Happily Ever After

byadam applebiter©

"Pinch me... Ow!"

"You did ask me to."

"I did, but I didn't mean that hard, or anywhere that sensitive."

"Why did you want to be pinched at all?"

"To see if I'm dreaming."

"I think I'm really awake. So this... all this... is really real."

"It's real. I'm real. You're real. That wedding ring is real."

"It is, isn't it?" Kelsey admired her ring, fingers spread and arm held out. It gleamed in the moonlight.

"And this..." Eric paused to touch her swollen belly. "This is as real as anything ever gets." He spent a lot of time touching Kelsey's baby bump. It was pretty clear he was looking forward to fatherhood.

"I love you." Kelsey's hand pressed his more firmly over her navel.

"I love you." He kissed her. It lingered a long time. Long enough for Kelsey to slowly fall backwards, held by Eric's free arm, onto the padded seats around the bimini. "and I love you." Eric whispered to the taut dome of Kelsey's bare belly as he eased his way down her body.

Kelsey giggled coquettishly at his overt sentimentality, then sighed as his mouth found it's spiritual home, between her thighs.

The sail flapped noisily in the wind as the boat drifted with nobody at the helm. The newly-weds ignored it, lost in each other.

"Oh my god... Oh yes... YES!"

"Shh... You'll wake the kids."

"They're not asleep... oh my... They're doing what you're doing... only not... as well... Oh god!"

"You like that?"

"Yes... Now shut up and fuck me... Please!"

Parry shut up and, spurred on by Meg's very direct request, upped his game, putting on a spurt of energy that took Meg's breath away. His gaze fell on the juncture of their bodies and his glistening cock sliding in and out of Meg's waxed smooth, stretched labia. It was a sight he never tired of: Meg's ass in the air and his manhood buried in her quivering pussy. He'd thought all those years of gentle missionary sex had been good but now he knew better.

He gazed with unashamed lust at her tiny, puckered anus and thrust harder, bumping into Meg's cervix with each forceful stroke, making her gasp as she writhed on the bed, impaled on him. He let go of one of her hips to press the ball of his thumb to her sphincter.

Meg didn't like anal sex. She'd been persuaded to try it once and decided 'never again'. Parry, she said, would just have to content himself with his daughter's ass, or B's or Kelsey's. It wasn't a bad compromise.

She didn't mind what Parry was doing now though - massaging and caressing her ass -- because it always turned him on so much and, truth to tell, she rather enjoyed non-penetrative anal play.

Parry had been Meg's first lover. He'd been her only lover too, until comparatively recent times. All those years that he'd enjoyed her exclusively, he'd contented himself with her suburban, picket fence boundaries and made gentle, heartfelt love to her because that was what she wanted. Then Eric came to town. Ok, so Helen was really to blame but Eric was the first man to go where only Parry had gone before. And away went that picket fence morality.

Parry had always loved Meg but now he got to show her that love in so many ways he'd never thought he'd be able to share with her. Like right now, taking her hard and fast from behind, feeling totally dominant with her whimpering into the pillow and so submissively offering her body to him.

His cock throbbed as he watched his own thumb circling her butt hole, making it contract reflexively. He steamed into her with all the strength he could muster, wanting her to cry pax, wanting her to not be able to take the full force of his lust.

Meg could take it though. She screamed in exultation as her climax washed through her, making her seize Parry's cock deep inside her vagina. Parry had been waiting for just this moment. The pressure of his thumb on her ass increased sharply and the tight ring of muscle yielded. With a suddenness that took Meg by surprise, her husband's thumb was deep in her anus. He didn't miss a stroke, forcing his hardness harder into her hot body, using that thumb grip for balance in a perverted parody of a rodeo rider. Her climax just kept rolling on, surging back through her senses every time it appeared about to wane, until Meg was barely conscious. There was nothing left but the delirium and ecstasy as she yielded to Parry's total and utter dominion over her.

And darkness.

Meg's senses followed her consciousness into oblivion.

Slowly... Slowly...

The world came back for her. It was vague but familiar. She could still feel Parry deep inside her, but he'd stopped moving and the loudest thing in the room was his laboured breathing. Then something was moving. Not Parry but... Yes, it was Parry. Parry's thumb at least.

Parry had been concerned when Meg went limp, but not too concerned. It wasn't the first time she'd passed out during sex... not even the first time she'd passed out during sex with him... but he hadn't wanted to carry on fucking her because he didn't want her to miss his climax and, anyway, unconscious pussy is boring.

Meg softly broke the silence, with a resignation borne of long contemplation of this moment and with a hint of pleading because she really did want to be entirely his... "If you're ever going to do it to me... do it now."

In the past, Parry might have said "Are you sure?" In the past, but not now. He eased his thumb and his cock out together, leaving Meg's pussy gaping for a moment. He took that moment to watch her muscles contract back, closing her vagina, then he pressed the slick, cum covered head of his cock to her ass and urged his hips forward.

It wasn't their first try at anal, but the one previous attempt had been short-lived and quickly curtailed. This time, Meg was resolved to endure, even if it wasn't comfortable. Parry couldn't last long Anyway... Surely. She took a deep breath as she felt his cock touch her ass then forced herself to relax. There was a moment of almost unbearable pressure then, as sudden as his thumb, his penis was several inches inside her rectum, his hands gripping her hips for support.

"Slowly." She'd seen how excited Parry could get over anal and she wanted him to remember he was in virgin territory.

Meg needn't have worried. If she'd spent a long time thinking about this, Parry had spent a lot longer. He'd fantasized about this moment for decades. He took her with the deliberate gentleness he'd taken her hymen with so many years before. He wanted the moment to last. He wanted the moment to be memorable. He wanted it to go on forever. Meg's ass was the tightest place his cock had ever been and he was finally balls deep in it. He eased back and thrust slowly in again, letting Meg get used to the intrusion. Soon, she relaxed more and it got easier for both of them: Easier for him to thrust in and easier for her to take it. By tiny increments, he quickened his thrusts, looking for the comfortable limit of Meg's endurance.

He didn't find it. This was too long anticipated to last long. Parry's orgasm would wait no longer. He sprayed the contents of his balls up into her bowels with a triumphant roar.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing doesn't make you cry."

"It's just.... me being silly."

"Silly doesn't make you cry either."

"Are you?...."

"Am I what?"

"Are you bored of me?"

"No...." David pulled Rebecca's face gently up to meet his mouth. He kissed her firmly before asking, "Why would I be bored of you?" He guessed he knew the answer but he played dumb.

"Ooooh! Because! That makes things so much clearer." His sarcasm was offset by his boyish grin.

"Because I'm not like them!" Rebecca almost spat the words at him. She was definitely not going to let him mock her.

"No, you're not like them... But you are a lot like you. Which, incidentally, is why I'm here and not there." He tried for levity again.

"So you don't want Ellie or B or Helen?" So that was who 'them' was tonight.

"Ellie's with Robbie. Even if I did want to bed her, I'd never do that to a fraternity brother. B and Helen? Been there, done that, got the pin. Call me crazy but I get a kick out of having the mysterious girl that nobody but me has seen naked.... Ok, so Ellie's seen you too, but she won't tell."

"Really. Rebecca, it's not a secret in this crowd that Meg made a play for you. Not knowing what's so special about you is driving the rumour monkeys crazy." He was grinning like Alice's cat now.

"There's nothing special about me."

"You say."

"Ok, Mr Smartypants. Tell me what's so special about me."

"I don't have to wait in line for my turn." He reached between her legs, encountering no resistance as he massaged the cotton of her pants against the velvet of her labia.

"Gross!" Despite herself, Rebecca cracked a smile.

"And then there's your finger."

"My finger?" Rebecca was truly puzzled by that. Sure, her finger had played poke-the-prostate a few times with David but she was pretty sure that Helen and B wouldn't baulk at such intimacies.

"This finger." He lifted her own left hand up between them and suggestively stroked one small digit as if he was hoping it would get longer if he excited it enough.

"This finger?" Rebecca folded the others into her palm, leaving just her middle finger pointing at the ceiling, giving David the bird.

David seized the impudent finger between his lips, sucking hard on it . It was the moment he'd been waiting for. While Rebecca's attention was on his mouth, he reached under the pillows and retrieved.... Let's not spoil the surprise.

"Your finger..." He gave it another quick suck. "This finger right here, is just the right size."

"The right size?" Rebecca guessed he meant the right size for sticking up his ass, but she was willing to play along. He was doing a good job of cheering her up and if that ended up with her finger in his ass, that was OK by her.

"The right size for this." He slipped the ring onto her saliva-slick finger. It was a pretty good fit.

Rebecca's mouth moved but there was silence. She was definitely not expecting that tonight.

"Rebecca?... Rebecca, Darling. Will you spend the rest of your life arguing over décor colors and new drapes with me? Will you find out all my bad habits and try to change them, but still put up with me when you find you can't?"

"Yes." Rebecca had often imagined being proposed to. It had generally involved less words and a more direct question but David was doing just fine. She was crying again but it didn't matter.

"Good. Let's get married."

"Yes." The force with which she hit him, tipped David onto his back with Rebecca on top of him. Her mouth was pressed against his and her tongue darted past his teeth. David went with it. Rebecca didn't often take the lead but he always enjoyed those rare occasions when she did.

With him pinned down, she broke off their kiss almost as suddenly as it had started.

"Just one little thing." She flipped him the bird. The ring gleamed. "This is the wrong finger."

"Oops." David's apologetic grin earned him instant forgiveness.

Rebecca allowed her head to be drawn back down until their mouths met once more.

"Is that a shooting star?"

"No. It'll be a satellite passing over."

"I wonder if it can see us."

"Probably not."

"But some satellites can, can't they? Or is that just in movies?"

"Some can, but most satellites aren't for that. That one could be bouncing phone calls across the planet or just telling us where we are."

"I don't want to know where we are. I want to be lost at sea with you."

"Shoo!" Eric waved at the twinkling dot of the satellite. "There! It's going away now." He turned over to take a closer look at his bride. Kelsey was smiling indulgently at him.

"You're crazy, but I love you."

"I'm crazy? You're the one who married the AntiFeminist."

"You're supposed to say you love me too."

"I love you two."

"I don't believe you." Kelsey idly circled one of his nipples with a fingernail.

"I'll prove it." Eric raised himself and settled between her thighs. They spread to accommodate him and he took his weight on his arms to avoid squashing Kelsey's big belly. His penis nudged at her bottom until Kelsey's fingers guided it to the right spot.

"Go on then. Make me believe you." She'd already been made love to for over an hour and was still very sticky. Eric had made her come three times before he filled her with his warm seed. His earlier libation now lubricated his route back into her body.

Slow but unstoppable, like continental drift, Eric's cock slid deeper and deeper into her until he pressed gently against her cervix. He rested a moment then eased back a couple of inches only to slide in again. His eyes held hers, making sure he wasn't hurting her. She just sighed with the inestimable pleasure of being so completely filled. She'd never doubted Eric's love and never would. But if proof were needed... which it wasn't... then that proof would be the look of absolute adoration on his face right now. That couldn't be mistaken for lust.

Reaching behind his head, Kelsey pulled Eric down until their lips met.

There lovemaking was an adagio; two bodies moving with sensual deliberation against each other. The stars wheeling overhead seemed positively frenetic by comparison. This was the most gentle intercourse either of them had ever experienced and neither of them seemed inclined to hurry things along. Kisses lingered for minutes and caresses, light as the breath of angels, drifted glacially over erogenous zones, precipitating sighs and moans of mutual ecstasy.

Eric made his case well, refuting Kelsey's tremulous response to his very pertinent arguments and concluding his defence with the irrefutable evidence of his love, which oozed warmly between their cooling bodies as they rolled onto their sides, still coupled.

Kelsey never felt Eric leave her. She drifted off to sleep with him still deep inside her body.

Eric eased out of her embrace and lifted her gently off the deck. Kelsey murmured something incoherent as he carried her below to their cabin and laid her on the bed, covering her with a light sheet.

He left her alone for the few minutes it took to secure the errant sails, check that they weren't actually lost at sea and set the rather clever auto pilot to hold their position until morning. That done, Eric joined his bride in bed and, shortly thereafter, in the Land of Nod.

Bodies littered the moonlit beach. Their revels ended, most had not made it to their beach huts, eschewing the luxury they offered in favour of the simple comfort of white sand, stars overhead and the surfsong lullaby of the waves.

Helen and B lay face to face, sandwiched between a couple of Phi Kappa Delta's finest. The young men were products of B's social development program and would soon end up working for Parry. Many fraternity brethren had been flown in for the wedding, some as waiters, some as guests. These two had been here as Escorts to the Pantheon, namely B and Helen. It was their prize for graduating top of their classes and bringing academic honour to Phi Kappa Delta.

The young men were fast asleep, but B and Helen were still wide awake, communing through intimate touch and meaning-laden glances.

"What?" Helen became aware she no longer had B's undivided attention. Her lover was watching something in the distance.

"Aunt Tittie." B explained.

"So? She's a night owl."

"She's naked." B elaborated.

"Really?" Helen sat up so she could turn to see this for herself. Titania was the oldest person at the wedding and, although she was used to the casual debauchery of Eric's household, she had always maintained her sense of decorum. She had finally been persuaded to pose for Eric, for a study titled The Fallen Caryatid, but that was the one and only time she'd shed any clothes. That is, until now.

"Hi Auntie" B kept her voice low to avoid waking the boys. Tittie had noticed Helen sitting up and had come straight to them.

"Hasn't this been fun?" Tittie gazed at the naked bodies all around her and spoke as if she'd actually been part of the orgy. "It takes me back to the 60's." Then she seemed to notice that the girls were looking at her naked body. "I dressed like this a lot back then." her tone was wistful.

"Is that why you're in your skin? Old times sake?" Helen was never very diplomatic.

"No child. I'm going for a swim and I didn't pack a bathing suit."

"You should wear skin more often Auntie." B suggested.

"Nobody wants to see my skin, child." Tittie actually sounded like she was speaking to a child. "Not when they can look at you two instead." She looked down at her own breasts, small but so old even they had sagged. Her pubic hair was silver grey too and unkempt. The moonlight did make the silver in it shine but it wasn't much compensation for such long lost youth and vitality.

"Well I do." B said, getting to her feet and hugging the old lady gently but firmly, skin to skin from knees to neck. "A swim sounds like a good idea. May I join you?"

"Why not?"

"Helen?" B extended a hand and an invitation.

"Not for me, thanks. I'm too tired."

"We won't be long." B turned away and took Aunt Tittie's hand instead. Together, the two women walked down to the waves.

The water was cold at first but refreshing. B dared to follow Titania's example and plunged in, experiencing the shock of the chill all over at once. She surfaced with goosebumps everywhere and nipples as hard as bullets.

"Whoo whee!" She exclaimed, brushing wet hair back from her face.

"I used to bath in the ocean every morning when I lived in California." Auntie was having the same goosebumps. "But the Atlantic is too cold. I miss it."

"Well I'm glad this water's cold." B reached out and playfully tweaked one of Tittie's nipples. Old as she was, they'd reacted just as obviously as B's.

"Last time somebody did that, you weren't even born." Auntie looked suddenly terribly sad. Maybe it was the dimness of the moonlight but the shadows on her face seemed so forlorn.

"Oh, Auntie." B felt for the old woman. She moved closer, chest high in the cold sea, embracing Titania again and gently, ever so gently, kissing her. It wasn't a passionate kiss; B wasn't coming on to her, just sharing what she could of herself.

"Thank you." Titania murmured as their lips parted. "Time was... I'd have been the one kissing you."

"So kiss me." B barely breathed against Titania's lips.

It wasn't the most ardent kiss B had experienced, not even the most ardent she'd had tonight, but it hinted at something... Long banked fires in Titania's past were stirring and B felt it.

B made a decision. She reached behind her, disengaging one of Titania's arms from it's embrace and guiding the old lady's hand between her legs. "Would you wash me, please?" B gave Titania her most innocent look. It always aroused older men, she could only hope it worked on older women too. After all, Titania had made no secret of her sapphic preference.

Titania moved her fingers against B's sex, hesitantly. It had been so long and she'd never expected to do this sort of thing again. Now, here she was, cupping the vagina of the girl from that picture over her mantelpiece. She'd never told anyone but B's pictures and the daydreams they engendered had given Titania her first reason to touch herself in many years.

B reached out under the water and touched the springy mat of pubic hair that protected Titania's sex. In moments, her fingers curled against Titania's labia, just as the woman was touching her.

"Yes?" B asked... actually asked for permission.

"Yes." Titania husked. So long... so, so long...

Their mouths met. Their fingers moved. Locked in each other's embrace, the two women shared an intimate embrace in the cool, dark water.

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107-3 KISS-FM


KDQ-FM


Midas’ Wife

by Grace O’Connell

The blue vein ripples over bones, back of your hand,
those four straight chicken claws in your skin

I want to peel it off, worm off rainy sidewalk, to grip it
fat and hot in my tightened hand, pulsing

Watch it move, would it wriggle or flail? Perhaps smoother:
a charmed snake, a scrap bit of silk, streaming

wet off the edge of the table, where you lean, getting leaner
saying more, while the beautiful

part of you throbs dully, disappears into wrist, leaves you plain
save a washed out grin, you face running

away ahead of you. You wander off, one golden hand wasted
hailing cabs, stroking thighs,
digging grav


A/N: This story is set in the same universe as my major Kannazuki no Miko fic, Kannazuki no Shimai. Those familiar with that fic will recall that it's a direct sequel to the KnM manga, telling the events of the next cycle, in their next reincarnation. Since that reincarnation is as twin sisters, I suppose I ought to point out that technically this one contains incest, and anyone who gets too squicked by that even though it is just Himeko and Chikane should probably just stop right here.

"Well," Chikane said, surveying the room, "this is it, our home for the next year."

Himeko smiled happily. It was an ordinary enough dormitory room for first-year students at Kamiyatate University: two narrow beds, two desks, one bookshelf, a thin, rust-colored wall-to-wall carpet, and a light fixture in the ceiling. A side door led to the bathroom; they shared a shower and toilet with the next room over, though they'd have to use the public facilities if they wanted a bath. The nameplate outside the door, though, read, "Tsukuyo Asamiya/Hikari Asamiya," their names in this lifetime, and that was what mattered. It was theirs.

"Here's the last box, girls," their father grunted. They stepped aside to give him room to add the case to the small stack in the center of the room. He was a big man, a construction foreman with an unruly shock of dark hair and beard. The only thing he shared with his daughters, though, was that Chikane's knee-length sweep of blue-black hair was nearly the same shade as his. Her blue eyes and porcelain-pale skin, though, seemed to come from neither he nor his wife, and as for Himeko's blonde hair and violet eyes, no one had any idea how they'd trickled down the family tree.

Himeko could have explained it easily enough; she and Chikane still looked the way they had in their past lives as Chikane Himemiya and Himeko Kurusugawa, and probably in a score of unremembered lives before that.

"Thanks, Dad," she said happily and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You really helped a lot."

"Yes; thank you, Father," Chikane said formally.

"Well, then," he replied, looking from one to the other. "Are you sure that you want to do this? You could just as easily commute from home like your friend Marika will."

"We're sure, Father. I think this is an important step for us, the ability to live on our own a little bit before we step into life."

He glanced at Himeko, and she nodded firmly.

"That's right--and Chikane's scholarship does include free room and board, so we won't be a burden on you..."

"It's not about the cost, Hikari." He smiled at them both. "Your mother and I would miss you, that's all."

"Well, it is only across town," Chikane noted.

"We'll visit lots!"

He smiled at them. "I'll hold you to that."

They shared hugs, and then he left. As soon as he was gone, Himeko dropped onto one bed, squealing happily.

"Finally, a room all to ourselves!"

Chikane smiled.

"Himeko, we've shared a room ever since Mother brought us home from the hospital."

"But that was in our parents' house. It's not the same at all."

"I suppose not."

She reached out and took Chikane's hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, then smiled in what she hoped was a flirtatious way. Sloe-eyed and sultry wasn't really natural for Himeko, and it showed when Chikane giggled. That was good too, though; she never got tired of seeing the other girl smile or laugh.

Himeko pulled and Chikane tumbled on top of her. Their faces ended up inches apart.

"H-Himeko, we should unpack..."

Himeko kissed her. It was not a sisterly kiss, but long and warm and sweet, a gentle urging against her lover's lips. Then again, when one remembered how they'd had to fight so hard to find one another, through pain and horror, through violence and blood, guilt and forgiveness, it was no surprise that they weren't willing to surrender what they'd found just because the bodies they happened to inhabit in this incarnation were related. Maybe it would have been different without those memories, but Himeko didn't think so. Their souls had been yearning for each other through countless centuries, cycles of reincarnation, meeting, and separation, before they'd finally, finally found one another. Himeko couldn't imagine herself ever letting that feeling go regardless of memories.

Her arms closed around Chikane as she deepened the kiss. Chikane was hesitant at first--she always was--but she soon succumbed and was kissing Himeko back. Their mouths teased and flirted; Himeko nibbled on Chikane's lower lip and Chikane responded by flicking the tip of her tongue against Himeko's mouth, teasing her lips open so their tongues could meet. Himeko's hands grew bolder, stroking Chikane's back and the silken fall of her hair. She was eager and asking for more, to drown in the other girl's touch, but held off, not forcing things. This was their room now, after all, not a stolen moment where they had to rush to completion or risk running out of time, and Himeko wanted to make the most of it. It was nearly thirty minutes before she even began working Chikane's blouse free from her skirt.

She slipped her hands beneath, letting them trail up the sleek skin of Chikane's flanks. A shiver ran through the dark-haired girl at the touch; Himeko felt the flutter of Chikane's stomach. Her palms slid up Chikane's back, lightly tracing up the length of Chikane's spine until she reached her bra.

Chikane countered by bringing her own hand from where it had been cupping Himeko's hip up along her side until her fingers reached just below her lover's breast. There her hand paused, fingers trembling in a wordless question. Himeko relinquished Chikane's mouth just long enough to give an answer.

"Please," she invited, then claimed another kiss, her tongue eagerly exploring, tasting. Chikane's hand moved upwards, and Himeko moaned into her twin's mouth. Chikane's fingers stroked the curve of Himeko's breast, the found the nipple and teased it through the fabric of her dress. Himeko undid the hooks of Chikane's bra so she could spread it out and stroke the length of Chikane's back from neck to waist without interference. She loved the feel of her, the skin like satin but the firmness of hard muscles beneath, made so by martial arts, archery, and tennis.

Chikane's mouth left Himeko's, drawing a little whimper of loss, and she began kissing her way down her lover's neck. Her teeth gently teased the skin, not biting but flirting with it. Her lips lingered in the hollow of Himeko's throat, flicking her tongue against the spot and making Himeko shiver. Chikane pushed the straps of Himeko's dress down off her shoulders, then lifted her slightly so she could urge it down to her waist. She nibbled delicately along Himeko's collarbone, sending teasing little surges of pleasure through the blonde, supporting her posture with one hand while the other worked the front clasp of Himeko's bra free.

Himeko was so distracted by Chikane's teasing that she didn't even realize what was happening until her lover whisked the bra away and she felt the cool air on her breasts. Chikane laid her back down and her mouth began to move downwards.

She teased Himeko's skin with delicate kisses, flicks of her tongue, and soft bites, her fingers gently caressing her sides as she did. Chikane didn't go right for Himeko's breasts, but only teased along their outer slopes while she worked down to Himeko's belly. There, she pressed her lips to the tender skin and began to suckle hard, pulling blood to the surface to leave a mark. It stung a bit, but it was the kind of pain that energized rather than tormented, sending surges along her nerves and a fluttering between her thighs. Chikane softly soothed the mark with her tongue before moving on to another spot. She had a real liking for leaving signs of herself on Himeko's skin like that, like she was branding the other girl as her own. She was always careful to do it in a way that wouldn't show since they couldn't be open about their relationship, though there had been a couple of times in high school where an unexpected change in gym class schedule had revealed to the locker room that Himeko might not be quite so innocent as she seemed.

Himeko didn't feel innocent at all, then; her hands were tangled in the silken glory of her sister's hair, urging her on while she marked her skin. Chikane's hands dipped lower, tugging Himeko's dress down over her hips, then knees, until Himeko moved her legs to discard it entirely. Eagerly, she pushed Chikane down, but the dark-haired girl was having none of it. Chikane raised her head and smiled, sapphire eyes flashing wickedly.

"Now, now, Himeko, be patient."

Himeko let out a little moan of frustration as Chikane moved back up along her body, then bent her head to take one coral-pink nipple between her lips. Himeko's nipples were absurdly sensitive and Chikane knew just how to tease them with her lips and teeth and tongue, drawing moan after moan from the blonde, making Himeko's head swim with pleasure, especially when she took the other one between two fingertips, lightly playing with it. Chikane moved her mouth back and forth from one to the other, leaving wet trails on Himeko's skin, until her lover was quivering beneath her. Himeko's legs trembled, and the heaviness, the ache between her thighs turned into a hot stab of need every time Chikane did something to her, until she couldn't take it any more.

"C-Chikane, please..." she cried, pushing against her lover's shoulders to urge her downwards. Chikane raised her head, a wicked grin on her face.

"Please what, Himeko?"

Saying such things would normally have embarrassed Himeko terribly, but her need overrode those feelings--that and the fact that saying it out loud, putting it into unmistakable words, served to silence the nagging worry of Chikane's self-doubts and reassure her that Himeko not only consented, but encouraged.

"Touch me? Down there?"

Chikane's smile grew, and with a final flick of her tongue against Himeko's nipple she began to move down her lover's body. Little nibbling kisses teased the sensitive skin of Himeko's belly, making her tremble. Chikane flicked her tongue a couple of times into Himeko's navel, hinting at what was to come, then moved further down, until her lips brushed the nest of springy golden curls between Himeko's legs.

"So beautiful," she whispered, raising her head.

Her hand slid down, fingers gently sliding through the hair, playing lightly with it, her touch so close to Himeko's sex making the blonde shiver as Chikane teased her. Her hand moved further down, her fingernails sliding against the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, then traced the outline of her cleft outside the lips.

Her beloved gave a naughty little chuckle and ran the tip of one finger up between Himeko's nether lips, feeling how wet she'd become. Gently, she spread her outer lips with her first and third fingers and dipped the middle between them, lightly teasing until Himeko thought she was going to go mad from desire.

"Please, Chikane, I...I need you..."

At last, spreading her just a bit wider, Chikane slipped her finger into Himeko's channel. Himeko gasped, almost a scream as the pleasure washed over her, made twice as explosive by her lover's meticulous teasing.

"Do you like that, Himeko? Is it good?" It wasn't a question; Chikane could feel the walls of Himeko's sex fluttering around her finger. She knew Himeko's body like a musician does her instrument and played it as expertly as she did anything else.

Himeko nodded frantically.

"More, Chikane, I want..."

Chikane began to move her finger in and out of Himeko while her thumb came up to caress the taut bud at the top of her slit. Himeko squealed and arched her back, reflexively thrusting up to meet her. Chikane built her higher and higher, teasing gently when it seemed like Himeko was about to reach her summit, then working her more vigorously when her passion had ebbed a bit. A second finger joined the first and she stroked them together into her beloved, then alternately. Himeko panted for breath; her heart was in her throat, her squeals turning into high, sweet gasps of pleasure. The walls of her core trembled around Chikane's fingers, and the dark-haired girl knew the finale was near. Without slowing her hand in the slightest, Chikane slid up Himeko's body and covered her sister's mouth with her own. This time, though, she kept her eyes open so that she could see the exact moment when Himeko's eyes went wide and staring, yet glazed, unfocused, as she screamed her passion into Chikane's mouth.

Himeko lay limply beneath her beloved, her mind slowly gathering itself from where it had been swept away, little tremors running along her limbs as if they were aftershocks of her climax. When she had recovered herself slightly, Chikane removed her hand from between Himeko's legs and made a show of licking her fingers clean of Himeko's nectar, licking up and down the sides of each, then popping them in her mouth and sucking.

"That's not fair," Himeko said with a teasing pout. "I haven't gotten to taste you yet."

Chikane hesitated--just half a second, but enough that Himeko knew it was there, that flicker of amazement her lover felt at Himeko's frank and open appreciation of her. Maybe that, most of all, was what gave her such pleasure in showing her feelings to Chikane, that tangible evidence of how deeply the other girl was affected by it.

"Well," she replied, "I guess we'll have to fix that."

Himeko watched avidly as Chikane unveiled herself, unbuttoning her blouse and slipping it off her shoulders, then whisking away the already unfastened bra. She got up on her knees to unzip her skirt and pushing it down, revealing that her sheer white stockings were self-gartered thigh-highs instead of hose. Himeko smiled brightly at the sight.

"Chikane! Were you hoping to seduce me today?"

Chikane blushed again. "Well...I thought, maybe tonight..."

"I'm so glad!" Himeko said, reaching for her. She slid her hands up Chikane's thighs from knee to waist, enjoying how the silky texture of the stockings gave way to the softness of her skin.

"Only you beat me to it."

"I can't resist you," Himeko admitted, pressing a kiss against the lacy triangle of Chikane's panties. After all, it wasn't only love that drove her into the other girl's arms. Chikane had an amazing body that Himeko couldn't tear her eyes from: long, perfectly shaped limbs curved by the hints of her athletic build, a true hourglass figure with lush breasts and hips and narrow waist, graceful hands with long, tapering fingers, and skin that was as pale as moonlight without a single blemish. She remembered the first time she'd seen it, how she hadn't then understood the feelings stirring within her. Himeko understood them now, though, and embraced them as eagerly as she embraced Chikane herself.

Her tongue tasted the wetness that had seeped into the fabric while Chikane had been attending to her, the musky warmth making it plain how much what she'd done had aroused her. Himeko felt Chikane's thighs shiver, reacting to the presence of her tongue.

"Let me?"

She curled her fingers into the waistband and drew Chikane's panties down her thighs. Chikane lifted one leg off the bed and helped Himeko slide it free of her underwear, then swung that leg over Himeko's body so she was straddling her head. Smiling, Himeko raised her mouth slightly to take what was offered. She nuzzled against Chikane's lips, then turned aside to tease her lover a bit, lightly binding and sucking at the girl's inner thighs Chikane moaned softly, a little cry of pleasure that delighted Himeko. She flicked her tongue around Chikane's outer lips, teasing them, then dipped inside for a long taste that made Chikane sag forward, having to grab the headboard of the bedframe for support.

"Ah! H-Himeko!"

Himeko kept it up, savoring the musky-sweet taste of her lover, dipping her tongue deep inside, exploring Chikane's depths. Chikane's soft cries and long sighing moans came faster and faster as Himeko licked her. Realizing that her love was reaching her peak too quickly, Himeko eased up, the flicks of her tongue becoming less insistent, more tantalizing. Chikane shuddered as Himeko used her nails to tease her bottom and thighs, lightly grazing the skin.

"Himeko, please..."

Himeko tipped her head back so Chikane could see her, the blonde's teasing smile made even more wicked by the glistening traces of Chikane's desire that stained her lips.

"What was that?" Two can play the "say it for me" game!

Himeko giggled, then brushed Chikane's clit with the very tip of her tongue. Chikane shuddered deliciously, then returned Himeko's smile.

"Wicked girl."

"For you!"

Chikane lowered one hand from the headboard and cupped the side of Himeko's face.

"All right, then, Himeko. Please make me come with your mouth."

She urged Himeko's mouth up against her, which the blonde went right along with. Himeko didn't tease this time, but surrounded Chikane's swollen clit with her lips, gently sucking while she worked her tongue against it. Moans turned to soft cries of pleasure that came faster and faster until at last they gave way to a muffled squeal and Himeko could feel Chikane's sex flutter with her climax as if kissing her back. Her body drew up taut as a bowstring while Himeko kept her at the point as long as she could, until at last her twin sagged off her to collapse beside her on the bed.

Afterwards, they lay curled together, naked. Himeko was on her back, while Chikane lay on her side, head propped up on one hand looking down at her. It was kind of a naughty thing to put into words, Himeko thought, but she never thought Chikane was more beautiful than after they'd made love, her hair slightly tousled, her eyes heavy-lidded, her skin dappled with perspiration.

"What are you thinking, Himeko?" Chikane said, sliding a fingertip down the bridge of Himeko's nose.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Himeko teased.

"Of course."

So Himeko told her, and was rewarded with a blush, elegant and delicate, that turned Chikane's cheeks the pale pink of cherry blossoms.

"It's true! You're always so beautiful, but..." She fished for words, wishing she had her beloved's skill with a deft phrase. "The way you look now, it's because you, um, gave yourself to me?" She reached up and twined a lock of her hair around her fingers. "So...if your hair's a little out of place or your lips are swollen or your skin's shiny from sweat, it's...it's like 'I love you, Himeko' is written right on your body." Now it was Himeko's turn to blush, bright and red instead of ladylike pink. The embarrassment was worth it, though, for the loving expression that shone from Chikane's eyes.

The dark-haired girl bent over and kissed her. "You're a treasure, Himeko."

That's silly; I'm plain and ordinary, was her first thought, but she didn't say it because she knew it wasn't true, in Chikane's eyes anyway. They'd both had to overcome things within themselves to find each other, and in Himeko's case it had been her conviction that she wasn't good enough for someone like Chikane. She knew better now; even though the occasional doubt still nagged her Chikane went out of her way to show her that she was loved. It was very similar to how Himeko tried her best to show Chikane that Chikane's lesbian desires weren't dirty or unwelcome to her, but quite the opposite.

She surprised herself when the thought kindled a fresh spark within her. Himeko reached for Chikane, letting one hand trail down her flank. Chikane arched an eyebrow at her.

"Again? Moving out from home is certainly making you bold."

"Well...we don't want the other bed to get jealous of this one?" she offered, smiling. Chikane laughed and embraced her.

"Do you know, Himeko...in my past life, when I confronted the other Orochi, Sister Miyako tried to control me by trapping me in an illusion of my heart's desire?"

"Oh?" Chikane had never been all that forthcoming about the darker parts of her previous existence.

"It was you."

Chikane nodded.

"Yes, you, but a sexually assertive you. A you who fondled me, who was eager to touch me, who delighted in my responses, who freely offered her body to me for everything I wanted from it. In short, a you who loved me as a lover, not just as a friend. But I broke free of that illusion--I shattered it and destroyed Miyako and the others because I knew that you would never, ever say such things."

Chikane laughed.

"Could I have been more wrong?" she asked, eyes twinkling joyfully.

"Oh, you," Himeko groaned, blushing.

But she still pulled Chikane's face down to hers for another sizzling kiss.

A/N: I'm utterly convinced that between the two of them, Himeko would be the more sexually aggressive in their ongoing relationship. Even if Chikane is able to move past any lingering guilt over her actual actions, she still has any number of hang-ups over the "rightness" of lesbianism--she even refers to herself near the very end of the manga as "dark and ugly inside" because of that, a claim which Himeko immediately refutes. That combination of factors would make her hesitant in pressing her desires on Himeko. Himeko, by contrast, doesn't seem to have any of those hang-ups once she gets over her concerns about dating out of her league, so she'd not only be eager to act on her own feelings but also want to reassure Chikane that she welcomes Chikane's desire.


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2020 - your financial ruin

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Yes, you've read that correctly! 2020 is the year of your financial ruin! I'll take everything you have and even much more! If you are broke, you will terminate various contracts in order to continue to be able to satisfy me! I am greedy and you are addicted! Addicted to being ripped off by me and I won't stop until you have nothing, absolutely nothing left! I won't stop until you're completely ruined!


by maxminteam088


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Published: Nov 14th, 2015

Lust and passions mix to cause a youth to feel his oats...

stud donkey horse magic
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It was a few months after she had told me her little secret and my knowing of it had not then caused me any trouble of any kind until when.., she asked of me, wanting that we should have sex.

We had sex but once, we were teenagers, yes of consenting age, although not supposed to be sexual, but honestly! As providence would have it, my parents were gone for the weekend. Lily said her mom had the day before gone to some Timbuktu as for her part and portion in some witchery convention, so what do you think she wanted of me and would wish for to happen?

Lily bragged about that she was a virgin and so said I the same about me!

We were kind of fumbling with the whole thing and I was incredibly aroused as she felt as incredibly tight, then she said, "Stop that, you are hurting me..." To this I paused, as then I had to think on only to realize what more she said.

Lily was singing a song, it a poor rhyming tune, more like a chanting short and strange little rhyme. My dearest Lily touched her two index finger tips to the base of my inserted shaft, she smiled as I felt such a sense of horror and wonder, my penis, it was stretching longer, going deeper, was exceptionally hard, and more, the girth, at the base and to the end, it was expanding!

Then I suddenly realized what she spoke was not a rhyme but a chanted spell to enchant me and my male pride. A spell cast upon my dick to make of it something so bestial, it becoming the like of young whore as her lustier a dream. Unbeknown to me then, but what she wanted to feeling inside of her was the brute cock of a male donkey.

Lily smiled and saying to me, "Do not worry! What it became and feel would have happened ten fold had I not sequestered her spell from its bindings. My mother is a witch, a powerful witch of such age I dare not think how old she really might be, but she knows how to care well for her family.

Mom wanted to be assured her dear daughter was not to lose her blessed virginity while she was away. She did not expect me to hold to any promise, but casting a glory spell upon this house and around me, any such suitor that dared come and take from me my perfection, would lose more than his, he would become a braying ass of a stud donkey.

The fool that became the donkey would remain by force of the spell here on our property, and when mommy should return, she would sell his furred hide and body to a farm, or miners, somewhere where he would never be seen or heard from again.

You are different! You hold dear me and my lusty passions, and I prefer you and yours. The spell is now twisted, and cannot go much further unless you wish of it and want to become as is a donkey. As your pretty prick is changing to be a donkey cock, it is as ours to enjoy the weekend through.”

She and her assuring me to remain calm and except her hospitality, I could boast her virginity was then a thing of her uproarious past.

As bestial was my penis for becoming the crude, uncircumcised cock of a donkey, my thought it to our advantage my testicles swell too, gaining in size, volume of semen, but what drove me onward like a beast was the rushed flow of massive hormones, the likes no man can or could endure.

I wanted to know what it might be like having sex with a real stud!”

"What indeed," I tried to stay passionate and loving, as of caressing Lily, stroking her perky breasts, but the spell continued to do its twisting, kinking my mind to think like a beast caught up in the call to rut my female.

The words spoken only muddled me more, as at the forth massive orgasm I cried forth such a donkey bray cry, it scared even Lily. I or we then realized that my ears were getting longer as well. "You led on me to do something your mother worked a powerful spell that ensured your friend, me then...

Oh Hell’s bells are ringing in my longer ears. My cock strains at you tight vagina, it makes me sad, I being such as your private fool. Had you not lay twist upon that spell spoke of by your mother, and then come tonight, I for long hence could be at peace, not made bestial as a beast of burden, but of my kind allowed to fondle and be of good humor.”

Lily giggled said to me, "My mom thinks she is so clever. She thought the old donkey curse would be a problem, but she will reverse it as soon as she gets back…, if I ask her."

"What of me would you ask of her or no, maybe you want me to become a donkey, for forever?" I half spoke, as every other word thought to speak came out as a ragged donkey bray. The sound of me braying did not scare me as Lily thought it should. Maybe the old donkey curse was not that old, and with some newness imposed, the braying increased the surge of hormones, the cock stiffened, getting me even wilder and aroused.

Aroused sexually, the passions of it adding to my thoughts the lust as want to mate with Lily, thinking of her more as if a jennet donkey and not a pretty woman. My passion was of being more as a donkey, and then my skin began to darken of color, it becoming a black, thick hide, as it sprouted coarse fur. My fur so coarse and thick, like a show brush of fur that cloaked my body, it felt neat!

A furry and a big as long cock, huge testicles, and then sprouted my tail, the essence of difference between being either man or a beast.

I began to prefer me as the beast, bestial of desire free to rut hard at as into Lily. No matter if or how she would moan or scream, my being furry offered a sense of animal anonymity of face; if seen all anyone would see was a donkey face, head, and furry body, he, he!

Lily grinned as she carried on about her mother, said, "Because, if she does not agree, she is going to have pictures of her daughter having sex with a donkey-boy. I shall play with a donkey-boy stud and post it all over the World Wide Web."

She lay back on her bed, her legs off the side, they spread, she allowing me her changing donkey friend a direct view, one good whiff, and a direct line of entrance that pleased us both.

Lily paused after several minutes of moaning and thrusting, she smiling, looked at me, my donkey face and head, ears twitching, she said, "Actually, I have an even better idea. I am not up to doing proper and full transformations, but am good at transfigurations."

She brushed her fingers over her face and to my donkey witted bewilderment, her features changed slightly, changing more, aging, and the next thing I knew, she looked just like her mom.

"Mrs. Gershwin," I said and brayed, suddenly so scared of what I saw, that a surge rush of added donkey discrete change swept over me, lengthening my torso, doing donkey shape of my butt, and my legs, they changed drastically.

"No," she giggled saying with the voice of my Lily, "I am still Lily. But the web camera won't know that." She waved a hand and her computer popped on, the camera whirring to life, then she looked at me and purred, now make me look the part of a desperate debauched housewife fornicating with a…, donkey, you just became a donkey!"

Donkeys are normally incredibly horny, and Lily with her glamor as if her mother, she was more then likened to Mrs. Gershwin, as of then the vagina was considerably looser than I experienced with Lily earlier.

Highly aroused, our sex play kept turning what was the real me into a donkey colt and soon to a mature stud breeder. Lily doing some of her wild and kinky fun foreplay found a donkey cock felt like a toilet plunger stuffed inside her hot body. Even if this all was a blackmail video for her mom, to me it was becoming a desired change of lifestyle and future, if it was or could be for me my preferred choice as a possibility?

Oh but the more I changed and we did it, the better it felt, until when so good, the worse happened. I forcing it rammed in harshly, donkey beast brutally I thrust harder, feeling the urgency of need, knowing as wanting for sex from the donkey point of view. I began then the certain wish of to remain a donkey insatiable for in me my wild-bestial lust.

Lily moaned with delight at first but as the shaft enlarged, lengthened and I became more donkey than human, she realized worse things were to come her way. I would not stop doing it to her; the sensation drove me wild for getting the feelings. It decided that I follow her lusts not s a man, but do it the donkey stud way, until the donkey won out!

Uncaring about what I became, beyond hope about what others saw of me, the playful sex made an ass out of me, something I discovered as quite enjoyable!

Lily, felt rather sore, later she showered after that fact, and returning to her ole' sweet self, stood then gawking at me.

My sense of passion had swung 180 degrees, and seeing her walking around with only a bath towel to cover that slender shapely form, I found my lust overwhelming. The want to sniff at her moist slit, to lick at it if she would let me, and like a donkey stud would, I waggled my rock hard erection, having the libido of an equine, it flared and pulsating out spurts of slick cum.

Lily used her laptop computer to record the scene of what appeared as if her own mother having raw pleasures with a very virile male donkey.

I knew her plan, and at first I too thought it as worthwhile, but given the way it felt from becoming a donkey stud, me standing in a hairy body doing it, I only wanted to be forever more as a donkey!

Our mutual lusting reoccurred and as I being mostly donkey by then, brought from Lily an occasional moan. Lily reminded me of a female donkey getting mounted for the first time, and I would have laughed or chuckled if it were for real.

I need not think or imagine that Lily found her privates rather stretched, and sore from my drilling, and thrusting like some brute animal feeling the demand of rut.

Yet, like I said, at that moment I did not care what she felt whether delight or agony. What was then as the brute me, such pleasures were to a donkey stud just part of his proper domination of the submissive gender.

The greeting of a, "Oh hi Mom," did something to my very soul.

As if a renewed sense of horror struck me, it flipped and sunk down to the end of the throbbing head of one hard donkey cock. "What is happening around here and who or what is this animal doing in my house?" asked Mom, a witch, would more than likely want for to do me great harm.

Lily did one hell of a poor job of explaining her wants and how I did ask to mate with her, me begging, wishing of her let the spell make of me a donkey stud, I wanting to rut, stretch, and fulfill our mutual sexual desires.

I brayed loudly, my tail wagging, slapping at the hearing of such lies.

A witch of a mom looked at me, she knowing the silly excuse for her daughter was not anything close to the truth.

Mom took me out of the house, I braying as if begging Lily, she failed to follow us, but when Mom was alone and facing me, with a quick wave of her hand, and something happened.

Mom Gershwin then asked of me, believing this young man was a fool; she did not believe what Lily said, as only a rare few men would wish to give away his humanity and become a brute beast. The mom Gershwin asked of me as what she felt was righteous, if were I as a friend of her daughter wanting to be a donkey or regain being a young man?

A fore-knee bow to her and my erection stiffening, she said, "So then, you like it being a donkey and playing with that big dick; well you can keep it. I gift it to you along with being a donkey for the rest of your life!"

I shook my head as if to scream a pleading cry, mentally I begged of her, said in thoughts was, "No, please no, not for all of my life, but if for a year or two, my delight of being a beast might then be quelled!"

To no avail, I felt my donkey self mature some, growing a bit taller, then taller again, until I found myself so tall I looked down at Mom Gershwin and even to Lily.

Anxious deep breathing only instilled from my sheath a continuation of a massive erection, one equal in size and girth to be like a draft horse cock.

Mom laughed, as she rebuked her daughter Lily, that little whore of a witch, swooned, dropping to her knees. Her Mom knew what was best for the both of us, and pointing toward me, she motioned her daughter to take hold and lifting the end of my monster cock shaft to her mouth, she was to kiss the open end, and then giving me an affectionate lick.

If old Mom was not mad at her daughter before, she felt that by humiliating her of me, Lily would feel anger, she cursing at me, as if I were somehow at fault.

Lily taunted me and her Mom watched as listened. Then Lily announced of her making a full length four X rated video showing what appeared as if being her mom, of she sucking me, and letting a donkey rut and mate up her crotch.

Lily thought it all was a big funny time, but her mom scowled at her, her eyes a burning red in color.

As horny and so righteous as I felt being then as grown and changed more into some large breed of stud male, I actually changed my life plan from higher ideals, and thought more of wanting the mating with any big vulva female equine that offered me a ride.

While I toyed with my plaything, a disgusted mother looked at her daughter. That Mom suddenly saw through the smoke screen as of what Lily made of our relationship. She was assured then of my part and being for Lily as her pawn in some power-play. She began to argue at Lily, the witch mother made a wave of her hand and froze Lily like she were some statue in a city park.

Turning then to eye me in the face, she petted her hand to my furred cheek, and addressed me with a much more considerate a tone.

"You were a young fool, and as such a weak pawn in a game where you cannot hold to your own! Lily is a bad girl but still my daughter and I shall deal with her. You know too much, and this causes me some concern. Therefore, if by being what you are is satisfactory to you, I shall help you live well, finding for you a herd of male enjoyments befitting your stature.

Or, if you have some want or decided wish to become something else, then I command of you this Percheron stallion of a horse to say your wish and speak forth your mind!"

Hearing her words, I got immediately and soundly an erection of monstrous proportions.

Down deep in my thoughts and ideals I knew this being a stud animal could or likely would end in a brutal death someday!

The sense of horror instilled at first was since quelled by my changing more, me becoming a large as beautiful, handsome Percheron stallion horse. The massive erection I sported fought with my mental wish to return home, but to be a fool again for some woman seemed as a foolish dream.

I looking over at Lily still frozen in place by her mother a witch of quite well renowned powers, the dear girl could but move her eyes, blinking them, and trying in her own way to motion at me as if I should care what she wanted or thought.

"Well stud, I have things to do today, is there something more you would want before I send you to a place of proper masculine and bestial joy?" She asked, a mother and supreme witch, she sounding eager to give and as much to send me away to my proper doom.

Instantly the sensation returned to my lips and tongue suggesting if I tried I could then speak my mind.

I coughed, and hacking twice to clear the few sticky blades of munched grass caught there in my long throat; I stammered on my first few words, but soon enough spoke clearly of my lusty wants.

"If you please, I am as this large horse and stud, and did not ask or originally want to be in this way, but for as much as the sensations being this is appealing to me, I would ask and plead for a few perks!

First and foremost, if you would please, I would ask to remain in good health my entire life while being as an equine. As to living my life in the form of a horse, if it could be possible, allow me a long lifespan, per say as much likened to that the Bible suggests as grace given unto men."

That said, I had then a hope some of what I asked might come true, for indeed I felt extremely comfortable as such a big stud.

Lily seemed as if she were straining her lips to speak out either for or against my many wishes.

Her mother took a few steps backwards, she eyed at me with a questioning expression, her eyes dark orbs that glared and cut deep to see what lurks in the male heart.

"You would wish to be a pretty breed of stallion and stud, to this I agree! As well you would want for good health and to enjoy your exceptionally virile maleness, living three score and ten, but to such as you and with integrity I award you the next one hundred years of life. You being what you are shall change body color every fifteen years or so, making of you again as if a young two year old stud. You in your long life shall enjoy being six different stallions, living for a century of mating horny mares and luring dozens of wistful, foolhardy women like Lily that wish for you to breed them as a stallion does with his mares." And so she said, as with a wave of her hand my seeing them faded and what came into view was where I would reside, a fine stable, it breeding Percheron horses, and me as one of the prime studs.

The last I had any memory of Lily, she had a rather unappreciative look at her mother, Mrs. Gershwin.

Days later as I stood in my box stall there at the draft horse breeding stable, the groomsman walked in a pretty golden haired mare, she not a draft horse mare, but was a smaller breed. He introduced her to me, telling me her name was Spring Flower.

We were to breed, me over her, and unlike what I had come to know of mares by there size and standing, this one seemed elated at the want to mate with me. There nothing more instilling of a wondrous relationship between two horses of varied gender than of a she mare squirt her urine all over the door to my stall.

I knew we would be great friends, and her personal perfume reminded me to what Lily wore so often. We nuzzled, and the groomsman led her to the mating stall, as I stood and began to exercise my libido for some long deep loving of a sexy mare.

“Ah but the future looks as bright with delight!”

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Intan Ruziana Octavia


tagFetishManisha's First Girdle

Manisha's First Girdle

I first met Manisha Dudhe on the eve of her wedding, when she and her intended husband had met to perform pre-marriage puja with the village pujari; the Hindu priest. She was 19 and the man was a boy really, of barely 20, with the illustrious name of Shivaji. Dudhe became her married name and it was a cause for mirth since it means "milk" in the local dialect. The entire village of Talapuri in Maharashtra turned up to witness their prayers and to pass comment on their appearances. It was not an affluent or influential gathering, but full of pride and tradition. Men young and old watched her without touching, of course, and wondered about the milk that would come from her magnificent breasts in due course, and they envied the young Shivaji.

Manisha was a great beauty and a prized daughter in a community where sons are preferred before girls, even if they are worthless and stupid. But Manisha certainly was a great beauty and everyone said so. She was fairer in her complexion than anyone else in her family since Aji, her mother's mother, who died many years earlier. I remember thinking how fortunate her new husband would be to take to his bed such a beauty; and so innocent, to be taught the ways of love and affection if he had the wit and the knowledge himself. Which I doubted but wished them both well.

Ten years passed before I saw her again, and I heard meantime that Shivaji had died young, leaving her pregnant. I didn't know the details but there many sicknesses at that time, in that place, that could have claimed him. TB, typhoid and polio were endemic then and malaria, of course. So, one day, as I visited my friends again in the big bungalow at Talapuri, there she was in the lane with a child of about 9 years beside her. There was occasional work for her and others at the bungalow; mainly mending clothes and such things. My host and his wife gave work out of a sense of responsibility for their poorer neighbours, since he practiced as a chartered accountant in the nearest city and his wife was a publisher's illustrator. She ran her business by post in those days, and would do so via the Net today. But this was before the Net came into ordinary homes; when it was top secret in academic and military circles.

Manisha looked older but still outstandingly beautiful. Her features and her figure had hardly changed since she was the girl I remembered. If there was on feature of her appearance that always struck me first, it was her waist and the curve over her hips. And so it was still. Her saree tightened onto her figure in the local style, showed the very curve that drew my eyes so many years before. And her blouse [choli] showed off her tidy midriff, with none of the flabby spread of so many Indian women in their late 20s. She looked delectable and I began to imagine her with me, in my bed, doing the things I would show her, and with me pleasing her the best ways I could.

Nothing could happen for some weeks, since my hosts were always about the house and I did not wish to embarrass them by entertaining my own little predilections. But the day came when they were away for the week, and I was left alone with just the housekeeper and gardener during the day and the faithful golden Labrador bitch named Daisy at night. I determined to know Manisha then, if I could, and made quick plans. And so it happened.

At the end of a day, she was finishing her work in one of the rooms, re-sewing the linings to one of the curtains, which had become frayed during the periodic pest control spraying visitations. I watched her through a slightly-open door as she gathered her things together and stood up from the cross-legged position in which she had worked. She walked towards the door and I hid myself to one side of the frame. As she came through I spoke her name, softly, not as an instruction which she may have expected. She turned towards me and smiled, with her head on one side slightly, as if asking a silent question in the Indian way. I stretched out my right hand towards her and she looked at her own hands, wondering what I was reaching for. I took hold of the sewing box she had, and the little bundle of fabrics for patching, and took them away from her. She was so taken by surprise that she didn't try to stop me; she just looked straight at me with the same query on her face. I put the things to one side, on a small cupboard and she watched every movement.

Then I reached again and took hold of her left hand; a gesture not common in India even among married couples since the right hand is preferred for all contact. She tried momentarily to withdraw her hand but I held her firmly, and pulled her gently towards me. She made no sound; her eyes looked straight into mine; she let her hand come towards me and then her arm and then one small step. I knew the ice had been broken and I smiled gently and leaned my head to one side, as she had done, as if to say, "Yes? -- No? -- Maybe? -- come with me?" She smiled back and lowered her eyes at the same time, signalling her lack of readiness for the situation, and to show a proper modesty. By now she was close to me and I reached out my left hand to hold her waist and pull her towards me, again with only the gentlest pressure on her hip. She put her right hand on mine and thought she was about to lift it away from her, but she didn't. She held my hand in contact with the shapely right hip and waist, but still with eyes downcast, and smiling secretly to herself. Clearly, she knew what was happening and was content to let more happen in the near future.

Slowly, I walked backwards into the opposite room: my bedroom and she followed with her left hand in my right, and her right hand on my left, on her waist. We were only two or three inches apart. She matched my steps and slowly came into my room with eyes still down and still smiling mysteriously to herself, although I could see it for myself. Then the situation began to unfold as I had planned.

I undid the buttons of my shirt, and shook it off my shoulders. She raised her eyes and saw the hairs and the remains of my once-creditable muscular chest. She raised her eyes further and smiled directly into my mine. I reached out again and tugged a little on the shawl she wore over her shoulder, and she made the same gesture, shrugging it off to the marble floor. I undid my belt and the top restraining button of my cream trousers, but did not make a gesture to remove more clothes at this stage. I reached out to the four buttons fastening her choli, the short blouse with its little sleeves and bare midriff. She stopped my hand and, for a moment, I imagined she was about to cancel the whole event. But no; she raised her own hands, whilst still looking into my eyes, and undid all four buttons, before lowering her hands and leaving the choli open across her breasts. She wore no bra under the blouse, and I gently lifted it from her shoulders and let it drop down her arms slightly behind her body. I moved slowly round behind her and she realised for the first time that I had a mirror behind me, so that she was now looking directly at herself with bare breasts. Her eyes dropped again but she made no movement of escape or even of real awkwardness. From behind her, I reached to her head and gently held her hair, raising her eyes to look into the mirror, and smiled a very open and near-laugh into her reflection. He laughed a little feminine chuckle to me in return.

I reached through under her arms and held her breasts; one in each hand, like ripe melons but so soft and yielding. Then one hand relaxed its hold and went to my trousers. I let the zipper all the way down, so that my slacks fell to my ankles. I stepped out of them, still hiding behind her, and stood there with a raging erection in my black briefs, although she could not see all that. I fumbled with the front tie of her saree, hoping that it would come undone easily, but it was not to happen. She reached under the top edge and undid a pin, which let the front loop of cloth fall away. I was expecting a long swathe of fabric and slowly unwrapped it from around her, walking round to her front and then behind. A number of times I needed to do this until she stood there wearing only a pair of pale brown shorts. She raised her hands to cover her nipples from my gaze although we both knew it was a gesture of cultural modesty rather than a real attempt to hide herself from me.

Still slowly, I walked her towards my little bathroom until we both stood in the door and she could see my preparations. There was the bucket of warmed water with its handled scoop, a dish of soft soap, a number of hand towels, and a great big bath square as long and as wide as she was tall. The window fan was running and a cooler breeze was being drawn through my rooms. Taking the lead, I reached down and took off my briefs and moved towards the bucket. My erection stood out like a flag, indicating my desires and intentions. We smiled at each other and our eyes wrinkled in a grin of friendship as well as pleasure. I took a scoop of warm water and poured it down my front from chest to groin; and another from the middle of my back to my thighs. I dipped a finger full of the liquid soap and washed quickly all my lower regions and carefully between my legs and thighs. Cleanliness was going to be an important feature of our time together.

Reaching out my hand, I intended to motion her towards the water and her own washing, but I needn't have made any gesture. She stepped forward and took off her own shorts. She was so lovely. Her skin was a pale bronze, with small areas of olive shading around her groin, in the creases under breasts and under her arms. Her skin was like alabaster and she moved gracefully like a fashion model in Europe, but entirely natural and innocent of any tricks of such a trade. I passed her a scoop of water and she washed herself as I had done.

So far, everything I had planned had worked out just fine, and she seemed not to be surprised at all; and certainly not alarmed by my actions. I had a feeling that the next stage might give her some pause for thought, or even a moment of panic, but determined to go on regardless. I have for many years harboured a distinct yearning for women dressed in very firm underwear, such as corsetry, leather and thick rubber. I have been fortunate enough to experience all my yearnings at one time or another, and this day I had a special desire in mind. My erection was maintained by the plan and I looked forward to the moment when all my desire could be satisfied with this beautiful Indian lady.

As we dried ourselves, I led her wrapped in the big square towel towards my double bed. She walked confidently and easily in my gentle embrace and I helped her complete the drying of her delightful body. I took the towel from her and draped it over a chair, and led her to the bedside. She began to bend as if to climb into the bed but I held both her hands and placed them over her eyes. I pressed them slightly to her face, as if to signify, "Keep your eyes closed." I said softly, "Ho-na?" and she replied, "Ho", meaning "Yes." She kept her eyes covered.

I reached under the thin bed cover and took out the four items in which I intended to dress her this evening, before taking my pleasure with her. The first was a white long bra which I hoped would be the correct size at 36D: a Triumph Doreen Midi. I stood behind her and took one hand down from her eyes, leaving the other doing its job of keeping them shut. I passed the bra over her arm and lifted it into place under one breast. Then I replaced that hand and took the other. She was quicker than I thought and readily helped me get the bra into place, containing both breasts and nicely nestled into her ribs. At that point, I think her experience of lingerie ran out. She had never even seen such a bra, I don't think. Slowly I fastened the eight hooks at the back and then adjusted it into place to hold her breasts and to press nicely down into her waist. It was not the cuff-waist style, but the slightly shorter one and it fitted her height perfectly. And the cups fitted better than I could have planned even if I had measured her first. I pressed the hands to her face again and said, "Ho?". She replied the same and her eyes remained covered.

Next, I thought this item may raise more of a problem with her and took it in my hands with some anxiety. It was a classic vintage girdle made by the English Twilfit company; style CT45. It was white, high waisted, a sarong style cross-over at the bottom front edge, a zip fastener over a row of hooks on the left hip, and six suspenders. It was boned at the front, over the abdomen, at the sides from the hip bones upwards, and at the centre back to prevent it rolling over. The front panel with three bones was quite rigid and I knew it would hold her firmly in place, whatever I managed with her in movements and positions.

I knelt down in front of her and lifted one foot, just an inch or two from the cool marble floor, and slip the girdle under it, and lifted it slightly up her calf. Then I replace that foot on the floor and tapped the other. She seemed to sense what to do, and raise it a little, but not enough now that the girdle was somewhat higher than for the first foot. I took one hand from her eyes and placed it on my shoulder as I was kneeling, to steady her as I lifted the second foot a little further. Thus the girdle was loosely placed on both her calves and I contemplated how to lift it into place, before doing up the hooks and closing the zipper.

Kneeling up in front of her, I took hold of the girdle either side of the waist and slowly moved it up her legs, and onto her thighs. She made a little mewing sound and I could tell that this was new to her and was a surprise, but I persevered with my pulling and a little tugging. It was going to be a tight fit on her, I could tell. This girdle was the smallest made in the CT45 range, with a waist of 26 inches, and I had no idea what her waist actually measured. She made the mewing sound again and I looked up at her face. She was peering down at me and the girdle through her open fingers. I smiled and she just looked at me. Her expression said, "What are you doing to me?" I took one hand and kissed it gently on the palm. She smiled. I brought both her hands down to the front edge of the girdle and took myself to the back. Taking the rear part of the top edge, I started to pull upwards and she did so at the front without my urging her. Slowly the girdle moved into position on her abdomen, with the front suspenders correctly placed, and the zip fastener wide open, waiting for me to do up the hooks and eyes. I could tell from her expression again that she was surprised and becoming a little doubtful as she realised that this garment had yet to be closed onto her figure.

Moving to her left side, I started to hook up the gap. The first hook took a little stretching of the girdle to make the closure. The second took more pressure, and the last one required me to pull very hard so that her body shook with the sudden force. But then the hooks were complete and I moved the zipper up into place, covering them all and giving her the perfect waistline and hip outline. This young woman had the figure of a 1950s film star in the person of a simple and untutored girl of the jungle, with a sex appeal hardly any film star could imagine.

The suspenders were sticking out from the bottom edge of the girdle, and I checked again that their positions were right. I also noticed how the edge just tucked under her bottom at the back and left her little furry mound visible at the front. Those Twilfit people certainly knew how to make alluring foundation wear. I reached for the remaining items of my collection: a pair of firm support Lycra stockings by Aristoc - the very latest style and material at the time, and very supportive. Again the size was a guess and I seemed to have been lucky. To get these onto her, I led her to the bed and sat her down on the edge. Se realised for the first time how the girdle was going to control her figure during our time together. Sitting in it was not just a matter of sitting down; she had to adjust her stance a little and also part her legs because of the pressure on her groin and bottom, pressing them both together. As quickly as I could, I brought both stockings up to her knees and onto her thighs before standing her up and completing the outfit. She was now breathing heavily and pressed her hands on her ribs, into her waist, over her abdomen and down her thighs, and over her bottom. She was utterly contained in this corsetry, and her face showed a mixture of surprise, anxiety and also pleasure.

I took her over to the long mirror and showed her to herself. She smiled and ran her hands all over her newly shaped and controlled figure. Especially, she let her hands linger over her flat tummy and around her tightened waist. She even made the typical tight-waist gesture of holding her waist between finger and thumb on each hand to see how far round she could reach. Her smile got wider and she made a little "Mmm" sound. She looked amazing and I joined her with my own hands, feeling her body through the corsetry. Tracing the outlines and the positions of the bones; feeling at the tightness over her ribs and under her bottom. My fingers and palms lingered over her flattened abdomen and onto her little mound, and then resumed my overall investigation of the smoothness, the firmness, and the control that I could feel over every millimetre of her body.

Taking her to the bed, I helped her lie down on her back and joined her there. I kissed her shoulder and then her cheek and then fully on her lips. She seemed unused to this show of affection and clearly had little experience of kissing a man for pleasure. But she warmed to it and within a minute had her lips widely parted as I explored her mouth with my tongue, and we played a little game with touching tongues and parting and then touching again.

Reaching down, I parted her legs a little more and reached for her labia with my middle finger. She was wet; she was pouring with moisture; her lips and her vagina were slippery to my touch and I played on her clitoris for a few moments. She mewed again and closed her eyes, so I decided to please her in this way for as long as I could. I played on her with my hand and placed a finger inside her from time to time, gauging the effect and trying to discover what she would like for her pleasure. I soon realised that she wanted constant clitoral stimulation, but not too fast and not with pressure, and occasional dipping into the wet pool of her labia and vagina. I think this process took ten minutes until I was sure of the rhythm and she began to respond; which she did with a huge sigh and a whimper. She closed her legs around my hand and I left it there without movement until she relaxed and let it fall out, so to speak.

She looked up at me and touched my face. I kissed her mouth again and she clung to me with both arms around my head. After a short time she relaxed further and lay back with her eyes closed. Now it was my turn. I ran my hands up and down her corsetry again, feeling at the seams, the bones over her abdomen, the taut bottom edge between the front suspenders, the flat firmness over her midriff and waist. Above her waist she was doubly held by the long bra as well as the girdle over it. She was quite rigid below her breasts and down into her waist. I parted her legs a little and slowly moved myself until I was lying partly on her, and resting on one elbow on the bed beside her. I kissed her shoulders and felt the Doreen straps, the little adjusting buckles and the seams running over the cups and down under the girdle. I could still feel them on my lips even thought they were held firmly under the Twilfit. The corsetry felt wonderful and her firm, contained little body inside held such promise for me. In my mind, I had a plan for my pleasure which I knew may alarm her but I pressed on anyway.

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