0 comments/ 35455 views/ 0 favorites Simmer By: shortsharpblonde He rings me at work. "This is important," he says. "I need to know what colour your cunt is. The outer lips." "Do you want me to go and look?" "Yes." I get up from my desk and go into the women's toilets. There is no one in the cubicles. I lift my leg and balance my high-heeled boot on the washbasin. I hike up my short skirt, pull my black lace knickers to one side and look at my cunt in the mirror. "Pink," I say into the mobile phone cradled to my ear. "What kind of pink?" "A soft pink." "Like a shell pink?" "Yes." "What about the inner lips?" I glance around. I am still the only one in the toilets. I peel back my outer lips. My cunt is now fully on display, the lips swollen and moist. "A deeper pink," I say. "Almost red." "Thanks," he says. "I just needed to know." He hangs up. We have been fucking each other for nearly two years now. He is much older than me. (Yeah, I know. Older man, younger woman. It's a cliché. But it's a cliché because it happens.) He's happily married with two children. (Yeah, I know.) "We like each other, and we like fucking each other," he repeats, like a mantra, until I start saying it to myself. I'm not sure that it's quite true, though. I don't know that we actually like each other. We like fucking each other, though. We love fucking each other. He rings me at work again. "I was just thinking about you in the toilets here," he says. "It got very messy." "What exactly were you thinking?" I ask. There are people standing around my desk. "I was imagining you and me and another girl in a backyard. It's hot, and we're not wearing much. I call you over to me and you lie down over my legs. I spread your pussy lips wide and ask the other girl what she thinks. She says your pussy is beautiful and she'd like to kiss it." It's a long afternoon till I can get home to my bed. I imagine lying over his legs, and him holding me tight to stop me from squirming as the girl licks my pussy with long slow licks, tentative at first then getting more confident. I imagine coming as he holds me there. My groans are smothered by the pillow. My thighs are wet. "Was my story helpful to you last night?" he asks the next morning. "Yes," I say. "I have another story for you. It's at a nudist beach. You'll love it." "Tell me," I say. "Not now." He hangs up. I am constantly on edge. Every time the phone rings it might be him. Sometimes he rings five times a day. Sometimes he doesn't ring for three weeks. His calls are an extended foreplay. The lust is simmering constantly. I am spending too much time masturbating. I fall asleep lying on my back, my legs spread, my vibrator still clutched in my hands. I keep a supply of batteries by my bed. One night after we have fucked I walk home and feel his warm come dribbling out of my cunt. My flimsy panties are soaked and cling to me. I stop in the dark doorway of a shop and slip my panties down my legs, stepping out of them. I go to drop them in a bin but first I hold them to my face and breathe in the smell of his come. I worry that this means I'm in love with him. The thing with love is that the more you love someone, the more you're going to suffer for it later on. When lust ends, there's nothing. You just find someone else to fuck. There's always someone else to fuck. He rings. "What are you wearing?" "A skirt..." I begin. "Meet me on the corner in five minutes." I stand on the corner. His car pulls up. I can't smile because my mouth is dry. I get into the car, and for a second I see him like a stranger, and wonder what I'm doing with him. Then he speaks. "What have you got for me today?" His eyes are on the traffic as he pulls away from the curb. I lift up my skirt. Today I am not wearing any underwear, so when he glances over he sees the dark curls covering the soft pink lips of my cunt. "Show it to me," he says. I spread the lips wide. "Beautiful," he says, staring at my cunt. "Tell me your story," I say. He turns his eyes back to the road. "We go to a nudist beach," he says. "There's a nice one north of the city. You're wearing a little sundress and a hat and sunglasses. We're standing on the top of the cliff looking down at the beach, and you say you'll go down and find us a good spot. You get there, lay down your towel, and take off your dress." I let my fingers slide to my cunt. "You start to put the sunscreen on. You rub it into your arms, into your legs, into your tits, slowly, round and round. There are two blokes on the beach watching you. They go there a lot and they're really deeply tanned, really dark. You realise you can't rub it into your arse properly so you ask them to help." I am dipping into my cunt now. It is wet and my fingers slide in easily. He glances at me to see what I'm doing. "So these blokes think this is all right and they start rubbing the lotion into your arse. When you're covered in sunscreen you thank them and then pick up your magazine, lie back on the towel and start reading. You're lying on your back, with your little hat on, with your sunglasses on, and the magazine in front of your face. Your legs are spread apart and the blokes on the beach and in the water can see right into your cunt." I have found my clit now, and with my fingers wet from my juices, I am rubbing it gently from side to side. We stop at the traffic lights, and the man driving the car in the next lane stares at me, at my cunt. I wonder if he will go home and pull himself off thinking about it. "These two blokes come up to you and say they haven't seen you at the beach before. You say it's your first time. They say they like to go behind the sandhills, and they ask if you want to join them. You say sure. So you head behind the sandhills with these blokes. When you get there, one of them says blokes go there to have their cocks sucked. You think that sounds all right, so you start sucking his cock." He looks over at me, sees my head tilted back, my eyes half closed, my chest lifting up and down with my breathing, my legs spread wide, my fingers desperately rubbing my clit. "And then the other man says that blokes go there to stick their cocks into girls' cunts. And you can't say anything because your mouth is full, but you nod, and he shoves his big cock into you. And he's fucking you so hard that your little hat falls off. And meanwhile I'm standing on the top of the cliff wondering where the hell you've gone." He has made up the story for me. He knows I like to show off my body and he knows I would like to fuck two men. He has made up the story for me. He doesn't even fuck me in it. His fingers find their way to my clit and take over from mine. They are dry and cool and smooth. With one hand he is driving the car down the highway, with the other hand he is bringing me to orgasm. I lie back with my eyes closed and let him take me there. He licks his fingers, slowly, one by one. Some men say they love going down on women, but it's like a dog fetching slippers – they only do it because they want a pat on the head. Other men just love going down on women. He does. I have never met a man who loves cunts as much as he does. He wants to get inside my cunt so badly – his fingers, his tongue, his cock – not to possess, but just because he wants to be in there. We turn off into a sidestreet. He is looking for somewhere we can fuck. It's one of those posh suburbs, so there's a nice park with lots of trees and no one around. There will be toilets there, and the toilets will be clean. It's dark inside. We face each other for a moment. He pushes me up against the wall and kisses me deeply. Then he drops to his knees, lifts my skirt and begins tonguing my clit. My legs are shaky. "Turn around," he says. I grab the washbasin and bend forward. He rubs his cock along my pussy lips and over my clit. His cock feels hot to my oversensitive flesh. Then he plunges in. It is a moment when suddenly it's all right. Every moment before this and every moment after this what we are doing is wrong, but now, at this moment, it is right. This is what fucking is all about. He grabs my arse cheeks and thrusts deeply, again and again. With each thrust I cry out. He shushes me. Then he stops, turns me around, and lifts me so I am sitting on the washbasin. I wrap my legs around him and pull him towards me, pull him into me. I am looking into his eyes. I don't know what he is thinking. I never know what he is thinking. "I love...I love fucking you," I gasp. He stops mid-thrust. "But you don't love me, do you?" "No." It slips out, and I know I'm telling the truth. "Do you love me?" I ask. "No, I think you're a fucking idiot." I laugh. He fucks me harder and then he comes, with a long, low, shuddering sigh. I slide off the washbasin, pull on my clothes and head outside, where the late afternoon is still bright. Simmering Guilt My blood ran cold and I almost blacked out when I saw the return address on the lavender-tinted envelope on the hall table where the maid had left it. The simmering guilt shot right up to the boiling point. I had lived in fear for twenty years of seeing that name on an envelope addressed to my wife. With trembling hand, I reached for it, but it was too late. Joan was at my elbow. "Anything interesting in the mail, Hon?" "Mainly bills," I responded in the calmest voice I could handle. "But here, there seems to be a letter from Lena Gerson. God, it's been years. Is she even on our Christmas card list still?" "Yes, silly, of course she is," Joan replied, as she reached for the lavender-tinted envelope. "If you spent any time reading the cards and letters at Christmas, you'd know we have maintained contact since the KL days. She's in Winston Salem now. Retired." "I thought she'd take on the family business in Kuala Lumpur," I said weakly. I had to act naturally. I couldn't have managed to keep Joan from seeing the envelope. Was this it, then? Surely not, if she's been sending us Christmas cards for over twenty years. But Winston Salem. That's just down the road from Roanoke. God. I couldn't let Joan see me sweat, but I felt like melting into a pool right there in the foyer. "Ah, well, what's Cook got on for lunch?" I asked, desperate to indicate that I wasn't ruffled. "You've got a tennis and lunch date at the club," Joan answered. "Don't tell me you've forgotten that." And then she gave me a peck on the cheek and turned and marched toward the back of the house, waving that lavender-tinted envelope and provocatively swinging her hips. She was still beautiful, trim, and auburn haired after all these years. Still something to look forward to going to bed for. But would whatever was in that envelope change all of that? Tennis. That had been my nemesis to begin with. That and the fact that I went out to the embassy in Kuala Lumpur four months before Joan was able to join me. The Hamiltons had been the toast of the KL English-speaking expatriate community when I got there. Lena—Lena Hamilton then—came from one of the wealthiest foreign business families, the major carpeting importers for the entire country. The Gersons were Americans and maintained their citizenship, but they'd been living in Southeast Asia and doing business there for two generations. Vance Hamilton had been the tennis pro at the English Club, at least until he landed Lena. After that he was just the handsome boy toy face in the company showroom and in the dining room (and bedroom, as necessary) for the company's big spenders. They were probably the most handsome expat couple in the country when I got there to take up my economic attaché posting at the American embassy. Because of their resemblance in looks and attitude to two of the reigning American movie stars of the early 1980s, they were referred to in social circles as Kathleen (for Kathleen Turner) and Harrison (for Harrison Ford). In Lena's case, the resemblance was startling, down to the throaty voice, which, like Kathleen Turner, Lena put to good use in the local English-language theater company. I found these nicknames amusing, not the less so when my wife finally arrived in KL and she and I were promptly dubbed Ken and Barbie. Several things intersected to entangle me in those first few months of what was my first foreign service assignment at the attaché level. It was made clear to me that I was to foster friendships and service to the American business community, Lena was a spoiled and demanding heiress of the American business community, I had been trained to the theater and had the minor assignment of fostering American arts in Malaysia, Lena was a sultry-role actress in the English-language theater in the capital city, both Lena and I played pro-level tennis, Lena was sexy as hell and begged for servicing in every smile she flashed, and my wife was nowhere to be seen yet. The day I got roped into playing mixed doubles with Lena and Vance at the English Club was the same day Lena dumped her husband for me as a doubles partner on the regional tournament circuit as well as the same day that I serviced her in my temporary digs in the embassy housing compound. She would have been irresistible even if I hadn't been told to please the local American business community in any way I had to and even if she hadn't told me in no uncertain terms what she, as the heiress of a leading American business in the country, would consider good service. Our doubles tennis match had been hard fought and went on longer than I anticipated. I was running late for a cocktail party and my ride back to the embassy flat was long gone before the match was completed. Vance had a singles match and Lena said she was going to the same cocktail party I was and would drop me by my flat where we both could shower and change. She told me she'd wait for me while I showered, but I discovered that she was waiting for me in the shower. She sucked me to excitement and then I raised her hips up, back against slippery wall tiles, spread her legs, and, crouching my thighs under hers, lowered her puckered cunt onto my throbbing tool. Sliding her up and down on the wet tiles, I fucked her under the cascading water until her sexy, throaty moans brought me to ejaculation. Then, as the bed was between the bathroom and the door, neither of us made it to the cocktail party. Within a couple of weeks, I found out what kind of leash she had Vance on, because he came upon Lena and me fucking on a chaise lounge in her company's cabana by the club pool one afternoon, and, rather than make a scene, he stripped off his swimming trunks and joined us. I was pretty squeamish at first, but they feel right into the threesome as if they did this all of the time, which I'm sure they did. At first, all of the concentration was on pleasuring Lena. Whatever position we took, I took care of her cunt and Vance took care of her ass. We met somewhere almost every day or night, though, and it wasn't long before I found Vance fondling me—and then kissing me—as often as he was servicing Lena. It was sort of a gradual thing. I had no idea, really, when we had progressed into that. But Vance was a very attractive and sexy and inventive man. And I found that I was excited when he kissed me and invaded my ass with his fingers while I was fucking Lena. The day came within two months of my arrival that Vance sought me out without Lena and romanced me into fucking him. I kept up the three-mode subterfuge—Lena and me, the three of us, and Vance and me—for a couple of months. I'd never done anything like this before, and it was an intoxicating experience. But, of course Lena eventually, inevitably found us, naked, with my cock pumping up into Vance's ass, and she screamed bloody murder and made all sorts of threats. Three days after that Joan arrived in Kuala Lumpur. And on that day my simmering guilt was born and sat there for years as a threat over my head—until years and several foreign assignments up to the ambassadorial level after that, it just faded away in the understanding that it was all in the past. Now, with the arrival of a lavender-tinted letter, more than twenty years later, it was all back on the front burner. And my wife was telling me that we never really had lost contact with Lena. The foolish affair with Lena was just the start of my two-year Kuala Lumpur tour. I had a job to do. And I couldn't do that job and avoid Lena on multiple fronts. I obviously had to maintain connections with her family business. And she insisted that we team up for the regional tennis circuit, all the more important to her now, because she unceremoniously dumped Vance, who managed to find an British expat club in Manila that needed a tennis instructor. She also wanted juicy parts in the English-language theater's plays, which she could get on the strength of her own looks and acting ability, but which were assured when I took on directing duties for two plays a year at the club. But our affair had already stopped, dead in its tracks, three days before my wife arrived in KL. The irony was that Lena and Joan became instant and almost inseparable friends. The even greater irony was that some months later, when Lena and I were winning our tennis matches and traveling all over Southeast Asia to defend our record and titles—and when Lena popped up in a starring role in every play I directed, the rumors started throughout the community. Lena and I were lovers. We had to be. It no longer was Kathleen and Harrison and Ken and Barbie. The whispers were all Kathleen and Ken—and poor Barbie. My wife took it all like a queen. She never questioned me once. Her friendship with Lena never flagged. She never showed an ounce of jealously or any indication of having heard the rumors at all. And she never had a reason to suspect that anything happened after she arrived. I'd had my little, titillating, naive fling with the jet setters and the whole sexual liberation bit. Well, sure, over the years I fell off the wagon now and again—with both women and men—but these were always brief couplings of circumstance, immediate need, and momentary heat. But each time I fell off the wagon, the simmering guilt of those three months in KL jabbed at me. I was in agony for the rest of the day after the envelope arrived. I even lost my tennis match, which I still almost never did. I dragged home, up the oak-lined drive, to that old plantation house south of Roanoke that we'd lovingly restored as we prepared for our retirement from the foreign service, fully expecting to find my suitcase on the portico when a sticky note attached telling me that Joan would use our family lawyer and I could jolly well find my own right after I'd found someplace else to live. But, no, there was Joan, seated on the stone terrace back by the pool, my evening screwdriver chilled and all ready for me. As I settled into the wrought-iron patio chair, I saw the slitted lavender-tinted envelope sitting on the table between us. Joan didn't keep me in agony for much longer. "The letter from Lena suggests we take in the Spoleto music and theater festival in Charleston with her next month; she says she has a condo rented there for a week during the festival and she'd love to see us again and to take in the festival programs with someone she can discuss them with." "Well, I—" I stuttered. I usually wasn't this slow in reaction. I had to find some out before this went any further. What sort of game was Lena playing with this? I had to . . . "I posted back a yes, of course," Joan said. "You've always said we must go to the Spoleto Festival, and it would be great to see Lena again. We have so much to share." So much to share. I was panicked. Joan didn't know the half of how much we had to share if Lena decided to share after all these years. She'd indicated she wasn't real pleased when I just cutting the affair off. She'd pretty directly said that if I stopped fucking Vance, I could—and should—resume fucking her any time I wanted to—that she didn't care what Joan or anyone else said. In fact, for months, whenever we were alone she came on to me. But then, of course, she wasn't the one who had something to lose. Not just my marriage; at that point I could have lost my whole career. A month now to worry myself to death about the situation. And worry, I did. I came very close to taking up smoking and drinking again. Not fucking. That's what had gotten me in trouble in the first place. In fact, I was so taken with guilt, no longer simmering, but slowly coming to a boil, that I found it almost impossible to perform with Joan. And that had never happened before. She was one sexy lady. We'd fucked like bunnies several times a week our entire married life. If Joan noticed anything was wrong, she certainly didn't reveal it. While I got more nervous and worried with each day approaching our trip down to Winston Salem to pick up Lena Gerson and take her on to Charleston, Joan seemed to take on a higher luster glow and a happier demeanor with each passing day. Lena was still stunning. She now lived in a deceptively designed "cottage" on a lake near the Wake Forest University campus. It looked cozy and quaint from the outside, but the interior was expansive, and the furnishings revealed that the carpeting business in Southeast Asia had remained very lucrative. Everywhere I looked there were art photographs of the highest quality. Joan had told me that Lena had left Malaysia and become a photojournalist, but she hadn't told me just how successful Lena had become at it. The same Kathleen Turner smile and throaty laugh, but Lena had done far better at keeping her figure and holding the wrinkles and sags at bay than Kathleen Turner had managed. And when I saw her, despite all those years that had gone by and despite the simmering guilt, my body still told me that it remembered exploring her body and still was interested. Joan and Lena fell comfortably into their old friendship and gossip of mutual friends and instantly deep discussions of shared interests, which were many and varied. We sat for two hours over a simple, but delicious meal that Lena whipped up with Joan's help in short order. I watched, drinking too much wine, numb and with the feeling that an open carton of eggs lay right under my feet, threatening to smash and throw yolk and egg white all over the combined kitchen-breakfast room at any moment Lena decided to strike. While I was in suppressed agony over these thoughts, the two women danced around the kitchen in a coordinated movement that could not have been more efficient and artful if they had choreographed it. Joan seemed totally at home in the kitchen—in the whole house, actually. She didn't have to ask where anything was. She and Lena seemed to match each other perfectly in where they would keep anything and what they'd use for any cooking procedure. After dinner, we retreated to a screened porch overlooking the lake, to listen to the sounds of the evening and to finish off the second bottle of wine. The two women continued their discussion in murmurs while I lost myself in the pages of a spy novel I'd brought to read on the trip. We were leaving the next morning for the drive to Charleston, so, almost simultaneously, Lena and Joan decided to turn in early. I said I'd be along in a half hour or so, that I wanted to reach a certain point in the book before I went to bed. They said that would be fine and waltzed off toward the stairs to the upper level, arm in arm, and whispering like two long-lost sisters. A jolt of fear sizzled through me as they left drifted into the house. Was this the moment Lena would take her revenge and end my comfortable life? This would be a perfect theatrical moment for that, and Lena wasn't anything if she wasn't theatrical. I stared hard out to where the light of the moon picked up the rippling of the lake waters and waited, heart heavy, the effect of the wine suddenly intruding and causing my head to throb. I was straining to hear what they were whispering and giggling about as they mounted the stairs, but I couldn't pick it out. And then silence. No ceiling caving in, no wail of disbelief and betrayal from the upstairs. I returned to my book and finished the current chapter. I looked at my watch. It had been a good half hour and it was getting late. If I got into reading another chapter, I wouldn't be fit to drive two chattering women in our smallish BMW across the expanse of North and South Carolina the next morning. I mounted the stairs, determined not to wake anyone. But half way up, I discovered that this wasn't necessary. I could hear them murmuring still. I turned to the left and looked into the guest room, but the bed was empty. The hall bath was on the right, and I turned to enter that. They'd left the door to the master bedroom, farther down the hall, open. They'd wanted me to see all along. They even had candles around on tables and the dresser, and the king-sized bed was in full view of the hallway where I stood. Both of the women were naked and were in close embrace on the bed. They were kissing deeply. Joan was running the fingers of one hand along Lena's hip and was rubbing the nipple of a pendulous breast with the fingers of the other hand. Their legs were entwined, but their pelvises were separated a bit. They were separated enough for me to see that Lena had a couple of her fingers buried deeply up Joan's slit. Joan's back was arched away from Lena, her long, auburn hair cascading on top of a pillow. They were both moaning. The soft soprano moaning of my wife that I knew so well and assumed that only I could ignite. And the deep alto, throaty moaning of Lena that I also remembered as if I'd heard it only yesterday. I tore my eyes away from shock of what I saw in the bed and looked wildly around the room, just to be accosted by more shock. The room was filled of photos of my wife, Joan, in provocative nude positions, and of both Joan and Lena, making love. I stood there, numb and unable to move, as Lena made love in three dimension color to Joan with her embedded fingers and as Joan began to writhe and groan and, finally, give several little lurches and a whimper and bury her face between Lena's breasts. "Well, are you going to join us?" It was the throaty alto voice. "Come here, Ethan. Don't be afraid." The soprano voice beckoned to me. It sounded calm and rich and satisfied. I moved into the room and over to the bed like a zombie. The women came up on their knees and undressed me and pulled me down onto the bed between them. Hands were roaming all over me, from either side of me. Joan was taking possession of my lip with hers and Lena was taking possession of my cock with her lips. For time interminable, we moved together on the bed, sharing kisses and caresses, my cock being taken into the sweet channels of both women, the fingers of both women exploring the inside of me and of each other. The three of us writhing and moaning together. Soprano, alto, baritone. Murmuring, whimpering, crying out, kissing, moaning, groaning, twitching, sighing in harmony. Much later, as the candles were sputtering out one by one, I finally found my voice. "What—?" "Hush, sweet Ethan." Smooth fingertips to lips and the throaty alto voice. "Rest now. It will be dawn soon, and we have a lot of driving to do." "But . . . but—" "Do you mean how long?" The soft soprano voice. A little chortle in matching harmony. "Lena and I have been lovers since way back then, when I arrived in KL. When you two stopped, she and I took it up. The rumors about you two was the best cover for us." Another laugh. But of course. Joan knowing where everything was in the cottage just as if she'd been here often. All those weekend trips she took for women's auxiliary meetings in Richmond. I should be mad, or sad, or indignant. But . . . oh, god, how ironic. The condo in Charleston only had one bedroom. We had no need for more. Simmering Passions Courtney set down her pen as Charlie moved into the room, standing up to move to where he was and wrapped her slender arms around him. She smiled as her boyfriend pulled her close for a sweet morning kiss. "Good morning," he whispered against her lips as she purred softly, molding her lips against his as she looked into his eyes with a tender smile. "Sleep well?" he asked. "Mmmm, sure did," she answered, running her fingers down his back, "how about you?" "Oh hell yeah," he teased, remembering their night of passion. "I was worn out for some strange reason." Courtney smiled brightly, glancing up to him as her arms tightened. "Hmm, I think I know that feeling well." Charlie laughed and then pulled her in tighter, his teeth grazing over her neck. Courtney's soft moans brought a smile to his lips as she trembled momentarily in his arms and then nibbled up her jaw to take her earlobe in his teeth and tugged. He knew this drove her wild and was rewarded with her soft sigh. Courtney closed her eyes as his lips instantly awakened all of her senses, head tilting back and to the side a bit as she opened the access to her flesh. His tongue traced ever so softly over her sensitive ear as his leg moved between her thighs to rub at her now moist cunt trapped in the baby doll nightie she still had on. Shuddering helplessly, her fingers strove to draw him close and pressed her body to his. His tongue expertly worked its magic over her flesh before, without warning, slipped inside her ear. She cried out, her whole body trembling with desire as a tremor shook down her spine. Courtney's nails dug into the upper portions of his arm as he awoke her lust. At that moment, Charlie stepped back to take her by the hand and led her to the bed. Laying her back amid the tousled sheets and pillows, he watched as she stretched, her body blossoming beneath his gaze and then arched upwards as he slipped between her lips. His lips were like hot searing brands on her thighs as he began to nibble and lick her sweet trembling flesh. Darting his tongue over her cunt lips, he pushed her knees to her shoulder to give him better access and stretched out on the bed as he lapped at her cunt. Courtney trembled helplessly, her fingers curling into the sheets as his mouth claimed her hot flesh. The feel of her thighs brushing against her breasts made her eyes close at the exquisite sensation and moaned as her moist cunt was now open to his lips and tongue. Charlie glanced up, seeing the puckered little bud and moved his tongue down to flutter lightly over it as his girlfriend arched up in a quick jerk, gasping as his tongue made contact with her throbbing clit. He sent a new wave of desire jolting through her as he sucked hard on the hard pearl, nibbling on it as his hands slid up her body to cup her large breasts. He could feel her trembling helplessly beneath him, her breasts seeming to swell beneath his palms as her clit throbbed between his lips. Her cunt lips swelled and filled with sweet juice as he continued to tongue her, a gleam filling his dark gaze as his tongue slid to her ass, raking over the puckered hole. Courtney cried out in both surprise and lust, jerking upwards a bit as his tongue made contact with the musky rose-hued hole. It clenched beneath his touch in evidence of just how tight she might be and Charlie ran his tongue over it in light circles ... first her clenched ass and then her dripping cunt before straining to slip his tongue inside her tight anus. Her groans lifted to his ears as she began to thrash beneath him on the bed. His tongue continued to drive her to the brink of madness and he pushed deeper into her ass as her eyes flew open, slipping past the tight barrier as her clit throbbed with every beat of her heart. Courtney moaned uncontrollably, her whole body trembling with wanton lust as Charlie tongued her sweet ass, her nipples achingly tight as her cunt juice began to flow, seeping down her crack to where his moving mouth was. Moans erupted from deep within her throat as her cunt muscles began to clench in rhythm with her ass squeezing around his tongue. Her throbbing clit was almost unbearable as her own fingers found an aching nipple to pinch and twist, writhing beneath his hungered onslaught on the bed. The musky taste of her ass intermingled with the sweet honey of her juices, coating his tongue as he began to move it faster, in and out. And then pulling it out, he looked up at her, growling huskily, "On your knees ... hurry!" Courtney whimpered in response, her eyes widening a bit as she looked at him and then slithered off the bed to melt downwards to hands and knees before him on the floor. She peeked back naughtily at him over her sloping shoulder, the tip of her velveteen tongue snaking out over moist lips parted for the fierceness of his kiss. Glancing erotically to his throbbing cock, she pressed her forehead down a bit, the movement of her bared back arching into a gentle crescent to accentuate the taunt curve of her tight ass. Her auburn hair was like a halo of wildfire fanned out around her slender form as she shivered in anticipation of what was to come. She couldn't help but part her thighs a bit, revealing delightful pink lips that were swollen to perfection and panted reflexively a bit as her whole body screamed to be taken roughly from behind. Her throbbing pearl was nestled enticingly between steaming lips as the tight dark rose-colored hole of her ass opened a bit above her dripping labia. Glancing back to him for his reaction to the display of quivering holes that beg for his fast and furious claim upon the girl that was in love with him, a single drop of sweet nectar fell to the floor from between her legs. Charlie moved off the bed to kneel behind her, slathering a generous portion of lube onto his throbbing cock. His hands spread the gorgeous cheeks of her ass and pressed the head against her tight hole. Her helpless groan was followed by the closing of her eyes and he saw her fingers dig reflexively into the carpet as she momentarily tensed up as he prepared to take her in the ass. He could feel her quivering in anticipation. "Relax baby," he whispered. Courtney couldn't help but cry out as he slowly pushed forward, the head entering with a soft {pop}. Her eyes widened at the feeling of his head stretching her asshole as it tried to accommodate his size, grateful that he had stopped to let her adjust. New sensations began to trill through her as she started to relax. She could feel him push just a little more in before stopping once again, his hand sliding beneath to rub on her aroused clit. Courtney began to pant, her head falling forward as crimson waves fell like a waterfall of fire around her face. She tried desperately to relax, knowing it would only make it better as he stretched her beyond imagination, a mingle of both pain and pleasure sending a shudder down her spine. Charlie slowly eased his cock in, inch by inch, until he was completely within her, stopping against to let his beautiful girlfriend relax. He could hear her gasp for breath, seeing the flash of silver tears lining her eyes from being stretch so widely. Courtney felt a slight sting adding to the sensations, knowing that his size had drawn a bit of blood from her tight hole. Clenching her fingers into the carpet, she helplessly surrendered beneath him, shocked as her own body betrays her, pushing back a bit against him as her hips wiggled, adjusting to his size. And then she felt him slowly begin to move his hips, his cock starting to slide easily in her ass as she relaxed, the lube helping guide his way. She shuddered helplessly as his hand expertly strummed her hard clit, her juices flooding his balls. Her clit throbbed in delirium as he began to slowly stroke his cock within the tight recesses of her bowels, a lone tear sliding down her cheek as her ass pushed back, asking for more. Each thrust pushed his cock a little deeper, a smile spreading across his face as he felt her began to yield. Just knowing how much she trusted him pushed him to take her a bit harder. Her soft cries and helpless whimpers only accentuated the shuddering of her body as he pushed deeper into her tight hole. He loved the way she wiggled back onto his cock, burying it deeper into her ass as it pushed against the wall of her aching cunt. His hand reached out to tightly wrap in her fiery tresses, pulling her head back as his tongue slid into her hear. Courtney screamed in delight, the feel of his cock in her ass ... his fingers on her clit along with his tongue in her ear more than she can bear. "Oh god, Charlie ... I'm going to cum!" she panted. She could feel his breath in her ear and it set her on fire ... the husky caress of his groans that signaled his impending release. She lurched back, shuddered as she came hard, waves of pleasure washing over her as she pushed back on his cock, crying out as tears raced down her cheeks, "Oh god ... yesssss!!!" Charlie picked up the tempo as he felt Courtney shatter in waves of hot cum as his cock slid faster, his fingers flying over her hot clit and plunged his tongue deep in her ear as she shuddered helplessly around him. He could feel her ass walls suddenly clamp down on him like a vise as her body spiraled out of control. He groaned as his cock swelled in her tight ass, thick ropes of cum blasting forth to coat her bowels as his hand pressed to her trembling belly. "Oh fuck, Court!!" he groaned, "God damn baby!" Courtney shuddered helplessly, her body a mass of writhing need as she climaxed again and again, screaming out in delight as she felt Charlie's cum coat the inside of her bowels. She could feel her muscles spasming so hard that sweet hot cream flowed out over his cock and through the lips of her contracting cunt as she cried out his name. "Oh Charlie!!! Oh god, yes!!" Charlie shuddered as his cock shot the last bit of its load into Courtney's ass she as she continued to cum. Her body jerked spasmodically beneath him as his cum rocketed out to splatter in a heated caress within her body. He slowly pulled his cock out with a {pop}, moaning as his cum leaked out to run down over his girlfriend's contracting cunt. He fell beside her as she collapsed forward onto the floor, his body shaking hard as his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. "God baby," he groaned, "the things you do to me." Courtney moaned softly, shaky fingers reaching out to stroke Charlie's face as she panted for breath, unable to speak as she locked gazes with her boyfriend. She could see the tears in his eyes, knowing that their love for each other knew no bounds. She could feel her own tears sting at her eyes as her trembling fingers pressed to his lips. "I ... I love you so much, Charlie." "I love you too, Court," he whispered and drew her into his embrace. Simmering Pits I dedicate this story to... who will know it as this is his story in his words. Thank you. * * * * * I am a photographer and live alone. I have had my share of sexual encounters but one that stands out happened to me sometime back. Stella is about 23 years old and works at a local coffee shop. I have been going to that same shop daily for almost three years now, so I have gotten to know most of the regular employees fairly well. Anyway, I was having coffee there one day a few months ago. It was a slow day, I was the only one in the shop, and Stella walked over and began to talk with me. Stella had always turned me on and seeing her gave me an immediate erection and I tried to hide the big lump growing in my pants. As she came nearer the lump in my groin grew and I was shifting uncomfortably. That was not unusual; she had done that many times before. Our conversation turned to my work as a photographer. I had recently begun to experiment with digital photography and editing rather than relying entirely on film. As our conversation progressed, it was clear that Stella had something on her mind, but she appeared uneasy. I sensed her uneasiness and asked why she seemed uncomfortable. "Well, Stan," she began to explain, "I have been thinking of hiring you to photograph me." Assuming she wanted a portrait for a resume or perhaps a model portfolio, I told her that I did not have the artistic touch required of a portrait photographer. I do nature shots and technical photography, but when it came to portraits, she would probably do better with any of the other local portrait photographers. 'No" she commented, "I don't think they would be interested in doing a photo shoot with me. Not only that, I need to trust the photographer not to distribute my photos without my permission.." I was immediately turned on. I thought to myself maybe she has something naughty on her mind. I immediately adjusted my massive erection and licked my lips in anticipation. Her comment struck me as odd since no ethical photographer would ever send out a model's photos without a legally acceptable model release. Though the photos belong to the photographer, the right to use them rests exclusively with the model unless she waives that right by signing a release. After hearing that, she said, "That's one reason why I want you to take the photos. I know that you will not exploit them. The other reason is that I trust you. You have come in here almost every day for a couple years now, and you have never even made an off-color joke, let alone ever tried to hit on me or any of the other women who work here." She hesitated, clearly undecided about whether she should tell me more. Finally, she overcame her reluctance and told me her story. "You may have noticed that I don't wear particularly revealing clothing." (I had noticed but had not really given it much thought, probably assuming that her attire reflected conservative religious beliefs or something like that.) She continued, "There are two reasons I want you to photograph me. First, I have more body hair than most people seem to prefer. Some people believe that a woman with body hair is unclean and does not care about her appearance. That's wrong, but they are entitled to their opinion. Consequently, when I am out in public, I tend to wear clothing that conceals my hair. The second reason is that I am bisexual." My raging erection was hurting. Did I want to hear anything else. I have always been fascinated and turned on by hirsute women and here was this sexy woman admitting to her excessive hirsuteness. I must have blushed or shifted in my seat or something, because Stella went on. "Please don't be embarrassed by my telling you that. I don't publicly flaunt it, but neither do I hide it from friends whom I trust. And I find that I am even more attracted to a sexual partner who has a great deal of body hair. But, I am getting away from the reason I want you to do my photographs. You see, I would not be the only person in the photos. I have a lover, her name is Maria, and I think you already know her. She works here. Like me, she is bisexual and finds body hair to be attractive if well kept. I had noticed Maria too and here was Stella telling me that Maria was hairy too. She and I have discussed having you take pictures of us together in some intimate moments. These pictures would just be for our own use. We don't intend to try and sell them or post them on the Internet, and we certainly don't want whoever takes our pictures to do that, either. Maria and I are very discrete in our sexual lives together. The shop probably wouldn't fire us or anything like that, but at the same time, some of our coworkers just could not handle it." Stella paused and looked directly at me to see my reaction. "So", she said, "Will you do it?" "Stella, I am not sure I am the right person for the job," I told her honestly. (Was that me saying that – "You idiot" I mentally told myself was I giving up this opportunity to see this extremely hairy woman and as a bonus her hirsute friend as well). "Since you are a friend and are being so honest and open with me, I think I need to be truthful with you. I get really turned on sexually by hirsute women, particularly women who are as attractive as you and Maria. And like most men, I become highly aroused at the thought of being with two women who are making love to each other. I am just not sure that I could retain my professional composure as a photographer" (That was the real me)! Stella looked at me briefly and then began to smile. "That's exactly why both Maria and I want you and no one else to take our photos. You are honest enough to care about how we will feel with you there. Maria and I have discussed this very carefully and thoughtfully, and we are sure you are the right photographer for the job. Please, Stan?" How could I refuse? I explained my fee schedule, and we agreed on a place and time for the shoot. It would be at Stella's house. The lighting would be natural or available house lighting, no studio lighting or flashes going off that would distract the women or inhibit their responses to each other. I prefer natural women, natural in every way, regardless of age, body shape, etc. That's probably because I am not a perfectly proportioned man, either. I have found that when it comes to enjoying sex with a woman, natural is far preferable to artificial. Neither person has unreasonable expectations that get in the way of mutual pleasure. Having said that, I will tell you a little about Stella and Maria. As I said before, Stella is about 23. Though she thinks her body is not "full" enough, I will tell you (as I have since told her) that she is a very attractive and sexually exciting woman. The hair on her head is black as is her rather thick arm hair, her underarms, and her pubic and leg hair. Not jet black, but definitely black. She has a beautiful smile and clear white skin. Some would describe her face as pixie-ish. Maria is 19. She is not lithe, but she is certainly not plump. She has a noticeable black hairline above her mouth, a condition that I find incredibly sexy. She is about 5 feet 8 inches tall and weighs about 135 pounds. She is not fat, however she is full-framed. She is built like what we would call a farm girl. She also has very dark hair and a beautiful face and smile. I like both of these women very much, and not just because of their sexiness and hairiness. They are both really pleasant to talk with, intelligent, well-spoken, and very confident in dealing with other people. Anyway, at the appointed day and time, I rang Stella's doorbell. Because I would be using available lighting, I had only my digital camera and laptop computer. Stella greeted me and invited me to join her and Maria in the living room. We sat and talked, mainly to relieve any jitters or nervousness that we all shared. Though we knew each other reasonably well in public, this was to be a different setting altogether, so a little nervousness on everyone's part was completely expected. Stella and Maria talked to me about their caring for each other. As they talked, and by now at least half an hour had passed, they clearly became more comfortable with my presence. Their words began to be directed to each other rather than to me, and in time, it seemed as if they had forgotten that I was there. (That is, by the way, a condition that every professional photographer hopes for, that his model or models will lose their focus on the camera and the photographer and really get into the photo shoot.) It was also becoming very apparent that they were becoming sexually aroused with each other. As they began to kiss, I quietly removed my camera from its case, then stood and discretely moved into the shadows in the room to make myself even less of a distraction. Their kisses were very gentle at first, lip kisses. But as their arousal grew, Maria began to probe Stella's lips with her tongue and search out Stella's tongue with her own. Clearly they were comfortable with each other, and Stella submitted to Maria's dominance. My angle for photographing their kisses was perfect, and I could almost taste their tongues coming through my viewfinder. As she kissed Stella, Maria was talking to her, telling her how much she wanted to make love to her and how excited she was becoming. After putting one arm around Stella and pulling her closer and tighter against her own body, Maria's other hand found the hem of Stella's longer dress and began to slide it up all the while stroking Stella's legs. As the dress rose above Stella's knees, I could clearly see and photograph the dark hair on her legs. Maria's fingers were stroking Stella's legs, and there was no doubt that Maria's own arousal had been heightened by the feel of Stella's hair. Stella, too, was enjoying it, and she murmured her own approval. At this point I must tell you that my own sexual excitement becomes almost uncontrollable when I see a hairy woman in sexual arousal, and when you add the sounds of sexual enjoyment I was hearing from both Stella and Maria, my cock almost exploded out of my pants! From a purely professional perspective, I was almost wishing that I were gay so that I would not be so turned on by the scene unfolding in front of me.) Maria's hand moved higher, pulling Stella's dress up further. Maria's hands were moving quickly but deliberately, fingertip caresses, all over Stella's legs. Their kisses were now feverish as both women were totally engrossed in their own and their partner's sexual pleasure. Stella broke their kiss as she cried out, "Oh, God, Mariaaaaaaaaa Baby, please, please, yessssss! Oh, lover, feel me, find me, Mariaaaaaaaaa!" Stella's eyes were wild, wide open, as she cried out. Maria's own grin was almost evil and betrayed her own enjoyment of the delicious torture she was inflicting on her lover. I frantically snapped as many photos of their faces as I could, trying to capture every moment of their desire and satisfaction. In one motion, Maria stood and pulled Stella up with her. Both Maria's hands held Stella's dress at waist level as Maria cupped Stella's ass with her own hands. She pulled Stella's body against her own and they crushed their bodies together as they kissed feverishly again. Stella raised one of her legs, the one closest to me, and wrapped it around Maria's buttocks. The dark hair on Stella's legs stood out in obvious contrast to her perfectly white skin. It was almost more than I could bear, but I continued to snap photos. After what seemed like an eternity but must have been only a few seconds, Maria backed away from Stella and in one fluid motion, pulled Stella's dress upward. Compliantly, Stella raise her arms as Maria pulled the loose-fitting dress off and flung it away. When Stella raised her arms, I could clearly see her bushy armpit hair. Instead of lowering her arms around Maria's head, Stella clasped her arms behind her own head, fully exposing her armpits and her breasts to Maria. Stella was not wearing a bra (thankfully!) and her extended nipples revealed that she was sexually aroused and eager. Maria buried her face in Stella's right armpit, licking the hair, lip-biting gently the skin under her arms. Stella's armpit hair projected forward so that it was just barely touching the sides of each of her breasts. Maria's mouth went wild, licking Stella's hair, nuzzling her face into Stella's pits, tonguing the sides of Stella's breasts. Stella was going wild. She thrust her head backward causing her breasts and chest to push closer to Maria. As Maria consumed Stella's pits and suckled her nipples, Maria's own words in her deep dusky voice rung out. "Ohhh, Stella, baby, I wish I could fuck your hairy pits and suck on your tits at the same time. You are making me sooooooooooooooo wet, baby. Mmmmm." On hearing Maria's plea, Stella took the cue and grabbed at Maria's dress, practically tearing it from her body as she pulled it over Maria's head. In the instant that Stella threw Maria's dress aside, their two hairy bodies now clad only in cotton thongs, crashed together. Their mouths again sought each other in passionate wanton kisses and they strove to crush their bodies together. Maria is tanned, yet the hair on her body seemed to accent her tan. The dark hair on her legs and arms was almost the thickness and consistency of my own. Finally, the two women could stand no longer. Maria gently but firmly pushed Stella away and back onto the sofa. Both women were breathing hard, their eyes were filled with lust for each other. As Stella settled backward onto the sofa, she parted her legs, revealing for the first time the dark hairiness of her inner thighs accented by the white cotton thong. Dark pubic hairs projected obviously and thickly from the legholes and above the waistband of her thong. Her own freely-flowing juices made the thong semi-transparent so that the black hair protecting her engorged outer pussy lips was tantalizingly obvious. Stella looked into Maria's eyes and a wicked smile formed on her lips, a fuck-me look if ever I saw one (and yes, I did capture it photographically!). For just a moment Maria stepped back, hands on her hips and legs spread slightly apart in a defiant, dominating stance. Though she was looking at Stella and not at me, Maria was facing me, so with her stance the way it was, I could clearly see her own pits as well as her hairy legs and her enticing black pubic hair barely contained by the turquoise thong. With her greater size and position, Maria must have felt she was the dominant sexual partner and in control of the situation. And she was wrong! As Maria approached Stella, Stella leaped from the couch. Maria was caught off-guard by Stella's quick movement and soon found herself with her back on the floor, Stella on top. Stella's fingers interlocked with Maria's and extended Maria's arms straight above her head. To prevent Maria from rolling her over, Stella spread-eagled Maria's legs apart. This position, of course, placed Stella completely on top of Maria with their breasts and still-covered pussies and very hairy legs together. Try as she might, Maria could not break free, and her struggling caused more friction between their bodies. Soon her struggling turned from tries to escape to a greater effort to grind her hairy pussy into Stella's. Stella returned the grinding with an up-and-down motion. This movement caused both women's thongs to slowly work their way down to their upper thighs and to expose both Stella's and Maria's thick, luxurious, and by now very wet hairy pussies. In a sequence of photographs I captured the revealing of these wondrous sights. As their hairy wet pussies rubbed together with greater friction, both women began to fight not for freedom but for greater intimacy together. Stella began to kiss all over Maria's face, licking her way down Maria's neck to her shoulders and then to one of her armpits. With a guttural growl, the diminutive Stella pushed her face into Maria's right armpit and bathed her face in the hairy dampness. She moved her mouth alternately between Maria's armpit and her right breast where she paused to bite and tug on Maria's now very extended nipple. I zoomed in for a closer shot of Stella devouring Maria's nipple and found to my extremely erotic joy that Maria had very fine dark hairs around her areolas. I almost came in my pants at the sight of that hair being licked and caressed by Stella's tongue! The sexual charge that Maria was getting from Stella's sexual advances caused her to begin to buck and heave her buttocks from the floor. Her strength, perhaps momentarily enhanced by her own sexual drive, was more than Stella could handle with her lighter weight, and in a flash, Maria had reversed their position and completely covered Stella. But by now, both women were more aroused than playfully combative. Maria released her own grip on Stella's hands and quickly pushed herself up to a sitting position that left her thighs alongside Stella's hips, their hairy wet pussies and engorged red pussy lips still within an inch or two of each other. Then Maria reached down and raised both Stella's legs so that her calves were alongside Maria's head. Maria rubbed her facial cheeks against the coarse hair on Stella's calves, her eyes closed in heavenly bliss imparted by her lover's hairy legs. I captured photographically the look of ecstasy on Maria's face, a look which had not escaped Stella's lust-clouded eyes. As I watched, Stella moved her right hand to the top of her own hairy mons and began to massage slowly downward until her fingers reached her own wet vulva. She began to slowly touch herself, first her outer lips, then separating them to reach her inner lips. Again I zoomed my lens in for a close shot when her red swollen lips emerged from the wetly matted dark pubic hair. While Stella's pleasure mounted, her clitoris, pink and wet, emerged from its hood. It was surprisingly long and stood out in contrast to the black hair growing around it. Now Maria noticed her lover's attractive nubbin, and she began to kiss and lick Stella's calves, then the inside and back of her knees. With painful slowness, Maria kissed and tongued her way along Stella's hairy inner thighs. Stella was clearly anticipating Maria's ultimate destination, and she tried in vain to hurry Maria along by thrusting her pussy towards Maria's face. But Maria was enjoying the delicious delay as well as the arousing feeling of Stella's leg hair on her face. Finally Stella could wait no longer. With both hands she reached up and entangled her hands in the hair on Maria's head. With a loud growl Stella pulled Maria's face into her hairy womanhood. In the same motion Stella clasped her hairy legs around Maria's head so she could not escape. From the look on Maria's face as captured in my photos, she had no desire to escape! As Maria's tongue parted Stella's hair and probed and caressed her dark red pussy lips, Stella was becoming even more vocal and animated. As she cried out from the sexual excitement created by Maria's probing tongue, Stella's hips bucked violently against Maria's face. Stella released her near-death-grip on Maria's hair, crossed her arms across her own breasts, and buried her hands in her own underarms. She began to pull on her own lush underarm hair rather hard, perhaps using the delicious pain to stimulate her own sexual drives even further. After some moments of that, Stella started pinching and pulling on her own nipples, causing them to harden and extend even more. While I watched and photographed Stella's extraordinarily vocal and active sexual response, I noticed that Maria began to move her right hand from Stella's left thigh. She moved her hand over Stella's left buttock cheek, slowly, deliberately toward Stella's hairy ass crack. Then, with her thumb and index finger, Maria began to gently tug on Stella's anal hair. Stella exploded vocally at this latest stimulation! Simmering Pits "Yeah, Maria, do that, do that!! Keep it up, baby! Oh, God, lover, make me cum! Pleeease make me cum!! Tongue-fuck me, stick your fingers inside me, baby! Suck me off! Please! Please! Please! I can't take any more. I gotta cum now!" It was obvious that Stella was fast approaching an explosive orgasm. Maria obviously knew her lover's responses well enough to see that the inevitable was near, and she too wanted blessed relief. In one fluid and remarkably quick motion, Maria extracted her head from between Stella's legs and moved her own body so that her thick bush was directly over Stella's face. Both women, now highly aroused and oblivious to my presence, began to suck each other's hairy pussy, licking the damp hair, pressing their tongues deep into each other. It was clear that both were about to climax as their muscles became taught, their cries of sexual pleasure strained. Stella's body began to heave and jerk with such force that she lifted the heavier Maria completely off the ground. This violence apparently excited Maria even more, and she cried out again and again for Stella to finish her off. By now both women were using their fingers as well as their tongues on each other's love openings, and the sight of their juices flowing freely was truly a wonder to behold. Stella continued to lick and suck Maria's hairy pussy, and then she gently but firmly traced around Maria's anus with her index finger, now well-lubricated from Maria's own pussy juices. Maria's head jerked up and her eyes snapped open at the sensation. And then quickly but gently, Stella pushed her index finger into Maria's anus while she continued to lick and suck and probe Maria's pussy with her tongue. Maria's entire body began to vibrate as the wave of orgasmic release flooded her. Maria's deep voice echoed throughout the house as her body lost all of its control and she became dominated by her orgasm. Finally, after prolonged orgasms, Maria collapsed on top of Stella. Both women were breathing remarkably hard, offering murmurs of approval and pleasure, and resting to regain their strength. I continued to photograph the women as they repositioned themselves to kiss as lovers, to caress each other's hairy bodies with their hands, and to capture the look of blissful sexual satisfaction on their faces. In time, both women returned from their sexual world together to the room where I was present. They both looked at me and smiled. I suppose they could clearly see the large bulge in my pants, and I hope that my reaction pleased them. Then Maria, still recovering from her orgasms, arose and gathered her clothing. She said she needed to get ready for work, and she suggested that Stella and I review and edit their photos on the computer after she had gone. Stella readily agreed. She got up from the floor and dressed herself and suggested we set up the computer on the dining room table to edit their photos. As she walked toward the dining room, she looked back at me and commented, "I didn't cum, Stan. At least, not yet.." Was there an invitation in those words. I hope so for now at least. Simmie Learns What Is and Was To the readers at Literotica: This is my first attempt at writing an erotic story for publishing, I've been a huge fan of Literotica for several years, and dearly enjoy all of the stories I read, and look forward to reading many, many more. I have several "chapters" of this story finished, and am excited about submitting them all and getting feedback. I hope you all enjoy it, and please be patient, as I'm not one to just hop right into sex, but I promise there will be plenty to come. *grin* *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Simaya awoke to the first calls of the morning birds, stretching beneath the cool crisp weight of the sheets. Looking at her alarm clock, she mutters "and we have the sixth morning in a row that I'm awake well more than three hours before I needed to be." Sliding out of bed, stretching one last time to get her tired muscles ready for movement, she heads to the bathroom, never noticing the shadow in the corner of her bedroom. Bending over the bathtub to start the water, she sees something out of the corner of her eye. "Think Simmie, think!" she tells herself. Reaching for the closest weapon she can wrap her fingers around, she holds it up and immediately regrets it. "Who in the hell is going to be scared of a loofah sponge on a stick, Simmie!?" she hears her inner voice ask. Screaming like a banshee, she runs at the dark clad figure, pushing him out of her way, she heads for the front door of her cottage. "Almost there..just a little more." She tells herself, when suddenly she hears these raspy words, "Dirimo bene deinde. Adquiesco aliquantulus adsessio." and everything goes black. Stretching, feeling the lightness of the sheets caressing her body, Simaya reaches for her alarm clock, only to find that her arms are restrained. Panicky, she opens her eyes and takes in her surroundings. Darkness is the only thing she can see. No light from windows, no familiar scents from her home. Trying to tamp down the hysteria that is threatening to overtake her, she tries calming herself by listening for any noises there may be. Drip. Drip. Drip. Nothing more, nothing less, just a steady drip. Trying to work her wrists loose, she begins twisting them, only to find that the material that is around her wrists seems to be leather in a slip knot. The more she pulls, the tighter it gets, but she can't stretch to loosen them because she's spread eagle, pulled tight from each direction. Whimpering, she finally realizes how futile her struggles are, better to save her strength to maybe get a chance to rush her abductor and run. "It's nice to see you have stopped struggling Simaya, amor." It's that voice! The one she heard before everything went black. "Who are you and why have you kidnapped me?" she asks, trying to keep her voice at an even tone. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Simaya, I have not kidnapped you. Quite the opposite, in fact. You see, 'tis but two days to Commodus Noctiluca and your natalis. You have been marked since birth, that on your twenty ninth birthday, which would fall on a full moon, you would be taken as my mate. That time has come, my love." He finished with a smile that, I take it, was meant to convince me...it didn't. "Say what!? There is no way, that I would marry you, Conan.. not now, not ever. I don't buy that crap, not one bit. AND I don't understand these foreign words you are using. I'm not "marked" in any way. I've no birthmarks, buddy. Trust me. Furthermore, how would you explain it if I were married with children already?" Simaya was throwing in all of the thoughts she could catch as they whizzed by inside of her head. "Who is this Conan? I am Ogilhinn Pittendreigh, head of our clan, and you may call me Gil. Furthermore, amor, you ARE indeed marked, give me your hand." He reached for her left hand, untied it, and pressed his palm to hers. "You will see. As for your what ifs on being married with children already, there is no way that would have happened. You would be unable to mate with anybody other than myself, not only physically, but I would have killed anybody who dared. Did you not wonder why your few dates you had never called back? Don't look at me like that, I didn't kill them, but they learned what would happen if they did pursue you. You... are... Mine, Simaya Oliver. Dunna think your denials make it any less true." He finished off by releasing her palm and turning it up to her face, along with his. What Simmie seen both amazed and terrified her. In the center of both of their palms was an opaque crest with a wolf in the center of it. "What is this, and what does it mean? What are you and what am I?" she managed to say without reverting to a babbling mess. What if it's true? I'll never get away and back to my own life again. "Oh, c'mon Simmie, it's not like your life was that hot to begin with. Give the guy a chance, so what if he's a bit of a Neanderthal in his woman winning ways." Came the too oft heard voice of her subconscious. "Dear heart, it is our hand fast seal. It was placed there when your Father gave you to me on his deathbed. Your family was adopted into our clan many moon ago. Although your people had no magical powers, no abilities, we took them under our crest long ago to protect them from the dark clans. Without our protection, they would have perished. Your father died protecting me from one of the last leaders of the dark clans. Your mother died shortly after childbirth with your twin sister. It was too much for her, and your twin was not as strong as you were. You were eight years old when you left us, we wiped your memories and sent you to live with one of our contacts in the states so we would know you were protected." He finished by saying "I am sorry, amor, I would not have you know these things to hurt you, but you asked and I shall never keep a secret from you." Simaya sat stunned; trying to absorb all of the information she had just been given. She knew she had been adopted, but shouldn't she be able to remember the things he said they wiped from her memory? "Can you give me my memories back? Let me know for sure that you are telling me the truth? That is the only way I can believe you, and please untie me. Let me be free to act on my own, if I give you my word not to run while you are talking to me, please?" she begged. "I am sorry, my love, I cannot do that. The memories you lost are better left lost. You never had to deal with the hurt that came with the loss of your Father, and the things you seen. I am afraid it would be too much for you to endure. I cannot hurt you that way, but yes, I will release you on your word." With that, he untied her bonds and she sat up on the bed only to realize when the sheet fell, that she was nude beneath it. "Where are my clothes, and who undressed me?" She demanded. "Simaya, think back. You were nude when I seen you yesterday morning. You had just woke from your night's rest." Gil pointed out, to her surprise, blushingly. Returning the blush, Simmie sighed and began, "Gil, I am sorry, but I cannot trust or believe a word you say if you do not allow me my memories. I am willing to endure the grief, and deal with it, in order to know the truth. Without my memories, I will not stay here willingly nor will I cooperate with you in any way." "Simmie, please, you do not know for what you are asking. I cannot bear to see you hurting in that way." Gil wrung his hands and pleaded, but not before Simaya could interrupt him. "Yes, I do know, and I WANT to know. Please, I have that right, do I not?" was her final request before he gave in. "Lie back, and hold my hand. Simmie, what I am about to do, is done against my better judgment, but know that I will be here for you when you have relived your memories and are ready to move ahead." With that being said, he brought his right hand above her face, and started chanting "Giorni di ieri, giorni di vecchio, ritorno con le memorie, sia appannate che l'oro." Flashes of light, and noise assaulted Simmie's senses as she was tossed into a cresting sea of memories and emotions. She seen the boy that she used to tell her father was her prince and that she was going to marry him when she grew up. Papa just laughed and said "Yes, Simmie, I know. He is your Amator Fatum.", she seen all of her memories, all of the times that Hiney picked on her and teased her, patting her on the head and telling her to run along and be a good serving wench. Lastly, she seen the day her Papa died. They were riding to the clan house when they seen Hiney ahead and up on the hill they caught a glint of light as it reflected from the dark one's weapons as he lay in wait for Hiney. Papa had sent her ahead to warn the others and went to head Hiney off when she heard the shot and the scream. It was all a blur from there until the end when she seen Hiney crying over her in her bed saying something she couldn't understand. With a cry, Simaya sat up, reaching, and calling for her father. "Papa! Come back to me, Papa!" Tears running down her face, she turned to see Gil sitting beside of her, tears rolling down his face, and she remembered, Hiney, leaning over her on the bed, tears streaming down his face as he said the words she didn't understand. "Hiney?" she whispered through her tear roughened voice. He wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her and letting her cry. It seemed like she cried for hours, until she was so dehydrated that she had no tears left and her head hurt. The last thing she seen before sleep claimed her was the crest in the palm of her left hand and Hiney's arm wrapped around her waste holding her to him. Simaya stretched, opening her eyes that felt as if they were filled with sand. The warmth that had accompanied her all through out her rest was gone. In its place, she found only a pillow and a men's shirt and pants folded neatly. Shrugging, she pulled them on, and did the best she could to comb out her tangled curls with her fingers, and went in search of Hiney.