Masturbation only went so far with a body as hungry for sex as Jeni’s was. She let out a muffled shriek, as her body swooned again. Celia’s mouth and teeth were glued to a tit, while her fingers teased her clitoris and moved deeper into her sex. Arousal quickly built to another enormous crescendo. “Oh yes…perfect…more…” she cried out. Suddenly, in an instant, the staggering climax hit. She spasmed hard against Celia’s hand, feeling as if her cumming body wouldn’t stop.
She’d awakened from a terrible slumber. Her body was done with being deprived and was now so fiercely aroused that there was no coming down from the physical high – not yet. Her skin craved even the slightest touch. Everything, from the silky sheets to the fragrance of Celia’s crotch to the lusty way the redhead kissed her lips, everything added to the cresendoing demands of her body.
As she writhed back and forth, the momentum built one more time, almost desperately this time. Inspired by Jeni’s raunchy exhibition, Celia abruptly plunged nearly all of her hand inside Jeni’s cunt. She was as close to being fisted as she’d ever been. Like a storm roaring through her, the orgasm continued for some time as Celia fucked her with a force that matched a man’s hard driving erection.
“That’s it, little girl. You come for me.” Her voice was low and sultry and she spoke with clear resolve. “Yes, you come for me, slut. You come hard. Cause when you’re done, you’re going to use that pretty mouth of yours to get me off.”
The woman talked ‘Domme speak’ with effortless ease, as if she’d spoken with the same dominant fervor many times before. Jeni loved the conviction in her voice, but strangely, it was Jack’s face that suddenly appeared before her inner eyes. Why now? A reminder that Celia was not the dominant force to which she owed her devotion? Perhaps.
The fury of the lovemaking continued with repeated kisses, with more of Celia’s hand ramming into Jeni’s cumming cunt, until at last, the heat receded and the spasms dwindled. Their bodies pressed together, Jeni’s white skin against Celia’s tawny flesh. Tits to tits and cunt to cunt, wiggling and writhing as if they longed for cocks to satisfy deeper urges that women couldn’t satisfy on their own. Jeni felt it. She imagined that Celia did too.
There was something lovely and yet sadly pointless about their yearning bodies and how they moved in unison. They could go to the ends of the earth with each other and not touch that mysterious inner realm that yearned to be released – the place only a man’s cock seemed to satisfy. They weren’t so much lesbians as lovers in limbo, waiting for that conquering hero from the world of men to arrive and sweep them into a place where their deepest sexual needs would be fulfilled. So much for 21st century feminism.
It was too bad that longing for what wasn’t there took their minds away for even an instant, because for that amazing hour of loving they had something special. They would always lust for the other, and would think fondly of the moments they shared in Celia’s bed in Arles. They’d remember looking out the window to the clear blue sky and the rooftops of the old town. They’d remember the feel of hands, and perhaps the taste of wine on each other’s lips. For Jeni, there’d be the memory of Celia’s cunt, its sweet taste and the scent of her perfume, the feel of that delicate skin against her tongue.
Juices flowed into Jeni’s mouth as Celia came. She thought of a cock joining her there at that moment. No matter that the image didn’t make much sense, there was something missing in this scene neither could give the other. Regardless of the time they’d carved out for themselves in this beautiful part of an ancient world, for Jeni it wasn’t spent with Celia alone. Perhaps, just as Jack was in her thoughts, Phillip, the dreamy doctor from home, was in Celia’s mind.
After Celia climaxed the two kept touching, though less urgently now, allowing their hands to enjoy a few last moments of sisterly affection.
“I can’t get enough of you…Damn, how I needed you…I wish we’d started this days ago.”
It didn’t matter who spoke; the feelings were the same for both.
As they emerged from the sensuous bliss of sex, they began to disconnect in more than just the physical sense. The fantasy receded. They had other matters on their minds.
“You have a boyfriend, don’t you?” Celia asked when she finally lay back against the bed and sighed. Her hand played with Jeni’s hair, while Jeni’s head rested on Celia’s stomach feeling the soft rise and fall of her lover’s breath.
“Not exactly,” she answered carefully.
“But you have someone to go home to?”
I’ll be here when you get back…she recalled Jack’s email. “Yes, I think I do.”
“Good for you, girl.”
“And that man you talked about. Phillip? He’s real?” Jeni asked.
“Oh, yes, in the flesh real.” Celia shifted her weight, her eyes lighting, and the two rose up and sat facing. Celia’s smile was the warmest and loveliest yet, eliciting a warm smile from Jeni in return.
“I’m glad. I like to think of you with a lover.”
“And you’ll have your lover, too.”
“It would be a big first for me since…” her mind checked out and she didn’t finish her thought, and wouldn’t. Rising from the bed, she moved to the table and brought back the plate of food and the second bottle of wine. “So, how did you know? I mean, about there being a man in my life?”
Celia chuckled. “I read a lot in those eyes of yours, the way they vacate for a time, off to somewhere else. Usually there’s a man involved when I see that look.”
Of course. The same far off look she’d seen in Celia’s eyes.
Small talk followed. But nothing about her on-line lover or sexual fantasy that was worlds beyond normal. No mention of master and slave, whips, chains, collars and bondage. They ate their cheese and bread and fruit, and drank the second bottle of wine – which was even better than the first.
When Celia shot up from the bed and found her robe, Jeni sat up, too, and grabbed for her clothes.
She was back in her room not long before her roommate arrived, telling tales of the dinner she’d had with her companions on the tour. They were both smiling as they headed to bed.
Jeni hadn’t heard from Jack in two days and she missed his messages. Finally, a new one appeared in her email the next morning.
“When you get home you’ll have to tell me more about being naked and staked in the dirt spread eagle. The temps have been cool here but warming up enough to make that scene possible.
Here I sit watching the morning news and thinking about all those exotic places you’ve been visiting. Makes me want to get out of here and travel myself. Although I’d be going someplace where there’s an active BDSM scene. Would be even better with my slave on my arm.
My battery is going dead, let me get charged up and I’ll be back. Jack”
There was a second email from the second missed day…
“I heard about the 3 day air traffic controllers strike, thought it should be over before you leave France, just what I want to do is be the bearer of bad news. Richmond, VA airport had a bomb scare and closed the airport.
By the way, saw a pic of a sub staked out in the dirt, rain begins. Before you know it the only thing that can be seen are her face and tits sticking out of the water. Not a fan of that one, too dangerous. And the cold water. I wouldn’t want to put my sub through that. I need some better ideas. How about some nice clover clamps on your nipples? Or a warm golden shower?
I was watching porn vids, nothing else to do while you’re away. The most creative ones are the lesbian vids, with some great ideas.
Wondering where you are today, which exotic places you’ll be visiting. And Celia? Enjoy whatever you’re doing. Jack”
***
What would she tell him about her night with Celia? The lust, the details or the guilt?
Yes, guilt crept in to mar the loveliness of the evening. As absurd as it was, Jeni couldn’t help the feeling that she’d done something terribly wrong making love to her friend; and if s
he took the feeling far enough, she could feel a twinge of guilt. A betrayal of her master. For heaven’s sake, he wasn’t her Master! Not yet.
The internet connection continued to be sporadic as the tour moved on from Arles for a brief stop in Nice before they left for the States. Jeni could already feel the tug of home pulling her away from France. She was tired and emotionally spent, and her thoughts so filled-up with more new sights that there seemed little room inside her psyche to take in another thing.
But there was more, and none of it she wished to miss – wine tasting in a 12th century cellar in the hilltop village of St. Paul de Vence, then the Matisse and Chagall museums. She loved wine and the ancient cellar, and the gentle buzz that seemed to sharpen all her senses. Her love affair with French art history couldn’t have ended better than amongst masterpieces painted by two of her favorite artists. As far as the Cote d’Azure in Nice, she was unimpressed and by then, really didn’t care. The beaches she knew in the US were broad and the sand soft, unlike the rocky shores of the Mediterranean. Who would even want to sunbathe along such a forbidding shoreline? The water was no more beautiful than the oceans and lakes of home. Home.
If she’d learned anything from the tour, it was that you need to go to the heart of a place to gain any understanding of it – even to appreciate its singular beauty. Jeni had done that in every place they’d toured. But there was not enough energy left in her for Nice. In truth, her heart was no longer in France.
After a long and exhausting day, she finally wrote to Jack:
“Celia and I had our moment. Over a bottle of wine and plate of bread and cheese we stripped down to naked and kissed. We lay together exploring bodies. The touch was heavenly. To be held and fondled, well, I have missed that so much. The orgasms…what can I say? Pleasure is pleasure in whatever form it comes. But I don’t think I’m bound for the world of women. There was definitely something missing – for us both. She has a doctor to go home to and I…well, I have you and me, whatever that brings (smile).”
She didn’t tell him about her feelings of guilt. Too soon for such confessions. Too close to the day they’d finally meet, when questions would be answered, the mystery of the other would be disclosed, and they could at last decide if the passion raised between them was real or just another fantasy. Her email reply:
“Okay, we’ll scratch “staked to the ground” for whatever you decide. Nipple clamps. Golden shower. We’ll have to see.
But just so you know, my mind is in a very naughty place right now, Sir.”
This was her last email to Jack from France.
His last email to her was brief:
“I’d say your night with Celia had a good end if you’re thinking of me not her. As far as your mind, something tells me that it is often in a naughty place. I like that place.
We’ll talk when you get home, Jack”
Part Two
Chapter Five
“Regarding our first meet – since I’ll be driving through mid-afternoon, the State Park you mentioned sounds perfect. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m good. I thank you for your trust, but it is important that you take whatever precautions you need for this first time. Just send the directions once you decide. Looking forward to it. Time we finally met. Jack”
***
The initial five minutes of Jack and Jeni’s first meeting were a rollercoaster ride of self-revelation, brutal honesty and unexpected tenderness. She went in with her spirits high and her sexual arousal clutching at her like a clingy but adorable friend. It had been hard to sleep the night before, and the long wait until two o’clock in the afternoon arrived was torture. Getting out of her car, Jeni recognized him some distance away, and her first thought was relief – he was actually there! Then as she walked along the path between roller-bladers, runners and picnickers lounging in the grass, her heart skipped a few anxious beats. His picture didn’t lie – he was the same tall and handsome, dark haired man from his photograph – clean-shaven, determined eyes, inherent strength. She noted his solemn smile and cool regard, and the polite manner in which he rose to his feet and motioned her to sit. Sit. This was good. She needed a moment to relax and take a breath. Jack in the flesh went far beyond his picture; in fact, almost the moment she laid eyes on him, he took the agonizing arousal she’d lived with all morning to a whole other level.
Within their first minute of conversation, he confirmed her expectations. Jack was friendly and easygoing. He seemed as safe to be with as the neighbor next door she’d known for the past ten years. But unlike that cheerful neighbor, she felt something bigger and darker behind Jack’s pleasing manner. She felt the force of his rooted, constant nature – he was solid, steady, and perhaps, most remarkably, his physical being radiated dominance and strength to a degree she felt from very few men. He made no grand show of the authority he exuded; it was just who he was. She knew he came upon this naturally, which was so much more attractive to her than Doms who affected a swaggering arrogance intended to prove their mastery. He had nothing to prove.
In the back of her mind – and perhaps his, too – she worried that on seeing him, the powerful attraction she’d nurtured every long and amazing day in France might crumble during that first meeting. What if after the initial glance they wanted to walk away as their raging libidos suddenly dampened in the cold light of reality? That would have been a hard blow after all the explosive sexual promise of the previous weeks. What a relief to find that didn’t happen. Seeing him for the first time, there was no doubt in her mind what kind of man he was. She fell in love with the substance of his character – not that she was in love. It was too soon to think of anything that serious. But she had stumbled on a man who could get deeply under her skin, the kind of man she could love if the circumstances were right.
Sitting on opposite sides of the picnic table, they looked into each other’s eyes, gauging their expressions and reaching beneath the words they spoke into the subtleties of this first real life conversation. It had been a long time since she’d been immersed in the rooted essence of a dominant man, which was as close to heaven for Jeni as anything she could imagine.
The sexual sparks were flying back and forth so fast that Jeni found it difficult to focus on anything but the physical experience of him. But all that suddenly changed when Jack’s demeanor turned serious and he began to speak about matters close to his heart. In the next few minutes, he shared with her his private pain, and she was swept into his story by the emotion that carried him there. She felt humbled that he would allow her so far inside his personal space with her having done little to earn his trust.
What he had to say wasn’t easy – as in downright awkward. And much to her surprise, his dark eyes teared up as soon as he began to confess the hard truth about his painful marriage. He spoke of that dreary relationship as if he really needed to explain himself – and perhaps he did.
“We were both into the lifestyle, so I thought I’d made the perfect match.”
“And this was a Master/slave relationship?” Jeni asked.
“It was supposed to be. But you could hardly call it that. When she was in the mood, maybe. Maybe.” She watched him think back in time and wince at the memory.
His bitterness rose, though there was little emotion behind it. More like a sad, resigned acceptance of the painful reality. And, of course, there were the tears he brushed from his eyes with obvious embarrassment. She fished through her purse for a Kleenex and handed it across the table.
“Thanks.”
“You sure you want to tell me more? We could let it lie for now?”
“No. I think you need the whole story,” he answered. “So you understand where I’m coming from.”
“Sure.” She reached out and took his hands in hers, and as she did, she felt the strength behind his grip, and saw in his tanned, muscled arms a virility that was just plain sexy. The candid revelations were personal and grim, and likely, a big leap for a man who kept his feelings close to his heart. That he
offered such a candid glimpse of his pain made her own heart open wide to embrace him.
His face seemed to darken as he continued. “She was ornery and manipulative, and routinely disobedient for a woman who was supposed to be an obedient slave. Might have led to some pretty hot correction scenes if she’d allowed it. But she’d get weird if I tried to punish her. She was high strung. High maintenance. And I married her for crissakes! Yeah, the sex was hot, when she bothered to get into it. But that was rare. And it got much worse the longer we were together.”
“How long was that?”
“Ten years.” A long time. “I could see the writing on the wall after the first five, but I hung on, hoping…”
“I think it’s common to hang on. You want to hold out hope that things will change.”
He shrugged and shook his head despairingly. “She wanted to start playing with other Doms. I wasn’t too happy about that, but at least at the start, it seemed pretty harmless. Just dungeon scenes, nothing private, at least that I knew about. Then there was the shitload of my cash she went through so fast, I didn’t have a clue about it until the account was empty. When I started the divorce – which I knew she wanted too – she put up more roadblocks than the highway department in summer. I thought I never would be free of her.” He sat back and their locked hands disconnected as he took a deep breath. “She said she just wasn’t into being a slave, that trying that had ruined everything. She tells me that seven years after the fact…? Ironically, she was the one who put the idea in my head in the first place. She was the one who loved the extremes and swore that she was ready to bow to me for the rest of her life. I knew she was messed up, but I never figured that she’d turn on me so…” he stopped, struggling for the right word.
Spontaneous Combustion Page 9