to the buxom young woman, "and I've never seen anyplace quite like this. It's refreshing." "Well, Deegie, who is this?" Iduna asked, looking up at Rick. She was four, maybe four and a half feet tall, the top of her head coming to just above his waist. But she was far from diminutive. No slightly-built elfmaid, no wispy fairy lass. Solid female, he thought, taking in his fine view of her cleavage. "Iduna, this is Rick, a visitor and a warrior. Rick, may I introduce Iduna, apprentice to Roald the moneylender." She held out a hand. "It is a pleasure to have the gift of your acquaintance," she said, with emphasis on the words 'pleasure' and 'gift.' "Likewise!" He clasped it, pleasantly surprised at how warm and smooth her skin was. Her grip was strong as a man's, her fingers stubby but well-shaped. "I didn't know many dwarves followed the faith of Dorian." "I can't speak for my kinsfolk in distant lands, but we here have always worshipped both our Creator-Father and His Sister. We females, especially. For don't we have reason? Without blessed Dorian, we wouldn't be here! Our males would have to craft their sons of gold and iron, had Dorian not given them females with forges better suited to childmaking." "And better suited to tempering iron rods," Deegie giggled. "Yes, that too." Iduna laughed, and drank deeply from a mug that was more of a thick bowl with a handle. When she lowered it, a smudge of rich foam remained at her lip. Rick bent low and kissed it off in one swift move, tasting hearty dwarven ale. "Not shy, I see," she remarked. "Never have been," he agreed. "Well, what would we like to do first?" Deegie asked, taking one of his arms while Iduna took the other. "I was thinking a swim might be just the thing." "I'd love a swim!" Rick said, letting them lead him along. "Have you tried these springs yet?" Iduna asked. "They are rich in Reghar's sacred minerals, cleansing the skin as well as the spirit. In another cavern, there is water is so blessed that even my kind can stay afloat, while your kind can all but walk across the surface." He caught her scent, and suffered a pang of nostalgia, for it reminded him of roasting briar nuts. Mr. Carter bringing back a huge sack of them from one of his visits to Briarglen (and oh, how they'd envied him, the great traveler!), the Nut Festival, Curtis the blacksmith yelling about stick-man, good times, simple times, times the world would be long before seeing again. Wide, natural stone steps descended into the spring-fed pool. Other couples and groups splashed and played. Whatever apprehension Rick may have felt about his size being an impediment to sharing pleasure with Iduna vanished as he got a glimpse of two healthy dwarven males laughing and tossing a squealing girl back and forth. They were enormously endowed, disproportionate to their height, but far as Rick could tell, nobdy was complaining. Deegie dipped a toe in the water. "Oh, good, it's nice and warm." She stripped off her tunic and stretched, showing off her curvaceous figure. She was soft and cushiony, with a plump jiggling bottom and a mound lightly covered in fine orange hair. "Yeah, a swim, definitely!" Rick said eagerly. "Here, let me help you." Deegie unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. "By the stones, he's hairless as a boy," Iduna said, reaching up to stroke his smooth chest. She could just barely reach the discolored spot, remnant of a bruise, a souvenier of a joust with Andre. "But he's no boy," Deegie replied, her own hands running over his shoulders and arms. She squeezed a bicep, and Rick flexed obligingly. "Look at that! He's strong as a stallion!" "That's not the only resemblance," Iduna noted. She undid his belt and lowered his trousers. His manhood sprang forth readily. He was stiff to the point of almost being in pain. Much as he loved Natalia and much as he thrilled in their nights together, he yet ached to be fully buried within a woman. Or two. Or many; the night was young. "Ooh," Deegie murmured. "Dorian, we thank You for Your bounty!" She caressed the length of him. Rick closed his eyes and sighed as the delightful sensations coursed through his body. He reached blindly for Deegie, finding her large pillowy breasts by pure instinct. "I thought you wanted a swim," Iduna chuckled, and gave them a playful shove. Her great strength and better leverage proved sufficient to topple them both into the pool. Rick surfaced, flinging back his hair in a shower of spray. The water was bath-warm and unusually bouyant. It moved over him like silk and oil, faintly tingly. Deegie, sputtering, came up beside him. He reached to steady her, and their skin slipped and slid excitingly. He pulled her into his arms. Iduna had removed her skirt and halter, and was descending into the pool. Deegie wiggled free of Rick and doused the dwarfmaid. The two of them began splashing each other thoroughly. Rick watched for a moment, then joined in. If there was one thing a Stonebridge boy could do, it was water-fight. He jetted huge fans of water over the two women, until they teamed up and started soaking him. When that subsided, all of them laughing and breathless, Deegie paddled over to stand next to Iduna, who had both feet firmly planted on the bottom. "Now, Rick, you tell us," Deegie said. "Whose are bigger?" She lifted the twin globes of her breasts from the water and held them near Iduna's. "Yes, whose?" Iduna thrust her chest out. He was briefly dazzled by the two pairs of breasts glistening with water. It was a feast far better than the one offered on the banquet table, and it was all he could do to keep from just diving in. Which set was bigger? Did it matter? But the ladies had asked, and no knight worth his shield would refuse to cooperate with their request. He held himself in check and moved closer, examining them both. Deegie's were great soft islands, floating on the water. The nipples were large and so pale they almost blended with her white skin. Up close, he could trace the delicate path of her veins beneath the freckles. He touched them, kneaded the flesh, hefted them like he was testing produce in the marketplace. They were the sort of breasts a man could sandwich his rod between, something he longed to try soon as this informal contest was finished. "Beautiful," he remarked. Deegie beamed. He turned his attention next to Iduna's. Round and firm as ripe melons, with no sagging or floating, solid mountains capped with pebbly nipples the color of garnets. He rubbed his thumbs over those nipples until they stood out in hard points. "I think Deegie's are a bit bigger, but these are magnificent." Iduna smiled proudly. Unable to resist any longer, he lowered his head and started licking and nuzzling, switching from one woman to the other, engulfing his face in female flesh. Iduna, he noticed, was much warmer, as if fevered, as if her body temperature was higher. He freed his mouth briefly to comment on it. "Coal burns hotter than wood," she replied matter-of-factly. "That's why they call it the forge," Deegie added. "Or so I've heard, from many a man!" "How is steel different from a man?" Iduna asked in a jesting tone. "Steel hardens as it cools!" a nearby dwarf male called over. Deegie reached below the water and found Rick's erection. "And a man hardens as he heats up!" The slippery-slick, tingly water turned her caress into something electric. When Iduna's sturdy hands joined Deegie's, Rick groaned and buried his face in their ample breasts again. He felt their bottoms, noting the same differences: Deegie's soft and bouncy, Iduna's rock-solid. "Pool's getting crowded," Deegie gasped. "Maybe we should move to somewhere else." Rick agreed. He waited until the two of them clambered out, enjoying the view of their water-shiny bodies as they toweled off. He paused in his admiration of them to see how Natalia was doing, and found her sitting by Jesse. Selvaine was on his other side. Jesse's expression was almost comical, as he evidently could hardly believe that he was holding a lovely royal princess in each arm. Natalia and Selvaine, ivory and gold. Natalia's long legs moved restlessly, her skirt shifted to show a length of creamy thigh. Jesse, the soul of fairness, kissed first one woman and then the other. Deegie was holding out a towel. Rick emerged from the pool and dried himself vigorously, wringing out his hair. By the time he was done, he saw that Selvaine had accepted an invitation to join two handsome local youths in a romping game of strip tag, and Jesse had turned all of his attention to Natalia. Rick watched how she moved under his touch, and felt a surge of mingled desire and pride. He had shown her how to unlock those feelings, the passion Dorian had given her. He had shown her what a man liked, and she now used that knowledge to Jesse's benefit. She was confident and free, and while that was going to be a difficult and scandalous thing in Tarlak, in Orelar it would be wonderful. Festival Ch. 1 He thanked Dorian again for Natalia, and silently vowed to make her as happy as she made him, and devote his life to her and her children, whether they were his or not. Then, satisfied that she was enjoying herself, he grabbed Deegie from behind and hefted her off the ground. His stiff organ rubbed against her back and buttocks. She laughed and squirmed against him, not trying to get free, just increasing the tantalizing sensations. He shifted Deegie to one arm, feeling a bit like a Nordseen raider making off with all the tastiest village girls, and attempted to sweep Iduna up in the other. Her feet didn't budge, he nearly threw his shoulder out of joint, and almost dropped Deegie back in the pool. Iduna laughed and waved her finger at him. "Forgot, didn't you?" He had indeed. Despite her short stature, she weighed close to what he did himself. The legends said that dwarven bones were laced with iron, and now he believed it. Still carrying Deegie, he let Iduna lead the way to a place where the cavern wall sloped to the floor at a reclining, comfortable angle. Some previous revelers had left the spot padded with mats and blankets, so it was an easy matter to deposit Deegie comfortably on the makeshift bed. The redhead rolled onto her back and stretched sinuously. She raised her arms to Rick and spread her legs invitingly. Never one to refuse an invitation of that nature, Rick knelt and began caressing her inner thighs. As he did so, Iduna stepped behind him and embraced him, pressing her body against his back and shoulders. Deegie writhed on the blankets, almost a dance in slow motion. His fingers brushed her mound, combing gently through the sparse hair, and moved lower to the gates of her pleasure. She rolled her hips, stroking and squeezing her own breasts. Iduna reached around and grasped him with both hands. He shifted, laying half on his side, and ran his tongue up Deegie's leg to her sweet center. Surprisingly sweet. He raised his head. She saw his expression and giggled. "Before a festival, I always tuck a chocolate or other treat in there," she explained. "A little offering to Dorian, if you will." He grinned hugely and dipped his head to her again. Yes, chocolate, she tasted of chocolate and berries. Soon she was gasping, her hands in constant motion over her body, spreading her inner lips so that his tongue could delve her depths. Iduna took just the tip of his rod in her mouth, then rained nibbling kisses along the length of it. Her firm breasts pushed against his thighs. He groaned low in his throat. Deegie's hips rolled. Her head flung from side to side, her breath coming in ragged pants. She was on the edge of a tremendous climax. As much as he was enjoying Iduna's teasing mouth, Rick gently nudged her away and rose to position himself between Deegie's legs. She clasped his shoulders, trembling from the nearness of her release. "Oh, Dorian, yes! Fill me!" "Glad to," he said, and in one long smooth thrust drove into her. She couldn't take all of him, but he was careful and only gave as much as she could. Her pealing cry echoed, mingling with the sounds of others' pleasures. She quivered beneath him like a lute string. He began moving within her, quick but controlled, gritting his teeth against spending too soon. But no sooner did he think of how long it had been since he'd spilled his seed inside a woman than the sensation of irrevocable orgasm overtook him. He added his voice to Deegie's, calling out to Dorian. "Ooh," Deegie whimpered. Her arms fell limp to her sides. Her heels, which had been drumming his buttocks, slid off. "Ooh, you are quite a man!" Now that he was no longer fully engorged, but still somewhat stiff, he slowly eased his entire rod into her, eliciting another sigh from them both. He relaxed as much as he dared without crushing her, letting his breathing and pulse return to normal. As he did so, he heard another voice, Natalia's low wordless cry. Just the sound of that, knowing that she was finding as much pleasure as he was, caused him to begin to rise anew. "Oh, no!" Deegie wailed in mock despair as she felt him begin to swell, turning wide bleary eyes to him. "I think I need a rest!" "You deserve one." He nodded and withdrew, his rod slick with their mingled juices. His own limbs were in that curious state of quivery leadenness, ready to collapse. He would have done so, but for the impatient throbbing of his organ. "Hammer or anvil?" Iduna breathed hotly into his ear. "What?" "Which do you want to be? The hammer, or the anvil?" He understood. "Oh, I think this time I'd better be the anvil." He reclined on a sloped pile of rocks covered with cushions, so that he was half-sitting and half-laying. Then, making sure he was braced and ready, he wrapped his hands around Iduna's sturdy waist and hauled her bodily into his lap. She gasped at his strength and settled her bottom firmly onto his legs. His manhood stuck straight up between her thighs, rubbing against her solid little mound which was covered with wiry, tightly-coiled brown hair. "Here is the miner before the gold mine," she said, rolling her thumbs over the tip of his rod. He moaned at her touch. "And is this the gold mine?" he asked, spreadng her thick folds with his fingers, feeling her heat and dampness. Her button, the center of her pleasure, was the size of an acorn. He flicked it gently and felt her shudder. "It is," she replied, shifting until he was positioned at her opening. Rick thrust upward as Iduna came down, and cried out as he was engulfed. She was almost too hot, volcanic. He fancied he could see the steam rising from their locked bodies, heat ripples blurring around them. He grasped her hips and held on as she began a slow, purposeful rocking. He could actually feel the coolness of the air on his skin as his rod slid out, then renewed heat as they joined again. Had he not taken the edge off his passion with his previous encounter with Deegie, he would not have lasted more than a moment with Iduna. Even so, he knew he wouldn't last long. "Good prospecting," Iduna said hoarsely. "I think you're about to ... oh, yes! find the mother lode!" Her steady rocking quickened into a rapid bounce, and then she stopped moving altogether as her insides closed about him tight as an oiled fist, crushing him pleasurably. He uttered a cry of mingled surprise and delight as he felt that strong constriction surrounding his rod. He could no longer move within her, but did not need to as the walls of her tunnel squeezed and released rhythmically. A gruff voice spoke in his ear. "We call it the collapsing mine shaft." He managed to turn his head and found a dwarven male nearby, gold-bearded and handsome, with a slender human woman snuggled at his side. She, a young and dark-haired beauty, gave Rick an inviting smile as she massaged the dwarf's huge erection. "Don't distract him, Berego," Iduna said, eyes closed, head thrown back, motionless except for the flexing of her inner muscles and the involuntary spasming of her own ongoing release. Rick felt his climax building. Iduna's juices, molten gold in her pleasure, drenched him. He drove up far as he could, arching his back, and his voice rang again to the ceiling as he emptied himself into her. Continued in Ch. 2 Festival Ch. 2 When it felt as if every last drop had been milked from his rod, he relaxed his taut body against the cushions. Iduna's inner muscles eased, letting him slip from her. His skin there looked red from the heat and the friction. He felt pleasantly abused. "Collapsing mine shaft," he muttered. Berego laughed. "And none are better at it than Iduna! You're a hardy miner, lad! I've known full- blooded dwarf warriors who couldn't have outlasted you!" Iduna brushed back her fall of rich brown hair. "But I suppose you think you could." "Now, Iduna, you know Kepla wouldn't approve ..." Berego protested weakly, his coal-black eyes hungrily sweeping over her figure. "Kepla is his wife," the brunette human explained to Rick. "She's not from here, and doesn't mind Berego cavorting with human girls because she doesn't consider them competition." "Who's in competition?" Rick shrugged, somewhat strengthlessly. He felt like an empty wineskin, drained, limp, and exhausted. "We're all here to honor Dorian, not outdo each other." "Well-said," Iduna remarked, turning as if by accident to better display herself to Berego. "And Kepla isn't here," the brunette murmured quietly. "Ah, Reghar, you made us of strong stuff," Berego said, "but not strong enough to resist such temptation!" He glanced at Rick. "Trade you?" Rick looked at the brunette, who darted her pink tongue over her full lips. She had lips like Lisann, he thought, and that stirred a variety of emotions in him. "Introduce me first?" "Relah, this is --" Berego looked to Iduna for help. "Rick," she supplied. "This is Rick. Rick, this is Relah, sister of my brother's co-mate." "Pleased to meet you," he said, and meant it. She was petite, slender, almost elfin in appearance although clearly human. Her black hair was cut short, and was very straight and shiny. Her eyes were large and brown. She was wearing nothing but a skirt tied sarong-like around her slim hips, leaving her small but sweet breasts exposed. "So, is it a trade?" "Berego drives a hard bargain," Iduna said slyly. "It's fine with me, if Relah doesn't mind." Rick gave her his best smile and she immediately disentangled herself from Berego's arm and crawled over to him. "That's that, then." Berego reached for Iduna. "Let's see if your fire needs stoking! Ah, the coals are still glowing!" "I'll need a few minutes," Rick apologized as Relah stretched out beside him. "Take all the time you want. It's a festival. We have the entire night." She kissed him open- mouthed, a flirty kiss that got his blood moving a little less sluggishly. "And watch ... Berego's been wanting Iduna for years. Now that he's finally got his chance, it ought to be something!" He watched, one hand idly caressing the girl's slim body. She was right, it was something to behold. Berego, playing the hammer to Iduna's anvil, had the rhythm of a blacksmith. Each hard pounding thrust was counterpointed by a second, less-powerful one. Rick could almost hear the clanging of metal, could almost feel the ground shake. He tore his attention away from the dwarves to search for Natalia, and saw her still with Jesse, although the two of them seemed in a brief lull. Her head was pillowed on his leg, her lips curved in a contented smile, lashes a smudge on her fair cheek as she rested. Jesse's hand lay upon her hair, fingers combing through it. A third man, a handsome stranger with a wiry build and chestnut-colored hair, was curled behind Natalia, his arm draped over her hip. To his surprise, Rick also saw Taren, his fully-dressed form unmissable in the room of mostly- unclad bodies. He was exchanging friendly kisses with a few girls, keeping their playful hands at bay. Deegie inched over to press herself against Rick's other side. She was still flushed, but had gotten her second wind. "Relah! Hello!" "Hi, Deegie!" To his astonishment, the two women leaned across his body and kissed each other, a wet, unsisterly kiss. He vividly recalled the vision he'd had in Shadowdale, of the elven festival. The archbishop himself had said it was all right, he reminded himself as Deegie familiarly stroked Relah's breasts. Nothing wrong with two women enjoying each other, as long as they didn't exclusively stay with their own gender. And nothing wrong with a man enjoying the sight. Which he surely did. Although he thought Iduna had worn him out, he felt a stirring at his groin. A woman on either side of him, pleasuring each other without a shred of modesty. He slid a hand down each of their backs to cup their buttocks. Deegie sighed against Relah's mouth and pushed her bottom against Rick's questing hand. He sent his fingers to probe her yet-moist center. Relah, more lithe, decided to swing her leg over him so that he was presented with her pert bottom and silky-furred mound. He leaned forward enough to slip his tongue along her pearly-pink folds. She whimpered as he found her tiny button and circled it, then lapped long and slow. Her hips quivered. He was abruptly ready again, in a sudden rampaging fullness. Deegie turned her attention from Relah's breasts to Rick's rod, sucking it deep into her mouth. He stifled his groan by burying his face between Relah's legs. Deegie quit what she was doing much too soon, but Rick didn't protest because he then felt her large cushiony breasts imprison his stiffness. He bumped his buttocks up and down, sliding his rod between them. Relah shifted, though not moving away from his tongue. At the top of his next stroke, he felt her quick mouth take in the tip of his rod as it emerged from between Deegie's breasts. It soon became most delicious torture. "Relah, stop," he heard Deegie say. "He'll spend too soon, and you've got to have him in you. It's like being filled with light, Dorian's own light." Rick blushed and tried to argue, but Relah heeded Deegie's words and reversed herself so that she was positioned above him. She seemed small and delicate, but if she was Berego's lover, Rick didn't doubt that she could handle him. He seized her waist and impaled her, eliciting a throaty cry. Deegie remained stretched out between Rick's long legs, and used her mouth and hands on both of them as they rocked and thrust. Rick sat up as much as he could, wrapping his arms around Relah's waist, jouncing her up and down. He also managed to work one foot up against Deegie's mound, teasing her that way until she clamped her thighs around his ankle and pumped her hips. Relah was gasping and shuddering, clutching his shoulders. Sitting up as he was, he could see the image of Dorian behind her. The jewellike eyes held him captive. The world seemed to blink, and it was as if he was inside the goddess Herself, surrounded by Her divine warmth. Deegie fell back, releasing them, once more exhausted by her pleasures. Relah clung to him, beyond speaking, rising fast toward the heavens. He rolled with her and braced himself over her slender form. She raised her legs, twining them around his waist. He withdrew all the way, and then sank back in, the new angle causing new friction that pushed Relah into ecstacy. She became like a river below him, churning and turbulent. Rick looked up at the image, into the eyes of Dorian. His mind and body were awhirl with pleasure. Relah could stand no more. She was gulping small sips of air, her pulse fluttering visibly in her throat. With a final tender kiss, Rick eased out of her and let her curl up beside Deegie. He rose, aware of many women watching him as he strode across the room, bronze skin shining in the candlelight, his rod jutting out in front of him. A few of his admirers beckoned, but he did not stop until he had reached the section of the cave directly in front of Dorian's image. She seemed to smile at him, and then it was as if unseen hands moved over his body. He knelt, strengthless. When he closed his eyes, he saw or imagined angelic forms surrounding him. Unearthly beauty and passion. He gave himself over to their caresses. Just when he found himself near the brink, the golden misty forms faded away. He looked beseechingly up at the goddess A soft footstep nearby caught his attention. He glanced over and saw a pair of ivory-smooth legs, well-honed by kaiila riding and swordplay. The legs knelt, bringing a fall of satin-black hair into view. Natalia reached down and stroked his hair back from his sweaty brow. Her eyes shone with love and longing. For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Words couldn't describe, words weren't needed. He touched her cheek. She brushed her fingers over his lips. He nipped gently at them. "I love you," she whispered. He gathered her into his arms, still unable to speak. She gracefully lowered herself, leaving a trail of kisses over his chest and stomach. Her touch, tangible and earthly, was every bit as delightful as the unseen touches that had been pleasuring him moments before. Her lips parted and slid along him like silk. "Oh, yes," he gasped, losing his hands in the midnight of her hair. There before Dorian, Natalia loved him with mouth and hands and lips and tongue, murmuring sounds of encouragement. "Oh, Natalia, oh, Dorian, yes!" His hips quickened, and Natalia timed her motions to match. "Aaaahhhh!" Rick cried, every muscle going rigid. His seed poured out of him. Golden flowers seemed to bloom and burst behind his eyes. His cries trailed away to an echo and he felt himself begin to shake from the reaction. Natalia raised her head. He lifted one trembling hand to touch her face again, and then fell against her. Kneeling face to face, they supported each other, her arms warm and strong around him. He let his head fall onto her shoulder. Her skin was so soft, marred only by the scars on her back where she'd been shot during the battle in Argosa. Feeling those patches of roughness, he remembered how he'd nearly lost her, and emotion tightened his grip. "I love you," he said fervently, kissing her. "More than anything!" "Likewise." She giggled, glancing back at Relah and Deegie. "You've left a trail of bodies in your wake, my dear paladin. As usual. But this time, I don't think any of them object." He chuckled and kissed her again. "You've done pretty well yourself." "Thank you. I haven't had nearly as much practice as you." "You'll get all the practice you need, I promise." She winked at him and ran a hand down his back to his buttock. "Starting when?" Rick groaned and collapsed onto the floor. "Starting tomorrow!" Natalia fell down beside him. "Good! I don't think I could manage again tonight." "So, you had a nice time with Jesse?" She purred like a larl. "He has marvelous hands! He shouldn't be wasting them as a riverboat captain!" "I'm sure Selvaine will find plenty of other things for him to do with them." "I'm sure she will!" She stretched against him and sighed contentedly. "Tell me, Rick. Are all festivals like this?" He rolled his head enough to see Iduna and Berego, still going at it with ground-shaking enthusiasm. "Not exactly, but mostly." "And we're going to have festivals in Stonebridge?" "Count on it." "Hmm. I think we'll wind up spending a lot more time in Stonebridge than in Tarlak!" He found the energy to put his arms around her. "It doesn't matter. Wherever we're together, it will be like a festival every day." ** The End ** Festival Day 02 After the tree escapade, we sat on the edge of the crowd and watched the performers on stage. Not entirely up there with pop music, I didn't recognise many people. Several women came on in not much more than underwear, and sang songs that were practically indistinguishable from each other. After about an hour of this, we grew bored and retired back to our tent. It was already fairly late, and we were still tired from the journey, so we went straight to bed, and slept. I woke early, to the sound of people calling and whooping. I crawled to the entrance of the tent and peered out, blinking in the already bright sun. Small groups of people were already making their way towards the larger crowd. It must have been only about 6am, but everyone was up and ready. After all, there is a lot to pack into those three days. I reversed back into the space, turning around to look at you, still sound asleep, splayed over the sleeping bag. I wished the tent had windows, it was already stifling. I curled up near you, but not touching, because of the heat, and tried to go back to sleep. After about half an hour, I gave up and got dressed in the loosest clothes I could find. Sweat already forming on my forehead, I made my way towards the only source of cool water on the site, the river. Walking straight into it, I stood knee deep, and sighed with pleasure at the coolness. Needing relief from the sun, I sat down and let the water wash over my shoulders. My t-shirt clung to me, but I wasn't bothered. I say there for maybe 10 minutes, luxuriating in the freshness and coolness, my skirt billowing around me like black pond weed. Reluctantly emerging from my new-found haven, I strolled back to the camp, clothes moulded to me like paint. A few other 'festival virgins' gave me curious looks, but the regulars expected it. Ducking into the tent, I puffed as the heat hit me like a solid wedge. You had rolled over, but not moved much apart from that. I pressed my soaking body into your back, leaving little rivulets of water running down your sides. You sighed and relaxed, clearly feeling the benefit as much as I did. 'Fuck, that's cold. Where'd you get it from?' You murmured sleepily. 'The river. Good, isn't it?' 'Hmm, I need to feel that first hand. Gimme a sec to put some clothes on'. I clambered off of you, and you sat up, wiping sweat from your brow. Pulling on some clothes quickly, you turned to me and said 'right then, show me this magic spring'. At the riverbank, we wandered a little downstream, away from the main crowds. Plunging back into the water, the coolness greeted me deliciously, bringing goosebumps to my skin. You swore under your breath as the liquid froze you temporarily, then sighed deeply as your body grew accustomed to it. We relaxed for a while, occasionally splashing each other playfully. After our core temperatures had dropped to a more comfortable level, we cuddled in the shallows, hiding in the shade from another weeping willow. Looking up at it, I recalled the events of yesterday, and my face flushed. You stared at me, seeing my thoughts, and your eyes dropped to my breasts. The cold water had made my nipples stand out far more than normal through my t-shirt, and tiny goosebumps covered my skin. Glancing upwards, I noted that we were mostly covered by the riverbank, so only people walking along it could see us. Still, that was a likely possibility. My heart rate increased, and I looked up at you, with that glint in my eyes again. The cold water washed between us, bringing with it the promise of something amazing. You pulled me over to the middle of the river, where I could only just touch bottom with my toes. Dropping your hands, you glide them over the curve of my buttocks, then squeeze hard, making me yelp slightly. Your teeth find my nipple, and tease it gently through the fabric of my shirt. Treading water, I stroke your groin with my foot, feeling the heat emanating from you. I pop open the buttons on your fly, and release your straining cock from it's confines. You flinch slightly as cold water meets hot flesh. And then, suddenly, you cup your hands under my arse, lift me up, and press me against yourself, forming a seal so tight that not even the water can get between us. My hands on your shoulders, legs wrapped around your waist, I bring our lips together in a kiss that combines heat and cold, pleasure and pain, as I bite your lower lip until you whimper. Your hands roam under my t-shirt, alternating between gently circling my nipple with your fingertips, and squeezing my flesh. You carry me back to the edge of the river, where you push my back up against a smooth rock, warmed in the sun, for support. Parting my legs further, it's my turn to gasp, as the chill of the water invades my hottest recesses. The cold is quickly replaced by heat, as you pull back slightly, then slam your cock straight into me, forcing the breath out of my body in a short scream. I'm pinned to the rock as you thrust hard and fast, sending ripples of water to the shoreline, and great waves of pleasure through me. A couple walking along the bank pause to point and stare at our bodies; mine, splayed out on a rock, and yours, moulded to me like paint. I look up at them through a haze of pleasure, and grin. They give us the thumbs-up, and move on. You increase the speed of your thrusts, hands on my hips, pulling me closer at the end of each one. I feel your cock reach it's maximum depth, just as my pleasure starts to escalate into a crescendo. My breath coming in short gasps, I moan unintelligible nonsense as I slip into a kind of coma, capable only of feeling. You pull back and thrust even harder than before, sending me screaming over the edge. My body quakes under the extreme release of pressure, and I dig my nails into your arms, leaving fresh red marks on your skin. As my cunt spasms around your cock, you moan into my shoulder, gripping my flesh in your teeth, and shudder your way through your orgasm. We collapse together on the rock, and I feel the wetness from inside me join the water around us. After I had stopped shaking, and my brain had started functioning again, we left the water and clambered up the bank, to dry off in the sun. The couple that had seen us earlier were visible not too far away, sitting under the willow tree. They spotted us, and wandered over. Introducing themselves as Matt and Laura, they admitted they had been watching us for quite a while, and found our antics very exciting. Flattered, and still a little aroused from the river, I invited them to join us the next day for lunch, and maybe dessert. Festival Day 03 Day three dawned muggy, with thunderous looking clouds dominating the horizon. As time went on, the weather only became more depressing, with a light but permanent drizzle adding a damp sheen to everything. As I peered out of the flap of our tent, it started raining harder, and a chilling wind whipped around my face and neck, causing me to retreat into the stuffy, but warm cocoon we were calling home. A few diehards were tramping through the rapidly forming mud in their wellies and mackintoshes, hair plastered to their brows, rivulets of water pouring from creases in their waterproofs. I prod your form in the dim light, hissing for you to wake up. You do so, and blink at me sleepily, confused. I point out of the narrow opening, at the grey skies and encroaching mud. You respond with 'so? Come back to bed, it's early. The weather will improve later'. Sighing, I crawl back into the sleeping bag with you, draping myself over your chest. I had hoped to actually watch some of the show today, as we had missed the previous two day's worth, and it seemed a shame to attend a music festival and not see any music. 'Well, if I have to come back to bed, we're not sleeping', I purr in your ear. Touching my tongue to the tip, I trace around the delicate contours and nip at the lobe, whilst snaking my hands down your body to your already hard cock. You wriggle playfully and nibble at my lower lip, before deepening the kiss, bringing your hands up to cup my face. Rolling me over, you grab my hands and hold them above my head, exclaiming a triumphant 'gotcha!' before lowering your head and blowing a raspberry on my stomach. I giggle and arch my back, bringing my breasts up close to your face. You take your cue and take one of my nipples in your mouth, sucking it gently. I let out a soft sigh and lay back, letting you minister to my needs. You bring your hand up to my other breast, circling the bud with your thumb, squeezing the flesh between thumb and forefinger. Pushing my breasts together, you lick up the valley between them, and down to my navel, where you pause to grin up at me. I part my legs slightly, inviting you in, and the scent of my arousal pervades the air. You push my legs further apart and move down, letting your breath blow warm onto my skin, until I feel your tongue, probing between my inner lips. I twitch slightly, and moisture seeps out from inside me. You delve deeper, tasting my darkest recesses, swirling your tongue in and around me. Drawing back, you replace your tongue with your forefinger, and place your lips around my clit, pulling gently at the nub. I draw my breath sharply, and arch my back a little. You start to move your finger in and out, slowly at first, but quickening your pace slightly as you flick your tongue across my most sensitive of organs. My hips start to move of their own accord, begging you to move faster and harder, as my breath comes in ragged gasps. You oblige, pushing into me with more force, until my inner thighs are slick with my own juices, and my eyes start to roll back in my head. Suddenly you change tack, pinching my clit with your finger and thumb, and ram two fingers of your other hand deep inside me. My back arches as I scream, heedless of the thin material that is the only barrier between us and everyone else. You carry on fingering me, your hand soaked in my juices, as my body trembles and my nails dig into the groundsheet, fists clenched. For what seems like forever, I'm paralysed with pleasure, unable to move even the slightest bit by myself. As my shaking begins to subside, you withdraw your fingers and move up to kiss my brow, smoothing my ruffled hair back. At that moment, the flap of our tent is pushed aside, and Matt and Laura, the couple we met briefly yesterday, entered. In a somewhat compromising position, I struggled to sit up and cover myself a little, so as not to embarrass our guests. They seem unshakable, as Laura giggles and says 'well, it seems we missed lunch then. How about dessert?' Slightly taken aback, I stutter a little, and look to you for support, finding none in your equally shocked expression. Looking back at the couple we barely knew, a spark of arousal pinged somewhere deep in my stomach. The woman was very attractive, wearing a short skirt that emphasised her toned legs, and a t-shirt that hugged her slim torso. Greenish-blue eyes peeped out from under a dark brown fringe. Full lips curved in a generous smile. Straight white teeth, the sparkle of a tongue piercing. Matt was also attractive, cargo shorts and t-shirt showed a toned, but not too muscular, body. His eyes were dark brown, and his hair was a lighter brown, almost blonde in colour, short and messy in style. His eyebrow was pierced, and tattoos snaked down his arms. They made a gorgeous couple. And they were in our tent, making no attempt to hide their intentions. Laura crawled over to me, and sat back on her haunches, a glint in her eye. The same glint that was in mine. Steeling myself, I leaned forward and kissed her, full on the lips. The first time I had properly kissed a woman, outside of drunken dares. It was different, her lips softer, no fuzz of hair on her upper lip. I enjoyed it, tentatively nibbling on her lower lip. She purred deep in her throat and reciprocated. Growing bolder, I placed a hand on her stomach, feeling my way under her top to touch the smooth skin. I felt the tautness of her body, muscles hidden just under the skin tightening at my touch. I part my lips a little, allowing my tongue to entwine itself with hers, dancing a secret dance known only to us. I move my hand further up, reaching the curve of the underside of her breast. The skin there is even softer, if that is possible, than the rest of her. I cup her breast, feeling the weight, so different to anything I'd experienced before. Then I slide my fingers up, around the edge, and onto her nipple, feeling it harden at my touch, noting a piercing. Laura moans, ever so softly, and my stomach jumps with arousal. Breaking our kiss for a moment, I pull away to remove her t-shirt, eager to view those beautiful orbs. They are even more perfect than I felt, full and round, pinkish nipples in the dead centre of each. It is to one of those nipples that I attach my mouth, flicking it with the tip of my tongue, and pinching gently with my teeth. Laura purrs appreciatively, and settles on her back. At this point, I remember you, and Matt. I look up, and the two of you are watching, holding your breath, entranced. An idea forming, I nod to both of you, eyes sparkling. In an instant, you're both naked, your cocks painfully hard. I note that Matt has a slightly longer, but thinner, cock, and wonder how it feels. Disrobing Laura of her skirt and panties, I find that she is pleasantly shaven, a tiny triangle of hair remaining as decoration. My own pussy twitches at the sight of hers, and moisture starts to seep again. Parting her legs, I move between them and crouch, inhaling the sweet aroma of her. Stroking her thighs with my hands, I slowly lick her, all the way up and down. The taste is new to me, making me slightly giddy. I feel a pair of hands on my hips, and my skin crackles with static electricity. The hands rove over my body, grasping my hanging breasts and squeezing them together. I look up at Laura, and see you kneeling beside her, feeding your cock into her mouth. Which means that the person behind me is Matt. I let out an involuntary moan as I feel his cock enter me from behind, and you look over. Instead of jealousy, I see pure lust in your expression, as you watch me get fucked by another man, while another woman wraps her lips around your cock. I duck my head back to Laura's cunt, licking with more enthusiasm than before. I push my tongue inside her, swirling it in her liquidity. She moans around your cock, and I see that your hands are busy attending to her tits. Matt's cock feels different to yours, it reaches further inside me, but has less girth. He pumps in and out of me slowly, so as not to jerk my head away from Laura's pussy. I sway my hips, kneading Matt's cock with my muscles. I hear him groan, and moments later, feel electricity course through me as he slaps my arse. I push back against him, willing him to fuck me harder, while lashing my tongue inside Laura's cunt. From my peripheral vision, I can see you nearing orgasm, knees starting to tremble. You take your cock out of Laura's mouth, and start to pump it vigorously, hovering over her face. Laura's hips start to buck, signalling how close she was to an orgasm, so I redouble my efforts, pushing my index finger inside, up to the knuckle. Her eyes flick open and she shivers slightly as I twist and wiggle it inside her, while my tongue is flicking her clit. I remember what you did to me, so I purse my lips, and suck gently on her clit, while increasing the pace of my finger-fucking. This has the required effect, as she utters a short, piercing scream, and her eyes roll back in her head. Her pussy twitches around my finger, and her juices gush, coating my hand and face with tangy vanilla. As her orgasm subsides, I get up from my elbows, so I can push myself harder into Matt's cock. He starts fucking me in earnest, hard and deep. I feel myself beginning to slide into that semi coma that signals my orgasm, and my hips jerk in rhythm with his. Sensing my needs, he brings his hand down on my buttocks, delivering a stinging blow that makes me jerk backwards and cry out with a mixture of pleasure and pain. I beg him to do it again, more, harder, and he complies. A flurry of slaps hit me, knocking the breath out of me, so my scream is transformed into several short, sharp barks. My cunt contracts around Matt's cock, causing him to groan and release several bursts of hot seed inside me, holding my hips to him. Seeing me orgasm from a different angle finishes you off, and you spurt thick white cream over Laura's neck and chest, moaning quietly. She cranes her neck to suck your last drops from you, before falling back and rubbing your cum into herself, giggling. I finally gather enough strength to lift my head, and smile. Sweat glistens on my back, and mine and Matt's juices seep out from between my legs. He removes his cock from me, releasing a small flood, and then we collapse in a satisfied heap, limbs entwined, pulses slowly returning to normal. About fifteen minutes later, we stir. Trooping off to the river like a group of school kids, we wash each other tenderly, and return to the tent, where we swap numbers and promise to repeat the experience next year. After loading our stuff into the car, double checking everything is ready for the journey home, and hugging Matt and Laura goodbye, we join the sluggish traffic on the M25. I turn to you and say 'Okay, you've convinced me that festivals are okay. And anyway, we have to go back next year, they'll be expecting us'. You turn to look at me, and we both grin. Next year it is, then. Festival Exhibition The late afternoon sun shines strongly, casting long shadows on the ground. I search through the crowd, looking for my friends amid the mass of people standing, staring towards the stage. Where I am is still some way from the band currently playing, with only the tallest able to get a decent view. So everyone is mostly stood like near-inanimate zombies, their only movements are the odd step to the side, or a tilting of their heads as they seek that perfect view of a few guys playing guitars and drums. I roll my eyes and keep pushing and shoving my way through the unwashed masses of the stoned, drunk and just plain ignorant. After a few moments my manners desert me as no-one can hear my little pleases and thank yous anyway - I simply turn into an atom bouncing around in the brownian movement of the crowd. My patience is wearing thin, my friends have clearly been moved by the sea of people or have sought a better view of their own accord, with little thought for my finding them again. It's hot and it's smelly and I'm starting to feel claustrophobic. The odd hand on my ass and even one one my breast really aren't improving the situation or my temper. I turn and glare at the first guy who gropes me, eventually though I just shrug to myself and try and get to space and freedom as soon as possible. I give up on finding my friends, change my direction and head away from the stage. I pick up my pace as much as possible, now as ignorant as those about me, as I shove and, at one point, even kick a guy's shin to get to open air. I figure I'll meet up with people at the car later if I don't happen to see them before. A few ass grabs and a lil spilled beer later I'm finally free. I can actually move more than half an inch without being near suffocated by a guy's beer gut or having smoke blown in my face. It feels so great to be in the open that I don't even care that I'm going to have to spend most of the evening alone. There's a slight mound to the rear of the field we're in. I head for it as it's filled only by people sat on blankets and laying back on the grass - a more chilled out area. Much more *my* kind of place. It's well-populated, but in a much more reasonable way than the bloodclot of humanity I've just escaped from. As I walk I pull my hair free of its band and check out the beer stains on my top. They're pretty bad and the smell and dampness isn't that great next to my skin. 'What the hell', I think, and stop to pull it off, tying it around my waist, over the knee-length skirt I have on. I mean, my bra's a fairly respectable covering, considering some of the things I've seen people wearing so far today. It's hardly skimpy and thankfully it's still pretty new and respectable. I check everything's securely in place, as it were, and smile to myself, thinking how daring this is for me. But, feeling a lil conspicuous despite my new found bravado, and noticing the looks I'm getting from a few of the guys hanging around where I'm stood, I move on again until I get to the mound and sit my ass down. Finally I can now relax and spread out a little and maybe even try and enjoy this band that's playing. That's kinda the point of the whole endeavor after all, right? But the band suck. Well they don't suck exactly, but how many dirgey guitar bands can the world contain before the people rise up? I mean really. I toy with the idea that perhaps my friends ditched me on purpose to avoid my ranting, which would have surely accompanied this soundtrack if I'd still been with them. What the hell, it's nice and sunny still and I'm laid on almost, nearly fresh grass. Ish. I close my eyes and become a little oasis of me as people pass my prone form, now and then casting their shadows over me as I drift to the flickering underneath my eyelids. The band finish and another takes their place. The sun drops that extra little bit, leaving the sky a few shades darker than before. Leaning up and looking around I notice that the mound has become a little more filled, as people's energies start to peter out and they follow my example - just chilling out at the back. Not too far away a fire's been lit and is growing strongly as a group of guys use whatever they can find to fuel it. I watch the flames and it makes me realize that the dipping of the sun has taken some of the heat from the air. I get up and wander over to the fire, though not close enough to attract any unwelcome attention from the clearly over-imbibed guys who are apparently in control of it. Right now the last thing I want is some drunken guy staring at my tits and trying to paw me. But the fire's nice, warming my skin just a little and the flames are so much better to stare at than four guys standing on a stage. All in all this is a pretty good situation I decide, as I cast my gaze around idly. Then I see her. She's stood closer to the fire than I, on the opposite side. Her pale skin is lit by the flickering red and yellow flames as she dances alone. Tawny hair tumbles past her cheeks and to her shoulders, thick and full, slowly drifting as she moves to the beat. A lithe body under a loose flowing dress sways, casting thin shadows in the oncoming night. She speaks softly of sensuality, of carefree affection and endless freedoms. I stare. There's a phrase which states that you should dance like no-one's watching. Or something like that - 'sing like everyone's deaf' maybe? I don't know, but this girl embodies the ideal of that mantra. I watch her, rapt in my attention. The blaring music reduced to second or third place in my sensory input. I feel slightly awkward and a little confused as I watch this free spirited girl. I've never really felt attraction to any girl previously and I'm blushing even as I stand alone and unobserved. But I can't tear my eyes away from her. I've never felt such sensual energy emanate from one person. Keep all your sexy outfits and perversions, this girl has more pure, raw sexuality than anything I've ever encountered. Eventually the motion of her movement and a random toss of her head bring her eyes to mine over the fire. We lock gazes. I feel she can read my desire through the flames. I blush stronger and look away as she smiles - a warm and welcoming, honest and open gesture. My eyes seek refuge on the ground amid the discarded rubbish and unwanted litter. I look back up a few moments later and she's back to dancing again. I feel as though a chance for something wonderful has been lost through self consciousness as my eyes trace over her face, imprinting her form on my brain for later consideration. Pale flesh in and out of the shadows cast by her hair as she dances before the fire, a siren calling out and I still yearn to answer that call. But I resign myself to... to what? I'm not sure. A relinquishing of foolish dreams perhaps. Even though I'm straight, even though she's probably straighter, I feel freshly skinned and gutted at how that moment just went. Chastising myself silently, I tear my eyes from her and back to the stage. I should really keep an eye out for my friends, they might even be worried. Probably not, as the bands are starting to get more famous and the swamp of bodies is getting closer to imploding at the very front. Starting to feel a little lonely and a little cold, I have both problems cured in a most surprising manner... There are hands around my waist. I'm encircled. Certainly none of my friends would surprise me in this manner. What the hell? My heart starts to race with the shock of it, someone's got me. I immediately dissolve into a flood of irrational panic until a soft voice, an innately seductive and, most importantly, female voice whispers in my ear instantly quelling my fears and dispelling that instant agitation. "'ey". Just that. 'ey. She had me before "'ey" though and she knows it. Her accent delightfully foreign, a slight stumble past the H, turning such a simple word into one filled with such unknown promise. Yes, In just that one, most common word she tells me that she knows me and she accepts me. There's a accent to her voice, some kinda of European maybe? I've never been much good with accents, she's French maybe. Exotic. Her hands turn me like I'm a statue on a revolving floor. The perfect tawny hair makes my stomach lurch with unquantifable feelings, the lips are smiling that same inviting, gregarious smile. Our eyes meet and a drifting ember from the fire floats between us causing both of us to smile with an ironic appreciation of a cliched coincidence. "Hi". I return the monosyllabic greeting as she pulls on my hand, half turning and leading me closer to the fire. The flames stand out more and more as the minutes pass and the darkness starts to invade the day. And we dance. And how we dance. Our bodies never touch after that initial contact, but our eyes lock to an almost continual mutual gaze. In her eyes I see a life I've never known, one of freedoms and halycon days of laughter and fun. A life containing nights of unending pleasure, guiltless caresses and kisses given freely. People are starting to crowd round a little more as our bodies almost tease each other with the closeness of our movements. Always she leads and I follow, happy copying her movements, her sway and motion. Her hands raise as if to touch me, to stroke my face, then drop back playfully as I advance myself towards her. We move around the fire, people stepping back, enjoying the sight of us. The few idiots calling out can't even get close to ruining this for me. And so we dance on. Forward and backwards, smiles coating both our faces, reflecting back to us in each others eyes. And her eyes, my god, her eyes sparkle like the sun on raindrops after a storm. So full, so intense, so *much*. My breath is taken away anew each time our gazes touch over and over again. The band plays on and I never want it to stop. Our faces inches from each other, her breath sweet and warm on my cheek before she pulls back and I move towards her, limbs almost intertwining, never any contact. I am lost in this creature called desire. Eventually the band finish with a roar from their audience, and our audience around the fire take a breath as we stop our dancing. We've finished a few feet apart, eyes only for each other as someone calls out "kiss". She smiles mischievously to that and my stomach tightens. If there was even the slightest doubt in me it flees in that instant and I know I want this. She takes a step, just a step of her bare foot on the grass. It's going to happen. Please let it happen. I can't ever remember needing to be kissed *this* much. Every inch of my body is alert, tensed in anticipation of those lips on mine. And suddenly, after what seems like a year of waiting, we're embracing and I'm held inside her warmth. She smells of flowers and sweet exertion from our dance. She tastes of fruit and temptation as our tongues meet and I'm drowning in her kiss. From another world I hear a few cheers and claps fill the silence as people close by show what they think of this so very public display we're putting on. We continue to kiss, locked in our own space. My eyes closed tight. My entire being centered on my mouth, and then my hips as she takes them and brings me as close to her as I can possibly be without literally being inside. How I want to be inside her. Our breasts push together and even through my closed eyes I can detect the flashes from photos being taken of our embrace. My arms rise of their own accord and find each other behind her. My hands seeking her neck, pulling her into my eager mouth as though I would swallow her whole and keep her safe within me. Her hands reply in kind, cupping my behind in their soft, firm grasp - keeping me so close. Even through the material of my skirt, the touch of her flesh makes me shiver. My skin tingles with raw power on every connection we make, crackling with heat. The strength of our kiss waxes and wanes, from passion to tenderness - our lips, tongues and even teeth used to pleasure the other. Her hands sliding over my behind then over my lower back. Flesh on flesh at last. Fingers tracing up and down my spine, my knees are literally going weak. I hold myself upright by clinging to her, and as I feel her hands undo my bra I can't help but moan, so excited at the passion and carefree desire she shows. Our wild abandon continues as finally our lips part and my mouth sucks in the air my lungs are so desperately demanding. But her lips are at my neck, kissing slowly down it, taking a nip now and then. Her hands at my shoulders pushing my bra straps from them, letting it fall as her mouth lowers itself to the tops of my breasts, planting little kisses as she lowers her head. Her tongue snaking along my flesh, lower and lower. The urge to bring her mouth to my nipples is almost undeniable as my hands shift into her hair, letting those silken tresses tumble through my fingers, winding it around them as she slips from one breast to the other, decidedly teasing me as she avoids even the slightest contact with my nipples. The lowering of her head allows me to look around and quite expectedly our audience is still there, as big, if not larger, than when we danced. My head screams that my breasts are on display for all these people with their cameras and their video cameras and their phones with cameras and... *cameras*. I start to blush, I start to want to flee, my attention torn away from her for the first time with terror of the situation. Then her mouth covers my nipple and she nips playfully, her tongue closes around it and she's sucking and kissing on me with increasing passion. I look down and everything else in the entire world melts away once more under her wildness. My hands in her tawny hair as she sucks, almost suckling on me, her eyes rising to mine as she pleasures me, that mischievous glint still there, telling me she's enjoying putting on this wanton display. A few moments more of this attention and I can't cope with any more without orgasming where I stand. So I gently pull her mouth back to mine and kiss her deeply, my bare chest to her clothed one, my arms wrapped around her neck once more. Desperate to feel her flesh on mine more completely I push the straps of her dress aside, our bodies both retreating slightly to allow it to fall to cover her bare feet. Our nakedness joins and we once more fold into each other. I can feel her hardened nipples, her soft breasts on my own. My hands dance down her back delightedly until I plant them finally on her hips, discovering, to little surprise, that the dress was all she wore. Her hands meanwhile have slid to my skirt and unfasten it easily, it joining her dress at our feet, followed moments later by my underwear. Still kissing, we step away from our cast-off clothes and she steps back away from me once more, her hands cupping my face firmly before drawing it to her chest. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, I lean down and use my tongue to caress her, releasing small high pitched sighs of pleasure from her as I flick and suck at the hard nipple in my mouth. Her hands reach under to my own breasts, cupping and squeezing them firmly, molding them to the shape of her hands. I switch breasts and look to her, smiling as I tease a mazy trail around the perfect breast at my mouth, nibbling and licking all around. A small revenge perhaps. This lasts all of a few seconds though, as the need I have to please her overrides all other thoughts and I return to sucking. Her hands still pulling and kneeding me so divinely, her sighs growing louder, her accent showing through even in these small noises. The silence of the moment is shattered abruptly as a new band take to the stage, loud chords ring out over the nearly dark fields, calling the night to us. The fire at our side pops and crackles, its warmth and passion reflecting off her skin as we stand face to face with each other once more, our hands idly touching and stroking as our audience watch on. My eyes are still all for her. The fire flickering in her eyes, its glinted passion obvious in her engorged, dilated pupils, her pale skin bronzed in the glow that fills us both. Her hand moves to between my legs and I shake uncontrollably as she strokes my thighs, a knowing playful grin on her face. I suck in breath after breath, anticipating her touch to my core. I moan to each caress, every one too gentle, making my flesh quake. Finally her fingers find their target and one slices through my middle, testing my wetness, rubbing over my hole, curling up just a touch to stroke over the the slickness between my clit and opening. My knees rock with this gloriousness, her finger dipping into me ever so slightly, coating itself in me. Teasing and testing. My eyes close then reopen to her grin once more and I groan with disappointment as the finger trails away, over my stomach, up my breasts and neck until it finds its destination in my mouth. I suck on her finger more eagerly than I've ever sucked on any man, tasting my wetness on it. Sucking every last drop of me from her, my tongue rolling over the length of her finger, flicking the nail as though it were the head of a tiny penis. Then the finger curls and locks behind my teeth and is used to lower me. My body obeys instinctively, dropping to my knees when I am brought low enough, the finger slipping from me as I get to see between her legs. A tuft of that gorgeous tawny hair sits perfectly over plump inviting lips which glisten deliciously. I slip gladly between her opening legs and bring my mouth to her, desperate to savor her. I decline all subtleness, my tongue driving straight into her wetness, my nose to her pelvis as I slide in and out lapping at the walls of her pussy, moaning in delight at how it feels on my tongue. I feel her thighs tighten around my head as I delve in over and over again, almost lapping, almost fucking her with just my tongue as her high pitched sighs increase in tempo and volume. Her hands come to my head and hold it in place as her wetness fills my mouth and I swallow so so eagerly, drinking from her enjoyment of my motions. Fingers curling in my hair, as though they wish to drag me inside of her fully, stiffening, desperate fingers keeping me locked into place. I wonder how the crowd of people watching is reacting to all of this and that notion makes me lick harder. I move up to her clit, feeling its hardness on the tip of my tongue as I clamp my lips over her , suctioned to her as I trace small circles over and around her, flicking my tongue hard and the softly across the throbbing nub in my mouth. She starts to cum, urging me onwards with her moans as my licking becomes more frantic, matching their pace, feeling her wetness smeer over my face, bathing me in her pleasure. Trembling skin surrounds me as she pulls on my hair for support, keeping her upright as that final wave floods her from head to toe and she cums magnificently on my face. I lower my tongue and slip it back inside her as she holds me still as the aftershocks pass through her, I feel her spasming from within, just small jolts as she rocks on her toes and heels. We sit in that tableaux for a moment, her breathing slowly returning to normal, her muscles relaxing, her fingers releasing my hair, letting me look up from my position at her feet. She smiles so warmly, so contentedly, all around our immediacy the crowd are silent, even the music in the background has died away as far as my ears are concerned leaving only this bubble. Then a few people call out and some clap us and we blush to each other and share a wicked smile. "My turn now". Just those three words and I'm almost climaxing. I am pushed onto my back, the grass cooling against my body now that night is finally here and she stands over me her hands idly playing with her breasts as she watches me. I stare up at her, my thighs dropping open, legs parting in invitation. She kneels. I'm already so wet, so in need of her on me, over me, inside of me. Festival Exhibition She takes my foot, lifting it to her mouth, kissing each toe in turn, her tongue snaking out over my silver blue nail polish, her hands rubbing me as they hold me up. Then the other foot, can't she see I'm dying here? That I just need to orgasm before I pass away completely, dissolving into just a puddle on this ground? Save me, please save me... Still she tortures me, unheeding or uncaring of my situation, leaning over my legs, her tongue on my ankles, up my shins, over me knees, making my ass wiggle so much I'm sure I'll be washing the grass stain off it for months to come. Her soft kisses pass up my hips, so close, so *fucking* close to where I want them. I want to grab her face and just use it as a dog uses a leg, and hump away on it until I am fulfilled. But I'm scared to in case I make her fly away like a beautiful bird in the garden. So I wait. The waiting is hard. In small cat-like laps she moves up my stomach, over my breasts, thankfully this time headed straight for the nipples. Nipping harder than before, her teeth on me, biting me, tugging on me, pulling me. I know she wants to mark me, to leave me something to remember her by when all this has finished. My fingers dig into the earth at my side, worming down, keeping me anchored to the world before I simply float away. Up my neck in the same small nips and licks, and once more we kiss, she tastes herself on me, licking over my tongue, so recently at her pussy, sharing that with me, as her fingers flow over my fire-heated skin and down, ever down to my inner thighs, making me buck and shudder. When she breaks off for air I half moan and half beg a slurred "please" quietly to her. A grin more wicked than any so far lights her visage as she returns down my body, just as slowly, just as cruelly. Neck, breasts, hips, now at my thighs. Tickling patterns with her tongue. I am going insane. Please just help me.... please... Finally, thankfully she lowers her head to my slit, her tongue running the length of it in one firm sweep as my back arches and my fingers dig even deeper into the ground. With a practiced easy she finds my clit and as she nibbles at it, two tiny fingers slip into me, curling upwards, tips rubbing at my walls, their lengths pushing divinely at my opening as though she seeks to lift me. No one has touched me like this before and in a matter of moments I'm groaning incoherently, garbled pleas, moans and sighs as the crowd grow in volume with me. I feel like I'm turning inside out, a flame to match the fire next to us burns within me and I scream out once, twice, three times and I'm cumming, she clamps her mouth to my mound, drinking me as I drank her. Every tiny touch of her on me I can feel, wisps of hair on my thighs make me tremble, hands on my hips holding me down make buck. Her tongue now replacing her fingers with in me makes me gush. Then I'm relaxed, so utterly relaxed and at peace with the world, at peace with myself, nothing else matters as I ride this post orgasmic high, twitching as she pulls free of my pussy and slides up my body, her flesh as warm and as slick with sweat as mine. We kiss once more as we settle in each others arms, then lay back. For the first time in a while I look at the crowd who've watched us pleasure each other, cameras are sat on the ground still recording us as people stand.... enjoying themselves to our show. Some discretely moving their hands in their pockets, others openly stood masturbating, stroking their cocks fast and hard. I watch almost curiously as I stroke my lovers chest and her hand dips back to my slit, testing my sensitivity. We toy with each other as we take *our* turn to watch, as we do some more guys free themselves from their jeans and shorts and group into a tighter circle around us. My gaze travels around, almost giggling at some of the faces as they grow closer and closer to orgasm, eyes squinting, cheeks tightening, lips rising. I turn and kiss my lover once more as she dips a finger in my wetness. I return the gesture twofold, her tightness gripping me as we lay fingering each other with increasing speed. Inevitably a guy steps even nearer, bending towards us, and his cock issues his tribute to our display. Hot thick cum lands on my lovers breast. Leaning in I lick it up quickly and eagerly as our fingers increase their pace. This act breaks the dam, literally it seems, and suddenly its as though its raining cum all over us, each guy there showing how much they enjoyed us, each respectful enough not to touch, but each too desperate not to cum over us. Splatters of cum cover both of our faces as we're giggling like little girls as we playfully try to lick each other clean at the same time, tongues fencing in mid-air as we each seek to cleanse the other. I slip a third finger into her, distracting her with pleasure as I scoop cum from her creamy skin and swallow it greedily. We kiss once more sharing this new taste as guy after guy finishes above us, cum dribbling into our kisses as we both start to orgasm together, rolling into each other on the soft ground. I find myself under her, our fingers both still busy as she stares into my eyes and I climax easily watching my lover cum above me, her slight weight holding me to this place in case I simply float away. Twitching and spasming, we cum hard, fingers filling, stretching, teasing, stroking, *fucking* each other, she drives me past my second orgasm and straight into my third as cum drips off her and squishes between our breasts as then push tightly together. Holding me down, fucking me hard with grouped fingers, two, now three, now easily, so so easily four of her small fingers inside of me, stretching and flexing deep, another wave hits me, then another. Through a tunnel I see her giggling at how much I'm enjoying this, at my grasping hands and unintelligible groans. She fucks me harder, faster, like a man, her hand between my thighs like the best cock I ever had. It feels like her whole hand is inside of me. I don't even know if I can cum again but I can;t stop as I'm driven through one more and I scream properly, long and loud. She looks on adoringly, that mischief now fully revealed. She pulls her hand from between us and licks each digit a little, tasting me once more. Then some of the playfulness slips from her eyes. "Merci". She leans down.... ...a final time we kiss, deep, long. A kiss to last us forever. A kiss to remember and smile upon. A kiss filled with sex and joy and even passing transitory love. Here in this moment there is only love, there is only fun and happiness, from ourselves, from the crowd who've watched and shown their pleasure of us. My hands to her face, revelling in how covered we both our in our own and others cum, of peoples pleasure and good feeling. She breaks the kiss and looks to me with a satisfied but newly shy expression. I return it, knowing that this moment is passing. A postscript gentle peck to my lips and she stands and dresses unhurriedly. I lay watching her, drinking in the last of those perfectly hanging breasts, peach skin and tumbling hair, all lit by the roaring flames behind us. I'm uncaring for my nudity until she slips back into the crowd then I too dress and wonder where the *hell* my friends have got to. Festival Hijinks The day had been a good one so far, at least in Jon's opinion. Going to the all-day street festival downtown was one of the better ideas he'd come up with for spending time with Mamie, he thought, though he'd probably never admit that to her. They had been dating for a little over three months and things had grown steadily between them from the start. Friendship developed first, then innocent flirting that they both seemed to love, and then came that first date. He'd done everything wrong that he could, from spilling his drink all over their dinner table to slipping and falling as they walked out the door, but she didn't seem to care. Of course, the fact that he'd made a big joke out of it, acting like a total goof, probably helped ease both of their nerves. More dates followed and soon they were a couple in every sense of the word, pretty much inseparable when their schedules allowed it. They clicked in the intimacy department too, both being somewhat insatiable and always having their hands all over each other. He had to admit, they had a good thing going. "Hey! Helloooooo. Anyone home in there?" The rap of knuckles against his forehead drew Jon back to the present and he scowled at Mamie, his fingers lightly rubbing the spot on his skin that tingled from her contact. "Hey yourself. That hurt, woman. Don't you have better things to do then beat on your boyfriend?" Mamie just looked at him, her eyebrows raised and one hand on her hip. "Oh, please, you like it when I beat on you and you know it!" His scowl turned into a look of disbelief and then he cracked up. When he really thought about it, she was right; it always seemed like their intimacy started when they were goofing around. Sometimes it was wrestling on the floor, or play fighting in the yard, but in the end, they always seemed to end up in the bedroom. "Mmmm, that gives me an idea" he said as he suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him, her back to his chest. "All this fun we've been having today has left me a little...energetic" he said playfully against her ear as he placed a kiss against it. "Aren't you feeling it too?" Mamie closed her eyes when she felt his warm breath over her skin and leaned her head back against his shoulder, not saying a word. People flowed all around them in the streets and music could be heard in the background. "Come on, baby, admit it. It's been almost 6 hours since this morning" he whispered against her neck next. Just thinking about that morning had him wired, his blood pumping through his veins. She'd woken him up with her fingers wrapped around his shaft, slowly stroking it to hardness and then had rewarded him with the feeling of her warm, moist mouth closing over his swollen tip. It had taken everything he could to pry her off and put her on her hands and knees, taking her from behind as hard and as deep as he could. "I know it has" she finally whispered "and I feel it too." She slowly swayed against him, her skirt covered rear brushing against the slight bulge in his pants. Jon felt himself hardening from that simple touch and a low murmur of appreciation left his lips. "That's my girl" he said right before he kissed her neck once then twice. The touch was delicate, just the barest of brushes, but he knew how she felt about neck kisses and what they did to her. Sure enough, he felt her hips sway a little more, pressing against him harder. A tiny moan could be heard from her lips. "Jon, we can't" she managed to say, her voice a little hoarse. Those hips hadn't stopped their sway though despite the words. "Sure we can" he whispered as he moved his hands from her waist to her hips, his fingers gripping the fabric of her skirt and slowly sliding it up, inch by slow inch. Moving his mouth, he nipped her neck then, reddening her skin. That got a deeper moan out of her and her rear pressed back hard into his swollen bulge, causing his mouth to nip a second time. Just then the sound of a little boy could be heard, his voice loudly yelling to his mom to see what that couple was doing. It broke the magic of the moment instantly and Mamie managed to pull from his grasp, her fingers lacing with his. "Come on!" she hollered to him as she began to move towards the sound of the music. "Let's dance instead!" Following her at a run, the two of them wound through the crowd until they reached the little square where dancers pranced around. Soon they were out there with them, dancing and spinning, twisting and turning, their bodies bumping and grinding with every fast song that played. Every gaze they shared, every touch they stole, just pushed Jon's desire higher and he could tell it was doing the same to Mamie, especially when she gave him that famous come hither look and bit her lower lip for him. When the music finally ended and they stumbled to the side, he pulled her into his arms and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his gaze locked on hers. "I need you" he said, his words for her alone. Before she could speak, he claimed her lips in a fierce, dizzying kiss then pulled away slowly. Resting his forehead against hers, he smiled. "I want you." "I know you do" she replied, sass in her voice "but you can't have me until we get home." Her hand reached for him then, fingers running lightly down the swollen bulge she could feel in his pants. It twitched under her touch, straining to get out. Jon groaned in response, screaming foul in his head. She wasn't playing fair but that didn't surprise him one bit. This was his Mamie after all, a woman who did what she wanted. Lifting his head, he was about to grumble at her when his gaze spotted something. A smile crept slowly into place as he stepped back, lacing his fingers with hers. "Wanna bet?" he said over his shoulder as he began to drag her back through the crowd, his destination clear in his mind. He began dodging people left and right, ignoring the pull of her hand as she tried to get away. "Jon! Damn it, Jon, stop!" she hollered at him but he ignored it, finally dragging her out of the crowd and into a dark alley, moving three quarters of the way down it. "Not a chance in hell" he replied finally, giving her one last tug that pulled her into his arms. With speed and strength, he spun and pressed her back against the brick wall, moving forward with her. Chest pressed to her soft breasts, he stared into her eyes for a moment and then smiled. "Now you're mine" he whispered right before he kissed her, his lips pressing against hers softly. It was slow and sensual, both falling into it immediately, lips exploring lips and soon tongues dancing with tongues. Her hands clenched his shirt and then his hips, keeping their bodies tight together, and he rocked against her. When they finally broke for air, Mamie gasped. "Jon, we can't" she said, glancing towards the mouth of the alleyway, a good distance away. "We can" he answered, his hands gripping her hips and spinning her. She barely got her arms up in time, her face now pillowed against her flesh. "We're far enough back that no one will see us if you're quiet." He had pressed up against her again, letting her feel how hard he was as his hips rocked against her rear. She moaned softly at the contact and pushed back against him, clearly wanting more despite what she'd said. "Don't you want me?" he asked as his lips trailed kisses up her neck, nipping hard twice, his tongue laving over the marked spots. "M-more than anything..." she said in reply, her voice shaky. "That's my girl" he whispered against her ear as his teeth took her lobe and bit it gently. Reaching down with one hand, he undid his pants and slowly pulled himself free, the moisture on his tip smearing against her skirt. "Touch me, Mamie" he said next as his hand reached for one of hers and slowly brought it down, wrapping her fingers around his swollen shaft. "Stroke me to full hardness so I can fuck you." The words were dirty but he knew she liked to hear that sort of thing in the heat of the moment, a fact she proved with the deep moan that left her lips. As her hand slowly began to stroke him, palm running his full length before coming back to his tip, his own got to work. Raising her skirt slowly, the soft fabric gliding over her skin, he soon bunched it around her waist and held it there. Then his fingers curled around her sexy little panties and gave them a yank, the fabric sliding over her hips and partway down her thighs. The minute she felt the cool air on her moist folds, Mamie tightened her grip on him, drawing a deep moan of his own. She held it there for a second then two before finally easing her grip a little and stroking him again, this time faster. "Oh, that was naughty, Mamie. So very, very naughty" he purred in her ear, his tongue teasing it. "You will pay for that later." She giggled in return and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "Big words for a small man" she said, teasing him. Her fingers tightened again in response. A growl rumbled from his chest then and he yanked her hips back, forcing her to let go of him and brace both hands against the wall. With a quick smack of his foot, he spread her legs a little for balance and then reached between them, his fingers slowly caressing the length of her moist folds. "Oh god..." she said between gasps as his fingers teased her again and again and then began to tap at her swollen clit. Her legs were shaky and her chest was heaving when he finally stepped completely behind her and brought his swollen tip to her entrance, pressing it in. Gripping her hips, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "It's time to make you mine again, Mamie" he said in a low voice. He flexed his hips and plunged inside her deep, his hips smacking against her rear with force. Two deep moans split the air almost instantly, one anguished and one guttural, but neither noticed it. "God...so wet..." Jon could barely voice in words what he felt as her passage surrounded his shaft. "...and all mine." He began to move, pulling out until just his tip rested inside Mamie then plunging back in slowly, letting her feel every inch. Soon they had a rhythm going, his thrusts gradually growing faster and harder, her body rocking to meet each one. Moans and groans filled the alleyway as he fucked her, his strong hands never leaving her hips. "Jon...oh god...Jon..." Her words were weak and lost to the noise of their coupling almost instantly but he knew what they meant. Snaking a hand in front of her, he lightly began to caress her swollen clit with his fingertips. "Come on, Mamie" he whispered. "You can do it. Cum for me." Mamie's head dropped down and her panting breaths were audible now, rising higher and higher each time he plunged inside her. "Oh god...unnnnhhhh..." she wailed, her body rocking hard under his onslaught, his thrusts pounding against her now as his own need rose. His fingers worked furiously against her, circling and circling that sensitive nub, gradually grinding down on it. That was all it took for Mamie as her pleasure finally burst, sending fire blazing through her nerves. Her head jerked up, hair flying, and her lips parted as a long low moan fled her body, riding the heels of an explosive climax. Jon felt her pussy clench down on his swollen shaft, the gush of juices that washed over his skin drawing a moan of his own into the open, but he never stopped moving against her, not until he'd reached that peak and plunged over it too. Slamming into her one last time, his cock plunging as deep as he could drive it, he jerked against her as he began to cum. Each spurt of his hot salty moisture splashed out to coat her from the inside out until finally he had nothing left to give her. Silence reigned then, broken only by the harsh gasps of breath each of them was taking as their bodies slowly calmed down. Finally able to think again, Jon slipped out of Mamie's slick confines and drew her panties back up before letting her skirt fall back into place. She turned and leaned against the wall as he tucked himself away next. "Holy crap" he finally said as he reached out and brushed his fingertips over her cheek, a smile on his face. "That was..." "Indescribable" she answered for him, a lazy smile of her own sliding into place. "Not to mention hot as fucking hell. I can't believe you fucked me in a dirty alleyway!" Jon just chuckled and cupped her head, drawing her into a kiss, taking his time with it. When they parted, he nipped her nose. "Best idea I had today?" he asked. "Damn right it was," she answered. "Now take me home so we can do it again the proper way." Taking her hand in his, he led her from the alley and back to their car. Jon remembered little of what he saw on their drive home and he wasn't entirely sure how they'd made it there in one piece. Mamie had teased him the entire drive, running her fingers up his inner thigh or raising her skirt and touching herself. She'd even flashed her breasts at him and then pulled him out to run her tongue over his tip, giving him a few quick moments of road head. All of the teasing had worked his body into a frenzy again and they barely made it through the front door before they fell into each other's arms for a heated kiss as their hands roamed. Finally Mamie broke away and took his hand, leading him towards the bedroom. "Oh no, not yet" he said as he pulled her to a halt in front of the couch. "There's something I have to do first." Dropping into a sitting position on the couch, he pulled her down with him. As soon as her butt hit the cushion though, Jon grabbed Mamie and yanked her across his lap, using one arm to pin her to the couch. "Jon! What are you doing?" she screeched, trying to pull herself free from his grasp. "Oh, I'm just following through on a promise I gave you back in that alley, baby" he murmured, the strength in his arm keeping her from leaving his lap. "You know, the one where I said you'd pay for being naughty?" His free hand lifted her skirt, bunching it up around her waist, exposing her panties to his gaze. Running his hand over her rear, he massaged it for a second. "Oh, I think I'm going to enjoy this" he whispered more to himself than to her as his fingers slowly dragged her underwear down. Her creamy flesh now stared back at him. "Don't you dare!" Mamie hollered, trying harder to break free now. His hand bunched in her shirt, forcing her back down. "My, my, someone is a fighter today. I like that" he said with heat in his voice. Then, he slowly raised his free hand and drove it downward, his palm smacking into one cheek. Mamie's head jerked up and she let out a bellow of irritation, one that faltered as his hand delivered its second hard spank. Two more followed in rapid succession, reddening her skin some more. When the fifth one struck, Mamie's words of protest turned into a tiny moan, one that grew louder when the next one struck. Her body had begun to squirm a little in his lap, her legs shifting together, back and forth. Two more spanks came, these two softer, and her squirming increased. "Mmmm, I think maybe someone likes this punishment...don't you?" he asked Mamie as his fingers kneaded her flesh. She was resolutely silent so he delivered two more spanks, this time harder, in rapid succession. "Oh god...y-yes...I like it..." she moaned, pushing the words out. Reaching between her legs then, Jon drew his fingers over her folds, amazed at how wet she'd become. "Ooooh, I think we found something else we can enjoy now" he whispered as he leaned down, his lips near her ear. His fingers continued to caress her moist slit, teasing it. "Do you want me to fuck you now, Mamie" he asked as one finger slowly slid inside her. "Fuck this little pussy of yours until you cum?" She was squirming now, pushing her hips into his finger, wanting more. In response, he slid another one into her, getting a deep moan in return. He slowly began to move them in and out. "Tell me, Mamie. What do you want me to do?" His fingers paused as he waited, still buried deep inside her. "Unnhhhh...J-jon...please..." Giving a little twist, he pumped twice hard. "Yes?" "P-please...unnnhhh...p-please fuck me, Jon" He pumped his fingers two more times and then slowly drew them out, her moisture clinging to him like a second skin. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he stood and lifted her, slinging her over his shoulder like a fireman carrying a hose. "I thought you'd never ask, baby" he murmured as he gave her rear one last swat on his way to the bedroom. Festival of Colors If you have not read my previous submissions (My First Peek at Mom & My First Peek at Saroj Bhabhi) please read them so that you can understand the story line better). I was growing up as a horny guy with a constant hard on due to the fact that I was living with two of the loveliest & sexiest ladies under the same roof. If you are wondering yes, they were my sexy mom and my lovely Saroj Bhabhi. I was always in a state of arousal, as I would watch them in various states of dress or undress. I was now watching both of them regularly while they had their bath or while they were in their room dressing. * For those of you who may not be aware let me tell you a little about Holi. It is the festival of colors marking the arrival of spring after the harsh winter. It is the celebration of the arrival of the new leaves on the trees, the blooming of beautiful flowers of myriad colors. It is in appreciation of the latent energy full of potential for creation, inherently there in all of us. In a way it is about the creative force that moves, drives the world. And pray what is the greatest way of creation given to human beings, SEX. So Holi is also about Sex. It is a period of gay abandon and wanton lust roams freely in the guise of merry making. The month in which Holi falls is called Fagun, as per Indian Calendar. This whole month is a period in which people invariably give up some of their inhibitions and seriousness. It has been so from time immemorial, giving vent to the human emotions accumulated through out the year due to seriousness of modern life, which has become so mechanical that we are moving from one goal to another forgoing the pleasure of the journey itself. So during Holi we see people coming out of their shells and expressing their desires. One way of expressing these desires is by way of many raunchy folk songs created by poets of yesteryears. There are songs for almost all combinations from husbands and wives expressing there love / lust for each other to the very popular devar-bhabhi songs. One would find in these songs free expression of the most naughty and sexual thoughts. In many devar-bhabhi songs either the devar or the bhabhi is to be found stating their desire for each other or just being plain playful and naughty. These songs and almost all the rituals associated with Holi work as a safety valve for letting out pent up emotions in a manner, which does not hurt anyone. Take for instance the playing with colors. Colors, liquid or in powder form, are the most integral part of Holi. people play with colors with one another either one to one or in groups. One can put color on almost any one and get away with it. It is a period for unadulterated joy of unabashed happiness of the purest expression of human passion. So was this holi and I never imagined in my wildest dreams that my most desired fantasy was about to be fulfilled. After breakfast all the members of our family were to gather on the terrace to play with liquid colors on every Holi. Today was different as only my lovely Saroj Bhabhi and myself were at home. I did not know whether we would be going to the terrace, as was the norm. But as my sexy Saroj Bhabhi served me breakfast she asked me so devarji which colors do you want to paint your Bhabhi with. As I looked up a little surprised she gave a chuckle and said don't tell me you have not been planning to play holi with me and do dirty things to me. I know that you and I are alone so I will have to play with you. But let me change my clothes first after I have my breakfast then you can play with me to your hearts desire. These words from my sexy Saroj bhabhi were just too much my cock had become very hard and I just sat there hoping that she does not see the obvious tent in my shorts. After we had breakfast Saroj bhabhi said that she was going to change and join me on the terrace so I should go to the terrace and fill the small pool with water and wait for her. I did as I was told and eagerly waited for my sexy bhabhi to come. I was waiting to see what she would wear for playing holi with me her devar. Soon my wait was over and I saw Saroj Bhabhi coming towards me. From the distance I could see that her boobs were moving more than usual with her every step. This meant only one thing that my sexy Saroj Bhabhi had opened her bra and now she had come to me wearing only a blouse to cover her magnificent 36 D tits (I know because I regularly masturbate using her bra as also her panties from her bathroom). This was unbelievable. Saroj bhabhi came to me by the pool. She was wearing a very low cut blouse from which most of her tits were visible. Her tits were pressed close together under the blouse creating a magnificent cleavage. She was wearing a sari, which was draped, carelessly over her body. I could make out that she was not wearing her petticoat under her sari. She saw me looking at her and said no use-wearing petticoat, bra and all as those would have to be opened very soon. So saying she jumped into the pool and suddenly started to splash the colored water on me. I just stood there not believing what my sexy bhabhi just said and what she was doing. Here I was all-alone with the most sexy and desirable woman that I had fantasies every day. And she stood there a few inches away wearing a blouse, which seemed a few sizes small for her. So that her breasts without any bra to contain them were spilling out and I could see the top half of her tits. I think I saw her nipples as she bent to pick water in the jar to throw at me. Her loser body was now only covered in sari, which was all wet and clung to her wet body. My Sexy Saroj Bhabhi was totally drenched in water, her sari that was the only garment other than the very low-cut blouse she was wearing, was totally wet. Her sari clung to her body. Saroj Bhabhi's blouse was now transparent and I could see her breasts clearly. She had magnificent TITS. Mouth watering Tits, i.e. I wanted my mouth on her TITS or her TITS in my mouth. As she bent to take more water from the tub the more of her breasts I could see. She did not seem to pay any attention to the fact that I, her young Devar could see her almost is a semi-nude condition. She was in fact enjoying herself so much that she became very careless in the movement of her body. Her wet saree clung to her thighs and legs and it had ridden up to her knees so that her legs were naked upto her knees. As Saroj Bhabhi turned I could see her buttocks, her ASS her magnificent derrière. Her sari was stuck between her two Ass cheeks. Her two magnificent globes of her Ass were quite clearly visible to me. I was enjoying these sights so much that I quite forgot all about Holi and to put color on her. But she continued to do so. And as she did so the more she got wet and the more of her body was showing. Also her movement became careless and she was constantly touching my body. Her arms would touch my chest or torso. Her body was so close that I could smell her. It was intoxicating. She got so close that her tits were almost touching my chest and her thighs were rubbing my legs. Once her buttocks came in contact with my hard cock as she backed towards me as she filled water. She was bending and her ass was struck out and she backed a little her ass jammed straight into my rock hard cock. She jumped a little and then smiling she said, "Sorry, Bittu bhaiya, I hope you didn't mind." Mind! Were she nuts? That was awesome. I wanted that to happen again. In fact I almost reached out and grabbed her by her hips to hold her ass right there. To stop her from moving. What followed depends upon your response. Please send your feedback so that I can continue the story. Festival of Fucking Hiya!! I enjoy writing stories on request and felt I should share some of my work. A guy requested two strangers hooking up and this is what I came up with. I'm open to constructive criticism just go gentle on the grammar bashing. I'm really working on it. ***** Bridget stuck her thumb out further sighing. Her friend Melonie came running up behind her. "Flash some titties!!" Melonie practically screamed catching the interest of a few people on both sides of the sidewalk. Melonie poked her side "Come on you're the only one of us with tits." This made Bridget glance down her C tits busting out of her neon green bikni top. They might not be big but on her 110 pound toned body they seemed huge. She glanced at her friend who only had pasties on her breast. Little hearts with red glitter, if she ever tried that she'd get arrested for indecent exposure. "Not happening Melonie." Melonie whimpered "pleeasssee." She said hanging off of her. She understood why Melonie wanted her to do it. The festival had been epic but even at 4 pm it was still over 90 degrees and dry. The mass of bodies trekking the side walk was insane. The cars in between them were moving only a little faster than the walkers. It was the second day of the festival. The first day the walk back to the party bus had taken them hours and they didn't get back to the hotel til dark. She could handle getting in late but dancing and doing molly from 9 in the morning until 4pm killed her legs enough. They had messed up and taken a second dose of molly late and it hadn't even hit them yet. If she rolled while trying to walk back to the buses she was going to kill her festival buddies. "HEY!." She turned her head to see a guy waving from a vehicle in the front passenger seat. She hopped over to him "We'll take $40 for the both of you." She sighed and shook her head. "Sorry I wish but $50 is all we got and there is 5 of us." She eyed the car. Both front seats were filled and so was one in the back. Her friends came up behind her. Two guys and three girls if you included Bridget. Her friend Arabella was staggering, Arabella's boyfriend, Peter, was holding her up. She ALWAYS over did it. Nervous for Arabella he spoke "Come on man, no one is carrying as much money as that. Bridget could sit it your lap!" Bridget eyed Peter she would have protested but Arabella did look like walking was going to be an issue. The guy looked her up and down from the car sneering. "I have a girlfriend." They heard a muffled "I don't." The window rolled down as the car behind them honked. The cute blonde guy in back flashed a lopsided smile at Bridget. The driver yelled "Get in!" The guy in back got out opening the door. Peter went in first Arabella crawling across the seats to sit in his lap. Melonie's boyfriend went next and Melonie straddled him giggling. The guy that had gotten out got back in and Bridget sat in his lap and shut the door just as the car behind them honked again. The driver cussed waving his hand "I don't get why they are honking there's barely any space im missing. Its not like someone is going to cut me and keep you from getting there faster!" They moved a few feet forward then inch by inch the car drove. The group gathered their cash and handed it to the driver Nathan took in the beautiful girl he didn't know sitting in his lap. Her neon green bikni matched straps that wrapped around her legs meeting two purple fluffies from her knees down. Her hair was in a braid but strands of her light brown hair were loose around her face. He was happy her back was to him, he doubted he could stop staring at her tits. He cleared his throat "My name's Nate." The girl turned and gave him a huge smile. Green and silver glitter came off of her as she talked. "I'm Bridget." She pointed to the pair next to him "Melanie and Scott." Then pointed to the couple furthest from them "And Arabella and Peter." Arabella giggled and wiggled her fingers at him, her pupils huge blocking out any color in her eye. He looked up taking his eyes off of the girl that he was pretty sure he could lift in one arm and realized he hadn't listened to anyone's names. The girl furthest from him was dressed as Tinkerbell and looked Identical to her. Right up to the wings she had painted on her back. The girl in the middle was an anorexic devil. Heart pasties, devil horns and a sequence red panties were glued to a thin body. Her face was her best feature. He had never seen teeth so white in his life. Her hair was dark and wavy and she looked dangerous. His eyes went back to the girl in front of him. To his 5'9 200 of muscle she seemed breakable. He had to focus on holding his seat belt in one hand and gripping the door with his other to keep from seeing how far his hands could wrap around her waist. Their friend was in the front passenger seat cussing in Spanish as the driver spoke for the group. "Sorry, I'm Fox and this is Joel." waving his hand at the swearing Dominican. Tinerbell chirped "Fox!!" And giggled. Nate smiled with the rest of the party, Tinkerbell was high as hell. Bridget shifted and looked back "You can ummm adjust if you need to." Nate nodded and she gripped the front passenger chair to squat off of him and he shifted his shorts and held up his hands waving to her. She was gentle but could now feel his dick in between her ass cheek and she could feel the tension between them growing. Joel started cussing louder and tinkerbell whimpered. The two other girls came to the rescue cooing and playing with Tinkerbells hair. He watched the devils boyfriend as he winked. He followed his eye sight to Bridget's body arched in the air her bottoms riding up her crack showing a small but perfectly heart shaped ass. Arabella was still fretting when Joel shut his phone. "Bro fuck this shit let me out! I'm going to get there faster walking." Fox waved his hand stopping the car. "Please do." Joel got out and slammed the door shut. Bridget looked over to see Fox looking through the rearview mirror at her "Sorry about him, he and his girlfriend are fighting because she was supposed to come. We convinced him to come out with his two single buddies and she is pissed about it. He's been a downer all day." Bridget tried not to enjoy his deep green eyes looking back but they were so affectionate she couldn't help it. The two girls calmed Tinkerbell down running their fingers slowly over her, blowing on her neck and paying with her hair. Nathan wondered if he faked a freak out if he could get that treatment. Bridget sat back down and again he attempted not to touch her while he talked to Fox. "Yo man, now that he's out lets get music going." Fox nodded. Bridget could still feel how rigid Nate was against her. She tried to relax knowing the molly would be hitting her soon and that the music would help Arabella. She watched Fox point to the floor "Can someone grab the AV cable?" By someone she had to assume he meant her because Melonie was practically sucking scott's face off making out with him at the moment. She leaned over the center console and stretched to reach the wire in front of the passenger seat. Nate couldn't help but stare. Her ass was right there in his face. When she sat down this time she was going to complain. It had been hard but now it was almost bulging out of his pants. He saw Fox looking at Bridget his eyes wide. He was guessing her bikni top was slipping in front because Fox didn't seem to realize his foot was off the brakes "LOOK OUT!" yelled Nate. Fox hit the brake hard barely avoiding a collision but it sent Bridget back. Her ass slammed into Nates chest. Once her ass hit his chest Bridget felt his shirt on her skin and realized how far up the bikini had risen. She tried to move her wedgie holding up a cord happily "got it!" There was a nervous laughter in response from the others. She handed over the cord to Fox who took it to plug it in. She nodded to the car in front of them "We've dead stopped, think there's a problem?" Fox shook his head "no, this happened yesterday. The bus stop is filling then when they leave we will gain some distance. We will have to wait a good 30 minutes though." She relaxed and felt the AC hit her breast. Her nipples hardened and she knew the molly was kicking in as she felt the unmistakable tingle in her pussy. Music started playing and to Nate's enjoyment Bridget seemed to relax not hovering when sitting on his dick. Her warmth was met by his member pulsing against her. Tinkerbell was giggling and dancing and to his shock the devil was putting her hands in her boyfriends pants pulling it out to stroke it. He tried not to stare but it was hard to miss. His dick was small which made him happy for some reason. He managed to look away and stare at Bridget's loose braid. He started biting his tongue as she swayed her hips clearly enjoying the music. Bridget popped her head up when Arabella squeeled. Arabella had just noticed what Melonie was doing. She was leaning over and like a cat she stretched out and started nibbling on Melonies neck. Peter relaxed smiling. His pupils were growing in size and she heard nate grunt "Are you all rolling?" Melonie shook her head no nodding to Scott "I promised him a threesome tonight with a chick from a club we met if he could stay hard. Molly kills his hard on." Bridget was always blown away by how out spoken Melonie was. "you're bi?" Nate said it semi high pitch which made Bridget giggle and turn to him. "It's a festival, good luck finding a chick that is straight." She was becoming overwhelmed by the music and couldn't help but be turned on by how aroused Nate was getting watching Arabella licking Melonies neck. The car jerked a little as Fox put the car into park. He leaned his head back sighing and she saw his eyes watching her. A great idea suddenly came over her. Nate was staring out of the window attempting to think of things to kill his erection when Bridget did a little bounce on him. It wasn't the music, it was loud and up beat but she seemed excited. "I have an idea." She hopped out of the car and grabbed his hand. She pulled on it "get in the front seat!" He obeyed and got out moving to the front of the car he watched Bridget dance around and say "$40 for a couple to ride with us. We'll be moving soon and we have AC!!" He was surprised to hear "Us, for the love of god us." One guy waved his cash and she laughed motioning him over. She hopped in to the front seat she straddled him and nearly pressed her breast into his face when she was getting comfortable. She shut the door and turned to Fox "$20 of that is mine." He couldn't help but smile as Fox nodded in agreement laughing. She felt proud of herself. The couple made It over and slid in, the girl sitting in his lap. Bridget realized this could all be for not when the guy went to grab his money. He realized what was going on. A little more aware at the moment so did Bridget. Facing the back she could see Arabella had Peters dick in her. Clearly he had no problems getting hard when rolling. Melonie was still trying to work her magic making out with Scott but maybe it wasn't the molly that was the problem. She hesitated "Sorry we..." She started but the guy shook his head. "No worries we're crashing off our roll. We are just going to sleep." The girl in his lap nodded curling up and closing her eyes. He did the same holding her like a teddy bear closing his eyes after giving Bridget the money. Nate wasn't sure if Bridget knew what she was doing to him. Leaning back to get the money she had practically suffocating him with her tits. They were perky and natural and screaming to be let out of their bikini top. He looked to his left to see Fox mouthing "I hate you." He thought he'd die laughing if not for the fact he was pretty sure Bridget saw it. The car had started moving again. He looked up at Bridget who's pussy was rocking softly against him. He held her hips running his hands over her pelvic bone. He felt her shake she was sliding her hands over her body. The color in her eyes was going. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She closed her eyes and ran her hands up and down her body. She started swaying to the music moaning softly. He was totally fixated on her. He rested back and felt like he had his own personal stripper. Even not rolling he could block out everyone else. He was in the middle of imagining licking between those beautiful tits when his elbow hit a soda can that was sitting on the center console. "Oh shit!" Fox cursing broke her spell. "Quick get something to stop it from the carpet!" Bridget felt frantic until Nate pushed her off slightly and took off his wife beater soaking up the soda. Fox relaxed mumbling "thank god it wasn't totally full." Bridget felt a buzzing through her whole body. The cars were stopping again Fox put it into park. He relaxed and Bridget was locked on to his deep green eyes. Nate had shifted when she gazed at him but Fox was returning her gaze unwavering. It excited her in ways she hadn't in a long time. His short buzzed brown hair and slender tan skin seemed perfect. Nate was bigger though and his hands were massive. He could easily toss her around, she loved it rough. A thought came through her and she wanted to pull it off before she started rolling too hard again. Even now her body was shaking and she could feel her pussy was getting her bikini bottoms wet. The two men were a big contrast like cinnamon and sugar but she wanted the two together. "Nate." She drew his name out touching his bare chest she gently ran her nails over the front of him. "Why don't I get your number so we can meet up at tomorrow's festival." He smiled and nodded pulling out his phone as Bridget did the same. He had noticed the way she stared down Fox but she was in his lap not Fox. He told her his number and it took her a good five minutes to put it in and text him hers. He read it and felt her eyes on him. All it read was "do you like to share?" He looked up at those eyes whose color was coming and going. He motioned his head to Fox who was staring straight ahead. He watched her nibble her lip and nod yes. He knew she wanted Fox, hell if he was gay he'd go after Fox too. If they met up again she would probably go after Fox, he might not get a chance again. He gave her a half smile and nodded his head yes. He nearly lost it when she made a low moan and pressed against him it sounded like she had almost cum. She looked at Nate and ran a gentle finger over his lips. It made her realize how chapped her lips were "Melonie I need Chapstick." Melonie broke from her dancing to open a bag she had around her waste "Strawberry or Mint?" Bridgett gave a wicked smile "I don't know, what do you boys like on girls." This caught both their attentions. "Mint" Fox said without hesitating. "Strawberry." Came Nate a second later. She pouted being given two choices. Arabella giggled "do mint it's killer with your roll!" She waved her hand and Bridget leaned to the back seat. Arabella held Bridget's face and they kissed. Bridget's lips tingled the spicy and cool together. She moaned into it and it didn't get past her that Nate's hands were cupping and rubbing her ass. She heard Melonie tisk putting the strawberry on herself "Strawberry is better." Bridget smiled, both couples had tried to get Bridget to play. There was no way Melonie was passing up kissing now. She kissed Melonie it was much rougher and passionate. She preferred the kiss with Arabella but Melonie was gently rubbing her nipples. Melonie may not have been the better kisser but she was a killer seducer. Bridget prolonged the kiss rocking her hips slightly against Nate. His dick was rock hard and she had to guess it was well over the 6 inch norm. She was certain his pants would have a wet spot from her aching pussy in no time. She wondered how big Fox's dick was. She pulled back as Melonie handed them too her. She opened the strawberry one dabbing her bottom lip she rubbed her lips together and kissed Nate. He held her hips and brought her petite body into him. She moaned and he let his tounge play with hers. He nibbled her sweet lip. He didn't want to admit he would probably like mint more but he didn't want to copy Fox. Her small hand slid down his front and he felt her grab his dick through his pants. He groaned as she stroked it softly. She sat back and motioned over him. "water" was all she managed. Peter passed her a water bottle. Nate watched her drink it as if it was the best drink in the world. She licked her lips then wiped her mouth. He was pretty sure he could jack off to watching her drink water. He knew he was too horny for his own good at that point. He got confused when she handed back the water bottle and the strawberry gloss but kept the mint. She started to put the mint on just as Fox stopped the car again. She rubbed her lips together and leaned over grabbing a shocked looking Fox. She kissed him but kept her hips softly grinding against Nate. She was delighted when Fox played with her nipples just as Melonie had and squirmed happily as music started to get louder. She broke from the kiss wiping the corners of her mouth she sighed playfully and pouted. "I'm sorry boys." She sat back on Nate her hands on his shoulders. "I think I want both." Nate was grinning and Fox softly hit Nate's shoulder with his fist. "I think strawberry and mint would be fine together don't you man?" Bridget was overjoyed when Nate nodded. Fox had started the car again, the entire car seemed to be buzzing with energy minus the two sleeping behind Nate and Bridget.. Nate couldn't help but enjoy her dancing, and he enjoyed the occasional kiss she gave him. "We're a 3rd of the way from the bus stop." Fox said mostly for Nate's sake he was guessing to encourage him to speed things up. Nate wasn't Fox though. He wasn't usually the aggressor. He was going to have to jack off the second they left the car. Bridget started to fidget the thought of her fun ending so soon. She looked at the clock. They had been in the car almost 2 hours how the hell had time gone by so quickly?? She stretched then sighed. "But I don't want to sit on the bus for hooouurrsss." She held out that word then locked Nate tight with her thighs. She laid over the center console resting her head in Fox' lap she looked up at him pouting. "Isnt there an option B?" She shuddered with pleasure. She could feel Nates fingers rubbing her pussy. She could hear Arabella gasping in back, it seemed like they were going at it again. Bridget buried her face into Fox's shorts. They were coarse but the AC hitting her back and Nates fingers were sending her to another place. Nate knew his time was almost up. Fox had another girl coming to their room that night. Nate pushed Bridget's bottoms to the side and moved slow when she gasped. was completely shaven. He slid one finger into her easily. She was tight but soaking wet. He watched her moan and she had her mouth pressed against Fox to keep quiet. From how hard Fox was gripping the steering wheel he figured it was a safe bet she was breathing heavy on his cock. He began slowly fingering her with one finger but quickly moved to two. The second finger made Bridget's hips ripple as if she was begging him to fuck her. Bridget's hand had disappeared and Fox groaned. "Bro grab my phone." Nate didn't stop fingering Bridget but passed Fox his phone with his free hand. Her attention might have been on Fox but Nate loved seeing a woman in pleasure. She was giving to them equally without even knowing it. He watched trying hard not to laugh as Fox painfully focused on the road and texting. Bridget hadn't noticed anything except how big Fox' dick was. She could feel the precum through the shorts as she stroked it and breathed on the outside. It felt like Nate's fingers were In sync with the music and she felt like she could climax.