He entered the room. His short brown curls almost touching the ceiling. He had to be one of the tallest men she has ever seen at six and a half feet tall which was enhanced even more by his pale complexion and intensely green eyes. Standing against a wall the bold colors of the deep crimson and shiny black fabric that covered every vertical space of the room pronounced his white skin to the point she fancied him glowing. His loose black satin shirt exposed just the breath of his chest and the leather pants looked as if they were painted on.
She was sitting on the grandest of beds with sheets the monochromatic shades of the crimson on the walls, surrounded by a frame of deep cherry wood, the posts just grazing the ceiling. A canopy of black silk covered the top and wound its way down the bed posts in a way seeming very seductive to her. He stepped to the edge of the bed still looking at her from emerald irises and she felt a need to be closer to him, to see if she could lose herself in a sea of emeralds. Glancing for a second she took in how small the room actually was or how much the bed really filled it up.
Kneeling on the edge, their bodies nearly touching and although she strained as much as possible, she could not see eye level with this man. He looked down on her and placed his left hand behind her head, his right arm wrapped around her lower back and he pulled her into his lips. Never had she been kissed so intently or so hard, but she liked it. Giving in to the complete feeling of helplessness, loss of power and containment that he gave her. Slowly he pulled away, his mouth slightly open he breathed a soft breath into hers. It felt remarkably cold on her lips but she paid no mind.
Opening her eyes he could see the depth of sea in the aqua blue that danced around her vision. He could smell earth and soft jasmine on her skin. He could see daylight reflected wherever the linen did not cover her. The soleil color of it reminded him of times long past. Christ how he remembered.
Pulling away from his grasp she turned to face the headboard mostly because she wanted to feel her back against his and her bare feet hooked around his legs. Reaching up with her arms she intertwined them behind his neck and pulled herself up in an attempt to close the distance between their bonces. He folded his arms around her stomach feeling the life growing inside and helped her with her goal. She brushed her cheek against his and tilted her head even farther backward so that she could very lightly caress his outer ear. It sent a chill down his spine, a feeling not common, and put him in a fervor. Realizing her methods provided satisfactory outcomes she rocked her hips and let him feel the pressure of her body against him.
With a velvety exhale she let him know the gratification this simple act gave her. But it was not enough for him. Unadorned touch was not why he brought her here, not why he called her here.
"Stop, I have had enough of the tauntment. You will deny me no longer," he said in a low tone she could feel in her bones.
He pushed her on the bed and before she could turn to face him he pinned her to the mattress. One hand held both of hers above her head while the other lifted the over sized linen shift above her hips then hurriedly undid the leather around his. Carefully he entered her but found her quite ready for him. Ah yes it was apparent she was the right choice.
He was pleased to find he could be completely inside without damaging or disturbing the life protected within her womb. Releasing her hands she tangled her fingers with his and rose her head so that their cheeks would graze each others. The unmistakable sounds of enriched stimulation and encouraged feelings echoed from her cerise lips throughout the room. She called for his vivacity and he thought her to be life itself.
Pausing for a second he rose to turn her around to face him. They both wanted to lose themselves in each other's eyes while their bodies became one. Pulling each other close she felt the familiar weight on her hips and beginning of the contraction of certain muscles. With a violent movement her body arched up into his, pulling her up into a sitting position her head fell back and he could see the golden color of her exposed neck and shoulders.
Without thought he sank down his teeth into just above her collar bone and drank from her as he came. The screams released from her throat encouraged him more and he pulled her in deeper tasting of her copper lifeblood. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in closer and pushed herself harder onto his lap as he released his soul into hers. Careful not to pull too much of her he began to release his hold, trickles of blood falling down her chest. As he thought it to be over her entire body clenched around him and he felt a tightness never before experienced by any other he shared. He came all over again and could not contain the unadulterated happiness it brought him.
Her body gave out and became weak in his arms, he held her close to his chest and kissed her softly as she shuddered from exhaustion and sensation. Lying her down amongst the over sized pillows he withdrew and lay there beside her. Feeling the warmth of her body against his as she and the child slumbered, he knew this was no ordinary woman. He sensed it with every fiber of his ancient bones. She would forever be his and he would forever be hers.
Completely and utterly happy the vampire knew he loved this woman of the sun and earth.
A night passes around the campfires of the Star Earth Tribe and their visitors, large teepees and open fires sending their plumes into the sky beneath a frothy sea of stars. Ram unpacks his keyboard in the moonlight and sets it up on the bonnet of the Jackaroo Deva, trying different sounds while laughter springs up amid the raves and plans passing around the flames.
“That sounds great,” announces a closer voice. He continues testing sounds as she steps to his side, an urban flower child loose in paradise.
“In the forest camps these always sound a little too electronic and artificial”, he says apologetically while continuing to play. “Not quite a harp in a box, like a real piano.”
“Sounds perfect to me. Are you going to play a song?” She smiles coquettishly, a silhouette with hand on hip against the firelight shining from the vesicle door of a teepee.
“If you like. Fingers take time to warm up at night.” He flexes his digits and they crackle loudly in the moonlight before striking chords marking the beginning of a tune. “This is called ‘Dolphin Girl’”.
“Eye went down to the pool last night, the water calling to my heart and there amid the silv’ry pools eye saw the crystal waters part.
“Her siren song pierced through my dreams, she sang unto the stars above, she rose up from the silken pool as she opened up her heart to love.
“I’m in love with the dolphin girl but she’s in love with the sea;
“I want to dive into that pool of light to be with she.
“And she sang; ‘Know thyself, no excess, stranded brother, you are blessed and free.
“’Know yourself, sweet success - landed lover, you are blessed with me’…” He plays a riff, improvising between verses as two more hippie princesses appear out of the darkness.
“Sounds great! Hi!” Their eyes gleam, quadruple half-moons flashing in the night. “Don’t stop!” The second verse begins.
“Crystals came into my hands and through the river came this song, the rhythm of the night played through our art and nature’s starlit throng.
“A brilliant flashing storm of light ‘neath soundless night and silent sky, lights a-flashing in the crystals, lightning blazing in our eyes.”
“I’m in love with the dolphin girl but she’s in love with the sea;
“Want to dive into that pool of light and be with she.
“And she sang, ’Know thyself, no excess, landed lover, you are blessed with me;
“‘Know yourself, sweet success, stranded brother – you are blessed and free.’” The girls sway to the rhythm as the song winds round the chords to its conclusion. “More,” says the girl by his side, bumping her hip against his thigh, teeth gleaming and he starts a new refrain with a baroque beat redolent of Bach. After a few more songs they warm themselves around the blazing wattle and gum branches. Here in the rainforest firewood is imported by the trailer-load for the impending party; the rainforest sprouting all over the hills and creek sides won’t burn unless you napalm it – and even then it would only smolder. Eucalypt wood, on the other hand, flames hotter and brighter than dry pine. Eucalypt forests burn like blazes. Being pyrophytic – fire friendly - they burn easily and often.
Smoke rises from the teepee and circulates around the circle of seekers within as pots cook soup and pop popcorn on a grille mounted on a circle of stones surrounding the fire pit. Drummers caress and pound the skins of variegated drums, congas and bongos, concentration marking their faces as they maintain the ever-changing beat. A woman turns from the small bubbling cauldron and holds a piece of silver cutlery in front of Ram’s face.
“Want a fork?” She asks with one eyebrow arched.
“Aye, thanks - but I’ve already eaten…” he replies. She turns away, unimpressed by his equivocation and catches the eye of another young woman watching from across the fireplace. “Want a fuck?” she says under her breath, pretending to believe he cannot hear her.
“The song ever changes yet remains the same,” says a platinum-haired man in vest and sarong seated by the door flap to no-one in particular before turning to Ram, who sits on the other side of the door. “Greetings, wayfarer. I hight Mark – and ye be?” He grasps the prince’s forearm and he reciprocates, smiling.
“Ram.”
“Ah.” Mark’s gaze fixes adamantine upon Ram’s. “Hare Ram!”
“Boum boum boulee”, the prince smiles a reply and passes flaming flowers to him.
“Do I know you?” Mark leans across, inclining his head. “Have I seen you at the Rainbows? Or at Byron?”
“Possibly. But not recently.”
“You know the Earth thing, don’t you? The way the word works? Why don’t you tell these princesses? I’ve been trying to remember it.” There is a sudden lull in the drumming as bowls of steaming vegetable stew are passed around and all eyes are upon him. The herb circulates.
“There are many ‘Earth things’,” he begins cautiously, “but this may be the one you mean; If you imagine the word ‘earth’ written in a circle (he draws a ring before him in the air, regarding them through it), ‘E – A – R – T – H’, there is at least one sentence hidden in the word. If you start with ‘H’ and read your way around, it spells;
‘Hear the art, art heart hearth Earth.’” He sees the thought going around them as they contemplate this. “All languages are magical and English is no exception.” The fork woman prepares to speak.
“You gonna pass that?” One of the drummers nudges Mark. “That was a nice Bob Marley riff you were playing,” Mark replies. “I saw him play once, in Barbados and another time in the States.”
“Eye heard him in Adelaide in the ‘70s,” replies Ram. Images of their meeting flood his awareness momentarily, Bob sitting all alone in an artificial cage in a Rundle Mall nightclub, jittery and nervous, surrounded by strange white faces until Ram passed him the local. “Not long before he died.”
“Hail the Bringer,” chants Mark, “The Bringer of Light!”
“Gateh Gateh, Para gateh, parasme gateh, bode svaha”, Ram completes the consecration. They translate together, in stereo, for the three fairy witches in jeans and dresses, leaning forward to hear their words over the pounding percussion.
“Gone, Gone, Gone Beyond,” they chant,”Beyond Beyond, Hail the Goer.”
Later, past midnight, a blonde beauty shares her mattress with him in a miraculously near-empty teepee. They watch the fire, spooned together with his arms wrapped around her on the narrow bed until the others are sleeping soundly in sleeping bags. Her thigh-length locks swirl around their bodies as her hands reach down behind her, raising her skirt and pressing her heat into his. After a moment she squeezes her fingers between them, stroking the down on his naked belly while deftly unbuttoning and unzipping him in a continuous fluid motion. She gasps at the touch of his scepter against her fingertips, the electric charge sparking through them both before she clasps her hand around him, fingers reaching two-thirds of the way around his girth. He sheds his shirt and trousers with a few economical shrugging motions while she holds him in a firm grip beneath a woolen blanket.
Neither of them is wearing underwear and no further foreplay is needed after an hour of caresses and surreptitious stroking, while they kept up a bland front and voiced their parts in the fading teepee conversation. In a moment she shows him just how ready she is for him, thrusting her hips back in an excruciatingly slow motion, stretching around the swollen head and clenching and saturating his length millimeter by millimeter until her pale mounds barely graze his underbelly, then changing angle and bearing down with a suppressed moan until their fur mingles. She holds him still, her hands gripping his hips tightly behind her as she slowly swims backward and forward on the mattress, her breath coming more quickly, matched by the slowly increasing tempo of her serpentine undulations. Her skirt runs up her body, bunching beneath her arms and exposing her long, white flesh to the flickering tongues of firelight as their blanket slides away unnoticed. Her mating dance is not serpentine, he realizes, but comprised of more delphinine movements. She swims and flows against him, her legs pressed tightly together to hold his manhood even more tightly between thigh muscles that flex up into her belly, her taut swelling lips stretching tightly around as she swims with him, a bucking, fucking dolphin.
Her radiance sears his chest, belly and thighs time and again as she flows back and back, their sweat and fluids mingling in the night, surrounded by half a dozen dreaming sleepers. As her breath and motion quickens he begins to move, matching his rhythm to her own. She flings her skirt over her head, losing all pretense of silence as her gasps become a single moan rising and falling with the flow of their union. She grabs his hands and draws them to her young straining breasts, tight and full with button nipples thrusting against his palm while she holds her hands over his. Her hair flows around and between them, clothing their limbs as her moans flow together into a single ululation and she squeezes down, his divine milk-maid gripping tightly over and over as she comes in a flood that drenches him, pressed together full-length by the fire, stretching to become one beyond the naked body, the naked soul. Searing flame snakes upward through him, filling him and bursting from his brain as he resonates with the orgasm raging through her, feeling what she feels.
Her golden, red-flamed hair can’t hide the blush spread across her belly, breasts and the equine throat he is gently kissing when someone bursts into the teepee, a shadow frozen between them and the fire. The stranger pauses, staring at the erotic tableau as her bellowing breath fills the air with fluttering sighs and her eyelids flicker over rolling eyes flashing in the orange light. She opens her eyes and stares right back with a mischievous grin, her tongue stroking her lower lip as she begins to move once again, still locked around her prince, who is ever-ready for her pleasure.
The stranger continues to watch, absolutely still and silent, and after another few minutes their rising passion blinds the lovers to his presence. She screws the vise of her long body around her mate to face him, forgetting all else as she pulls him down upon her, heels pressing into his buttocks and steering his motion until the flame rises within her again and volcanoes from her loins, breasts, lips and eyes. Then she gently mounts and rides him to an ongoing ecstasy that lasts for hours. Not long before dawn the stranger feeds wood into the fire and departs, voyeurism finally sated.
Watching her come repeatedly, breasts bouncing above him and hair flying and whipping at his limbs, Ram is able to see her face clearly for the first time. The girl strokes him with her fingertips, rocking back and forth as her eyes remain locked to his. She only loses focus at the unending moment of her explosion and then, reeling, meets his gaze again. And again. In all this time neither has said a word. An unexpectedly gorgeous young woman is engorging herself upon him, smiling down upon him wickedly as they fill each other’s world, existing in a bubble of bliss.
He doesn’t know her name.
As the first false dawn begins to pale the sky outside the teepee entrance, they become aware of other bodies moving in the warm half-light of the coals. Three more pairs of interlocked lovers are demonstrating various volumes of bliss as she wraps them in the blanket and takes his hand, leading him outside into the field and leaning her head on his shoulder as they stroll to the river. The moon has long since set, the stars are fading and Venus shines bright above the high stone scarp. A tiny bird trills as the promise of dawn limns the dew-dropped world in a mantle of magic and she drops the blanket, climbing down carefully into the platypus pool where she stands amid ripples that caress her thighs, facing him. She is inexpressibly beautiful; she actually glows slightly in the darkness, a pearly mist flows around her body, illuminated from within. His eyes caress her body.
Then he hears her speak – in words – for the first time.
“Brother”, she breathes, “lover… all my love to you. I can’t stay.”
Before he can reply she turns, raises her arms above her head and dives into the rock pool. Her feet emerge for a moment in the dimness, toes twisted together, and then corkscrew down into the black water.
A minute later he hears a splash that stands out amid the plashing of the creek and sees her for the last time, emerging from the opposite side of the pool and climbing the rocks there, into the scrub. She’s unlike anyone he’s ever dreamed of, yet utterly familiar.
Just before she disappears behind rainforest shrubs she flashes him her quirking smile, then turns, laughs and languidly waves her delicious derriere at him, side to side. Then she is gone and he is alone, imbibing the scent she has left him, a cloud of funk and cooling liquids within the blanket that are all that’s left to show him she was not a dream. He moans deeply, already knowing how delicious and perilous it will be, wondering about her and longing for her; unable, for a while, to move.
He retrieves his clothes from the once more quiet teepee of dreamers and prepares another bed as the sun prepares to rise, wondering how he could be so charmingly foolish to have failed to ask her name…
Fucked up ain't it? But hey, that's what happens in life.
I played pinball while I waited for this to upload... how awesome am I?
very.
Even though they had just met, never mind the fact he was old enough to be her father, she yearned for him with just a great passion. He knew he wanted her too. As luck would have it her little car was not going to be able to brave the roads outside. They were snowed in.
Of course the formalities were spoken,"You can sleep on my couch," but as soon as his door closed he grabbed her in one swoop of his strong arm and kissed her hard on the mouth. He awoke every nerve in her body, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She grabbed the sides of his head and pulled him in closer. Feeling his knee slide between her legs, she pressed her body even harder, ever closer, to his. A left hand cupped her ass as he thrust his lower abdomen to hers, so she can feel his swelling member.
A hand slid down her jeans curving around her front. His palm neatly placed over her greatest secret as his fingertips, aged and rough from work of a lifetime, soother her worries away as they searched out her most precious possession.
A sigh escaped her lips and he knew he had her...
Scooping her onto the bed she helped him out of his shirt. Battle scars decorated his chest and arms.
Captivated for a moment at what possible stories they much represent, until he kissed her again. She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and slid down his jeans. Quicker than instant coffee he was in her. His passion so great, his thrusts so sure, his strength so strong, he rocked her with such a fervor that she had to place her hand on the headboard to counteract it.
The deeper he went the more she became his slave. Calling out his name, her Creator's, calling him her Creator, crying out for more. And he gave it to her... For hours. When she though that she couldn't take any more, his pace would slow and she would find a whole new reason to scream.
The tightening of her insides was to his liking and he went faster, faster, faster. Gripping onto the sheets, she braced herself for the fucker of all orgasms. When it came it was like a saturation of excitement, feeling and a high all rolled into one. It was so intense, no drug manufactured on the earth could even hope to duplicate it. What she felt, she could see on his face. He was ready to come.
Few people are so aware of their bodies they can feel everything in places the majority is numb to. She was one of those few. Every bit that left him and entered her was felt. Her body shook with the impressive load coming from this man and it excited her. With a heavy breath, he finished and fell weak next to her. All energy drained, she just curled up in the blankets and dreamed. Dreamed of the man she loved who was overseas who was no doubt doing the same. She looked over to the nightstand and saw a picture of guy she just laid with a woman--both looked very happy. She knew his dreams as well.
