I rub Cassie and she comes. Imogen kisses her and she comes. They fuck and she comes.
There’s separation in the air. I can feel Imogen’s breath on me. “What a place, this is.”
Cassie is, of course, speechless.
“Sorry.” Imogen stops.
Cassie slumps. But she still responds to my working Imogen on her. This is not a choice.
“I’m going to keep fucking you. And later, I’m going to fit you up with Onyx. So you can really benefit from him. Between these two things will be a special place. Something that will be forever etched in your mind. No matter what else happens between us, this will be your prize.”
As she returns to fucking her, I know of what she speaks. I know what’s in store.
I can only smile.
Never mind Sting and his tanric love, with Onyx it’s possible to sustain an orgasm until unconsciousness arrives. And beyond, actually. Into a kind of somnambulant/coma/dreamstate. It would make for an interesting study.
Imogen doesn’t quite do this with Cassie, but close. Imogen is able to discern a lover’s capacity quite early with Onyx. She can tell what the woman can endure.
With Cassie, as she suggested, she’s got a natural. She takes Cassie to that high-pitched place, where orgasms’ frequency lives, and keeps her there. She mixes it up a bit, offers her the occasional respite, but for the most part, keeps her in the air.
Cassie, being the trooper she is, takes it all in stride. Endures it gamely.
But there’s more.
Picture this:
-My hands sandpapering Cassie’s nipples with workerlike Imogen’s. Buffing the peaked surfaces to a high-gloss. Oh, if she were lactating...
-Cassie, breaking off her kiss with Imogen, huffing and puffing through one of the gifted breaks, rest periods...and then twisting to me, the look of pure Love in her eyes just before she closes them again as she takes my mouth, the flavour of Imogen still on her tongue, and Cassie’s taste as well, as given to her by the same.
-Imogen, sparked by this, leaning and biting Cassie’s neck, gorging herself at Cassie’s throat, the tender skin there.
-And finally...
Cassie reaches around her, both sides around her, and grasps my cock. The cock that’s been fucking her lumbar region, the small of her back, that tight band of muscle that ripples on her, she’s in such tremendous shape. She grasps me and with her fingers enwrapping me she begins to masturbate me, up and down, down and up, and as she goes, her thumbs ride roughshod over my glans, doing some shining of their own, of her own.
How she does this, I don’t know. It’s not like she has the luxury of being able to focus on one thing. She’s locked in this articulated orgasm, she’s effectively making me via an extended kiss, and she’s fucking me with her hands, bringing me closer, ever closer with each thrust Imogen makes into her, with each swirl of her tongue against mine, with each march up and down my length.
“It’s your cock inside me,” she explains, our mouths still close. “I’m going to make you come just as you’re making me come...your cock, by Imogen, in me.” A smile. No, a wry grin. “Symmetry...?”
Fuck, I’m lost to her. There’s no resolve left in me. And Imogen knows this. She can see it in my face. It’s instinct to her. Contrary to the ‘norm’, nothing gets Imogen off quite the way me being affected by another woman does. Inexplicable, against the laws of nature... But then, we figure ‘Who studied law anyway?’ So she watches this, catches a glimpse of this, of all of this, and fucks on even harder, more pace, more friction, more fields...more orgasm.
This means, of course, that Cassie too, redoubles her efforts.
Me? I spurt.
I spurt high on Cassie’s back, I spurt all over her hands, and as I do I groan a monster groan, no doubt heard out on the seafront.
Before I can react properly...however that is...Imogen is in motion. “Perfect,” she says, pulling out of Cassie. She gets to her feet, grabs the woman under the arms and lifts her straight up. “Look at that,” she marvels. We do. I’m a mess. So is Cassie. At least the back of her. She’s sheets of cum, a vertical floodplain, migrating at gravity’s whim. “Just perfect,” Imogen adds, easing Cassie back down.
I know where this is going. I’ve been here before.
More precisely, I know where I’m going.
There’s separation in the air. I can feel Imogen’s breath on me. “What a place, this is.”
Cassie is, of course, speechless.
“Sorry.” Imogen stops.
Cassie slumps. But she still responds to my working Imogen on her. This is not a choice.
“I’m going to keep fucking you. And later, I’m going to fit you up with Onyx. So you can really benefit from him. Between these two things will be a special place. Something that will be forever etched in your mind. No matter what else happens between us, this will be your prize.”
As she returns to fucking her, I know of what she speaks. I know what’s in store.
I can only smile.
Never mind Sting and his tanric love, with Onyx it’s possible to sustain an orgasm until unconsciousness arrives. And beyond, actually. Into a kind of somnambulant/coma/dreamstate. It would make for an interesting study.
Imogen doesn’t quite do this with Cassie, but close. Imogen is able to discern a lover’s capacity quite early with Onyx. She can tell what the woman can endure.
With Cassie, as she suggested, she’s got a natural. She takes Cassie to that high-pitched place, where orgasms’ frequency lives, and keeps her there. She mixes it up a bit, offers her the occasional respite, but for the most part, keeps her in the air.
Cassie, being the trooper she is, takes it all in stride. Endures it gamely.
But there’s more.
Picture this:
-My hands sandpapering Cassie’s nipples with workerlike Imogen’s. Buffing the peaked surfaces to a high-gloss. Oh, if she were lactating...
-Cassie, breaking off her kiss with Imogen, huffing and puffing through one of the gifted breaks, rest periods...and then twisting to me, the look of pure Love in her eyes just before she closes them again as she takes my mouth, the flavour of Imogen still on her tongue, and Cassie’s taste as well, as given to her by the same.
-Imogen, sparked by this, leaning and biting Cassie’s neck, gorging herself at Cassie’s throat, the tender skin there.
-And finally...
Cassie reaches around her, both sides around her, and grasps my cock. The cock that’s been fucking her lumbar region, the small of her back, that tight band of muscle that ripples on her, she’s in such tremendous shape. She grasps me and with her fingers enwrapping me she begins to masturbate me, up and down, down and up, and as she goes, her thumbs ride roughshod over my glans, doing some shining of their own, of her own.
How she does this, I don’t know. It’s not like she has the luxury of being able to focus on one thing. She’s locked in this articulated orgasm, she’s effectively making me via an extended kiss, and she’s fucking me with her hands, bringing me closer, ever closer with each thrust Imogen makes into her, with each swirl of her tongue against mine, with each march up and down my length.
“It’s your cock inside me,” she explains, our mouths still close. “I’m going to make you come just as you’re making me come...your cock, by Imogen, in me.” A smile. No, a wry grin. “Symmetry...?”
Fuck, I’m lost to her. There’s no resolve left in me. And Imogen knows this. She can see it in my face. It’s instinct to her. Contrary to the ‘norm’, nothing gets Imogen off quite the way me being affected by another woman does. Inexplicable, against the laws of nature... But then, we figure ‘Who studied law anyway?’ So she watches this, catches a glimpse of this, of all of this, and fucks on even harder, more pace, more friction, more fields...more orgasm.
This means, of course, that Cassie too, redoubles her efforts.
Me? I spurt.
I spurt high on Cassie’s back, I spurt all over her hands, and as I do I groan a monster groan, no doubt heard out on the seafront.
Before I can react properly...however that is...Imogen is in motion. “Perfect,” she says, pulling out of Cassie. She gets to her feet, grabs the woman under the arms and lifts her straight up. “Look at that,” she marvels. We do. I’m a mess. So is Cassie. At least the back of her. She’s sheets of cum, a vertical floodplain, migrating at gravity’s whim. “Just perfect,” Imogen adds, easing Cassie back down.
I know where this is going. I’ve been here before.
More precisely, I know where I’m going.
