At last Sylvana did what I had wanted. She did me hard and fast. I grabbed her arm to encourage her to go even harder, but suddenly I could do no more. My insides tensed up. Sylvana kept going, even though I’m sure she saw the distress on my face. She still kept going. She pressed her fingers against my zumah. She pressed hard. I got mad. “Stttoooppp!” I screamed.
Immediately all action stopped. I burst into shattered crying.
Martha held and rocked me. Sylvana sat between my legs, her fingers still inside of me, her hand on my belly. “Cry, baby…crying is good…it brings our pain back to the underworld…,” Sylvana said.
Her compassion made me hate her. I turned over to Martha and crawled into her arms.
Sylvana suggested that we lie together on the bed as long as we wanted while she went to a room next to ours. We could call her back to talk, if we wished, or we could wait to talk another time. “Just don’t leave without saying good-bye, so we can have a formal closure,” she said.
I didn’t want to talk. I couldn’t talk even if I wanted to. My feelings were tumbling like rocks in a mountain slide. I felt vulnerable and exposed beyond measure. I don’t know what I would have done if Martha hadn’t been there.
“I wouldn’t have done what I did, if Martha wasn’t with you,” Sylvana explained later. “I wouldn’t have gone that far. Your body doesn’t know whether I’m friend or foe. It needs an ally more than anything else, someone who will stand up for her when she’s been stepped on. That is Martha. But you were sure about what you thought you wanted. ‘Fuck me hard!’ you begged. Well, that’s an old programmed rut that, in your case, lets your mind run over your body. Don’t worry, one day you will want it again, once you’ve pasted your parts together. Then you’ll be able to go as hard and as fast as you like.”
Each time we came back for another session it became easier for me to relax and let myself “be done.” It became easier to let go of wanting an orgasm. I learned to stay with the sensation in the moment and not grasp for something I didn’t even know. My body and I began to trust Sylvana as an ally and Martha became more and more actively involved.
In the middle of our fifth visit I was laying still on top of Martha, my flat belly perfectly fitting on her round one. Sylvana sat behind us, between our wide-open legs. I heard a new glove snap over her hand. I was so turned-on, yet I also felt an unexpected sensation, the sensation of “nowhere to go.” Martha rocked me up and down. I heard a second glove snap onto Sylvana’s hand. One hand played with my bottom and teased my bottom-hole. The other hand played with Martha’s clit and the entrance of her cave. From Martha’s increased breathing and loud moaning, I could tell Sylvana must have gone inside her with a few fingers. Sylvana slid her other hand inside my cunt, massaging me with precision. I pushed against her without tensing up and I pressed against my lover, my clit on her pubic bone. Martha was hot and moving, but wasn’t in a hurry either. Something deep inside my belly began to slowly split me open. My body moved, yet I wasn’t the one moving it. I flew in the air, yet I was riding the earth on my lover’s body. I felt fused to her. Whatever aroused me from inside fucked her, penetrated her, insisted I flood myself inside her warm, greedy, panting flesh. When Sylvana pressed my G-spot it didn’t feel sharp the way it had at other times. I grabbed Martha so tight she gasped for breath and stuck her nails in my back. Sylvana’s fingers took me again, and this time my riding, diving, flying, and pounding poured me out into a scream so long and so loud that I didn’t notice I screamed until it stopped. I sank on top of Martha. I cried. My body waved like a serpent waves out of its old and too-tight skin. I cried. I laughed. I looked at my love and my midwife in wonder, pulled them closer against me, and slid silently into a timeless, worry-free space.
One
E. Robinson
The rain pelted the window as if willing Lazarus to rise from the dead. It was the same miracle that I had desired too, to be raised from the dead. It was just how I felt, three weeks into a five-week business trip. Pent up and frustrated like a panther caged and not drugged, watching her prey escape. I wanted my drug.
I was in London, in December, shooting a commercial for a stateside snack company, with lots of special effects. It had been a long haul. It had rained the whole time of my stay. So there were weather delays and lots of standing around under falling water. It was Sunday around eleven o’clock in the morning. I was staring out the window, watching the rain and the tourists, skimming the U.S. papers and longing to be home. I had decided to go to the dining room that particular morning, bored of my own private room, as luscious as a suite can be. I was distractedly sifting through the English version of an American breakfast. They just don’t quite get the potato thing.
The small, blue, formal dining room was full but beginning to empty when I noticed a handsome couple seated over by the wall. Well, actually I noticed her. She was beautiful, in the way that I like it, wild, understated and simple, very little makeup. For a moment I wished she was mine, then I noticed her husband, or at least the man she was with. Like the good predator that we all can be, he looked up when he felt me eyeing his woman. He was handsome. Both had dark hair that fell loosely around their faces. They could have been siblings. He had a strong jaw and round brown eyes that invited you to play. I was caught. I had just been imagining her pulled down to the edge of my bed with me on my knees before her, face buried in what I imagined to be a lush brown mound. My tongue first flicking in and out and then lapping it up. He surprised me, and smiled back. A confident man at that! I liked this couple and silently wished them well. I forced my gaze back down to my paper.
Halfway through an article on the presidential scandal at home I felt a presence and looked up. It was the man. “Excuse me,” he said, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re enjoying Rachel?” His accent was faintly German, his manner discreet.
It was my turn to be confused. “Excuse me?” I mimicked.
“The woman I had breakfast with, Rachel. She was pleased that you became aware.” Well, all right, I thought to myself, I have become aware and it pleases the lady. I was wet already.
“Please sit down,” I said, and motioned for him to have a seat. He smiled that easy playful smile again while I scanned his hands for a ring. He didn’t have one. “And so you thought you’d come over and…,” I encouraged.
“Well,” he said, almost at a loss for words, “We are from Austria, we have been here many days, it is raining, you see?” We both looked out the window. The goddamned rain was getting to everyone. I nodded. We were silent. It was okay. I turned my gaze back toward the Austrian and noticed that he had gently placed a hand on his lap, which was visible as he sat back from the table. I couldn’t help it; I blushed and averted my eyes. “You don’t like me?” he asked, a little surprised. I looked in his eyes, which showed neither malice nor perversion, just a kind, easy fun. He didn’t move his hand.
“No, it’s not that,” I said. “I was just expecting a quieter day.”
“I should leave you alone?”
“No stay, continue, I’m fine.” He smiled and gave himself a little squeeze. So sure were his motions I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t imagining them altogether.
“She likes you. She also appreciates a beautiful woman.” His first flattery; I didn’t like it nearly as well as the unspoken, but I nodded, accepting. A semi-successful actress in a previous life, I had spent time in front of the camera, but I didn’t trust it. I must have grimaced. “But you are beautiful, as you know? Should I not have said?”
Nice, attentive, I thought to myself. “But what about your wife?” I asked. “You don’t mind my interest?”
“Wife? Rachel, no.” he chuckled softly at his own joke. “She is beautiful and I should be so lucky, but no, I’m afraid my boyfriend would not approve at all, he is very jealous.” This time there could be no mistake, he rolled the shaft of his semi-hard penis, which I could now see clearly through his snug black pants, against his thigh. He smiled.
; “Boyfriend?” I wanted to get this straight.
“Yes, I enjoy women but not nearly as much as men.”
“I see.”
“Do I disappoint you?” he asked, leaning farther back in his chair and stroking himself. I shook my head. “Rachel travels with us from time to time. She is good company but she is easily bored. She needs more than men for company.” He removed his hand. He was fully hard now, and I noticed for the first time the fullness of his lips. He followed my eye and slid his tongue along his bottom lip. We stared at each other a moment longer, as it rained steadily on. “Would you like to join us for a drink?”
I searched the window for an answer. He stood, as if it were finished. I hesitated a moment. He offered his hand. I took it. My female hand felt small in his warm, large, masculine one. It had been a long time since I had held a man. I rose. He released it, waited for me to pass and we left the dining room, which had suddenly become claustrophobic.
At the lobby, he touched my elbow and motioned to the glass doors that led to the terrace. “We are in the bungalow,” he said. I hadn’t even known the hotel had a bungalow. We walked to the door and I squinted through the rain. “There is an awning,” he said, and pointed to the far left. Funny, I had never noticed this discreet emerald awning before, leading directly out to a small cottage. The cottage was the same color as the hotel, white with green trim, and it had a small wooden side porch, facing a tiny English garden.
We stepped out into the rain. He sheltered me from the wind. The path curved a little so you couldn’t see the front door. About fifteen feet away he touched me on the elbow again. I stopped. He stepped in. Standing, he was about three inches taller than I am. He smelled clean and musky. “I would like to kiss you,” he said, and then he leaned in and did just that, tentative at first, but direct. Surprisingly, the feeling shot through me. His lips were supple and firm. He pulled me closer. I felt his erection swelling. He ground into me. I had one hand behind his neck, the other stroking his long cock. I felt unbelievably forward and aroused. We pulled apart, a string of saliva between us. He laughed, swiped it with his hand, and crinkled his eyes and said simply, “Good.” I smiled at my shoe. “My boyfriend, Stefan, he is jealous but simple, don’t be afraid, he will treat you well.”
“And Rachel?” I asked.
“She is a woman, no? Whatever she likes,” he answered. “I am Josef.” With that he stepped away as if the deal were done, and led me to the door.
He pulled open the screen and I noticed there were potted geraniums scattered about and four metal deck chairs leaned up against the house, away from the rain. A miniature painted glass seascape hung in the center pane of the door. He pushed it open. “Stefan, Rachel, we have a guest,” he announced.
From out of nowhere a handsome, muscular blond appeared, smiling and scowling at the same time. He had brown eyes as well, which for some reason pleased me. I don’t know, perhaps it gave him depth. He was shirtless, the top button of his faded jeans unbuttoned to reveal a light-brown trail of hair; he held a white rag in his hand. Josef took a step toward him, pinched his nipple, and let his fingers trail down toward his cock as they kissed. Stefan grew hard at his lover’s touch and now it was my turn to be jealous. I wrinkled my eyes and smiled. I had never been witness to such a direct display between men. Again I surprised myself by liking it. Josef eased himself around to Stefan’s side, so I could get a better look. I smiled and forced myself to take in the room.
The place was done in the same dark, gentle tones as my suite, royal blue, burgundy, and gold. It looked like the three of them had been there awhile as there were funky nude statues placed here and there, candles, and a large print of Dali’s Time leaning on the wall. I could see now that the place Stefan had emerged from was a small kitchenette. Josef and Stefan were still kissing. Josef was kneading his nipples, Stefan yielding. I moved closer and ran my fingers down Stefan’s rippled stomach, tracing the trail of hair to where his now fully erect penis lay smashed against his jeans. I heard a match light and looked up; there on the couch was Rachel, lighting a cigarette and watching impassively. She looked even more beautiful than before, having changed into a night-blue dress with a low neckline and silver chain. I traced the outline of Stefan’s cock to its head and then walked toward the couch.
“Hello.” I said, “I’m Beth.” She nodded and offered her hand. I took and gently kissed it, awkward but somehow fitting. She smiled.
“Rachel,” she said. “Please sit down.“ She patted the couch next to her. I sat. She offered me a cigarette. I shook my head. “You don’t mind if I smoke, then?” Her accent was ever so faint. I shook my head. I must have wrinkled my nose because she smiled again and put the cigarette out. She uncrossed then recrossed her legs, turning toward me and leaning back on the couch. She could easily drop her arm and touch me. I admired her slender figure and soft perfume. I moved closer and leaned back. “It is raining still, no?” she asked.
“I don’t see how the English can stand it,” I said. “It makes me feel like a caged animal.” My nerves were all jangly.
“And what animal would that be?” she asked calmly.
“A panther,” I said without hesitation. She dropped her arm and touched me. I couldn’t help it; I was aroused and anxious, and I flinched.
“You like to be petted,” she said, “and you like to chase.” She stroked my arm. I bristled, I didn’t like to be pegged so easily, and honestly I had never thought of it before. I started to pull away. She held my gaze and gently squeezed my arm. I breathed deeply. She smiled and peered further into my eyes. “Which is it that you like more?” she asked. I took another breath.
“That depends on who I’m with,” I said.
“With me?” she asked, letting her gaze fall to my breasts while stroking my fingers. I had to remind myself to be calm.
“This,” I said softly. “I like this.” She smiled.
“Good.” I scooted in closer and took in her beauty. I watched her eyes, dark brown and almond-shaped; her mouth, a faint touch of dark lipstick and a smile. I wanted to know this woman who was making me feel so uneasy and so good.
“Yes,” she said.
“And I’d like this,” I said as I leaned in to kiss her. I tried to match Josef’s balance of purposefulness and gentleness, with one hand on the couch, the other instinctively reaching for her waist. She opened her mouth and I fell forward, delivering small kisses at first, with the tip of my tongue. She tasted like blackberry wine and smelled of good soap. She leaned into me. We must have kissed for quite a while, dancing, chasing, and exploring each other, because when we stopped, candles were lit and both men were shirtless and pouring wine. I decided I wasn’t going to care about what any of it meant anymore; I would just go with it.
I picked up my glass and handed her the other. Josef and Stefan held their glasses aloft. We toasted each other silently and I moved myself closer to Rachel to kiss her again, and was pulled into her once more. Her lips were soft and full, her desire plain and uninhibited. Running my hand up her spine I felt her energy build and follow me. I slid my hand around to one of her breasts, taking a nipple between my fingers and squeezing. She let out a soft moan. The sound of her voice, female and willing, drove me on. I squeezed again, harder this time. She went erect in my fingers. She pulled me on top of her, sliding her leg between mine and roughly against my jeans; I almost came in the process. She laughed at my eagerness. “So like a young boy, no?”
I sat back, legs straddling her belly, and pulled off my belt, not wanting to grind the silver buckle into her skin through the dress. Sitting up, she took the belt from my hands. I kissed her face, the top of her head, her mouth—that delicious supple mouth. I love kissing; for me it is one of the most sensual aspects of making love. I can tell right away if it’s going to happen just from the kiss. Stefan, whom I had forgotten all about, slid in behind me on the couch, stroking himself, full erection exposed. I took another sip of wine, and before I could swallow Rachel reached
up and grabbed my hair. Fistful of dreadlocks, and she was pleased. She smiled and pulled me in. “I am thirsty, too.” She drank the wine from my mouth while I began opening the buttons on her dress. Stefan pressed himself into me as the last button gave way and her dress fell open. I leaned over her, tracing the outline of her clit through the lace of her plum-colored underwear. She leaned back onto the couch and stroked my hair. I undid the front hook of her bra and ran my tongue around the edge of her nipple, licking, sucking. Stefan slid his hands under my shirt and unhooked my bra, squeezing tight; electricity shot through, pushing me back into his dick. He laughed and unbuttoned my pants. I knew I wasn’t going to last long and wondered what had become of Josef, whose lover didn’t seem to be so jealous now.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw motion and there was Josef, naked and muscular as he approached the couch, full erection in hand, pulling his balls. He came up behind Stefan, who turned and took him in his mouth, taking him fully and swallowing while constantly stroking his own hard cock.
I stared down at Rachel’s beautiful slender body and tugged at her panties. She lifted her hips and slid out of them. There was nothing I could do but follow. I raised my arms and Stefan pulled off my shirt. My pants were now loose at my knees. I arched forward for her to touch me, to take my wetness into her hands. I wanted to taste myself on her. She started lightly as her fingers explored me, sliding in and out, smearing wetness onto my ass and thighs. Spreading my wetness onto her lips and breasts. Her fingers found their goal and plunged hard inside me, my body convulsing and rising. I pulled away, leaning back to lick my own juices off her breasts and then down her belly. My hands teased her clit and squeezed her nipples until my tongue found her whole and swollen. Ass in the air, I dove into her wet pussy, teasing with the tip of my tongue. I flicked and sucked, using my fingers to stroke my way through her beauty and into her soul. She moaned, her fingers once again entangled in my long, thick dreadlocks.
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