Spirit Lovers

by Fulani

  Cally passed him a plate of succulent cold roast beef and watched him scoop up buttery new potatoes and salad. ‘Balding guy? she said. ‘Really quiet wife?’

  ‘That’s him. Well, he’s offering us the use of their cabin.’

  ‘As in log cabin?’ Cally sipped her wine.

  ‘Probably.’ Marcus chewed thoughtfully. ‘Anyway, it’s in the wilds of Wales. His wife wants a couple of weeks in France for a change. I guess she’s more assertive than she looks.’

  Cally forced a smile.

  ‘It’d be a change for you,’ he said. ‘I can work from there as long as I go into head office for a couple of days. Sleep on good old bro’s floor again.’

  ‘Is there internet access in this cabin? What about my teaching sessions? You know I hate laptops.’

  ‘No problem. All mod cons apparently.’ Marcus swallowed more wine. ‘It’ll be great to relax a bit.’ He reached across and squeezed her hand.

  Cally longed to relax and pour out her feelings but just squeezed back.

  Later that night, as Marcus lay snoring beside her, Cally strove to recreate the scorching dream in which Dios had seemed so vital – so strong. But in the morning, she woke with a sense of disappointment. At least there was the holiday to look forward to now, even if they couldn’t totally forget work. She’d thought they’d have to miss out this year. They were on a strict budget since purchasing their dream house.

  Cally turned her head from left to right as Marcus drove through stunning scenery. They’d left the M4 what seemed an age ago but she was in no hurry to arrive. Spectacular waterfalls, snow-capped mountains and rushing rivers dominated the landscape.

  ‘Not far now,’ he said.

  The sat nav confirmed he was right. Soon they were negotiating a bumpy track dividing massed conifers. The cabin was minutes from the main road but you’d never think it.

  ‘I thought we’d be able to see the sea,’ said Cally as Marcus parked opposite the timbered building.

  ‘There’s a track through the woods, remember?’

  ‘OK. It’s certainly secluded, down here.’

  ‘You’re not worried about being here alone are you, darling?’ Suddenly he looked uncertain.

  Cally undid her seatbelt. ‘No way. I’m looking forward to lots of reading. And we almost emptied Sainsbury’s this morning ...’

  By day four, Marcus was turning into Nature Boy; obsessed with walking and rock climbing, even swimming in an unwelcoming sea. He fell into bed each night, asleep almost before she’d settled beside him. Deprived of sex, Cally still found such activity easy to resist. Lounging in front of the wood-burner was more fun, especially with wine and chocolates within reach. She raced through three raunchy novels and decided none of the heroes compared with sex-god Dios. He still seemed so real to her: real but unobtainable.

  Marcus told her he must drive to London later so he could go from his brother’s to the office early next day. Cally’s first thought, once alone, was that she’d have an intimate session that night. And she resolved to sit down with her husband on his return and communicate her feelings. But it was only seven o’clock. They’d had a meal around four and it was the loveliest evening since their arrival on 1st May. Why not take a little stroll on the beach and crack open some wine when she got back? She pulled on a fleecy jacket and set off through the trees.

  She’d only been walking a few minutes before she stopped in amazement. A huge tree, gnarled and impressive, stood just a few yards away. Why hadn’t she noticed this splendid specimen before? Cally just had to go and check out that amazing bulge protruding from the trunk. If the tree were a giant male, that impressive bump would be just where the huge penis would be. She stood there, eyes closed, hand encircling the wood, stroking and rubbing.

  Then she pulled her fingers away as if they were burning. What was she like? Getting it on with a tree? As she stepped back, feeling embarrassed, even though there was no one around to witness her bizarre behaviour, she noticed the shiny-dark bark. And the big swelling she’d caressed took her straight back to her dream when Dios’s powerful penis energized one of the best personal pussy sessions she’d ever had. If not the best.

  She changed her mind about the beach. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go there alone at night. You just never knew. She retraced her steps. But when she turned to look back at the tree, it was strange but she just couldn’t figure out where it was.

  Later, Cally, having finished a bottle of red wine, skimmed one or two pages of her book before clicking off the light and snuggling under the duvet. Drowsily she ran her hands over her body, closing her eyes and picturing the gorgeous guy with the cock to leave home for. Before she could even think about reaching for the glass dildo, determined hands replaced hers.

  Suddenly she was walking along the woodland track, just as she’d done earlier. But a flimsy white gown billowed around her legs and as her bare feet trod pine needles, she smelt a delicious scent. The splendid tree loomed ahead.

  ‘So there you are,’ she called. When she got close enough, she reached out to stroke that captivating phallic feature. At once, her hand began tingling. And then things happened in a hurry.

  Cally found herself soaring over the treetops, hurtling through the air so fast that she screamed. But two strong hands were grasping her round the waist and, as she drifted to earth again, all fear dissolved. Why not? She was held in loving arms and the man who’d captured her spoke in a voice cut from rich brown velvet.

  They landed on tip toe in a clearing. A tentative moon peeked over the treetops. And she was gazing up at a guy whose powerful physique and dark-chocolate skin begged her to run her hands over him then send her tongue back for seconds.

  ‘Hi,’ said the man. ‘I’m Dios.’ His voice would melt butter at ten metres.

  ‘I remember you,’ said Cally.

  Dios chuckled - a provocative sound that electrified her spine.

  ‘How can this be?’ This didn’t feel like a dream but it felt right.

  ‘You called me so I’m here.’

  She gave herself up to him. His kiss spoke of pleasures to come. He sucked on her nipples through the thin fabric of her gown. She ripped it off. He was already naked. Just like in the dream. That cock – that ebony tower of pleasure – that cunt candy. She wanted to stroke it, kiss it, suck it. Take it into her body.

  Dios’s arms, strong as an oak tree’s branches, were honed and firm, just as his thighs were, under Cally’s hands. He tasted exactly how pine needles smelt – he tasted of spring and of joy. His eyes, sometimes solemn, sometimes merry, told her she was beautiful. His hands, at first a little rough, even calloused as if he’d worked the land, were gossamer soft when they explored her most intimate places.

  Cally bowed to the breeze that surely must have lifted her from the path and blown her into the arms of this male deity. She breathed in the woodland scents and sounds, gazed up at a nightingale singing so sweetly. She heard the splash of a tiny stream babbling close to where she and her dream lover lay entwined. It was as if she was stroked by wild grasses, rippled by the breeze. It was as if the ground beneath sighed and trembled in harmony with her body as Dios explored every inch of her, covering her breasts, her stomach and her thighs with butterfly kisses. Deliberately ignoring the very centre of her, even though that was where she longed for him to be.

  ‘We have time. All the time in the world,’ he murmured.

  Somehow Cally knew he was right. And she relaxed. And let him take her where he intended … take her soaring again. But this time she knew where she would land. And the perfection of her orgasm, all the more surprising because of the tender, calm sensation it created, told Cally she was a most fortunate woman.

  She propped herself on one elbow and smiled down at Dios’s face. He lay quietly, as if waiting for her to decide where they travelled next. And as Cally straddled him, her firm breasts luminous in the half-light, there was that fantastic chuckle again. And she applied herself to her task wit
h such dedication that when his cock hardened under her stroking fingers and her cunning wet tongue, when he came just as she knew she could make him come, she felt triumphant, as if she’d out-mastered the master.

  At that moment, she ceased to be a slightly discontented wife, in spite of everything she knew she had going for her. She became Cally the wood nymph lying there with her lover the tree god. Dios was strong and enduring as the ancient woodland, tender and passionate as the young Romeo fashioned from Shakespeare’s timeless words, to live on in the minds and hearts of humankind all over the world.

  And when Dios began kissing her, really kissing her, hard and meaningfully, his tongue probing her mouth, stealing her breath and setting fire to her ’til she was melting, legs parting, cunt aching for his erect cock, aching as she’d never ached before, Cally took him into her, body and soul. She arched her back as he moved above her, in her and round her. She heard him whisper in her ears, saw his image smile at her in her mind’s eye; felt him touch her every corner.

  She wrapped herself in the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him and the thought of him. He drew the warmth in her core outwards and upwards, so it enveloped her, hurling her into the air so she shattered and re-formed. And she called out words of love – words so dirty, so daring and so delectable that she wondered where they’d hidden until now.

  When he cradled her in his arms, she sobbed.

  ‘There, little one. Remember – satisfaction is within your grasp,’ he said. ‘Open your mind as well as your body and know passion and contentment with the man who truly loves you.’

  The air seemed to throb, the mists were gathering – whispering like children sharing secrets – and Cally flew again. Those strong arms sheltered her as before, keeping her safe, just as she knew they would.

  She had no idea how long she slept. But when she woke, she felt peaceful, her mind relaxed and rested. And then she remembered the dream – remembered the wild abandonment and the joy of having her body played like a musical instrument. Cally sat up. Her solitary walk along the track was no dream. But how had she got home?

  She was pulling on T-shirt and jeans before she quite knew what she was doing. She hurried through the cabin and into the sunshine, determined to get past that strange tree this time and make it down to the shore: clear her head.

  Occasional shafts of sunlight split the dense greenery as Cally jogged towards the giant guarding the clearing: the tree that seemed capable of casting spells. She walked up to it. Reached out a hand and touched the knobbly spur that was such a phallic symbol. The bark was ridged beneath her fingers. Just like any other bark on any other tree. Cally shook her head and continued on her way. The shore below was soon within sight and as she jumped down the steps leading to the pebbly beach, she felt a tremendous yearning for Marcus.

  Why did she keep fidgeting – seeking sex toys and dreaming of ebony cocks when she had a lovely guy of her own? Suddenly it all became clear. If her husband lacked in certain techniques, then wasn’t she just as much to blame as he was? What would he think if he knew some of her orgasms were faked? What would he think of the phoney penis that helped her relieve her frustration? He’d be hurt. She didn’t want him to be hurt. She must heal herself and she must heal him.

  ‘Cally … hey, darling, wait for me.’

  She whirled round, wind whipping her hair across her eyes. For an instant she wasn’t sure who it was. But she knew who she wanted it to be and she ran back to meet him.

  ‘Good morning, beautiful lady. I had a hunch this was where I’d find you.’ Her husband bent his head and kissed her.

  His lips felt warm and smooth. Cally put her arms around him, stirred by her emotions. Her reaction must have excited him because he hugged her, held her close, and kissed her again, seeking her tongue with his.

  When they stopped kissing and stood looking at one another, really looking at one another, Cally saw something different in Marcus’s eyes. He wanted her, yes. But there was something in his expression, something she’d not noticed in a long time. It wasn’t just lust. It was desire but it was also love. She took his hand and pulled him towards the track.

  ‘I don’t think I can wait till we get back,’ he said.

  Cally swallowed. ‘You’ve only been away one night.’

  ‘Excuse me? Three nights.’

  ‘See that big tree …?’ said Cally.

  Something phenomenal had happened with Dios. So Cally feared sex with Marcus would follow its usual ritual. He’d be desperate for her. He’d be inside her, plunging away before she was ready. But she’d reckoned without the power of the tree god.

  On a bed of pine needles, beyond the clearing, Marcus waited for Cally to strip. She took her time. Watched his breathing quicken as she cupped her breasts for him and knelt beside him. Dense foliage sheltered them as she bent her dark head and began lapping. Cally heard her husband groan with pleasure; felt him leap under her tongue until his cock was rock-hard, standing proud; waiting for her. She took him into her mouth, licking and sucking until he groaned and jerked his head from side to side on the ground. Only then did she straddle him. Begin riding him.

  ‘Cally – I …’

  ‘Just lie there and let me love you. You feel so good inside me.’

  That’s when Marcus learned to talk dirty. Something he’d always found difficult to do. His hands reached for her breasts, cupping those luscious globes … rolling those soft nipples that he told her he could feel harden under his touch. He told her his cock felt as if it was drowning in velvet … wet velvet, slippery with her juices.

  Cally was already so close to orgasm that his sensuous words made her come.

  ‘Now I’m going to fuck you properly,’ he said. ‘And we’ll both come. But with you underneath!’

  Cally shuddered with pleasure, feeling dominated and desired. He turned her over, staying inside her, finding her clitoris with one finger while he pushed his cock still deeper … building a rhythm that quickened in tune with her panting.

  ‘I’m coming, Marcus. I’m coming …’

  And Cally felt him come inside her just as the zigzags stole her away. She shuddered beneath his body, crying out in sheer joy.

  And then he said, ‘My beautiful Cally.’

  They lay in each other’s arms then walked hand in hand to the cabin. Went straight to the shower and stood, water streaming down them, soaping each other until he became hard again and demanded she did something about it. And she did. Told Marcus she wanted to watch him come. Her relentless, soapy fingers caressing his penis and probing where she’d never ventured before spun him into an erotic frenzy. He called out to her, coming beautifully.

  ‘Now I know what really turns you on,’ she gasped as he spent himself over her already slippery breasts.

  They made love again after breakfast. Eying one another, they shot provocative glances – licking their lips until Cally loosened her robe and smeared honey on both her nipples. Marcus pulled her on to his lap, easing her on to his erect penis. She gasped in delight; so wet that he had no difficulty slipping inside. She was so aroused when he sucked the sweetness from her breasts that her climax was swift and raucous.

  ‘Now I want to watch you play with yourself,’ he said. ‘Upstairs.’

  Cally hesitated. Did he know about the dildo? But as they entered the bedroom, Marcus pulled something from his overnight bag. She took the vibrator from him without a word and knelt on the bed.

  ‘Part your legs for me.’

  And she did. Allowing him to watch her while she relaxed, arched her back and breathed rapidly as her body took over. When he began stroking himself, still holding her gaze, this mutual masturbation was the biggest turn on she’d ever had. She came quickly. And then she was begging him. Begging and beseeching him to fuck her. To fuck her NOW because all she could think of was his beautiful big cock ramming into her. Cally’s next orgasm rocked her, dismantling her senses then reassembling them as Marcus whispered, ‘I love you so much, y
ou randy, beautiful little bitch. I don’t know what you’ve done to me. It must be magic.’

  He moved down her: began sucking on her clitoris. Sucking so gently so delicately that she sobbed and thrashed around until he made her come again. Then he picked up the vibrator and watched her face as she reached yet another climax. And she imagined her cries riding the breeze and circling among the branches of the mysterious tree.

  Afterwards, when Cally got out of bed, leaving Marcus sleeping quietly, she noticed the pine needles pooled under the open window. She knelt, gathering the treasure in her hand.

  She breathed in the aromatic perfume. ‘Thank you, Dios,’ she whispered.

  With These Eyes I Do Not Truly See

  by Don Luis de la Cosa

  The Lower East Side of Manhattan is home to dozens of storied streets. The short stretch of road that retains a piece of its former glory only in name – The Bowery – is an epicentre from which the current crop of young, upwardly-mobile colony of sycophants has deemed their playground and most desirable living arrangements.

  Where once no end of infamies were committed nightly by sailors and all manner of roughnecks, horrifically similar behaviours are carried out with precisely the same frequency by habitual readers of Maxim magazine and the women who love them. They do truly sicken me.

  Life was so much easier when no one questioned the ones I killed. In order to dispose of one of these, title holders that they are, so much elaborate track dusting would have to be done that it was almost not worth the meal in the end.

  For centuries I’ve been watching the neighbourhood evolve around me, go through phases, New Amsterdam, New York, Dinkins, Kotch, Giuliani, and this new guy, and have survived them all, though I frequently question whether or not I should remain here.

  But tonight is a hunting night, and there are certainly still plenty of places to find fresh meat buried under the layers of Banana Republic, GAP, and Abercrombie and Fitch. Lately, I’ve been spending an exorbitant amount of time at one of the throwbacks to the dive bar era, mostly because the girls behind the bar there share one of my most salient characteristics: they enjoy sucking one type of life force from their patrons, while I enjoy quite another. Their job is much easier, I should think, everyone that comes in there wants to get drunk. Of course, the staff all know me by now. No reason for tonight to be anything other than a routine snatch and suck.