Merry Meet
Shaman of Centraxis 25
*
Even absorbed in ardent throes of impassioned lovemaking the young shaman’s mind is wont to wander. His body sometimes moves by rote while his awareness is traduced by images of lovers as yet unattained or intimately known, or seduced by imaginings of a mysterious unknown paramour.
Be here now, he commonly tells his inconstant self when he drifts from the sumptuous present. Feel her… feel this… he implores his fickle mind, distracted even as he treasures the pleasures of a beauteous maid; She’s wonderful… live this moment, with her…
The teenage mage quickly learned to bed only women or girls he truly desired. He ignored Aleister Crowley’s infamous Thelemic dictate - the admonition from the self-proclaimed Great Beast of the New Aeon, which requires aspiring magicians to make love with whomever the Goddess offers up on the altar of their bed, regardless of beauty or its lack, grace or its opposite. T’was a practice designed to free neophytes from desire, habit and preconception, and to ensure recognition of the Goddess in all women. The shaman bypassed this lesson in pursuit of mortal beauty, immersed in the immortalising bliss of truly inspired lovemaking that rewards those who always seek the most desirable muse.
The young neophyte came to regard good taste as its own reward. He viewed transcendent natural physical beauty as a state obviously graced by an inner grace, and a signal of deeper, less obvious harmonies. In daily life he treated all the worthy workaday humans he encountered with equal attention and the respect (or lack of it) they individually deserved; in matters of the heart he aimed high when drawing Cupid’s bow, shooting for the stars in search of a stellar companion or satellite moon – and more often than not was rewarded with the ultimately intimate attentions of an addictively beautiful Earthly goddess.
He was a hopeful romantic whose method was Tantric. To look deeply within the core of a woman’s soul – silently blazing through and within her enraptured gaze as she transcended time and individuality in orgasmic ecstasy, while her truest self melded and flared and burst within and around him in glorious, eternal paroxysm – was the greatest, most rewarding experience in this or any life for the Centraxian shaman.
Yet even while he revelled in the satisfying four limbed embrace of an exemplary lover, the teenage mage oft imagined stroking other bodies and stoking fresh fires. Another glazing pair of gazing eyes and breathlessly parted smiling lips would arise before his inner eye, differing gasps and strident cries would resonate in another’s voice, regardless of his current partner’s beauty, talents or effable charms. Often an image of an unknown woman appeared within his lover’s form and shone through her eyes, riveting his attention to a distracting presence at the ultimate moment.
To the horny young man’s wandering mind a bird in the bush was somehow more enticing than one at hand; the grasp was always greedier at an imagined other’s side, beyond the imagined present. He entered another realm when making love, pursuing his twin flame through the vesicles of an ever replenishing well of souls, enjoining a twining collective of feminine beings in eternal subliminal courtship.
He sometimes wondered if lovers he visualised at climactic moments were aware of his distant imaginings. Could their receptive feminine souls glimpse his lust, and thereby be drawn to his side by his sex-fuelled attention? Were they thinking of him in return, while he rode and satisfied another enticing maid in the here and now, gazing back at him through the crystalline orbs of her glowing eyes? Or was he simply being made aware of the desires of unmet mates for his strong, smooth and almost hermaphroditically androgynous young body?
Other explanations bubbled into his mind. Were all women and girls interlinked and entwined at a level of being invisible to males of the species – a psychic network shared exclusively by females? And does a multifaceted Goddess dwell beyond, within and though all women and girls - one who is completely aware of all of their hopes, fears and desires, who can gaze into the soul of any man through their expectant eyes?
These questions initiated continuous quests through lives and minds and bodies of a streaming tide of girls and women. He communed with the living Goddess who spoke through all their voices, gestures, looks and moods. She guided him through them, showing him what they craved; informing his caresses, steering his kisses and timing his thrusts as his lovers showed the lad what he could do – what he was, to them.
He noted the ways of womanly wisdom with patient wonder and an impudent semblance of monkey mimicry. Yet his mind was wont to wander…
Riding a mate unto blissful expiation while visualising another potential lover is a potent form of sex magic, and he knew the method cut both ways. Using lust as fuel for a magical operation is an ancient and ageless ploy. A lover’s passions can be a powerful springboard to affect the will of a distant other - a commonly practiced form of sympathetic magic; sometimes consciously and often otherwise. As the singer sang, ‘If you can’t be with the one you love then love the one you’re with’.
A paramour loved at a distance is often overtly unaware of projected desires, yet is inexorably drawn to contact the one who envisions them. The target of Cupid’s arrow may receive an inkling or vision of the identity and nature of their remote admirer and thereby gain more of a say in the outcome. Either way, this mundane form of sex magic is a proven method for attracting distant bees with a honeyed potion of lusty revelry and spirited inspiration. All prospective lovers are likely to be the moth and the flame, each and both; sometimes two pairs of lovers are entwined in a desirous psychic foursome.
The shaman had been aware of the power of sex magic ever since the climax of his first libidinous dream. The reactions of one night stand girlfriends he attracted in this fashion and then of fully fledged longer term lovers were uncommonly obvious and direct. The thrilling and challenging reality - that the subjects of his impassioned visualisations were indeed aware of his remote scrutiny, subconsciously or otherwise - was soon undeniable. Imagination fuelled libido and vice versa in a swelling cycle of insatiable teenage passion.
Attracting a desired mate into his bed through unsatisfying solo efforts seemed an unsavoury route towards deeper contact with a potential True Love. He learned it was far more effective (and electrifying) to imagine he was trysting with the one he most desired while making love with another; moving deep within his envisioned paramour as well as the woman or girl whose body he was currently enjoining and enjoying. Sometimes he knew a lover was aware of what he imagined; sometimes he knew she was doing the same.
He felt, believed and actively explored the Hermetic doctrine that every being is telepathically interlinked through a universal holographic network of spirit, mind and form. All is connected at subtle levels of the matrix behind and within the manifestations of energy and matter. It soon became obvious to the apprentice magician that women and girls are particularly receptive and preternaturally attuned to the magnetic attraction of a prospective lover’s will to abide with them – whereas most males of the era were thicker than inconstant planks in affairs of the heart or spirit.
Receptive females are naturally suited to sensitised attunement, and he usually abided with sensitive, beautiful, artistic, musical - and unnaturally flighty - young women. The unity of consciousness is an easy concept to entertain. The fact that any female body can serve as a psychic bridge to another’s is a more daunting notion, and an unendurable goad to any hopelessly romantic, envious, haughty or jealous personality.
This ancient method of attracting new mates is surprisingly widespread and effective. Almost all lovers engage in it, consciously or otherwise, but those who are aware of what they’re doing have far more chance of achieving their aim, whether transcendent or merely seductive.
Sex magic can be a route to Nirvana; to enlightenment. It can bestow yogic perspectives from heights of impassioned detachment from attachment, or be ultimate, intimate Tantric absorption in the Divinity of All. It can also be used for the basest purposes. When used and abused for the attainment of more sex – or, far worse, as a form of remote auric hypnosis – it can be the virtual opposite of true Tantric union.
Lovers came and went, carousing on an endless carousel ride in the fortunate, turbulent golden years of hippies and yippies and day-glow lightshows. The teenage mage swiftly learned to surf the Tantric matrix. Using sex-fuelled visualisation he was more often than not ensconced (and ensorcelled) inside a distantly attracted new companion’s arms and charms before the next moon had waned and waxed. Sometimes, while they shared a smoke in blissful afterglow, a Wiccan, Tantrika or fellow magician would confirm their awareness of his earlier remote attentions, or confess their own use of subtle attractors - sex magic, love potions, telepathy, hypnosis; glamour.
He soon realised sex magic was widespread - ubiquitous – and that this basic form of sympathetic magic was most effective if he imagined the subject of his desire in a state of abandoned ecstasy and utter satisfaction - ideally while another lover climaxed under the influence of his capable ministrations; best of all if he planted seeds of images inside her surrogate form amidst the electrified apotheosis of mutual orgasm.
When he arose to this bliss of conjoined eternity with a wondrously attuned and gifted lover all distractions and worldly agendas were instantly blown away, including all visions of other lovers. All thoughts were dissolved and desires discarded in the untameable climax which rings and guards the deepest, brightest, unnameable centre of the silent psychic cyclone. Simultaneous orgasm is the zenith of true lovemaking - a hearty, heartfelt wish in the hearth of most hearts, the Holy Grail of impassioned love; of deepest, most tender mating. When the apotheosis of Tantric union is truly achieved, all thoughts of another are swept aside and sex magic’s simply superfluous.
After quite a few moons of endlessly varied sensuality the teenage shaman began to question his motives with a clearer eye. Attracting new mates in this way seemed a seamy use of sacred Tantra. He knew that using the method to consciously attract prospective lovers is akin to hypnosis, and that deliberately affecting the will of another is a slippery slope indeed. More directly - poignantly, pointedly sharp - he felt the main drawback at a baser egocentric level; he could never be sure if a lover really desired him, or whether he’d merely hypnotised her into his arms.
How to know if she really wanted him as much as he wanted her? Even more pressing to the romantic mage; how to recognise the truest, ultimate love of his life when she came? How to be sure if she was his Twin Flame if he willed their meeting and mating in advance, drawing her to him with some facile magician’s trick?
And sex magic is a double edged trick, after all, where instant karma prevails; he never knew if a lover imagined another while she kissed and squeezed and caressed his body, urging and using him as a vehicle for her own aspirations. When he realised certain lovers were certainly treating him thus, he strove to suppress hypocritical feelings of jealousy and neglect when used as a surrogate – spurred on by his distracted lover’s inconstant calumny to fully engage her attention with consummate lovemaking, or to use her as a vessel for his own psychic fishing expeditions in return.
He knew many mages also used sex as a tool to procure any manner of mundane things, but a mixture of pride, naïveté and honour ensured he only used this debased form of Tantra to magnetise lovers to his hocus pocus locus. Desire was his truest desire, unsullied by material wants or imaginings – and the young shaman had yet to find a female who could hold all his attention affixed on her singular body, mind and soul.
He longed for the day he found The One. He knew he’d recognise Her by the glimmering eyes he’d witnessed shining so often within another’s rapt gaze. He would know when his true heartthrob came - by her mesmerising eyes, her enticing smile and by the unique manner of her coming. Meanwhile he revelled in the delightful company of a ceaseless stream of willing lovers. It was the nature of the times and teenagers are notoriously experimental.
Comparisons between different mates were unavoidable, lessons in discernment as he slowly attuned the compasses of heart, mind, body and soul to the lodestone of his unknown true love. Practice, persistence and intensely intimate research were the keys to every door he wished to unlock. As the I Ching often advised when he threw holey coins or counted off yarrow sticks; perseverance furthers.
Moving from bed to bed and body to body was the order of the day in those frantic romantic years, an integral part of the apocalyptic zeitgeist, and the shaman was a particularly enthusiastic participant. Understandably viewed as too young and fickle by most of his lovers - who were usually a few years older than their tricksy toy boy - he’d never actually known the reality of living in a fully-fledged relationship.
Younger teens or older teenagers the same age as him were usually skittish and rarely available, hardly free to move in with a man or boy of their choice. Many were too juvenile to legally bed and fenced in by schools, routines and vigilant family members. Those who were freer tended to hanker after relationships with males that were more fully grown than the immature Centraxian mage. Most seemed to simply want a man with a car - and he still had no transport to offer or license to drive, and barely possessed means for either.
So he often went and came with slightly older young women, and witnessed yearning fey possession by would-be lovers who cohabited their writhing flesh and flaring senses. A few psychically gifted souls who tuned into him through the party line of sex magic became so familiar he could perceive almost all the features of their astral faces, and one in particular shone through the myriad forms of other lovers again and again – a younger, spry and spirited old soul who returned and endured through the eyes, thighs and sighs of the evercoming cavalcade of entrancing womankind. He could feel her inexorably approaching through the tides of time and mists of space, to a place of true conjunction.
And he certainly recognised her; knew her. She was the girl he’d dreamt of, yearned for, wished for, from afar. A wonderful, beautiful, talented girl he’d kissed goodbye years before…
Beyond the ongoing cavalcade of comely women, he’d always pined for the love and loving of that lost beauty - and now She lay beneath him, anointed with oil on the blazing hot sand of a remote sunny beach at the penultimate edge of the inhabited world; She who’d inhabited his nocturnal dreams ever since they last met, long before he’d learned the trysting ways of sex magic. And now he had her all alone, skin to skin and lips upon lips, naked beneath him in bright blazing sunshine.
Countless times he’d imagined being where he was now. He’d longed to embed and empress himself deeply within the heart, art and hearth of this wonderful girl for years of moons – through the long lone years before his sixteenth birthday when he loosed his innocence with Fifi L’Amour the Lady Ringell, the Empress of the Centraxian tribe, and for the baker’s dozen of eventful moons since. He’d recalled and imagined this lithe, frisky, freckly body wrapped around his, this elfin face rapturous with love and pleasure, while he watched many a partner come in his arms; he knew he’d never be satisfied until he’d gone all the way with the girl of his dreams.
It had been her gleaming eyes glowing behind the limpid lenses of other lovers, peering into his soul from their interlinked core - shining into his climaxing face through a spectrum of colourful irises and limpid corneas - a gorgeous homunculus watching him from within a dilated bevy of enthralled pupils and enthralling teachers. She’d always been the One for him, since long before they’d ever met; while he pined in his pinewood childhood bed on the way to and through the lonesome nights of pubescence. He’d dreamed of her as they dreamed together across half the vast dreaming isle of the Great Southern Land.
When they first locked eyes in the living flesh years later, on the bygone cusp of unsullied childhood and adulterated maturity, they both felt a definite knowing – and came vanishingly close to gifting their virginity to one another soon after.
Her image always remained fresh in his mind. The desire to mate with her was a longstanding plea to the Goddess through the budding springtime of his life.
Now his prayers have finally been answered in the flesh, in bold Natasha; a virgin Goddess and sprightly sprite, his mating mate through each dreaming night, now basted and tasted in summery light beneath his flesh, within his sight.
Goddess!
He pauses again, basking in blasts of sensual bliss as he raps at the gates of her inner sanctum. Their kiss is a blinding blaze of mutual absorption while sleek young bodies struggle to interlock ever more closely. Scraps of bikini are no impediment as they hover on the brink, savouring every splitting second of the sizzling young siren’s longed for defloration.
Totally absorbed, he thinks of no other. This is all he wants or needs. Lips and tongues slide together as they pull each other’s horny young bodies closer and deeper, millimetre by millimetre. His palms cup perfectly fitting handfuls of smooth femininity when he squeezes her firm cheeks further apart, completely absorbed in the gift of the present as he mounts the eager girl’s slickly athletic and thoroughly readied flesh. The quivering bud of Natasha’s pink flower stretches and clutches his offering as he slowly lifts her pelvis from the beach blanket, drawing the steaming furnace of her untried sex up round the crown of his achingly swollen shaft.
Her heart thrums against his breastbone and pulses through her swollen breasts. Her eyes flicker and twinkle when they emerge from curtains of dark hair as she gasps a momentary breath, glazing and liquid with unsullied wonder and stark unfazed desire. She squints up into sunlight and holds his gaze as he peers down into her naked soul. Her lips slip apart round the protuberant tongue that licks salty spray from his mouth and cheek.
His insouciant mind wonders afresh whether she’s actually been dreaming of another - Jacob - while pressed tightly against him in a dazzled, drunken, horny stoned daze. Did she deliberately – provocatively - cry the other boy’s name? Is she really thinking of… her brother… or just playing a game with me? He feels the elastic ring of her inner lips clamp round the base of his crown and gasps as he marvels at her steamily unseemly behaviour - a ploy in particularly poor taste, even considering Nasher’s irreverent sense of humour and inebriated state – even as he becomes completely immersed in her scent, her skin, her hair; the wise ancient eyes that stare from her girlish face.
“Nasher…” He blinks the errant thoughts away and feels the baking heat of sunwarmed sand fade before the stellar irradiance of Nasher’s blood, streaming and steaming all around the crowning cap of his straining engorgement. He squeezes inside her slowly, deliberately, deliciously, pressing down inside her small tight body.
“Mmm… ohh… my man…” A husky voice murmurs through her delectably pouting lips.
“Woman…” he moans as she vibrates beyond the cusp of girlhood. “Ready?” he asks with a baritone simulacrum of manly confidence only slightly belied by breathless urgency. Nasher’s limber little fingers grasp at his meaty shaft. “Born ready…” she breathes into suddenly windless silence. She pulls him down and up and squeezes his thickness between her amazingly taut lips until her encircling entrance is firmly plugged with swollen manhood.
“Steady…” he whispers as the blazing ring of her fire contracts round his hoodless head.
With a gasp he pauses and savours the moment; enjoying the rapture that shines in her gaze just as thoroughly as the livid sensation of rupturing the seal of her untried sex. The scintillating gems of her viridian eyes blaze up in his sight to burn tracks through his being. Her tremulous gaze incites him to move with sweet manly gentleness, ever more slowly.
Natasha’s breath is a fragrant flux of divine intoxication. An echoing breeze plays across her oil-sheathed skin and ruffles their entwined dark manes. She seems to drift in and out of their conjugation, dreamily floating between knife-edge pleasure and drugged drunken dreaming. “Nasher… love…” he says as he squeezes her cheeks and strokes her flanks with long tapered nails.
She takes a deep breath and her nipples arise to tickle his chest. Her sandpapered soles slide down his sides to lodge on his hips while the amazingly smooth pillars of her thighs caress his belly and ribcage. She tantalises and entices with slow strokes of soft silken skin while holding him back with her strong little fingers. Then two bony heels dig sharply into his upraised buttocks - a demanding pressure that dares him to drive downward and all the way up inside her flaming glory, whole and entire.
“Love…” The syllable slips from his mouth of its own accord - a simple, single word that denotes neither possession nor entreaty; a statement of undeniable, glorious fact. He hovers on the knife-edge of immanence, already pressed partway home into his beautiful girlfriend as their eyes interlock in a singular forest green gaze. Her mouth sighs open to mouth the same magic word and she signs assent with a single small nod, silently sealing their eternal pact – ready to consider herself a woman at long last and to share her deepest self completely.
“Love…”
He hesitates and she takes the bull by the horn. Both her small hands tighten partway round his girth to squeeze the rigid pillar of captive manhood closer, further. She gasps and whispers, slurring; “Ogod – sho… so…” She wets her lips with a smear of pointy pink tongue while their eyes meld together through swimming tides of impassioned rapture and warping inebriants. “…more… much more… uh… than I remember…” He can barely hear her words; “…and so…”
He watches a shiver of trepidation arise inside her liquid eyes. “Let’s take our time…” he suggests as he looks all the way down into the trembling soul of the open-mouthed girl of his dreams, and burrows another millimetre inside her. “Let’s take fucking forever,” she says.
They both gasp when she pulls away and pops him back out through her gripping lips. She begins circling her clitoris with the soft, smooth, well lubricated bulb of his sensitive head while a warm breeze feathers his whetted crown. Her eyelids flicker shut and reopen upon his fixated stare while she pleasures herself with his cushion-capped rigidity. He squeezes her buttocks tightly, barely able to withstand the temptation to plunge back inside her while her hips rock and roll and squirm beneath him.
He sighs with satisfaction when a thrust of her heels crams him back down through her burning ring of elasticised fire while her hands hold his full length at bay. He prepares to pin her fine little body right into the sand, longing to hear her scream with joy and shocked fully sundered surprise. She holds his incipient advance back with both hands, and with the wordless plea that shines in her eyes as she pulls him back out once again, mercilessly teasing her captivated boy - and her own wee horny self.
“I knew it’d be you…” Her husky voice breathes an uncharacteristically deep tone. “I dreamed of this with you… for years…” Her expression is unreadable, a Mona Lisa smile wafting beneath intently mesmerising emerald orbs. She rolls his fleshy knob against her delightful pearl until her eyelids quiver through her faraway stare. “And ever since... saved it all for this… this time, f’r us… for you…” She squirms round his cock, squeezing her quivering, flaming, glistening elfin self up around his outthrust shaft.
“For this…” He feels the glorious heat of succulent desire envelop his mind as her membranes stretch tightly, wilfully around him, sucking his naked manhood into her wetly muscular, unutterably slick inner flesh. Oh, Goddess, yes! he exults in silent thanks. Their simultaneous gasp transforms to a groan, swamped by the boom of a long scrolling wave that unfolds against the soft white sand.
Her mouth widens into a stretching circle that mimics her straining labia. Interlocking loving lust shines in their glazing eyes and ignites roiling emotions and teeming sensations, swarming and bursting through their intertwined bodies while they linger on the brink at the rim of the world. “Natasha…” he breathes as she draws him in, millimetre by stretching millimetre. He shines with delight and moves inside her with a stately slow glide, smitten by her lithe, light grace and intoxicating feline beauty.
Ecstatic triumph mingles with utterly charmed erotic admiration for the gorgeous young girl. Her breasts cushion his chest as he descends upon her. She slides about in his arms, filling her young man with an irresistible desire to fill her and feel her completely.
He aches to use the fully fledged power of his proven body and wrap this beautiful, eager and pliant young virgin around its lusty length with a simple flex of manly strength – to watch her gasp and writhe and fuck and scream and come as she feels real, hard, obdurate and endlessly enduring teenage manflesh move inside her for the very first time. The young shaman is swamped by visceral sensations when her simmering loins bear down and squeeze tightly around his first swollen inches. The tight semicircles of Nasher’s clutching fingers slip down his shaft to grasp him by his hairy roots, lubricating the rest of his length with warmed massage oil.
“Oohh!” The moan starts deep in her belly and rises off the scale as she strives to draw him all the way inside her, gripping his balls with both hands and pressing down with both heels so hard that he has little choice. He dearly wishes to give her exactly what she craves and stalls no longer, diving in and down and up inside her at the very moment she rears beneath him.
His living Goddess impales herself full length, all at once, in a vividly, blindingly phantasmagorical, sheerly sensational, explosive and massive sensorial rush far more glorious than any drug or dream or vision. He almost explodes inside her immediately when he first plumbs her gripping, sucking, succulent depth. She takes him deep into her belly all at once – much further than he’d normally go when first entering a full-grown woman, let alone a small virginal girl like Natasha. He’s astonished by the strength and dexterity of her incredibly silken vice. She chews and sucks and clenches his manhood with an irresistibly furious pumping that takes his breath away. He draws back slowly, preparing to dive back even deeper as he watches awe dawn in her wide open eyes.
She’ll remember this forever, he realises, thrilled by the love glowing in the eyes of his wet-dream girl as he goes where no man has gone before – a tender love that simultaneously swells within his own breast and shines through his lustful yet tender gaze. Nasher’s eyelids squeeze shut and burst open over and again. He watches her intently engrave every nuance and stark sensation into lifelong memory in a series of overwhelmed sensorial snapshots. Forever…
And so will I… as a prideful rush swells up inside him, propelling him onward and inward again. “Oh, darling, love… ohh, sweet Natasha!” Lips meet and tongues entwine as they gasp and grasp each other’s loins, striving toward replete completion in ultimate union. She takes him as far as she possibly can and then seemingly flexes her entire wee self around his long hard cock. Her rippling young musculature grasps and strokes him vastly more intimately and tightly than her dainty hands ever had on the long sweaty nights of their tenderer years. He feels the outer flesh of his rigid cock pulled around its hard inner core by her instinctively talented rings of muscle. She milks him mercilessly as he lowers his full weight into her, pressing Natasha’s littler body down into formfitting blanketed sand.
Arching feet shift and slide to hold his full weight above her dainty body with a swimmer’s strength, slipping up his chest to lodge against his collar bones while he plunges deep and spreads her wide. “Ohh,” she pants as he reaches her cervix, “sho… so… uh… nn… much of you!” They begin to rock back and forth to an age old rhythm. Her words twist to moans as she pulls his head down and jams her tongue between his lips, fucking his mouth in time with his slow, deep thrusts, guiding his tempo, faster and faster.
Natasha unleashes her animal self and fucks him with unrestrained abandon, rocking and swirling her pinioned hips around his rigid shaft. She pulls him down to press her small body more deeply into the sand. His hands rove her skin, caressing her bucking flanks and athletic bum, feathering her sides and belly and cupping her bouncing breasts as twining tongues swim between their mouths. She lifts his shoulders with both tiny feet lodged into his armpits, shifting his weight so he presses more deeply between her thighs.
He grasps the bunching muscles of her cheeks in both palms and pulls her wriggling form up along his sex-whetted shaft. She moans appreciatively and pulls him into her with a tenacious grip on his bony hips. Then the moaning teen grabs him by the balls, one in each hand, and slowly pulls his cock all the way out of her clutching vagina and elastic labia - then forcefully rams him all the way back in again, over and over. He struggles to keep up with her and to hold back the tide of impending release.
“Don’t come,” she gasps between breaths, just as decides he can’t hold back another moment. She holds him poised above with pink-soled feet that slip across his chest and lodge in his armpits. Their bodies fuck like mindless automata while their hearts beat as one with the pulse of their lust. “Ohh, fuck, oh Ram, oh yes, oh man ohhh… so fucking… uhhuh… lover, my man, my mate, oh fuck me o yes uhh uhhh uhng… uhhh… don’t come in mm… ohh yes, like that, like that, oh God ogodogodo FUCK ohh! I’m COMING! Uh uhh unhh OHHH! Don’t come… nng mmeee OHHH!”
She writhes around her captive cock, gripping his balls with a painfully tight grasp, using his shaft as if she were fucking her homemade broomstick dildo back in Bleak City. He’s too entranced to object and joyfully plunges in and out of her hotly wet loving suction, enthralled by the ecstasy writhing across her alluringly shocked features.
“Oh Goddess uh… Natashuhh… mm oh girl, what a woman uhh you are… mmm…” He feels the crescendo of passion burst through their flesh and tries to hold back, feeling the warning tickle of Kundalini swelling in his roots, at the base of his being, while his balls contract and prepare to fill her womb with swarming seeds. He breathes into the space behind his navel, filling his belly with swelling energy as the beautiful young teen smothers his face in kisses and manipulates his rod inside her just-ripe loins.
“O don’ stop o please keep o yeah OHH!” Natasha’s scream rips through his soul and frightens the gulls that circle their feast. She clenches tightly round his rod as heels pound on his back and fingernails dig into his buttocks, pulling him down and in to wedge right up against her cervix again. At the same instant he pulls her slim hips up from the mattress and his cock presses so deeply into the young girl that his swollen head squeezes into the entryway of her womb just as she screams her way into a flowering, blossoming, bursting orgasm.
Natasha’s nails claw deeply into his flanks and she sucks his tongue into her throat. She moans and grunts and shimmies around her first real live cock, rigidly virile and ready to burst inside her feverishly fertile nubile womb while an electric rush screams up through his spine in echo of her orgasm.
Amid the tumult of explosive writhing, her lust-swollen breasts fill the questing hands that slip and slide round her tumultuously heaving little body. Her moans rise into screams that burst past their tongues as she wrings his cock inside her. He can’t possibly hold back any longer and his tongue slips from her mouth to urgently tell her; “I’m going to come…” Her hands move around his roots and strong little fingers press firmly beneath and above his contracting balls.
“No,” Nasher gasps in a desperate plea, “Don’… don’t come in me…” He redoubles his effort to restrain the pounding inner rush and realises her fingers have found precise points to squeeze to stem the unstoppable rising flood. “Don’ stop,” she cries, “don’t come ’n me… oh, OH, but don’t uh o fuck ohh don’ stop!” Somehow her young man does neither and their momentarily cautious lovemaking reverts to solid pounding animal sex. Her hands grip his roots to guide his thrusts and he jams her buttocks into cloth covered sand while the firm soft meat of her breasts squeezes outward between his splayed fingers.
Don’t spoil it… don’t ruin her first time, he cautions himself, breathing deep into his belly to contain his lust while he reams her more slowly. Don’t make her pregnant… He watches his gorgeous girl recover her breath as she holds his mass above her smaller frame with both hands and feet. She grasps him deeply with a rhythmic clenching. Long dark lashes conceal the glimmering crescents of heavy-lidded eyes as she watches him ride her, gasping for breath and rocking with his thrusts as she gains her second wind. Her fingers grip his base all the while, squeezing the point that delays his coming.
When she seems certain he won’t shoot blazing semen up inside her Natasha releases his testicles and caresses his long naked body with deliciously sensuous strokes. He shifts his weight to relieve the pressure on her body and her breasts unstick from his palms. Poised and suspended above and within her, his right hand sinks into slippery fine sand while her feet hold his torso an inch above her erect pink nipples. All her limbs pull him back down until her breasts squash beneath him and both her knees press down into her hair beside her entrancing face.
Her eyelids slide wide; her expression is indescribably rapt and faintly quizzical as she smiles up at him. “Oh God… uh… mm… love…” She kisses him with luscious abandon and spreads her legs wider, allowing his skin to blend with hers even more completely as their torsos strain to meet full length. Her breasts and belly pulse against him with every heartbeat while mingling salty perspiration drips into their melding mouths.
Nasher’s tongue slides out of him long enough to shape the words; “Oh god…”
“Goddess…” Pride swells in his chest and he grows even harder inside her. He’s ready to dive straight back into glorious pneumatic ecstasy and can barely restrain himself from taking her on another long ride. It won’t hurt her, the inner voice assures him as the memory of Nasher’s cock-shaped stick floods his swirling mind. It’s not really her first time… He longs to sate the needs that urge him on – the desperate need to come in her, the desire to make her scream in wordless joy again as she comes in his arms - but he manages to bask in the gentle afterglow of their loving while her hands flutter across his body and the gulls caw at them from the blinding sky.
Her tongue silences him for an immeasurable time and the alcohol, hash and sheer sexual fusion finally begin to subsume his wilful horniness. He sinks down into her welcoming flesh in abject surrender to true relaxation. Every slight move of the girl’s supple body caresses and enflames his strong hard cock – living wood of the Tree of Life rooted in the fertile fulcrum of her being.
“That was how I dreamed it’d be,” Natasha breathes in open-mouthed awe when their lips finally part. Their faces are swamped inside intertwined hair. “Blessed be and merry meet,” says he, and her bleary eyes instantly snap into focus.
A true story
*
- R.A.
Images – author’s
Further true tales of The Prince of Centraxis -
Shaman of Centraxis Part 4 - To Infinity and Beyond
Shaman of Centraxis Part 5 - Land of the Living
Shaman of Centraxis Part 6 - All the Way
Shaman of Centraxis Part 7 - South of Eden
Shaman of Centraxis Part 8 - The Whole is Greater
Shaman of Centraxis Part 9 - Crossing Boarders
Shaman of Centraxis Part 10 - Believer
Shaman of Centraxis Part 11 - Behind the Veil
Shaman of Centraxis Part 12 - Peace, Love & War Games
Shaman of Centraxis Part 13 - Pole Dancer
Shaman of Centraxis Part 5 - Land of the Living
Shaman of Centraxis Part 6 - All the Way
Shaman of Centraxis Part 7 - South of Eden
Shaman of Centraxis Part 8 - The Whole is Greater
Shaman of Centraxis Part 9 - Crossing Boarders
Shaman of Centraxis Part 10 - Believer
Shaman of Centraxis Part 11 - Behind the Veil
Shaman of Centraxis Part 12 - Peace, Love & War Games
Shaman of Centraxis Part 13 - Pole Dancer
AND See
Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll Part 1
Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll Part 1
Latest – http://centraxis.blogspot.com
And see
The Her(m)etic Hermit - http://hermetic.blog.com
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From The Prince of Centraxis - http://centraxis.blogspot.com
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