A quick thank you to the 143 readers and for the 82 likes this story has received. It means a lot for encouragement.
Three blankets and pillows had been tossed to the ground, enough that it gave similar cushioning to a yoga mat, a better surface for my bare back than concrete. The bouncing of the couch proved bothersome for our movements, the surety of something solid needed more than comfort as Dara straddled my head, allowing me to eat well.
“Ah… ah… there…” I heard her instruct.
She was sweet to allow me this. Cunnilingus was something so foreign as native Americans to Columbus, something enticing to me as a curious cat to a wild rabbit. I had to know how it was done.
There was a flick which caused her to moan. “Here?”
“Nou… for-th.”
The fuck was that moan? Adjusting, I started licking a different spot.
“Laric…! There.”
I was beginning to feel bad for how long it was taking me, when suddenly something wet and hot shot in my mouth and on my face, followed by her sigh.
As I coughed and gagged, she backed herself away, sitting on top of my chest as she straddled shoulders. “Brea-th.”
Another moment and I composed myself. “See… a ‘mas-ter.’”
She giggled as she patted my head, leaning down for a quick kiss. “Nou… mo-ore to know."
Sliding herself further back, Dara’s ass and back started to push against my cock. In a swift motion, she pushed the rod aside and swung her leg over, letting the thing spring back up so that it rested against her coated, lower lips and sweaty midriff, and for a moment I thought she would give head, instead kissing the tip before standing and grabbing it.
We both groaned as she sunk herself down, the noticeable bulge of her stomach indicating how far I was inserted. Dara had grown more accustomed than in our first moment but still could not go all the way, not yet at least. She instead leaned forward, angling herself and my rod so she could settle herself in a cowgirl position. Finding a rhythm was imperfect as she began a subtle bouncing, as I lifted and lowered my hips like a boat on a lake, the harmony soon found in smooth motions.
She screamed my ‘name,’ unconcerned of being heard: “Thelamein!”
It had seemed like a precarious position to have her chest resting on the table, myself holding her up by her legs, standing and fucking her from behind. It wasn’t ramming per se, but neither was it gentle, for even though my cock could go deeper she had yet to envelop all of me, not yet as Nushala had. Our efforts drove her animalistic, my restraint tested. I didn’t dare push it lest injury were to take place.
For a third time, she groaned madly, her inner walls clamping down on me and nearly halting my progress, the tension and heat almost too much. Fuuuck… Not yet, I ordered myself.
When she finished, I adjusted us so that her back now rested on the surface, witnessing her skin glisten in a layer of sweat, the late afternoon and interior lighting casting a brilliance on us. As I leaned toward her, we started ravishing each other, lifting us both and moving to make use of the bed.
Our movements made for a subdued bounce, but the frame did not groan.
She curved her back, her ass lifted in a way that forced me to kneel with my hands pressing just above her rear and between her shoulders. I had gone just as animalistic as her, fully intent on riding out the hormones to an end.
Dara had lost complete coherency, only capable of screams and groans that at times I thought I heard her crying, only for her to scream “more!” We had long passed a threshold where our prolonged joining became obsessive even as our lower parts became smothered in splotches of trailing cum and other lubricates. We did nothing to discourage this.
“Almost…” I uttered.
Each slap found my base against hers, wet noises made with each slick movement, the whole of my rod deep inside as her channel stretched and constricted to an insane degree with. Questions of how this is possible were forgotten as soon as they arose, for I must have reached far past her stomach to where the sternum started. I would’ve stopped were it not for her insistence and lack of blood.
The movement wasn’t rapid, almost a slow and deliberate undulation, the limitations of our anatomy coming to bear. This massage had burned through my discipline, resulting in me cumming once before we reached the bedroom, thrice in another position we enjoyed. I was paying the price.
I felt myself nearing the end, heart pounding, pounding, pounding, unable to hold the tension, willing myself to sweet release.
“Dara… oh fuck Dara!”
With the last of my heat, a shattering, painful stream flowed deep within her, and we both sang in moans. She pushed into me as though not wanting a single drop lost, and I pushed into her wanting the moment to last.
“Thel!” she screamed as she started to ripple.
At the end, a blissful feeling overtook me, and I became aware of just how out of breath I felt. Taking in the sight of us, our bodies shining in the warm glow from overhanging lights and the storm-cloud-covered, early-evening sunlight beyond our window. Strong is the scent of pine and cinnamon, our skins wet and flush from exertion and excitement, and loud was our breathing. The moment was far too short.
Dara had gone limp. Pulling myself out with cum trailing and seeping from her entrance, I twisted her to her back and lied next to her, snaking an arm and leg around her waist and thigh as she shifted to her side, slithering arms around my back, our heads snuggling in place. With a quick kiss, shared warmth, and not a word spared, we fell into cozy sleep.
Our nap had been short when hunger came to me like a famine in Central Africa. Food and a shared shower were had, our afternoon mess left to tomorrow’s worries as we reunited in the bed with new silk sheets, both of us underneath and still naked.
Warning symbols, a red outline of a cloud with a bolt of lightning, emitted on each of the windows with a soft, feminine voice speaking Vinlis throughout the building. Dara translated it to mean a weather warning, the message having repeated itself twice, once an hour prior and 30 minutes before the storm arrived.
From the horizon, it looked as though it were a distant squall from the Caribbean tropics, the thing upon us in less than an hour from when I first witnessed it. The storm held power and dominance, a reflection of how I felt in this exact moment.
The outside became chaotic as rain hammered against the building, with wind starting to howl, and lightning strikes flashing in quick succession. It seemed beyond what a typical squall was, almost hurricane-like as rain cascaded so fast it was hard to see past 2 feet. A sudden tangyness and charge to the air had passed the glass barrier. I remained mesmerized by it as my heart raced.
Daratrine clung tightly to my side, eyes wide as she stared at the almost-apocalyptic scene. “Are you used to this?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I was thankful that something in the room dampened the outside noise, the window tinting darker like an invisible curtain so that the flashes would not blind us, the lights also dimming. It was done in a way as though someone understood how disruptive the storm is, and what the mood was.
Even muffled, the patter of rain could still be heard, the screams of wind barely whisper with each flash sending a chill through my spin. “Is this… common?”
“Com-on?”
“Regular, normal, expected?”
She adjusted herself, giving me a funny look. “This is… com-on…”
“Are we safe? Like, the building isn’t going to collapse, is it?”
“Wee are. This… place is made gooud.”
Anything less… a normal house would lose its roof in this. I found myself snuggling closer.
“You do nout, remember… a lot, Thel?” she asked.
There was a deep exhale. “… No, this is new to me… Kinda awesome in a way.”
“Aw-some?”
“… Beautiful, uncontained, raw… kinda like you earlier.”
She lightly slapped my arm. “Thelamein.”
“Careful, I might have to toss you outside.”
She slapped again. “You do nout!”
I softly chuckled. “I don’t suppose walking home is an option?”
“Nou, too dane-ger-us… home too far.”
“You could make it back, if a little damp.”
“Noooou, home too faaar… Rubsa Csamied.”
“Rub-a Cess-mii-ed, what is that?”
There was a long pause, and when I was about to change subjects, she answered: “Nou goud translate-tion… Rubsa… Salem… a city… my home.”
“Tell me about your home.”
“… Tall, white tow-ers… many sis-ters, few… Loyieda. Big place to… meet. Easy to be loust.”
“And how far away is it?”
“… Many leagues… 30?”
We kept conversing about her home in a way a child would if homesick. ‘Rubsa Salem’ was framed as though it were New York during a golden age of religious awakening, where theatre and its vices of night life were smothered, a spiritual refuge. At its center a massive cathedral rose like a mountain on tectonic plates, surrounded by a sea of parks and high rises, bordering an ocean alive as the storm before us. Thousands crowded its streets, where Dara once recounted a procession of pilgrims (or tourists?) stretching for miles down one of its main avenues as merchants and ‘companion seekers’ peddled wares and services. A miniature Utah is my impression of Salem.
“Do you mean whores?”
She gave an owlish gaze. “Whatt is a…who-ore?”
“The ‘companion seekers.’ Do they sell their bodies for sex?”
“… Why wou-ood some-one sell for sex? That is… greedy.” The word was said with distaste. “Nou, they seek… family… life long com-mit-ment.”
“Like marriage?”
“… What is Mare-ag?”
“Marriage, like when a man and woman join for life, they commit to each other in an official way.”
“… There is no man, not for… very long time.”
“How come?” Even dazed from my thoughts, I had enough awareness to engage her.
She simply shrugged her shoulders, answering in a sad tone, “They die away.”
What the heck…
The lack of men had to be some sort of happenstance or an elaborate cover up of Nabe’s (though why she would do so I haven’t a clue). Her population numbers didn’t make sense if it was ‘145 million’ women and ‘12 thousand Loyieda’ (whatever my gender was), not unless something else was happening. Even if ‘Loyieda’ were the replacement baby-batter makers, our numbers were stupidly low.
“So… families are just women marrying each other?” Despite being dazed from my thoughts, I at least had enough awareness to engage Dara.
“… is mare-age a… union?”
“Yes, I think so?”
“Then yes.”
I almost wanted to ask more about the gender discrepancy, but decided against it. It was far too big of a discussion to have with the current language barrier, and it would only serve to make my head spin faster.
Something dawned on me in one moment, a basic thing yet something that I should have known before, and I felt a bit silly for it. “Hm…”
“Whaat?”
“… Where exactly are we, the… ‘borough’?”
Dara burst into fits of laughter. “Whaat!?” She managed to utter.
“I’m being serious,” I chuckled, raising a free hand in defense.
Calmness took her as she wore an apologetic look. “I am… sorry… This… mem-or-ye pro-blem?”
“Yeah.”
“Hpadar P'afr.”
“How does that translate?”
Another long pause. “I know nout… You forgot… too much, dumby.” The last part she said with a smile.
My eyes drifted curiously to the necklace she wore, the same one from earlier, having nabbed it from the living room after dinner.
Without thought I shifted, grabbing the cross which hung from it, bringing the piece close to see. It seemed like any chrome-coated jewelry, except there was this luster one would only associate with silver, a gleam and texture faint enough that it had to be made of it, or at least an alloy.
“You’re Christian.” It was meant to be a question, but part of me felt certain.
“For loung life.”
Huh… Called it. “You believe in God?”
“Only Father… Do you?”
There was a flash of lightning, the thunder vibrating through the building. It gave me time to think. “I don’t know… Maybe he exists… It would be nice if he does.” Having been surrounded by all sorts of friends and media on religion and spirituality had made me more agnostic. The idea that there is Heaven seems as nice as Hell is terrifying, that what you did in life either rewarded or punished you for eternity. For an all-powerful entity to always judge and love us, like a parent, seemed both comforting and overbearing.
Her eyes became quite serious as they bore into mine, and I couldn’t help but stare back. “No,” she pressed her finger into my chest. “He is here, for-ever.”
“Isn’t that just… blind faith?”
She looked at me questioningly in an innocent manner. “Without reason,” I elaborated.
There was a nod of understanding. “All is this.. Design… Xiyie Orayrypli rsac dsalie, gala mayfie, gala fryod, spoie su Haur mury. Kessithi re-mains, wee re-main. Life here threat-ten… This storm… these storms threat-ten… Gmoie threat-ten, but our home is alive. Wee live de-spite these.”
“You don’t think this is all by chance?”
“I know Father de-sides. Our… exist-tence is… un-like-lee without Him.”
My attention fell, again, to the cross. Noticing this, Dara brought her hand behind her and unclasped the chain which held it, and with it free I held closer
“Do you think God would spank us for what we did?”
There was giggle then frown from her as though disappointed in laughing. “Nooou.”
“You mean to say that wasn’t Lust?”
“Lu-ust…” She looked thoughtful.
“You did enjoy it a lot. Is that not a sin?”
“Xiyie wevutpaure aur col muam ur die...” Her hand rested on her stomach, and she snuggled against me. “We make this life. Our… time, mor-ore than lu-ust. There is, here, our love, given by that sin.”
I quickly looked away, a chill running down my spine as my hand clenched the cross.
“Thel?”
Nothing was said in agonizing seconds. Her courage had brought her hand to my jaw, and she guided me to face her again. “Do you be-lieve?”
Those deep, green eyes began to enchant, her features coming to clarity, everything that made me want to join her, to hear her scream and sing, to smell her scent, to taste every part of her, to see her submissiveness, everything that turned me on. But more than that was a realization of what kept me lying next to her, for that warm presence, the sassy attitude, her intelligence, that motherly care, and her empathy made my heart race and my mind dance.
But the implication of her words stilled me, and all I could think was of past rejection and how fast things were appearing to move.
“I don’t know.”
She pulled me close for a passionate kiss, tender, warm, almost like sharing a delicate lolly pop. When we parted, her tone grew hushed. “Will this con-vince?”
I pulled her in for another kiss, and immediately felt bad for it once we separated again, handing her the cross. “You’re too nice.”
“Nou, I am mean.”
There was a subtle shake to my head and a smirk, and my attention fell back to the relentless storm, but she spoke again, “Will you… come with me?”
I thought I already did. “You’re not staying?"
There was a slight shake to her head. “I must go soon, in some days.”
My heart sank for whatever reason.
“You… seem loust… nout happy here.”
“I’m under house arrest.”
“No one can im-prison you.”
“… Doesn’t it seem too soon to move in with you?”
Looking at Dara, she gazed with an owlish look before averting and blushing.
“What?”
“Do not… tease tha-at way.”
“… I would have considered.”
Her tone turned accusational. “Would you?”
“For the future. We’ve only just met, but… I would like to see you more.”
Looking back to me, she tugged on my arm. “Come with me. You have… home with us.”
That chilling feeling returned, and I exhaled. “I’ll think about it.”