“You have such a sweet, pretty face that you couldn’t be butch if you had a penis,” she countered, whispering. "You’re confusing butch with sleek, fashionable and sexy.”
“Your opinion.”
“It’s the only one that counts, lover. Besides, your boobs are bigger than mine. That makes you more of a woman, doesn’t it?”
My breasts were bigger than hers – by less than a half cup size, but that was all. She was thin and firm and so was I. Did she just call me “lover?”
“I’m not your lover … not yet at least.”
“Give me a few minutes.” Her fingers went to my left nipple and her mouth to my right. She rested her face against my pert boobie as she suckled at it. Her other hand went down to my pussy. I could feel her fingers carefully parting my folds and sliding up my slit. Yes, I was already juicy.
Her midnight-blue nails were short and her hands were softer than I had expected. I remember being surprised that a very professional archeologist would wear nail polish at all. Her long, supple fingers probed me so carefully that I was sure she was mapping my pussy in her mind. She rolled her fingers back and forth along my fairly large inner lips, first on one side of my slit, then along the other. The rubbing and rolling of my flesh there felt fantastic.
I had known how sensitive my inners were from my own playing with them. I've almost cum a few times just manipulating them – almost, but not quite. Compared to me as an amateur, Dyana was a master at giving me pleasure through my inners. The sensation was in that delicious space between pleasure and climax. It was a building, but slower building, arousal. I thought that, given enough attention, she might make me cum just by manipulating my inner labia.
At the same time, her tongue was slowly, carefully circling my nipple, while her free hand was rolling my other nipple between finger and thumb. I couldn’t figure out how her one mind could be doing all these different manipulations of me at the same time. I didn’t feel a stirring in my groin or my nipples, I felt a stirring everywhere, which rapidly rose toward ever greater pleasure.
Her mouth and hand left my nipple. Her tongue slid down my belly to my navel, then continued to the hood that partially cloaked my clitoris. At the same time, a hand reached lower on me, and I could feel her slender thumb within my pussy, while a finger probed the rosebud behind it. Her other hand pushed upward on my butt cheek, forcing my sex tightly against her mouth.
I was having great difficulty thinking clearly. Dyana was in charge, and I simply wanted to go along for the ride.
I never considered myself to be a sub naturally; I always thought I was more the dom. But with Dyana, I was comfortably bottom. Maybe I looked butch, maybe I didn’t, but I was totally given over to her use of me, and didn’t consider how I might top her.
There were little bolts of electricity flowing up and down my outer labia, as Dyana continued to play with my nether region. Every touch, every glide of her fingers or tongue between my outer and inner labia was electrifying. I felt myself shudder with need all along my torso, from my groin to my upper chest. At this point, Dyana had control of me.
Two of her fingers were within my anus, and her thumb was stroking my inner lips. It felt WONDERFUL! Her slender thumb moved up and began to easily, slowly circle my clitoris. I could feel the ecstatic, orgasm-edge tension rapidly build. I existed in some Neverland between wanting the arousal to continue to build while more and more was done to me, and impatiently awaiting the climax. I was almost vibrating with anticipation and need. I wanted Dyana to direct her fingers to my clit itself. I wanted the focus of her attention where I needed it most!
Her fingers and thumb left my labia and the soft folds around my clit, and all of them concentrated on my little rosebud, the entrance to my farthest, nether region.
Now the area was free for her tongue to continue its journey, ever onward towards the center of me. I felt it slide around my outer labia, up and past the top of my vulva and along one side, landing again on the hood protecting my love bud.
Her tongue probed my hood and under it, as though she had achieved a complete understanding, a mental picture of the geometry of my pussy. Perhaps by then she had. I felt her talented, nimble tongue slide once again between my hood and clit, and then, ever so carefully, caress my clitoris itself, almost encircling it as she curled her tongue around it.
Dyana’s tongue slid along one side of my clit, around the bottom of it, and up the other side, ending underneath my hood. I quivered in an uncontrollable response to her mastery of me. I once again became aware of a hand that still played with, and ministered to one of my nipples.
My arms and hands had been thrust above me, and I hadn’t even noticed it. I reached down to press her head tighter against my pussy with my left hand, and play with my right nipple with the fingers of my other hand. All the while, Dyana kept control of my pussy with her tongue.
Moments later, in a rush that came upon me suddenly, I came with her tongue still lightly kneading my clitoris. It arrived so quickly, so unexpectedly fast, that my body seized in shock. I shook violently, biting my lip until I was sure it bled, and I realized that I had squirted like I’d never done before.
Within my anus, her fingers pushed up against the wall separating that part of me from my vagina, at the same time her other hand slipped into my wet, wet snatch. I felt – I think – a finger press against the front wall, at my G-spot, while she pressed upward from within my ass; I had never felt the likes of that before. The pressure in both places served to prolong the orgasm beyond anything I thought possible.
I gasped in loud, high-pitched, desperate breaths.
Her tongue attacked my uber-sensitive clit, and I began to rise to climax again.
By that time in our sexual encounter, Dyana must have been fisting my vagina, and almost fisting my asshole, because I could feel all of this pressure within me. But within and from every place where it was evident, the feelings of arousal and the need to cum built again and again to the point where I think I screamed louder than any time in my life before. I realized that the orgasm that totally consumed me would be disabling in its monumental power.
“No, no, no, no, no!” I shouted. “I can’t … I can’t … I can’t take … any … more!”
She lifted her mouth from my pussy long enough to say, “Hush, I am making you mine.”
And then it all happened again! I thrashed around beneath her, out of my mind with the intensity of the pleasure her expertise was giving to … no … forcing upon me. I needed … I needed … it had to stop! Yet I came again. Then again!
I had been blessed with wonderful sex with Tia, but this was mature sex on a completely different level. This was the consuming, disabling copulation of two women in the throes of passion – one fully experienced at lovemaking and one who had been physically claimed, and who was at least partially experienced.
Dyana was sucking and biting on my clitoris. It was so tender! The pain was acute, the sensitivity unbearable, the pleasure beyond anything I’d ever thought possible! I wanted her to continue forever, at the same time I thought I’d surely expire from the throbbing tenderness and agony in my sensitive clit!
“Stop! Stop!” I yelled. But she didn’t stop. Her tongue moved to my rosebud and circled it as her hands moved back up for her fingers to minister to my nipples.
My butt hole was resonating with the pleasure that I thought my clit was now too sensitive to handle. Then she licked upward toward my clit again, around but not on it, and I came again, then again, a gripping, tightening of a kernel of pleasure deep within my sexual center, followed by a tsunami of climax radiating outward from my clit and my nipples at the same time. Then I lost all conscious thought. I had no idea what happened next. I had become absorbed by sexual pleasure.
A while later, I lay in bed with my head on Dyana’s arm. I could feel the novelty of the short, tiny, sensitive bristles of hair on my lower neck, as they pressed against her. My little bit of hair was otherwise almost unnoticeable to
me. That, in itself, was so different than before. As I thought about it, I realized that I had always been aware of my hair. It was always there, flowing down my back, caressing my neck, blowing in the wind, hugging my face, tickling me somewhere. All I needed to do was pay attention, and I could know it was there. Now, that feeling was gone. The short hairs that were left provided me with no feeling at all unless touched. At least, none that I could detect at that moment.
“Except for the bristles on my neck, I can’t feel my hair at all,” I said, with a neutral tone.
“Is that a problem?” Dyana asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything at the moment. You overwhelmed me.”
“I intended to.”
“I think you got the short end of the stick.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I didn’t even make you cum.”
“I did cum, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know. How?”
“I thought of what I’d done to you, and what my hands and mouth were doing, and I couldn’t help but cum.”
“Without anything touching your pussy?”
“I was rubbing against your left leg; because you were consumed in the throes of passion, you never noticed.”
“I don’t understand how you could cum from what you did to me.”
“Thinking about it, are you turned on by my dominance of you, by my changing you to suit me?”
I admitted that I was, though I couldn’t fathom why.
“I cut all your long, long hair off of you, and you love it because it was I who did it, don’t you?”
In that instant I understood. Without hesitating, I told her, “Yes. You can make me anything you want.”
“I already have,” she said, “and as the days go on, I will continue even more. That’s what makes me cum.”
“Do I get a chance to help out with your arousal?” I asked.
“Of course. We have a world of sexual encounters to try. You’re mine now, you know.”
“You're proposing that you changed me to suit you.”
“Of course. And I'm not 'proposing.' I did change you – to suit me, yes.”
“Are you going to change me further?” I was mildly curious, but I found I really didn’t care. I just wanted the intimacy and the sex to continue!
“You’re very close to my ideal; time will tell.”
I didn’t realize it then, but my haircut was a harbinger of what was to come for me. Change. My life was soon to become an almost unending procession of change, which would take me so far away from what I’d been, that no one would ever be able to recognize me again.
Change was to come for Dyana too, but neither of us had any conceivable idea of what form it was going to take. We could never have guessed. Nothing about the historical mission we were on, nor its location, made us recognize any clues.
The changes coming to Dyana would be a harbinger for me, though it would be many years coming.
In this blissful moment, I was oblivious to any revelations, intimations or omens. In bed with Dyana, I had no cares in the world at all.
**********
At the end of the third full day, the final team member, Dyana’s Egyptian, project co-leader, Dr. Sagi Hawass, arrived by launch. The thirty-something archeologist was a distant relative of the former Egyptian Minister of Antiquities, Dr. Zahi Hawass. Dr. Zahi had fallen into disrepute when the Muslim Brotherhood had seized control of the Egyptian government in the late twenty-teens. He then rose to prominence again, and was now once again pushed aside by the current, conservative and fundamentalist, ISIS-leaning if not directly aligned, Egyptian government.
The Egyptians insisted the expedition be at least jointly lead by an Egyptian scientist, and not solely by an infidel – their words to the foundation funding the expedition. In fact, the Islamic rulers couldn’t bear even partial credit being awarded to an infidel, in the event something truly revolutionary was uncovered. So Dyana, the grant awardee, and all the rest of us, had to accept a co-project leader of unknown ability. In the end, I suppose we got lucky. But I always had my unproven suspicions of Sagi.
Based on my first impression, Sagi seemed aloof and a little into himself, if you get my meaning. I suspected from the beginning that he had an Arabic attitude toward women, but I resolved to get along with him. I saw from their very first moments together that Dyana and he didn’t seem particularly compatible. They didn’t “click.” I assumed time would tell.
Along with Dyana and Sagi, the lead team consisted of an American postdoc, Gilbert (Tex) Duffy, an Australian professional diver, Robbie Simpson, and myself, the most junior lead team member.
A couple days later, the ship moved out a few kilometers farther into the Mediterranean and we began work in earnest. As the youngest of the five senior members of the expedition, I was responsible for managing the exploration team of myself, two grad students, and a handful of over-eager undergrads, each one of which looked like she or he belonged in kindergarten – grade school at the most. At 25, I was getting too old, too fast.
My first task was to set up a survey grid, and assign survey responsibilities to each of the eight of us comprising the exploration team.
That meant I was going to be spending a lot of time being pulled in scuba gear behind a Seascooter. I suspected that it would barely ruffle my now dramatically short hair.
I still did a double-take every time I saw my reflection. I felt so unlike myself that I began to wonder who I was anymore. That feeling was probably intensified by my blossoming affair with Dyana. I’d been sleeping in her quarters, and everyone knew it. Like my previous affair with my lost Tia, the public exposure of that relationship bothered me some, but Dyana blew it off as our business, and she didn’t care how anyone else felt – especially any Egyptians with an outdated, provincial attitude about person-to-person relationships.
Sagi made no secret of the fact that he thought our behavior was too progressive for his world-view. I think he was personally insulted by the fact that Dyana and I were far more interested in each other, than either of us was interested in him.
None of the other team members, or the crew for that matter, seemed to care at all. Tex thought that our relationship was totally fascinating. The guy didn’t have a prejudicial bone in his body, even though I don’t think he’d ever met one woman – let along two – who were interested in other women.
On the day we moved the ship out farther, Tex asked me if I wore my hair short because I liked girls. I almost sprayed my coffee on him, and it did go up my nose. There was absolutely no malice in his question and my first reaction was that it was terribly funny. After I calmed down, I said no, I wore it short because Dyana had cut my long braid off before I realized what she was doing.
“So y’all wear it short for Dyana. That’s what Ah said,” he replied innocently.
I hemmed and hawed and realized, from his view and probably from the view of others, I was wearing it short because of a woman. But I wasn’t doing it because I liked women, though I did. I realized I was unexpectedly conflicted.
This had surreptitiously arisen and – in truth - had snuck up on me. I’d been in love with a woman before, with Tia, my flawless, champion high school sweetheart. This particular woman, Dyana, who liked my hair short, who had cut it that way to lay claim to me so-to-speak, had solidified my feelings of attraction to women, and my deep-seated desire to submit to a woman, because it turned me on like that, truth be told.
Gosh, I thought. Was he right? His innocent question didn’t have a simple answer at all.
This would require honest introspection, which I was in no way prepared to do.
In that moment of denial, I decided he wasn’t right, because I’d have my hair long if I had a choice. I determined to let it grow, just to prove my point. Having short hair, though, didn’t make me a butch lesbian, a term I never really believed in anyway.
I didn’t share that thought with him but I did tell him I liked guys too
. I admitted most guys liked long hair, but I knew there was a sizable minority who liked short hair.
“Do you think my hair looks like a guy’s hair?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Not at all,” he drawled. “It’s short, sure, but it’s very purdy. Ah don’t think you could look lahk a guy under any circumstances. Y’all have one of the nahcest girl’s faces Ah’ve ever seen. Your body’s hot too. I mean girl-hot. Wanna go out sometime?”
I had to laugh. “I’d love to, Tex, but I am in a relationship right now. It’s with a woman, but that doesn’t make it any less deserving of fidelity. I don’t need both a male and female lover at the same time to be fulfilled. As far as you and I going out, we’ll see what happens over time.”
“Ah’ll be rahght here.”
**********
The underwater survey and the excavation were absolutely incredible! They lasted for the first month, on-site. I not only learned a lot, but I got to use all kinds of great equipment. My team easily, rapidly formed a strong bond, and I was very gratified by our ever-growing sense of comradery and by what we were able to quickly accomplish. I did have one special undergrad whom I thought highly of. She was a smart, talented though naïve, pretty, slightly plump upcoming senior from Yale, Toni Pintaudi.
Toni worked 24/7. I never did find out if she ever slept. Her problem was that she was so uptight – all the time – about her work (which was always excellent), about interpersonal relationships, and about anything else she could think of. She had no self-confidence. She was a compulsive worrier.
Given an opportunity, I decided I would attempt to cure her. I thought she needed a good hard slap, and a refocus of priorities to get her to lighten up, and appreciate her own talents. She needed to worry about, or focus on something other than work. When time permitted, I intended to find that distraction for her.
Toni aside, our survey continued. Within that first month, we identified five sites for further probing. They were part of an Egyptian settlement that appeared to predate Thonis-Heracleion, which is directly off the Alexandria coast, by as much as 500 years. That meant that the site was 2800 to 3000 years old! In addition, we discovered three outstanding artifacts: Toni found a pharaoh’s head and upper chest that had been ninety-percent buried in the sandy, muddy bottom, with only the right side of the mid-chest visible; Tex uncovered a collapsed column that was barely exposed to the water; and I discovered the most surprising artifact of all, a two-sided statue that looked, as best we could tell, like a woman’s full pudenda on one side, and the same pudenda without inner lips, hood, or clitoris on the other. If it turned out to be what it appeared, that would mean that female circumcision had been practiced in Egypt for perhaps 3000 years!
Destiny Taken (Destiny Lost Book 1) Page 7