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Spring Equinox
If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else. This material is Copyright, 1999, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. |
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Spring Equinox
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But it was one hell of a lot easier to think him an intellectual than a seventy-year-old. None of the recent students at his retirement party could believe it, but he was about to be professor emeritus of philosophy. It didn't seem to change him much, though. Few things did. Not even their chance meeting at a party for the sexually liberated in her senior year had changed his behavior towards her. It hadn't even changed her grade. She pushed herself to catch up. "Prof," she said when she had, "I didn't think that you believed in magic." He was notoriously skeptical about bent keys, pyramid power, and the discovery that every atom in the universe was in instant communication with every other atom. "There are business opportunities which will make many times your investment back; there are teenage boys for whom intercourse provides most of what Kinsey, Pomeroy, and Martin charmingly called their outlet; there are stocks which are worth thirty times earnings. But, in every instance, there are somewhat fewer than are claimed. More women wear white on their wedding day than bleed on their wedding night...." She looked at him. This was leading somewhere, but was it leading anywhere this week? "... And more wear black at midnight than can cast the simplest spell. If someone claims sorcerer status, you ask how sorcerers behave." "And how is that?" "For the most part, they don't claim sorcerer status without good immediate reason. A man who claims to hold sorcerous power is a fool or a liar or, quite possibly, both. Magic owns some people; no one owns magic. Read the Old Testament. Did the prophets go around making things happen for their comfort or prestige? Not often. Their most frequent question was 'Why me?' So a mage. Meeting a sorcerer is possible this eve, meeting a sorceress is more likely, but magic requires neither. Look at your feet." When she did, she saw them in worn leather sandals. Her companion was wearing sandals of a different sort, with bindings running up his bare calves. For that matter, his walking stick now had a metal spearhead; he was dressed in a dark cloak with the hilt of a sword sticking above his left shoulder. His hair now swept his shoulders and his beard covered the top part of his chest. His torso was covered by a sleeveless, coarse-woven, black tunic which fell to his knees. She checked herself for other changes. Her hair was held by a clasp rather than a rubber band, and that clasp was in the middle of her back -- about where her bra clasp had been. The ends of the hair brushed her hips. Her dress, still green, was now little more than a cloth draped under one shoulder and clasped over the other. Her spring coat, once a much lighter shade of green, was now a heavy cloak the precise shade of her dress. "Did you do that?" "Magic did that," he answered. "This place is magical. Enjoy it!" She shuddered for a moment. "This seems a good time for panic," she said. "Why aren't I panicking?" "Much too late. Here we are." Several guards suddenly confronted them. They seemed nervous of Prof's weaponry, but they passed them through when he showed them a token. A very narrow crack between two rocks cleaned them of any diseases, as they passed through single-file. "Did you see those skulls?" she asked as they descended a steep slope. As they walked downward, the air around them grew warmer. The change was welcome. Her clothes were of thicker cloth, but they seemed to let more of the chill air in. "Spammers, apparently. Curious. I wouldn't have thought spammers among the craniates. They must be more evolved in their anatomy than in their behavior." There were several clusters of people in the valley. They were dressed in a wide variety of clothing, but no one else seemed to have been given primitive garb such as they had, and Susan suddenly doubted Prof's denial of any involvement with that transformation. Understandably, the group didn't much notice their approach at first. Scattered over the field were several couples and a threesome variously engaged sexually. To their right one woman was announcing her approaching climax as her partner stroked steadily within her. Those standing, and even some of the participating pairs, gave this couple their full attention. Suddenly, the man's motions sped. His shout echoed her scream. He thrust arhythmically for a moment and collapsed over her. People deliberately turned aside to allow them some privacy. Several of these spotted Prof. The group turned towards them, looking puzzled -- if not particularly frightened -- by Prof's warlike attire. "I think that might be Uther," said one. "It might," said Prof. Then he noticed two toddlers. "Keda!" he called. "Thomas!" At his attention, they backed towards a very pretty woman standing behind them. They looked rather dubious. Prof stood still for their inspection until there was a scream from the children's right. Three men were carrying off a woman with lovely legs -- all that could really be seen in her position. Prof started forward with his sword in his left hand and his spear ready for throwing. "Uther don't!" called the woman holding the children. "Those are friends of Julie's." Prof stopped, but the children were truly frightened now, hiding in the woman's skirts. "What's wrong?" a man's voice called from behind Susan's shoulder. She turned, and memory flooded into her. She had forgotten the events in the castle from the instant she had left it, but from some sort of magical influence rather than disinterest. Those events had been memorable, especially her time with this man, her castle lover. "Uther got carried away," a woman said somewhere behind her. Susan barely noticed, her attention centered on the face of the man. That face had kissed her, moved above hers while she spiraled towards ecstasy, smiled up at her as she lowered herself onto him, contorted as she contracted around him, and finally returned to focus as she reluctantly raised herself from resting against his neck. She could still remember how the neck had tasted; she wondered if she would taste it again. And taste other things again.... "Um," Prof said. "Technically, Julie got carried away. I overreacted." "Gus managed his scene, then?" His voice drew her one tentative step towards him. What if he didn't remember? What if he remembered and didn't care? "Susan!" he said. Her castle lover did remember and, from the tone of his voice, did care. "Love," he spoke over her shoulder, prompting a pang of jealousy, "could you excuse me for a while longer?" "Enjoy yourselves," called the woman. Then she murmured something to the two children. There was a woman without a grain of possessiveness. Susan was ashamed of her own jealousy, but that feeling washed away when his hand touched hers. She remembered his touch, a particularly knowing touch. "I don't want the twins to see," he said. "I don't want anybody to see." This surprised her as much as the jealousy. It was true, though, and she wanted to speak truth to him. "The barn?" he asked. She pulled her eyes off his face and followed his gesture. Across a stream was a large wooden structure. It looked awfully far away just now. She would follow him anywhere, however, especially away from this audience. He was already pulling her onward. She hurried to catch up, wanting to see his face. Instead of looking at her, he was watching their footing. While she would have rather had his attention, their footing was in danger. They were just going past a dense patch of shrubbery which seemed to be hiding a man dancing an odd jig by himself, when the dancing man stumbled forwards. The hand on her arm jerked her sideways, making her look down to catch her balance. The man fell onto the path ahead of them, impaled in a woman who had been hidden by the shrubbery until then. Neither of them wore a stitch below the waist. The woman shrieked, but another glance suggested that she had not been badly hurt. She continued to shriek and moan, but she never stopped thrusting her hips back at the man lying on her. They managed to reach the stream without another interruption. Her castle lover swept her up in his arms and carried her across. She was wearing sandals and a skirt that would not have touched the water; he was wearing slacks and shoes. Still, this way, she was in his arms. She spared one glance for the barn, then returned her gaze to his face as he strode towards it. The barn seemed designed for horses, but none were in sight. He set her down at the bottom of a ladder. She climbed into the loft conscious that he could see her thighs. Her only regret was that she had a breech clout between them. Well, removing that right now would delay more important matters. Once at the top, she saw hay bales in wall-like stacks with piles of loose hay scattered between them. When he reached the top, he stopped for only one brief kiss before leading her towards one of the closest piles of hay. His sudden lurch towards a more distant one distracted her. A woman rose out of the pile of hay, looking through them rather than towards them. Her intent scowl turned into a rictus. Susan would have found that evidence of another's orgasm arousing in almost any other situation, but now she was aroused already; she was mostly annoyed that those people (the man was invisible except for his hands on the woman's breasts) were occupying her hay pile. They finally reached an unoccupied hay pile, however; and she forgot everyone else. "You get your shirt," she said as she struggled to untie his wet shoelaces. He did, stepping out of his shoes at her direction. They reached his belt at the same time. "Your dress?" he asked. "Simple. Let me take care of this." She undid belt, snap, and zipper. Her cloak and then her dress fell around their feet when he undid the clasps. The clout between her legs and his watch and shorts were all that they were wearing. He removed the shorts and stepped out of the trousers pooled around his ankles. Then they took a minute to spread these clothes over the hay. She wanted to enclose him immediately, but he stopped to kiss her. His tongue was sweet in her mouth, but her breasts and groin were calling out for his attention. When she let herself relax in the kiss, he lowered her to the makeshift bed. They could hear rustlings about them but were all alone enclosed in their walls of hay. Then his mouth was on one breast while a hand was on another. He stroked her all over. Finally, he untied the cord binding the clout. "Please," she said, and lifted her hips. He pulled the cord off and tossed the top part of the cloth down between her knees. His hand stroked between her thighs while she spread them for him. She wanted him rather than any teasing. Before she could reach for him, however, his hand found her center. The touch was enough to ignite her, and she soared while he kissed above and stroked below. How long that lasted, she couldn't know. It felt like an instant, it felt like forever. Her spirit returned to the barn to find him gently kissing her brow. When she tugged at his arm, he moved between her raised knees. Once there, he dawdled again. The kisses on her breasts were delightfully arousing, but she had had enough arousal. "Please," she said again; but when his mouth left her breasts, it traveled downward. When it reached her center, she buried her fingers into his hair to pull him upwards. But her arousal was too great. His lips and tongue overcame her, and she pressed his head into her as she tensed again. Then she exploded. As she writhed in the delightful agony of her orgasm, he continued to suck. Finally, he withdrew his mouth; and they both gasped for breath. But she, with better access to the air, recovered first. When he began to nibble at her thigh, she drew him upwards by his hair. He continued to scatter kisses across her body as he moved forward fast enough to retain his scalp. She did allow him a long pause at her breasts. He licked the sensitive nipples on both breasts and eased one with a gentle suck. When he started back towards the other, however, she tugged his hair again. "I want you inside," she said. He came up then and kissed her mouth. Tongue played with tongue as his phallus eased between her labia. The feel of him rubbing along her groove was exciting, but she needed more. She reached down, placed him in the exact spot, and started to raise her hips. "Slow, darling," he said. "Let me be slow." That, she would allow. She guided him inward long after he needed that touch. Her fingers held a shaft of ordinary size and temperature, pleasant to the touch but not especially slippery. Her inner lips reported an incredibly smooth bolt of heat which stretched her as it entered her a millimeter at a time. An eternity later, she had to let go as his base pressed against her entrance. She was filled and, at last, held her castle lover again. She dropped her torso flat, no longer needing to twist to reach him. She curled her legs around him as he kissed her deeply. The play of their tongues was as rapid as the entry had been slow. Straightening until his chest was just brushing over her hard nipples, he began to rock his hips from side to side. He was moving neither in nor out, but all of her sensitive center felt the motions. He shifted until his hands were on her breasts. Now, his thumbs grazed her nipples; and his motion was slower and stronger. He looked into her eyes. "Susan," he said. She remembered that she had never learned his name, but this seemed one hell of a time to ask. They stared at each other while her tension grew. She tried to work against his motion, but her hips would only go back and forth. Her vision fogged. "Yes, Susan," he said. "Let me feel you around me. Come around me, Susan." And then she did, clutching his hips with her hands and his lovely cock with her cunt. When her vision cleared, he was driving into her with deep, strong, slow, strokes. Given no time to come down from her last orgasm, she soared away again. Then he was grinding against her and pulsing within her. Her last spasms forced him out. He tried to roll away, but she held on tight. They lay like that, gasping, and then hugging. He moved down enough to kiss her lips. They hadn't quite caught their breath, however, and had to break the kiss. "Never," she told him, "never has it been like that." "It was wonderful for me, too." "Stay here." "For a while." They lay there. About when his weight was causing as much discomfort as pleasure, he moved to her side. He kissed her face, then kissed her deeply. She could feel the goodbye in this kiss. "Hug," she said and clasped him tightly, desperately. He hugged her back for minutes. Then he disengaged slowly. "I did leave Pat with the twins," he told her. He kissed her deeply, but briefly, scattered kisses over her face, and then pulled back. She had to roll aside so that he could pull his shirt and pants from the bottom of their improvised bedclothes. She never says, "I love you," and she didn't this time. It was true, though. "Will I see you again?" she asked. "The next one of these meetings which the newsgroup holds. I'm just afraid that they are getting less frequent." She watched him carry his clothes to the ladder. He dressed there except for shoes and socks. He was still carrying those when he climbed down taking him out of her sight. She lay there for a few minutes reliving their times together. She had first seen him at some castle in the North Sea. Prof had taken her there with him. Prof claimed that actual sexual relations with a recent student would violate his ethics, but that he could take her to a party where hedonism was in style. That much had been true. She had been on her third man, Richard by name, trying to keep connected without either of them going over. They had stopped all of their motion to watch one woman eat out another. Then the active woman had received a phone call. "Damn," she had said. "Dear, do you think you could finish this for me?" And then to the woman, "He's really quite good." Whatever the objections of the woman lying on the sofa had been, and she had seemed to have some, they had disappeared as the man's ministrations took effect. Richard had stirred within her as the woman began to vocalize her arousal. He hadn't been able to resist stroking to the time of the moans coming from across the room. By the time these had arisen to shrieks, Richard's had echoed them. Then Susan had voiced her own orgasm. The woman on the couch, by far the earliest to start, had been the last to finish. Only when her moans had turned to sobs had her companion relented. Susan and Richard had resumed watching while the others caught their breaths. Saying something like "You were very good," true as it might have been, had seemed out of place in the company of what had clearly been better. The man had been kneeling beside the couch holding the woman when she spoke. "I really should. Pat shouldn't have asked you. That was wonderful and I...." "Let me guess, you don't do men." "Yes. I mean no. Pat knows that. But you were so good." "Don't worry. I understand completely. As a matter of fact, I don't do men either. You aren't leaving me on a desert island, you know. I would guess that it will be physical ability rather than lack of companionship that limits me tonight. Anyway, you don't owe me anything. Pat called on me, and she knows that she always can." "I begin to see why she married you." "Ah, but she didn't. Anyway, ask..." he gestured to Richard, who identified himself, "ask Richard whether he enjoyed being in the same room with you then." "Very much," said Richard. "And I had the better seat for the show. Now go straighten yourself out. I'll never tell your friends that you enjoy men." All four of them had needed more than a little straightening out, in fact. But Susan had caught up with the man somewhat later and drawn him into a reasonably private nook. After a long, deliriously pleasant period (his mouth had been every bit as exciting her as she had guessed it would be) she had bent over a divan and drawn him into another nook which -- if hard to describe as private -- she had cleaned out for his occupation just before. By that time, however, the purity from the previous douche had been overcome by the flowing of her juices. He hadn't complained, however, and had no fair complaint to make; he had evoked the entire flow himself, some of it by his mere presence and personality, but much of it deliberately. Any curiosity she had ever had about size had been satisfied in the autumn of her fifteenth year. Her parents, ignorant of the activities of her previous summer, had thought that any dates she had should be well chaperoned. They had been pleased when she had reduced her interest in boys and taken up a new hobby of candle dipping in the basement. She had even sold enough candles to exceed the cost of her materials, if not match their weight. She had found that size did only so much for her. Shape, however, is a different matter. She had found a year later that some boys could hit one spot within her some of the time, and that had made all of the difference. From behind, with her bent over the furniture, her new lover had shown that he could do more than hit it; he had rubbed over it until she spasmed, and then had stroked across it until he had joined her response. Then, cleaned up once again, he had taken her up to meet his family. "Sorry to leave you like that," Pat had said. "That's all right. Keda and Tommy needed you, and the experience was delightful by itself. As much as one might like Peking duck, a good porterhouse now and then satisfies other appetites. And this lady, um..." "Susan," she had said. They had been so intimate, but never exchanged names. "Susan more than relieved any stress that your friend's prejudices might have left." "That's kind of you Susan, but I hope you left a little for me. You don't know until you nurse twins how frustrating breast stimulation can be by itself." Then she had met Julie, and run into the Prof again. Later she found that this new lover could touch her special spot in other positions as well; but the time had passed for asking: "And what is your name?" Strangely, Prof wasn't sure when she had asked him. Despite the other men she had enjoyed in those days, and she had enjoyed quite a few, this one was her special "castle lover." But she had forgotten all about the castle and the island from the instant that she had stepped on the boat. The memories were arousing, but not satisfying. The hay was scratchy; it was time to clean up. Susan found a trough with intake and outlet pipes in the lower part of the barn. It didn't match the castle's bidets and cartons of bottled douches, but she didn't give sloppy seconds. When she felt the chilly water, that resolution wavered. But she knew the cure for that. Draping her clothes over the gate to a stall, she dropped all the way down. The first splash against her still-sensitive vulva was piercing as a knife, but numbness soon followed. She gave the slow flow a minute or two to clean her off, then clambered out. "You're braver than I am, or part polar bear." The comment frightened her, although neither words nor tone sounded hostile. She clutched her clothes to her front and looked towards the sound. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Want help drying off? My name's Mat" A man naked from the waist up came towards her. He was carrying a shirt and an undershirt in his hand. He started drying her back with the shirt and handed the undershirt to her. "Thanks Mat," she said. "My name's Susan. My clothes are mostly wool." His cotton clothes felt much smoother on her skin. "You came here with Uther," Mat asked, "didn't you? Does he claim to be several centuries old back home." "He's seventy, and about to be professor emeritus. The University makes teachers retire at that age. I was at his retirement party, and none of us could believe that he was even that old. Centuries don't come into it." "How did he get those pigstickers through the Mundane part of the route? And could he really use them? The way he grabbed them looked authentic." "We weren't dressed like that until we had almost reached the guards. I expected all of you to be transformed as well. As for the weapons, he can use a sword. At his retirement party, I learned that he had been faculty adviser for the fencing club. A past president of the club said that they would still have an intervarsity team if advisors had been permitted to compete; as it was, they didn't have a decent saber. I don't know about the spear." "The two of you certainly made a dramatic entrance. And then you wandered off with Mark. That man can really write." "Wander" sounded like a euphemism for their rushed exit. Mat certainly had known what they intended to do. Susan felt the beginnings of a blush and wondered why. This had been billed as an orgy after all; she had performed in the same bed (or on the same floor) with others often enough. But the name caught her attention. "Mark?" she asked. "Do you know his last name?" "I'm not sure that I know his first name. Mark Aster writes wonderful stories in the first person about his life with Pat and Julie. Now, the person you were with is the hero of the stories; he is the narrator of the stories. But the narrator's name is never mentioned in the stories. Is he the author of the stories?" "You could ask." "I did ask Mark, and he evaded. You could have asked for yourself." "There never seemed to be a time to ask, and now is much too late." "You're in love with him?" She blushed, but his voice dropped when he continued, "Just as I am with Julie." "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything." "I wish you had. As far as I know, three men have Julie tied to a bed somewhere." "I'm sorry! She's a fool, I wouldn't turn you down." "She didn't." he said. "Somehow, I never get close enough to ask. Want help on your legs?" He knelt down and wiped them off before she replied: "You couldn't be worse off if you did." "You can't find the right time to ask your ideal's name, but you advise me to walk up to my ideal and say 'wannafuck?' Everybody else's life is easier." The man had a point. "Besides, I have something to dream about. That's better than a no, it could possibly be better than a yes." "I've decided that he isn't an author," she said. "Authors are weird." "Arriving with Pendragon in that outfit, are you sure that you are in any position to talk?" "It was all the Prof's doing. He's an author, isn't he?" Mat shrugged. Susan spread out her clothes over the stall door again. Shouldn't she be putting them on? Even after the vigorous rubdown, she was still chill. But Mat was still kneeling, which put his face level with her waist. "You really wouldn't turn me down?" he asked. "No I wouldn't." And she wouldn't. He had been generous to her, and looked quite presentable. He leaned forward, still kneeling, and kissed her just above the hairline. She pulled his head against her belly. Slowly, his lips trailed up her body until they kissed the underside of her breasts. When both had been lavishly laved, he kissed between them and up to her chin. Then he stood straight and kissed her fully on her mouth. She had to strain upwards to meet him, but it was well worth it. Then he was holding her pressed against him as he kissed her forehead and ears. "Get your sandals," he whispered. After she put them on, he led her towards one door of the barn. "Hay is a bit scratchy, let's see whether the tack room is occupied." The weather might be warmer in the valley than outside, but it was still chilly. They looked silly carrying their clothes, he naked to his waist, she to her ankles. She compromised by throwing the cloak around her. The tack room had all sorts of leather straps and harness hanging from nails in the walls, and several wooden tables which looked like carpenters benches to her. Shelves along the wall held tools and all sorts of complicated pieces of metal, but -- so far as she could see -- not a single tack. Mat latched the door behind them. She looked at all that leather with some concern; she didn't know Mat well enough to play tie-up games. But he expressed no interest in the harness. Instead he moved some material from one bench, tossed a rough blanket over it, and put his damp shirt over the blanket. Then he turned to her. They kissed briefly before he swung her up so she was sitting on the shirt. She dropped her clothes and his undershirt beside her to free up her hands; his were already roaming under the cloak. The bench was high enough so that her head was above his. That changed the kisses subtly, but gave him much better access to her breasts. She contented herself with caressing his shoulders and occasionally kissing the top of his ears, while he stroked and kissed her for a luxurious length of time. The bench was too short for lying down and too high for them to connect while she sat on the edge. When he had teased her past the point where she could wait any longer, she pushed him back and hopped down. His trousers confined his arousal without quite concealing it. Kneeling to remove the impediments, she was inches from his phallus when it was freed. It looked lovely, but it smelled used. "Someone has been here before me," she said. "Two, actually. I got to the valley some time before you did." "After two, you can still get hard. I'm impressed." He couldn't have spent more than a couple of hours here, after all. It was about noon. "I have inspiration," he said. Nice man! But the credit was more his than hers. After giving it a kiss for encouragement, she turned around and leaned over the bench. They needed a little adjustment to get the heights right, ending up with Mat's legs spread wide and hers close together. He felt enormous when they stood like that, but there were none of the twinges of pain that sometimes accompanied truly gigantic cocks. "So tight," he said. So he was enjoying it too. She tightened herself a little more and felt him slide slowly deeper, rubbing all of her in his progress. When his legs were pressed against hers, she slowly lowered her belly so that she was swaybacked between the support of her legs and that of her arms. Mat sank in another centimeter during that change. He pulled on her hipbones and wiggled himself against her until they were joined as deeply as they could be in that position. He kissed her spine before smoothing his hands up her torso to hold her hanging breasts. Then he began a slow motion back and forth within her. A small adjustment on her part brought those strokes across just the right point. Held by him, holding him, she spiraled into her climax. Every motion fired her more; every thrill drove her to move against him. Sensing something, he abandoned her right breast to press her mound in time with his motions. She came and came. He was still within her when she next noticed the external world. He was moving very slowly, all the way in but not very far out; and he was helping to support her weight. When she could support her full weight, she started pushing back against his thrusts. He responded by taking deeper strokes and returning his hand to her mound. Her arousal, only partly abated during the period of his diminished motion, spiraled upwards again. He began to thrust harder, and she held one hand against the wall to press back. The warmth spread from her mound to her breasts and thighs; when it reached her throat, she heard herself sobbing and gasping. Then fire flared through her, and again, and again. He was still moving strongly when she returned, and the spiral resumed almost immediately. Unable to stand much more of these sensations, she parted her legs a little and reached between them. She cupped his scrotum in her palm and reached a finger behind it. His response was to press against her more deeply, driving into her from his hips rather than moving his whole body. Her last use of voluntary muscles was to press her finger into him just behind his scrotum. Then she soared away to the sounds of his groans and the feel of him pulsing within her. When she recovered this time, she was lying across the bench and he was sitting on the floor behind her. When he kissed the back of her knee, she pushed herself up to a standing position. She turned and looked at each other for a few moments. She saw a grin on his face and suspected that hers matched it. From his seated position, he had a close-up view of her snatch; but he deserved it if he were still interested. She had to say something. "Wow." "Wow," he agreed. "Do you always last that long?" "No," he said. "I think that the third time was a charm." "Well, whatever. It was an effective charm if so." She turned back and started to regather her clothes. "Unless horse troughs are a particular fetish," he said, "there is something you should know. Our hostess has provided showers in the yurt." "Yurt?" "The main house. It doesn't look like a yurt to me." There seemed to be a knocking at the door, slow and somewhat muffled. He rose, and they both rushed to dress, she skipping the breech clout. There was no-one at the door, however. They could still hear the knocking, and it was growing faster. They looked up simultaneously. Dust drifted down from the ceiling in time to the knocking. Laughing together, they left the barn for the house. "Well," said Mat, "Uther may talk of the desirability of characters who look ordinary, but he certainly turned you into a walking wet dream." "He didn't turn me into anything. My hair is longer, that's all." "Well, I suppose that he couldn't improve on the model he had." She was beginning to like this guy. His Julie looked better, but his compliments were all directed at her. "But he must have done a lot to himself. The guy we see sure doesn't look seventy." "The guy we see doesn't look seventy either. He lives about a mile from campus, and he walks it summer and winter. Never misses a class either; he jokes that shoes start when cars won't. I told you none of his students can believe it. Anyway, his clothing and hair length were transformed; his body is the same one he started with, just as mine is the one I started with." "Which probably gave him the idea," said Mat. "He feels like he could last forever, so he says that he has lasted forever. Anyway, here's The Yurt. I bet the showers are easy to find." And so they were, but there were sexually-segregated toilets on the way. Susan stopped inside the ladies' room. Their hostess had provided packaged douches if not bidets, and Susan felt much cleaner when she finally got to the showers. "Mat," she called. Several showers were running. "Right here. You could have your own shower. On the other hand, I need someone to scrub my back." She grabbed a shower cap and joined him. Their primary activity, after all their intimacy, was scrubbing each other's back. And, after the hay and the woolen dress and cloak, that felt good. Additional contact seemed more fond than arousing, and Mat was even yawning by the time that the shower was over. Meanwhile, squeals and giggles came from a nearby stall. Somebody was feeling more erotic than they were. When they were quite clean, Mat turned off the water and stepped out. She offered to dry his back. "Thanks," he said. "I think that I'll need some serious sack time before I'm going to be any good in the sack, if you catch my drift." "Well, you were good, if not precisely in the sack. You deserve a rest for what you did for me, let alone my predecessors." He wrapped a towel around him, picked up his clothes, and started towards the door. She stopped him for a last kiss. "Thanks Mat," she said. Then she started to dry herself while he wandered off in search of a place to crash. At that point the shower stall with all the giggles released two women and a man. The taller woman, an earth-mother type with unshaven underarms and a gravelly voice, grabbed a towel. "You two have driven me absolutely bonkers," she said. "I need to find the food before I perish. I'd tell you to behave while I'm gone, but it's a lost cause." "I always behave," said the man. "Morgan didn't say that he behaves well," added the shorter woman. "Need your back dried, love?" The last seemed addressed to Susan, since the man was toweling off the other woman. She didn't wait for an answer but went behind her and began to rub vigorously. "I'm Erin," she continued, "that's Morgan. And you're?" "I'm Susan. Thanks, that feels good." Erin was a short slender girl and looked about twenty. She seemed to have no hair at all on her body, and the hair on her head was in a short pixie cut. Indeed, dyed green, she would pass for a pixie. Her breasts, while not particularly abundant, seemed to take exception to the law of gravity. Morgan had dark-blond hair and appeared to be in his forties, despite his boyish laughter. "Care to join us?" he asked. Why not. Their latest companion seemed to be leaving with no worse damage than a stitch in her side from laughing too much. Still she worried a bit. "I don't really do kink," she said. That depended on one's definition of 'kink,' of course, and on how well she knew her companions. Still, people were much happier when you eased off that statement than when you eased off "I'm open to anything." Morgan sighed theatrically. "Damn! That means we have to find a bed." She laughed and turned to dry Erin. Morgan took care of himself. Somewhat dressed, they left the shower room. Her companions knew the way, and three turns later they were in a hall with doors on each side. The first knob which would turn led to a careless foursome. The second led to an empty room. The bed was queen-sized and stripped of its covers. "Do we need a top sheet?" Erin asked. Morgan looked at Susan. "Can't think why. It feels warm enough." Indeed, the temperature was a little warm for her woolen wrap. She helped Erin fit the sheet to the mattress while Morgan pulled pillow cases over several pillows. Her dress covered her while she stood, but slid aside every time she bent over. Oh well, they had seen everything anyway. Morgan tossed three pillows on the bed when the last corner of the mattress was forced into the sheet. "Well done," he said. "You deserve a reward." He kissed her very sweetly on the mouth. Soon he was trailing kisses down her neck towards the brooch on her shoulder. Suddenly there was a shrill blast of noise just beside her. They jumped apart. "Violation!" Erin cried, waving the sort of whistle that a referee would use. "You can't start the game until you are wearing your uniforms." Presumably, she meant that they needed to be as naked as she was. "That's unfair," said Morgan. "We were only warming up." But he undid Susan's brooch and unwrapped her from the dress. Erin was enough shorter that she hardly had to bend to fit her face between Susan's breasts. She kissed her there and then the smoothness to each side. A minute later, Morgan was behind Susan, kissing her neck and ears. He hugged her, and she felt his semi-erection between her butt cheeks. As Erin dropped lower, Morgan's hands found Susan's breasts. She let herself rest against him as a mouth warmed her belly and slender fingers tickled her thighs. "Want the bed?" he whispered in her ear. She nodded. Really this was delightful, but her legs had supported her long enough. "Bed time," he said loudly enough for Erin to hear. "Call tops," Erin replied. She backed away , and Morgan helped Susan to the bed. They both checked that she looked comfortable. Then Erin began a long, gentle, tongue kiss. Susan discovered how different Morgan's demanding, sucking, kisses on her belly were than Erin's light ones had been. Soon, however, he was between her knees and starting a path of kisses upwards. Erin abandoned Susan's mouth to move to a position above her head. When Erin began kissing her breast, Susan could just reach Erin's. Then Erin adjusted her posture so that they could each get a nipple. Meanwhile, Morgan was kissing and licking his way further up her inner thighs. When he finally reached the junction, he skipped the critical area to play for a minute with the hair on her mound. "I like this," he said. "A very nice thatch. Something to play with." He kissed the point of her mound before parting the lips. Soon, he was licking each inner lip alternatively. He avoided the critical point too skillfully for it to be an accident. Still, Susan needed him there. She writhed in a futile attempt to get just the right spot under his tongue. She turned aside from Erin's stiff nipple to complain. Erin took that opportunity to raise herself. "How does she taste?" she asked. "Fine. A trifle vinegary, but she's getting over that." Great! Not only were they discussing her like some salad, but now there was no stimulation. "Just don't splooge all over it before I get to taste." "Hey!" Morgan answered. "You called tops." "So I did," Erin said, and attacked Susan's other nipple. Morgan started in on Susan's labia again, but he again avoided her clit. She moaned in frustration, then moaned entirely differently when he found it at last. One of Erin's hands was playing with her ear; the fingers of the other one just brushed the unsucked nipple. One of Morgan's hands was pressed against -- not into, just against -- her anus; and the other one was tickling her thighs. But their mouths were doing the real work. She spiraled upwards towards her climax. Licked, sucked, tickled, tweaked, she flew beyond control. And then she was possessed, twitching and moaning. Finally, she pushed them away. "It feels nice when she moans around my breast," Erin commented. "Weird but nice." They lay on either side of her, leaving plenty of room for her to breathe, but snuggled against her arms. "I suppose you want to change ends," Morgan said. "Yes. But why don't we do front and back first." "Then I get front. I had front before and you took it with your stupid whistle." "Fine," said Erin. "Women have more erotic zones than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Anyway, I want to end up in front. I have ideas for the finale." "You expect this to go on?" Susan was finally able to gasp out. "Barely begun, sweet," Morgan answered her. "Turn towards me when you're ready for round two. What with the whistle and all, we haven't really kissed yet." Morgan's large hand stroked one thigh while Erin's small one played with her breast or toyed with her hair. Occasionally they switched areas, but each one kept to one side of her body. It was as if there was an invisible line drawn down her center and neither was straying near it. Which meant that no hand was actually touching her mound. Right at that moment, that was more of a relief than a lack. Finally, however, she recovered her breath and her interest. After all, Morgan's first kiss had been sweet. She rolled towards him, and then backed up to give him room. The second kiss was as sweet, even though she could taste herself on his lips. Then she could taste only his tongue. While Susan's mouth was occupied, Erin kissed and caressed the back of her neck and the very tip of her ear. Then she took a leisurely trip down Susan's back, kissing each vertebra and scratching in all the right places. By the time that Erin was licking in the folds joining Susan's thighs to her hips, Morgan was lipping her nipples and caressing her mound. The brush of Erin's fingers on the inner back of her thighs were more ticklish than erotic. Erin's tongue, though, was definitely exciting. So was Morgan's pressure against the very front of her lower lips. Susan wanted more stimulation, and got a little more. Soon, however, she wanted a lot more. Erin licked the extreme back portion of her inner lips. Susan moaned. "Ready for the next stage?" Morgan asked. "Oh yes." "Then see if you can turn over right here," Erin said. The other two didn't leave her much room, but Susan managed. When she was lying on her right side, Erin moved Susan's right leg up into a high-stepping pose. Then she rested her head on that thigh. "Turn a little towards me, love," Erin said. When Susan did, Morgan slipped into her from behind. He took forever, but Erin's weight on her thigh prevented Susan from pushing herself backwards. Finally, when Morgan was pressed against Susan's butt and had penetrated her deeply, Erin began licking the front of her labia. "Put your top leg on top of mine," Morgan said. When Susan did, he eased a millimeter deeper. "Told you it tasted delightful," Morgan continued. "Mm hmm," Erin said. It seemed to be agreement, and the buzz from Erin's lips certainly intensified Susan's excitement. Erin's tongue licked the labia which were distended by Morgan's erection; it had to be licking Morgan as well. That might account for his beginning to move in and out in time to that slow licking. Morgan found just the right spot, and Susan spiraled upwards. The stimulation went on and on. Whenever she returned from one peak, the multiple frictions would drive her to another. Finally, one especially strong spasm drove Morgan out of her. Her movements dislodged Erin as well. Susan collapsed onto her back. Her breath sounded like a steam engine to her own ears, and she didn't know if she would ever recover her breath. She was held in strong arms about her shoulders. Occasionally a shudder ran through her body, but otherwise nothing moved but her chest. Her breathing finally quieted. She relaxed into the supporting arms. Someone covered her with a sheet. "We did need a top sheet after all," said Erin. "Are you coming?" She couldn't move, could hardly keep awake. But the sentence must have been addressed to another. Morgan eased his arms from around her. "Sleep tight, love," he said." "That's right," Erin said. "Sleep for a bit and you'll feel chipper again. I do hate to eat and run, but you don't need us." Susan waved her hand to tell them that it was all right, and then relaxed completely. She never heard the door shut. When she finally woke up, Susan stripped the bed and staggered to the shower room once again. Cleaned inside and out, she found the remains of the buffet. Then she searched out Prof. Somehow, after her experience with Morgan and Erin, she didn't need any more partners just then. She heard Prof before she saw him. "Both of you! This is sharp-edged weapon of war. You are not to try to take it from the other; you might get hurt. Now, Thomas, Keda is going to get some turns. You've had plenty of chances." There were some indistinct murmurs after this. "She did want to watch at first. And aren't you glad that she watched you play. Indeed, she watched so long that she is going to get fewer turns than you did. However, nothing in my offer implied that she had to take it up just then. And knights don't talk about their sisters that way." By the time that she reached the doorway, the boy was back from the action. Instead of struggling over the spear dangerously, the girl was using it in Prof-approved play. That is to say that she was charging Prof with the spear pointing towards his legs. He used his scabbarded sword to deflect the spear at the last minute. Then the girl collided with him. "I'm glad," Susan said, "that she isn't doing anything dangerous with that spear." "So am I," Prof answered. "The two of them were wrestling with the butt end not two minutes ago. Have you eaten? We could go soon, if you're ready." "I'm ready. I just hope you have had some time with people your own age." "None of them around," Prof answered. "But I did get some time with women over the age of consent, if that is what you meant." A few minutes later, he said: "Last charge Keda. Make it a good one." He let her get much closer that time, swept the spear away, and picked her up as she charged into him. He kissed the top of her head. "Put me down," the girl said, laughing. Instantly, Prof did so. Keda stopped laughing. "You got what you asked for," Prof pointed out. "Give me your hand." He took it and kissed the back, quite formally. "My lady, fare thee well." He reached out a hand towards the boy, who paused before offering his own. Prof merely shook this hand, however. "Thomas. Fare thee well also. Come with us, both of you. I promised to return you to a responsible adult." They found the entire family waiting for the kids. "We got to play with Uther's spear," Thomas told Pat. She didn't look completely happy at the news. "They weren't in danger," Prof assured her. "If he's still interested after three days, try a length of thick doweling a foot taller than he is. The iron point is unnecessary for practice. Paint a target on a tree, and his worst danger is falling over." The entire family said goodbye with hugs. When she got to Julie, Susan felt inspired. "Kiss Mat goodbye for me," she whispered in Julie's ear. She got a speculative look, but a nod followed that. Her Castle lover kissed her full on the mouth, Keda threw herself into Susan's arms, and then they left the Yurt. The air cooled as they ascended the path. She thought of the day. Morgan and Erin had treated her wonderfully, but it was still a game to them. Mat, on the other hand, had been as loving as her hero had. None of that had affected her preference one whit. "Prof, am I going to remember this?" she asked. "Probably not." "Remind me to be kinder to Joe, okay?" "Does he want you to be kinder to him?" he asked. "He wants an exclusive relationship, and now I understand that feeling. I wish I knew that he loved me, I wish I just knew his name." "I can't help with the name." Prof seemed to understand that the subject had shifted. "But he does love you. Your problem is that he loves many other people. Some think he and Pat are the embodiment of eros, but actually philadelphia is their strong suit." "Thanks," she answered, and then a pause. "I think." "I can't see the point," he said, "of giving Joe more of what you've given him in abundance, simply because he wants what you aren't going to give him. Would more kindness from Keda's father really make you happier?" It took them ten more minutes to reach the slit in the rock, but she still hadn't answered that question -- not even to herself. |
The End. Spring Equinox Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 1999/05/09 2001/09/27 2002/03/20 2003/03/20 2004/03/20 For a quite different, and much shorter, story see: "Cops and Robbers" This story is indexed in the subdirectory: Games The directory to all my stories can be found at: Index to Uther Pendragon's Website |