Wednesday, February 8, 2012

627 - I Pursued


She froze but didn’t tear her hand away.  It felt so good.  “Did I hurt you? I just wanted to see what they felt like,” she said, her face full of worry.

“No... nu..nu...no.” I managed.  “It feels good.  I... I’m afraid if you do that a lot I’ll... um... er... well...”

“He’s afraid he’ll come too fast,” Gan said.  “Since he’s learned that girls come slower than boys he’s been worrying about that.”

“GAN!”

“I’ll give him something else to think about,” Fara said, but before she could do anything, Gannara turned his head to take one of her nipples in her mouth and all she said was “oh!”

Ky pulled her hand away from my testicles then, but slowly, not as if she were disgusted by them.  “If you are worried about that, then what Gan’s doing looks good,” she said, smiling.

I had been letting myself get pulled along with my emotions but I had also been avoiding something that I truly should not.  I sat up carefully so as to not pull her hair.  “Ky...” My hand was on the celestially smooth curve of her stomach, just below her navel, just above... just above where Farasha’s groin hair started.  She just looked at me, waiting for me to finish speaking.  I resolutely did not look at the vile little box that she’d given me when we came in, though I’d kissed it before putting it away, as an Arkan groom should.

That box.  That I... that we had risked so much for, escaping from the Mahid.  The dried, hideous contents that should be warm and living between her legs, that astonishing, fragrant rose that Farasha had offered me, election night.  Without speaking, I brushed my fingers over the symbolic tuft of hair between her legs.  “May I?”

“Oh, Minis... of course.”  She blushed but bent her knees and raised one elegant, bare leg over my head so that I was cradled between.  Her...my mind went to the Haian book since there were no decent Arkan words for the parts of a woman. I looked, my hand just hovering over what I had to recognize as ravaged flesh, the deep pink folds... were there, but small.
I was weeping, silent tears running down my cheeks, as I laid my fingers gently on the ridged void where a rose should be.   

“Shhh... no, Minis, no, don’t weep...” She put her fingers over mine.  “See?  The Haians restored what they could, took away scars.  Feel that?”   She was slick and warm, and as I touched, feathery, she gasped again.  “There.  Ohh... ooo!”

My tears cooled on my cheeks as I touched and slowly stroked and realized that she could still feel.  She could feel, she liked me touching her there.  I leaned down and set my lips on the heart of her, the centre of a woman’s pleasure that our priests had railed against so long.  She rose up to my mouth and I didn’t have to worry I was touching her too hard or too roughly as my tongue lapped.

She tasted musky and salty and sweet and amazing she wriggled and I had to cup her behind in my hands and she cried “Oh, yes!” and wound her hands in my hair, pulling me close.  Any thought of tears vanished as I pursued her pleasure, past the thicket of scars, past the maze of my own fears and hers.  I followed the delicate tendrils of our passion.  Every bit of moisture, every surge of her body against my mouth echoed through me like a wave, lifting me higher and higher.

I struggled to be cooler, calmer; I knew that she could reach her pleasure more than once, from my reading... but it was hard.  I was so tight that every twitch from her drove me against the mattress.  I groaned against her and she wrapped her legs around my head and an earthshake roared through her.  I... I... focussed on the sensations in my mouth and then.... she pulled on me.

“Min... Minis... Minisss... you won’t... won’t hurt me... Minis...”

She pulled me up toward her so that I came up off the mattress and then... I... my... I was at her... I couldn’t think... She was wet and hot and I put my head the head of me I bit my lip trying to slow down she pulled and I was in her, just barely, looking down at the two of us nearly joined.  “I... I...I.. you...”

I could no more resist than I could stop breathing and with her pulling me I slid into her and we were together hot hot wet hot and I bucked and cried out, the wave of orgasm rising to wash me into her like ocean crashing onto the breast of the earth.  It went on and on, her hands her mouth I was strung like a bow and finally, finally unstrung.
 
When my head finally stopped reeling and I came to where I was once more, I realized I hadn’t been polite enough not to collapse on Ky and lay half  across her.  She was laughing and shivering and I was shivering and every shiver shook us both.  I tried to roll off her but she wouldn’t let me go.

3 comments:

  1. Woo-Hoo! That was so perfect! I was dreading some of that- especially how bad were the scars left, and just how much could the Haians fix actually... I guess the ones with mind-magic can indeed repair quite a lot- or at least most importantly restore function and sensitivity. Glad, so glad after all that the both of them have been through that their first time didn't have to be traumatizing to either of them (I shudder to think how either of them would have felt after a "traditional" wedding night with the awful knife thing- they'd have got no heirs from him for sure)

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  2. Check out this link... http://clitoraid.org/ a hospital to restore women to something approaching wholeness.

    You're right. If he'd had to cut his way in, he would never have managed it.

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  3. Actually modern medicine can minimize some of the scar tissue and bring the clitoral stump back to the surface where it becomes the clitoral head again. It lets women heal and many excisionists don't know what they are doing so cut the hood instead of the clit. Sometimes, though not all by any means, the clitorus is still there. 1.5 million women suffer various forms of feminine genital mutilation in this world.

    http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/16/world/africa/movement-to-end-genital-cutting-spreads-in-senegal.html?pagewanted=all There is hope.

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