Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
|Introduction: acrobatic sex in 1/6th gravity|
What are we willing to do when we can be someone else? Who are we able to be when no one knows who you are? Being in a strange place with no attachments can be very freeing. A limited time to be someone else, to explore the person you never were and always wanted to be. The only problem is, what if you fall in love while you're there?
The Mistress of the Moon
Copy write 2003
A pile of clothes lay on the floor of the hallway, just inside the room past the black pair of dress shoes, one toe atop the other, in the doorway. Beyond, a wool coat was carelessly tossed over a message table and laying next to the car and house keys, was the elegant new purse from Taylor Shands bought in the sea of rainbows. Past the pile of clothes were the smaller accessories; the hematite and amethyst earrings with sharp platinum settings, the mineral agate bracelet with scrimshaw whalebone inlays she bought from Tipper Ellesse´e Diamond sellers, Near Pico and the satiny necklace of spun crystal from Ari Stysonton Contemporary crafts in Lake of sorrows.
By the time she had reached the couch, she had discarded her thin black panties and hose. She had no use of a bra here. Here she only weighed twenty pounds. Her breasts weighed practically nothing. There was nothing like a season spent on the moon to keep the important body parts young and full of bounce.
Cyrrel had just returned from a date with herself. It had been fabulously romantic and ultimately sexy. She had taken herself shopping in all of those expensive stores she had heard so much about back on Earth. Had a delightful time trying on sexy clothes and fancy things. Giving her reflection admiring compliments and letting herself touch her in suggestive places while in very present danger of being caught by customer service personnel. She had smacked her own hand teasingly and grinned at her naughty reflection before taking herself to the cinemas.
She and herself had seated in the less favored section behind the central action of the circular stage and used the relative privacy to engage in heavy petting. The dimenfilm was riveting and kept the rest of the moviegoers attention fixed on the blaze of lights and panoramic vistas in the center of the theater rather than her and herself who were openly fondling parts usually kept hidden.
Dinner was also quite fine, offering the very best the fine chefs of the moon could bestow on a vacationing Earther. For dessert, she had a finely wrought chocolate structure that would have collapsed under it's own weight if it had been attempted back home. It was as good as orgasm and got her fired up for ravenous uninhibited sex. She couldn't wait to get herself home and fuck her.
She had not made it to the bedroom, no further than the couch in fact. She lay with her behind on the edge of the cushions, her feet up high on an easy chair arm and her legs splayed wide. She had both hands pressed firmly to either side of her vulva and was massaging the spongy tissues beneath. Her thumbs twiddled rapidly, one after the other, over her clit, her index fingers moving slick fluids about the lips. Her head tossed back, her mouth working soundlessly. Teeth catching lips like cat playing with mouse.
She began to moan as the growing wetness gathered on her fingertips and her hands began to slide over one another and her mound like octopus tentacles. Frictionless, she dipped fingers inside from one hand than the other, one from each, two from each. Drawing her liquid out, spreading it around. Covering every surface.
She slipped three fingers in from one hand, two more on top from the other. Ah, bliss. Ah, heavenly viscosity. A fourth finger from the first hand, the second hand wetting the back of the first. In she curled the thumb then push, gently, harder. The stretch, Oh god the stretch. Breath stopped, all the world stopped. Anticipation. Pleasurable ache. Good pain. The good pain of stretching and with a slow exhale she is greedily devoured. Her whole hand inside, the muscles tightening around her wrist. Fingertips brushing her cervix.
As she did this she imagined herself a holy woman, a planetary tribal witch on a small and distant world. She lay upon a great stone dais built for this purpose, raised to the level of her adoring parishioners eyes. She was teaching them to know enlightenment through pleasure. Teaching them the dream sense than comes over one with the Isam du haiib, the stretch. The holy intensity. The throng or worshipers were all women for this meeting, all hear to learn her revered arts. They crowded close to touch her legs and inhale her smell.
At the moment of orgasm she would remove her hand and flick her fingertips, spreading droplets of her holy water of life over the upturned faces of her devout. She would do this several times, pushing her hand back inside and then drawing the water out and flicking it, until she had no more to give for a time. Then she would lay without making a word while her people sung hymns of vision making. And, she would have her visions, deep in the hynogogic state blessed by her extreme exhaustion and the riggers of Isam du haiib, she would dream quest for her new apprentice.
As the women in her congregation sung, they became one voice, soft and low. Soon words were lost and the cavern was filled with a low sexually charged hum of many voices. In the period during the wait for their priestess to awaken from her trance, they would make religious signs with one hand above their heads while their other hand aroused their second souls, the ones that slept inside the tiny tent at the crevasses peak. Many more experienced women would squat slightly and perform Juduset Du Haiib, standing holy stretch. All the while, the deep glassy hum.
Priestess Cyrrel at once would snap her eyes open, her vision complete and raise her Besttat dil nimar, Paw of religious exploration, to point into audience. She would quicken her breath in the ancient way and intone the texts of Gissib Senraquin causing her grand opening to once again begin the flood.
The women of her congregation would perceive exactly whom her gesture was directed and step respectfully aside, rubbing their own liquids in small circles around their navels. Priestess Cyrrel was pointing at a young girl who was standing now, alone in a circle of women older than her. Her hands were crossed against her breast and her chin was down. "I, Priestess?" She asked in a small voice. "It is me you want, blessed?" "You." Cyrrel intoned," And the girl stepped forward.
The girl raised both her hands to meet Cyrrel's one outstretched hand and kissed her palm. She stayed several seconds, inhaling the aroma of the holy woman's most prescient place, the source of her power. Then Cyrrel directed Her to move her hands to her vulva while the Priestess spoke in the most ancient of tongues, telling her to enter as though to be unborn. The girl did as commanded, slicking her hands and then pressing first one and then the other inside her holy mother in the manner of Essib Saturiiet ilsulahib, "The washing of hands in holy water." She then bent her head forward and kissed Cyrrel's second soul.
When Cyrrel came back to reality, she was drenched in sweat, fist buried deep inside herself, her vulva thrust up into the air, feet on the couch, one hand on the floor. Here on the moon she felt like she had fantastic strength. She held this pose for a long time, feeling the power of her seemingly inexhaustible muscles and riding out the after glow of her orgasm.
She lay down to the floor slowly and removed her hand. Thinking about the young girl in her fantasy, the kind of girl she always created for these kinds of fantasies and wondered suddenly if she couldn't hire a girl like that. Yes. She had never done anything like that but it was a vacation. She had shopped in exquisite places for beautiful things she could not afford. Maybe she could do this too. Maybe.
She pushed herself off the floor with so little effort she had to catch the wall to keep from going over forward. What would sex with another person be like in a place like this? A person was practically weightless here. She felt so strong, even fierce. She imagined having this young girl here and Cyrrel was like a spider in a web or a cat, pouncing on her and taking her, ravaging her. Animal desire, that was a vacation. Rampant abandon and raging passion, things she had never really allowed herself before. Why not? Here she could be anyone she wanted to be. She would likely never be back to the moon, who here was known to her? She glided down the hall of her hotel room to the phone.
The face of the concierge blinked on. Cyrrel's breast spilled over a robe she clasped with a hand at her sternum. With complete reserve and utter impassivity, the concierge smiled and asked her what she could do for her, eyes meeting hers with unfaltering professionalism.
"I wonder if your hotel provides certain services." There was no real question in her voice, just enough flirtiness to bring across what she wanted. "With a flash of a smile and a hint of amusement, the concierge made arrangements.
When she was off the phone, she raced into her beautiful guest bedroom stumbling in the weak gravity and trying frantically to straighten the mess she had made of the place during the last week of her stay. First grabbing clothes and trying to fold them and then giving up and stuffing them into drawers. Filing away papers and souvenirs into luggage and tossing them into closets. Turning off overhead lights and dimming table lamps. She remembered several things, went running, tripping and running again toward the phone.
With bedroom straightened she started on the living room, frantic and eager. She was annoyed when tossing food containers into the cubbies in the small kitchen caused them to ricochet out and bound back into the living room. She was cleaning bits of food out of the carpet when the door chimed. For a frightened second she thought, good God, She's early! Then the wallscreen showed her an image of the bellhop standing outside the door with a cart. She raced down the hallway and yanked it open.
The bellhop gave her a startled and appreciative glance and recovered his composure. She closed her robe and invited him in. he busied himself setting up candles and lighting them around the room. On his cart he also had a chilled bottle of champagne, several bouquets of sharply smelling deep red flowers in gray vases, a collection of music slips and player, a plate of delicate looking chocolates, a carousel of oysters, bottles of perfumes, bath soaps and towels and a small silver box with black clasp.
He arranged the living room and bedroom while she dashed into the shower to wash up before her guest arrived. When she came out he and his cart were gone and the room was transformed. On the small occasional table was the ornate silver box. She crossed to it, lifted it, and couldn’t tell how heavy it was in this gravity. She thought it was real though. She flipped the clasp which might have been hematite and inhaled sharply. Nestled in a bedding of wine colored velvet was a beautiful strap on penis wrapped in protective plastic labeled, certified sterile. She opened it and inspected it. Subtly lifelike and decorated with semiprecious gems it was made of something like glass. Smooth and filled with swirls of colors and patterns of gems it was also soft and collected her warmth quickly. Some kind of sensitive plastic she guessed. It had malleable "skin" and a semi rigid center. The straps were like a fine watch, chromed interlocking pieces with soft kid leather inside to protect from pinching.
She placed it carefully back in it's box and closed the lid. Busied herself with the act of dressing. The bellhop had stacked the clothing and jewelry in a neat pile on the couch. She put on everything but her new dress, opting instead for a sheik nightgown. When the door chimed again, she was poised and glamorous.
The wall screen showed a demure little black haired creature of about twenty years old. Tiny with tightly curled short hair and small thin bones. Two red barrettes above her eyebrows. It was clear she knew she was being watched through the door but did not pose. Her hands folded, one over the other at her waist, she looked intense with her deep black eyes right through the door at Cyrrel. She was so like the girl in the fantasy.
Cyrrel let her in. Her head was bowed but her eyes were fixed on Cyrrel's. An unreadable but knowing, Mona Lisa's smile, on her lips. These were painted blue. A red and blue dress, long, fit her well and showed off small breasts with large nips. She didn't speak and Cyrrel wondered if she was really the predator in this game.
"Come in," she said, acting seductive. "What's your name?" The girl did not speak, continued her aloof smile. Walked past into the room her eyes never leaving hers. Cyrrel's brow creased. She thought; is the girl mute? The girl seemed to understand her thought and her eye's glittered. She takes pleasure in my discomfort! Cyrrel thought.
"Would you like anything to drink? Eat?" No answer, just that sly smile. Cyrrel became a tiny bit angry. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, she had lost control somehow, right from the start! She was off balance, had to think of something else to say. "My, you are pretty, I think I'll have to fuck you roughly." That should do it, shock her, let her know who's paying for whom here.
The girl smiled now, sexy and impish. "You have to catch me first," she said. Her hands came up to her clavicle and pulled the shoulder straps of her dress down letting the silky material bunch up in her crossed arms. The gesture conveyed conflicting identities for this girl. One interpretation could be that this girl was shy and perhaps awkward the way she had crossed her arms over her breasts like that. The other way of seeing seemed truer to Cyrrel. This girl was the real spider in the room, she was doling out in small amounts her stickiest silk.
Cyrrel watched her hands. Such small, neat hands. Thin fingered and long with short round nails. The girl let her dress fall lower, over her small breasts to her tummy. Static electricity made it cling to her hips. Oh God, what nipples! Cyrrel thought, like olives. I wonder what they taste like? Her tummy was a small paunch with perfect navel and covered in tiny hairs, well balanced below her narrow shoulders and wider hips.
Her hands were stroking her breasts, playing with her large nipples, pinching them and plucking at them. Such small hands, Cyrrel thought, she will need two. The girl was watching her watch her. Cyrrel stepped closer, hand reaching out to touch and the girl stepped back. She backed to the couch stepping out of her slippers and pushed her dress all the way down as she sat. Her legs were short and slim but with defined muscle tone on calves and thighs. Her pubic mound was bare save a tight dark mass of hair, cut into a perfect circle high above her opening.
Cyrrel stopped and began to remove her own clothes. Slow. Trying to be as alluring as the strange dark eyed girl. She played with her own, very large breasts. Undressing in the manner the girl had, exciting every part as it was exposed. She bit her lip in the way she had seem women in vidplays do it. She did not need to exaggerate her excitement; she was literally shivering with it, gooseflesh popping out all over her body.
The girl made a slight widening of the eyes when Cyrrel's panties came off. They were wet through and her mound was shaved absolutely bare. The moisture did not collect and a small runnel started down to her knee. So, I get something from you, She thought. But she was also embarrassed about her extreme wetness. It seemed even in undressing she could not stay on top of this girl.
She quickly stepped to the couch, intent on grabbing the girl up and kissing her hard on the mouth, being ferocious with her but the girl leapt from the couch in an astounding back flip, hit the wall with feet and behind and landed neatly on the other side. Cyrrel was astonished. The move had been like a monkey or some kind of cat, quick and sharp. The girl stood in a half crouch, looking at her, dark eyes glittering with that ghost of a smile on her lips.
Cyrrel grinned back at her. It was easy to forget that being on the moon made anyone an amazing athlete. "Okay, so that's the way you want to play it!" And she bounded over the couch with arms outstretched. She misjudged her strength and the girl dodged. She hit the wall hard, jostling a picture hanging there, and fell on her ass on the rug. On Earth, hitting a wall going that speed would have knocked her unconscious, at the moment of impact she had been prepared for the fun to be over, she would be getting hauled out of here on a stretcher on her way to the hotel sickbay. As it turned out she was fine, she was stunned, that was all. Frightened by the wall coming at her so suddenly. She looked up to see the girl looking at her anxiously, wondering also if she was hurt. No. She was fine, here she only weighed twenty something pounds.
She got up and lunged at the girl again, again the girl dodged. The game was on. She jumped up, nearly to the ceiling trying to land behind her and she rolled away to the side near the couch. She jumped over the couch but the girl deflected her again. They did this twice more before Cyrrel grabbed the couch and simply hurled it aside. The girl did another spectacular backflip, kicked off the ceiling, caught a hanging light and spun off toward the master bedroom. Cyrrel was off after her, turning a corner by leaping at the far wall and bounding off of it in a new direction. The girl was there behind the bedroom door and bolted out past her, hurling a giant pillow at Cyrrel to slow her down.
"Ha! I'll get you!" Cyrrel shouted happily and launched the pillow at the girl's retreating back. She went down but rolled quickly on her back, grabbing for the pillow. Cyrrel flew into the air and landed with a leg on either side of the prone girl. She reached down but the girl grabbed her arms, planted her feet on Cyrrel's hips and tossed her over her head. Cyrrel twisted in midair, reached back and broke the impact of the wall she hit, kicked off it and landed awkwardly with her shoulder on the thick carpet. She rolled, her hand flashed out and she caught the thin muscular leg of the girl. Dragged her back as she was almost running back toward the bedroom. Her other hand clamped on the girl's hips and yanked her down on top of her in a clumsy pile.
"Got you!" She crowed but the girl was already twisting out of her grasp.
The girl was suddenly sitting on top of her, straddling her and trying to get Cyrrel in a wristlock. "Looks like I got you." The girl crooned. But Cyrrel bucked her hips up and the girl was bounced off of her. Cyrrel was sweating now and her heart was beating fast. She was grinning fiercely. This was not the fantasy she had wanted but she was having fun. A lot of it.
She pushed herself off the floor and chased the girl into the bedroom again. The girl ran right up a wall and did a half circle around the room before coming down to the floor again then she leapt at Cyrrel and caught her full force with her legs wrapped around Cyrrel's shoulders. Cyrrel's tongue darted out at the dark eyed girl's puss but the girl rolled forward, over Cyrrel's head. Cyrrel's arm flashed out and grabbed the girl's upper thigh, bringing her back down to the floor.
She had thirty, maybe even forty pounds on this girl but that was on Earth and didn't amount to more than a few pounds here. Also this girl had been here a while and was used to what she could do in 1/6th gravity. She was lithe and agile, almost a circus performer. The girl was under her control for only a second before positions were reversed and her dark eyes were looking down at Cyrrel from on top again. Cyrrel played tired for a moment, acting meek and then, in a burst of strength, tossed the girl over and pounced on her, hands grabbing her wrists and thighs clenching the girls ribs. She moved her hips down until she was sitting on the girl's hips and bent down to kiss her.
The girl craned her neck up and kissed her first, forcefully and writhed under her. Cyrrel broke the kiss, thinking, now; you want it, don’t you? She pecked the struggling girl on her lips and pulled back, kissed and pulled back.
But the girl was faking, Cyrrel weighed only what a small dog would weigh on Earth. Cyrrel realized this too late and before she knew it, the girl had locked her flexible legs under Cyrrel's armpits and propelled her off and over the bed to the other side. Cyrrel looked up from her place on the floor to see the girl crouched like a gargoyle on the bed above her, her grin wide and playful. She stood up and Cyrrel saw that her sternum and belly were glittering with wetness where she had sat on the girl.
The girl stepped off the bed to stand above her head and shoulders and began playing with her cunt. Cyrrel watched her with heavy breath and heart pounding. The girl squatted down again putting her puss right above Cyrrel's face, still playing with herself.
"I think I do have you." She said. "Hmmm?" And Cyrrel reached out slowly and pulled the girl's hips down to her and licked.
Cyrrel pushed her face into the girl's cunt and pushed herself up as well. Then she was getting clumsily to her feet, unable to see anything but the small black circle of pubic hair right in front of her eyes. Then she was standing, the girl perched upon her shoulders, her legs clamped around her back, hands clutching the back of her head to keep from falling over. Cyrrel felt powerful in this position, holding this small girl on her face and eating her as if she were a piece of melon. She was on top now even if she were servicing the girl; she had the power to toss her if she were through. She didn't though, instead, she let them both fall onto the bed.
She was sitting up on the bed. Had the girl's hips in her hands now, really like the rind of a melon and the girls back and shoulders were cradled on her knees. She was digging in with her tongue with delicacy and care, the girl letting her legs go limp, falling open wide.
"Get the box." The girl said after a time. She had had her eyes closed and was making soft moaning sounds, her head lolling side to side in the soft bed. Now, she seemed on the verge of orgasm and Cyrrel didn't know what she was talking about.
“What box?" She asked between licks and kisses. The dark eyed girl looked up at her, maybe trying to decide if she was being teased. She apparently guessed Cyrrel was not and gave her a mischievous look. "Oh. OH! That box." Said Cyrrel. "I'll be right back." She kissed The dark eyed girl's clit and then let her go, bounding out of the bedroom.
When she came back in the room, she was wearing the phallus, standing in the door frame coolly. The dark eyed girl was on the bed still but now posed with her legs wide open and a sneer of challenge on her face. "You wanna get fucked?" Cyrrel asked, being as cool and in charge as she could fake.
"Maybe," The girl said slowly, "you might be the one who's gonna get fucked." Her left eyebrow rose high and independently from the right. She was pulling at a nipple in a way that made her look like bored and excited all at the same time.
"We'll see. I'm the one with the cock." Cyrrel said, walking toward the bed. Swaggering. She reached the edge of the bed and began applying lubricant to the synthetic penis. The girl with the dark eyes reached out a lazy hand and stroked under the balls of the thing, dipping the tips of her fingers inside Cyrrel and drawing out Her lubricant. Cyrrel moved her hips forward, eager for the attention. Soon the girl had two fingers deep inside her and Cyrrel was sighing.
The girl was getting control of her again. She couldn't let that happen. She grabbed the dark eyed girl's ankle and hauled her bodily toward her. Grappled around her hips and pulled her peach slit to the tip of the cock, positioned it and yanked the girl onto it, treating her like a sex toy to be masturbated with. Then the girl wrapped her heels around Cyrrel's ass and used her legs to pump Cyrrel's hips forward into her. Instantly turned the power dynamic around. Expertly. Cyrrel then hoisted her into the air and fucked her standing up giving the girl no leverage, simply holding the girl by the bottom and driving her plastic cock into her. But then the girl was grabbing onto her again, hugging onto her back and digging her heels into Cyrrel's butt. Using Cyrrel for leverage. Fucking her back.
Cyrrel switched tact. "You like that?" she growled into the girl's ear. "You like me thrusting my cock deep into your wet cunt?" She said this in the spaces between breaths, trying hard to sound dominant but feeling like she just sounded winded. She grabbed the girl around her torso and pushed her away but she hung on tenaciously. She roared a guttural yell and flung the girl from her. She landed back on the bed and Cyrrel jumped at her, grabbed her leg and flipped her over, grabbed her hips and pulled them toward her. "You like it from behind, slut?" She couldn't believe the things that were coming out of her mouth; she had never thought to call another woman such a thing. She kept it up; she was winning now. "Like to be fucked from the back? Like an animal?" She slid the cock in, her knuckles turning white gripping the girl's hips.
"Deeper, god damn it!" Screamed the dark eyed girl, "Get that cock in deeper!" She was thrusting back again, pulling all the way off the cock and slamming back on it to the hilt. "Slam those nuts into my clit!" She crowed. Her hands were balled into fists around the blankets and with every thrust the bed scraped over the floor. Cyrrel was having trouble following the bed and so she pulled the girl off it to fuck her on the floor.
God, the energy of this girl! She thought, she's so strong; it's like holding an alligator, a bull! She stood and wrapped the girl's legs around her hips and lawnmower walked the girl over to the wall. The girl's hands climbed up the wall and she used it to shove herself back against Cyrrel's cock. It wasn't sustainable, she was too strong in the weak gravity and she shoved them both across the room. The cock popped out as they spilled into a pile at the bottom of the far wall. The girl was on her feet in a flash and standing over Cyrrel, a light behind making the girl an intimidating silhouette. She half squatted over Cyrrel, grabbed Cyrrel's hips and lifted her until the dildo entered her. She was fucking herself with Cyrrel, hanging below her, like she were inflatable until Cyrrel managed to climb her way up the small girl's body and get her feet on the floor.
Cyrrel didn't really get control back until the dark eyed girl started cumming. She had never seen a woman cum this way, completely out of control and screaming her lungs out. She flailed around like she were having a seizure and bucked against Cyrrel like a carnival bull. Just like a bull, Cyrrel thought again.
When it was over they were sweaty and exhausted. The girl was shivering all over and having tremors, still jolting and writhing. Cyrrel was worried she was having a real seizure and asked her if she were all right. She gasped that she was.
Cyrrel looked around the torn apart room. There was not a piece of furniture that had not been moved during their sex, not a painting on the wall not askew, not a trinket saved from the floor. At least the bed had not left scratches on the fake hardwood floor and it appeared nothing had actually broken.
"Next it's my turn." She whispered gently to the still shivering girl with the dark eyes and then held her.
When the girl had started to recover, Cyrrel stroking her hair and plucking at her nipples, the girl seemed meeker. She lay curled up in Cyrrel's arms with her cheek against Cyrrel's large breasts. Cyrrel lifted a breast and placed a nipple in the girl's mouth. "Suck," She cooed and stood up with the girl cuddled up in her arms like a baby. She was so small in her arms. So innocent now that that dark energy had been expelled. It was so amazing how light everything was here, how easy it was to lift this girl up and carry her. She sat them down on the bed.
The girl was holding was now holding her breast, kneading it as she sucked. She was waking up now, her energy coming back. Cyrrel petted her face and her neck, her shoulders, deep clavicle and then her small breasts. Pinched her large nips then lifted the girl's chin and kissed her full on the lips.
The girl reached around her back and hugged onto her as Cyrrel lay her down beneath her, still kissing her. She caressed the girl's thighs and tummy, moved a hand to clutch the girl's hair. The girl was focusing a lot of attention on her breasts, rubbing the sensitive flesh of her inner forearm in her cleavage and cupping her hands under to feel their weight, only a few ounces here, many cumbersome pounds back home. The girl broke the kiss and looked deep into her eyes with those glimmering pits and said, "Get me the penis, I want to do you now." Her voice low and husky, her hand moving to the wet gap between Cyrrel's legs.
"No." She whispered back, kissed the girl, "No need for it. Use your fingers on me." The girl did, running an index finger up and down her slit and dancing over her clit. "Touch me inside." Said Cyrrel, her voice just a croak. The girl did this too, slipping a finger inside her and reaching for that special spot, right there in front, just inside. "More." She said, pressing her hips down to the girl’s hand. "More." The girl put in a second and cupped her mound in her palm. Stroking slowly in and out. Cyrrel moaned and then took the girl's hand and pressed it harder against her. "Harder," She said. "More." She pressed the girl's other two fingers into her hole and they slid in to the last knuckle. The girl made an Ahhhing sound, a gentle exhale of breath. She could tell this was exciting the girl. She pushed her hand farther and the girl automatically curled her thumb in. Her hand slipped entirely in without any effort at all. "Yeeessss," Cyrrel hissed as she sank down on it, letting it bury until the girl's balled fist was pressing on her cervix. A fat drop of her liquid escaped and coursed down the girl's forearm, was soaked instantly into the sheet.
"Ah, you like that, don't you?" The girl asked, honestly interested. Fascinated. She began to move her hand around inside. Testing. Asking if it hurt or felt good when she moved one way or another. Her whole personality had changed. She was now gentle, cautious, curious. Neither trying to dominate now. Just feeling.
"Wet your other hand." Cyrrel breathed. "Pull out just to your fingers." The girl did, pulling out and leaving just her four fingers inside. She lathered her other hand against the palm and then slipped those fingers in until her fingertips were steepled together like she were praying. Cyrrel sank down on them. The girl caught her clit between her two thumbs. Cyrrel moaned low and long. Twitched. Jumped. Quivered. "Now your thumbs." She said. The girl obeyed; letting both her hands slip inside.
Cyrrel pushed her hands down and clenched her thighs on the girl’s elbows, trapping them against her ribs. "You’re caught." She smiled. "I have cuffed you now." She wasn't being challenging; there was sweetness in her voice, a kind of wistful playfulness. She reached down to caress the girl's face. Gentle. "Now I get to do what ever I want to you." The girl smiled. There was something wicked in it but also something blissful. Cyrrel lifted up, drawing the girl's hands almost all the way out and then sank back down onto them. Up again and then down. Slow. The feeling was intense. She had never done anything like this with a stranger before. She was outside of herself, a different person. Filled up by this strange girl's delicate hands.
The girl was really starting to get into it now. Watching every change of Cyrrel's face, her eyes flitting down to her filled vulva and back to her face. Moving her hands carefully around inside. She clenched her legs together, rubbed her thighs together like a grasshopper. She was writhing again.
Cyrrel was moving faster now, feeling the rise, a wave inside that, after moving across an ocean, begins to swell. A massive storm heaping energy upon energy and she was just a little boat. Riding it. She moved her hips up and down with the waves. Riding it. Dark clouds with great thunderheads. Anticipation. Waves. Riding it. The wave began to crest.
She had reached down and was gripping the dark eyed girl's shoulders, her feet curled under the girl's waist, heels pressed to her sides. And the girl was wet. Her arms wet from Cyrrel, her skin, popping out dots of sweat all over. Her shoulders slick under Cyrrel's hands and the wave crashed. Thunderous and awing. Bruised skies filled with the bright torn paper edges of a million lightening strikes. Not fireworks. Electricity. Incalculable current, twisting through the turbulent ether. All inside Cyrrel.
When it was over they collapsed, breathing. Sweating. The girl removed her hands and they slept. Slept curled around one another. Breathing in rhythm. Holding one another. When they awoke, they did not speak, just looked at one another. Petted. Stroked. Caressed. They got up and showered, dried one another. Dressed one another. No words were necessary for these things. Just eyes. The eyes held all that needed to be said.
Cyrrel had a sad, resigned little smile on her face when it was clear that the time was here for the girl to go. The wave was finally soaked up by the sand and preparing to slide back into the ocean. Slowly. Sadly retreating. She kissed the girl on the cheek, held her at the door. When she had opened the door, stood there for several seconds, she turned back and whispered into Cyrrel's ear. Her name.
She was gone into the hall, made a neat turn, waved. "If you're ever on the moon again..." and she walked on down the hall.
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