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.
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)
ReplyDeleteCheck out this link... http://clitoraid.org/ a hospital to restore women to something approaching wholeness.
ReplyDeleteYou're right. If he'd had to cut his way in, he would never have managed it.
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.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/16/world/africa/movement-to-end-genital-cutting-spreads-in-senegal.html?pagewanted=all There is hope.