Message-ID: <44177asstr$1062371404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <20030831194922.4161.qmail@web40410.mail.yahoo.com>
From: Planet Dweller <planet_dweller@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sun, 31 Aug 2003 12:49:22 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} Scroll To My Spartan Lover ~Or~ Song Of Tymareta (FF, les, historical, menarche ritual, menstrual sex)
Date: Sun, 31 Aug 2003 19:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/44177>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, newsman
__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Yahoo! SiteBuilder - Free, easy-to-use web site design software
http://sitebuilder.yahoo.com
<1st attachment, "Scroll To My Spartan Lover.txt" begin>
Author: PlanetDweller
Title: Scroll To My Spartan Lover, Or, Song Of Tymareta
Summary: From an ancient scroll found in a dry cave near
Thermophalae in Greece, as translated by PlanetDweller
Keywords: FF, les, historical, menarche ritual, modest menstrual
sex by inference
Scroll To My Spartan Lover
>>> Or <<<
Song Of Tymareta
~ From an ancient scroll found in a dry cave near Thermophalae
in Greece, as translated by PlanetDweller ~
(FF, les, historical, menarche ritual, modest menstrual sex by
inference)
Tymareta, my love, how long my arms have longed to hold you these
past seven seasons and two moons, how my body has sought your
embrace by night in the storm of my dreams only to be awakened by
the calm of morning cock's crowing. How my lips have sought
solace in their impressioning to yours, their twining on
reflection perchanced by our tongues wrestling as we once did
ourselves within our own games, our skyclad flesh himations
shamed only by the fact we were and women in a world where men
dominate us as they dominate our gods.
Tymareta, my love, your humble slave Aprila begs your forgiveness
at the boldness of my words. My words are but thoughts as
butterflies sent to kiss the morning blooms in your garden, as
tender as your hands which once clasped mine as we made our way
through the agora time and time again in public-common which soon
touched breasts in behind private-secratae in the houses of our
fathers. My words are but gossamer glistenings of the beauty of
your eyes in contemplative lamplight as you helped me nurse my
mother back to health as you helped nurse me at your breast
allowing nee' encouraging me to leave glistenings of moistures
upon your brow and breast and koleos, the twin of your facial
reflections happy in its place hidden where no man dare not look.
My words are but a prayer to not to Zeus but to Hera that your
children not be cast to pots out in the streets but beloved by
your husband and humbled within your house so that even little
Ballian your most precious of daughters grow to be as strong as
her brothers and know her Aunt Aprila as her mother's sister not
by blood of ancestry but by shared blood of the mysteries.
And what mysteries of youth we did share! Our mothers strong,
dominant over our fathers to where we could share the hours of
our youth together as we wished, your mother teaching me to read
and write, my mother teaching you the philosophy of the sciences,
our fathers not really caring because of their duties to their
phiditia. And when duty called, your father a man of good
consciousness and citizenship and a patriarch among patriarchs
felt his name could not be shamed by following any dictates save
those of his heart so carried you so far, far away from me as our
domains of Athens and Sparta now enemies once allies once enemies
hopefully allies again soon spat in each other's laps whilst
sitting as friends and now the leagues of distance separate our
bodies but not our hearts.
And what mysteries of youth we did share! Within the Temple Of
Oronia, our mothers nude as was all of our sisters-to-be within
the cloistering of sacred columns telling of stories of the
mysteries of womanhood, of the tie between the red aima of our
new moons and the link to the progency of our paidi to come, of
the ties between our fathers and soon-to-be husbands and yes
between our mothers and our sisters at the temple and the red
tides of our lives to be, my mother suckling my first blossoming
as the temple's Mother Grande and all our fellow initiates
circled around us and you my most tender of friends and truest of
lovers joined my mother at the font of my womanliness and shared
that most perfect of moments, the taste of alati its essence
borne of our common primal ancestry sweet and red and juicy on
your tongue shared with me and then mother and then mother's
ration of my fertile aima shared with me then you as our sisters
in blood our sisters in pain our sisters in life sung hymns from
Sappho in the stone quiet of warm temple walls around us.
And what mysteries of youth we did share! Daring convention and
letting us go to the academae that city fathers permitted briefly
back then our mothers boldened by their love for us and thinking
back their love for each other I knowing not if their love was as
brilliant and consuming as ours has become but none the less no
less real pushing us to be as we wished to be, learning at the
feet of teachers listening to the musings of orators breaking
temporarily free of conventions before the experiment of women's
freedom was ended.
And behind cool walls of our domatos, our chitons once again
removed our temple of our love made as holy as The Shrine Of
Oronia by the firing of the bronzing furnaces of our passions,
our lips kissing lips and lips and lips and hands clasping hands
and hands and hands and embraces embracing embraces and embraces
and embraces, your woolen rag catching only the essence of
children lost its threading rough against your tender koleos its
pinkening being given solace to my tongue which bathed it well
giving it love giving you my friend Tymareta my love Tymareta my
unification Tymareta as a mother cat bathes her kitten licking
its bottom so that it might live so that you might live so that I
might live so that we might live.
Tymareta, my anthizo, blossom of my life, how I seek to suck at
the pistil of your postulance of my passion, how I seek to dream
of time and distance being but an illusion of The Fates so that I
may once again taste your lips and taste your lips and suck your
nectar of your love for me!
Tymareta, nipio of my past present and future, how I long to feel
your lips sucking at my breast, your child innocence belying the
pleasures of womanliness begotten from nursing at my breast as
your own precious nipio Ballian now sucks at yours. When she
suckles, do you think of me, My Love, do you remember the
feelings we shared as our maternal practice embracings gave way
to Oronian passions exclaimed? Does her little mouth beget
volumes from your memories about my drawing out of your
dampness?
The gods be cursed, sometimes it's all I can do not to abandon
husband and children and home and make a coastal fray on a barka
around the Point Of Sighs to your Sparta where I would decry and
declare myself to be a hetaerae a woman free of the bonds of
matrimony and men and home and kidnap you within the midnight
still of a fertile night soon and take you off to some far off
land such as Egypt or Persia where I would bed you down on sheets
of the finest sacka and pillows stuffed with the most tender of
nallus blossoms and make you my wife, yes, my wife and my
husband as well as I would be yours, our eros knowing or caring
not that our phallusi are kept deep inside our bodies as well as
our hearts. And when the time of your moon would come, again I
would sip at your well of the continuation of life your failed
pregnancy being joyful as it would feed me feed my soul feed my
heart feed my lips that would rouge yours with the shared love we
have for each other as we would embrace each other upon heavenly
pillows.
But as I put these words from thought to pena to send to you,
war is coming to our land, between our great cities, and I fear
in the chaos to come I shall never be able to find you ever
again. I know that with your special dispensation to become a
hoplite alongside your husband in his militial phiditia, your
skill with bow and arrows being of no equal in Sparta your legend
growing day by day as your old sport of killing beasts now soon
to be tested as your new sport of killing men it shall become
your legend shall only grow into heralds yet to be sung but the
gods be merciful let them protect you and in the end when all
swords are sheathed and all arrows re-quivered may the gods send
you back to me, to Aprila, your one true love, the one true love
of Tymareta.
If the gods be cruel and unjust and let The Fates take you away
from me, then as you lay dying not as an Athenian born of culture
and grace but as a Spartan chosen of power and majesty your
warrior's soul being eclipsed only by your lover's heart then as
you give up your last breath to the ages then say my name, say my
name as you remember the panorama of the arc of the temple of our
lives and love together the perfection of our love hopefully
being matched only by the courage of your death of the
fearlessness and pride and joy of dying for your beloved Sparta
as a Spartan warrior as a Spartan woman and citizen of which you
have defied convention by becoming by sheer will of taking.
As your life's blood drains from your body, I shall be there in
spirit on the battlefield with you to catch it, not with the bowl
of the physician but with the amphora of my womanliness, your
life-force being blended into mine then for the future as it has
been in our past the memories of us together of you as not just a
woman and friend and lover but alas of being my soul-mate being
not lost to the river of time but preserved in the Hall Of Holies
for us to revisit when we come back again in another life as
husband and wife.
~ This scroll found in a dry cave near the ancient Greek
battlefield of Thermophalae within the confines of a full set of
Hoplite armor shielding the partial remains of an apparent female
skeleton. Translation into modern English dialect by
PlanetDweller. ~
To send comments, please go to my online FormMail page at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PlanetDweller/www/FormMailPage.html
Please visit my free adult ASSTR Author's Webpage at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PlanetDweller/www
For the online HTML version of this story with much better
graphics and presentation than this text version, please go to:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PlanetDweller/www/ScrollToMySpartanLover.html
<1st attachment end>
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format. The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+