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Message-ID: <49032asstr$1093770602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Vivian Darkbloom <vdkblm-OBLITERATE-SPAM!@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Jasmin (part III) [Mg(Fg) scifi oral anal ws]
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Date: Sun, 29 Aug 2004 05:10:02 -0400
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  To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML, please visit
  our website at:

  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VivianDarkbloom/www/

  If you have been following this series, please note that the previous
  chapters have been updated, as have the codes.  The most current
version
  (as always) will be found on the website.

  I apologize to any who have been following the story but find the
added
  codes unpleasant.  It's sometimes difficult to predict what will
happen
  with the dodgy sort of characters found in such tales.

  I believe the indicated codes now encompass the entirety of sexual
  activities the reader might wish to be warned about, though some of
  them will be found in later chapters as yet unposted.

  ~~Vivian

  --------------------------------------------------------




            Jasmin (part III) [Mg(Fg) scifi oral anal ws]

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

   I awoke to things going bump in the middle of the night. Quietly
   repetitious "bump, bump, bump" in a gently soothing rhythm,
   accompanied by muffled sounds of accelerated hoarse breathing
   punctuated by the occasional distant moan. As customary on
   overnight spacegoing ships, the gravity was muted to about half,
   softening the bed beneath me and the cushions around me.

   In another room on the ship, the bumping ceased for a few
   seconds, then started up again with renewed vigor, punctuated by
   more frequent whispered cries, accelerating gradually and then
   coming to a stop with three or four very slow and drawn-out
   "bumps" accompanied by wordless expressions of intense sensation,
   and a long sigh.

   All these sounds were very quiet, but sounds inside my skull that
   the external ones had initiated were loud and raucous. There were
   pictures, too, of her, engaged in various activities which (I had
   reason to believe) there was much doubt that she would be likely
   to ever actually engage in. Still, one could hope.

   The battle raged within me, between the dreadful fatigue of the
   day -- Wasn't once enough times to frantically brave an escape
   from the Inquisition in a single day? And the jitters I had just
   gotten from unintentionally eavesdropping, on such an exquisite
   solo concerto, sounds which caused my body's memory banks to
   recall the feeling earlier of her dainty form pressed against me,
   the dampness from her warm tears coursing into my comforting
   breast, suggesting sweet sticky moistness which might be found in
   other portions of her anatomy.

   The fatigue won, nominally, and I drifted back down the slopes of
   Theta waves and REM, but the dreams were vivid, I was climbing
   white mountains of smooth flesh to plunge the broom-handle into
   the heart of the dandelion, but it kept washing away in waves of
   a clear, crystal-cold, turquoise, tropical ocean.
     ____________________________________________________________

   The great thing about zero-G is the infinite number variations it
   unlocks in the game of wastecan-basketball. Personally, I am of
   the school of thought that the best projectile is the crumpled-up
   sheet of paper, but depending on one's resourcefulness there are
   various other items which can be called on to serve just as
   effectively.

   I had a riff going that morning of bouncing diagonally off the
   side wall towards the ceiling, then ricocheting across (the
   direction that ordinarily would be "down") and making the shot
   for the basket just as it came into view around the edge of the
   control console.

   The control console looked delightfully bizarre from that angle
   as well.

   Clad in a silky, almost-transparent, white nightgown, hair mussed
   in silly-looking clumps of sleep-tangles. She was drumming her
   fingers on the wall as she watched me polishing this move for the
   twenty-third time or so. When she finally said "Do you mind if we
   turn the gravity back on now? It's just that you can't really
   pour milk on cereal very well when everything is sort of floating
   all over the place."

   "Sure. Just give me one more shot..." I tried again and missed.
   "Wait! That doesn't count. I have to get it in."

   She rolled her eyes and punched a few buttons on the console, and
   gradually I felt my limbs getting heavier and heavier, as if at a
   hypnotist's command, eyes fixed on a watch-pendulum, I was
   dropping deeper and deeper into relaxation, as `up' and `down'
   began to take on meaning again, and I slowly gained weight and
   sank towards the floor.

   "You're no fun any more," I cried out as she departed towards the
   galley.
     ____________________________________________________________

   The spoon rested in empty cereal bowl on the console, as she sat
   in the left-hand chair absorbing the flickering frames flashing
   on the small video screen on the bridge console. She was flipping
   randomly between a cartoon show and a news program.

   "Man, this is the best coffee I've ever tasted," I said, standing
   facing her over the console, ready to resume bouncing off the
   walls. "Can we turn off the gravity again? Please?"

   "Are you always like this?" she asked. "If we turn the gravity
   off, how will you finish the coffee?"

   "I don't know. I'll make that part of the game."

   She rolled her eyes. "So what's this Inquisition thingie?" she
   gestured at the news program, a segment on some new saint that
   was being recognized as capable of purging sins.

   "You had to remind me."

   "Well, I am curious."

   "OK." Solemnly, I sat in the right-hand chair. "Yesterday, they
   destroyed my ship."

   "Why would they do that? Which reminds me. How did you find this
   ship?" she asked.

   "I saw it while I was drifting by in my escape pod. And how they
   could do that is," my temper flared, my nostrils flared, my
   cheeks flushed, my eyes glared, "is because they're some of the
   most dreadful, cruel, twisted people in the galaxy."

   In the back of my mind I know that someday Darvo and I would meet
   again, and that eventually there would be a meeting that would
   end with at least one of us not walking away.

   And that would be a drag, because I like to walk. I like to run,
   to skip and sometimes even to hop, and I don't like having some
   overprivileged right-wing religious nut laying trips on me.

   "Whoa, chill out dude," she broke in, seeing my expression.
   "Could I get you to go back to throwing crumpled up paper into
   the wastebasket?"

   "OK," I stood up to look under the console for my paper ball.

   "I think you need something better to play with," she said.
   "Follow me."

   "Where?"

   "Trust me," she said smiling. "You're gonna like this."

   "How do you know?"

   "Bend over so I can whisper in your ear." (I did) She whispered:
   "I heard you calling out my name last night while you were
   asleep."

   She grinned, winking at me.

   Curious, I followed her down the hall.

   "Is it true what the T.V. says," she asked. "That the age of
   consent is 20 now?"

   "Yes, thanks to the Inquisition. Why, what was it 200 years ago?"

   She flashed a smile back at me. "Seven."

   "Holy... Did you have sex when you were seven?"

   "No, but my friend's sister was seven, and she was pretty fun to
   play with."

   She led me through the doorway to the master bedroom, and we
   stopped in front of a strange device.

   The rectangular base was about a metre long, and maybe third as
   wide. The two lengthwise sides sloped inward to meet in an
   upward-facing half-moon crescent, the bottom of which was maybe
   10 cm off the ground. The entire thing was a mysterious shade of
   maroon, and all corners rounded and cushiony-soft, the upward
   edge cylindrical like a kid's foam swimming "noodle."

   "Do you know what this is?" she asked.

   "Maybe. I think I saw a picture once."

   "You want to guess? It's my Mom's. I've never used it before --
   this is my first time."

   "So how do you use it?"

   She lifted her nightgown, and I stared once more at her beautiful
   slit as she lowered her naked crotch until she sat kneeling,
   snugly seated on it. Looked comfortable.

   "I only ever had sex with girls before," she explained, reaching
   down to adjust several knobs at the base of it. "but since
   they're all gone now I guess it's time to try a new flavor."

   "What did you have in mind?" I asked, as the machine started up,
   and two slithery soft slimy tentacles reached upwards towards her
   downward-facing naked crotch, and her jaw dropped as I saw the
   tentacles make their entry, one into her vagina and the other
   into her tiny butthole, snakelike in their S-shaped undulations.

   "Uh. That's incredible," she gasped, pelvis gyrating gently in
   rhythm. "See, I've orgasms with girls before, but I think it
   would be better if I had a dick in my mouth, especially if I came
   while you were squirting your stuff onto my tongue."

   "I don't know," I said, starting to back away.

   She grabbed my waistband and forcefully yanked me towards her,
   deftly unfastening the clasp, still arching and gyrating all the
   while.

   "Oh, look at this," she said, running her palm over the tentpole
   in the propping up the front of my pants.

   "My god," I exclaimed. "Must you do that?"

   She raised her eyebrows, meanwhile as her entire torso trembled
   with sexual intensity.

   She peeled away my outer pants, and lovingly breathed warm air
   through my underwear onto my impossibly stiff shaft. This hardon
   would never end, I knew it. It was going to last for the rest of
   my life. Years from now I would still have the same hardon. I
   would bequeath it in my will to a beautiful eleven-year-old girl
   whose eyes fluttered as she used her teeth to tear away the final
   covering.

   The glorious column of desire stood naked before her, at full
   attention.

   "Since I've never done a guy before, I've been studying." She
   gestured at the book she had open on the floor.

   "Advanced blowjob techniques -- prostate stimulation," was the
   title, and there was a diagram, illustrating the position of the
   mouth and a finger in the asshole, demonstrating the correct
   angle of the finger to achieve the optimal stimulation.

   She was putting on disposable rubber gloves. "I can just take
   them off when we're done, easier than worrying about washing my
   hands."

   She plunged the tip of my penis into her sweet, hot mouth,
   working me in and out of between her tight red lips.

   "You devious wench," I protested.

   "Why thank you," she said between slurps, diving into my rectum
   skillfully with two fingers as she lovingly caressed and probed
   my testicles and shaft with the other hand.

   "That's amazing," I said, and soon our conversation degenerated
   into indecipherable noises, cries encoded in a language only the
   two of us could comprehend as we shared the mysterious pleasure
   of mutual sexuality.

   Truth be told, she cheated a little on the part she had said
   about coming while I was squirting onto her tongue. That is to
   say, she came several times before I did, and the sensation of
   feeling her mouth around me as she had one intensely trembling
   orgasm after another sent me into a cascade of ecstatic neural
   fireworks.

   "Oh Jasmin, I love you," I nearly screamed, feeling the molten
   drops close to their releasing, sensing that I was close, she
   gazed up at me with fascination.

   There was something in the way she twisted her finger inside me
   that sent me over the edge, or maybe it was the sensation of her
   soft lips encircling me tightly as I slid in and out, or the tip
   of her tongue probing and exploring in anticipation.

   It all came together in a monumental finale and the fiery liquid
   exploded onto her tongue and as I shoved myself into her cute
   little face again and again... and sure enough, it made her come
   one final time, so I felt her convulsing and pulsing around me as
   I filled her mouth with my sweet seed of life.
     ____________________________________________________________

   Afterwards, it felt natural to lie together, on top of the bed,
   half-dozing in each other's arms, then finally taking off all of
   our clothes so we could luxuriate in the sheer freedom of
   nakedness.

   "Did that taste OK?" I asked. "It didn't freak you out or
   anything?"

   She grinned. "Delicious. Wanna try?" She kissed me on the lips,
   poking her tongue into my mouth.

   I had the urge to spit and say blech, but I resisted. "Good
   gravy, girl. the first time we kiss and it has my stuff in it."

   "Will you fuck me in the ass?" she requested, smiling, eyebrows
   raised.

   "Whoa. You're one kinky little girl," I exclaimed.

   She squirmed gleefully. "Why, thank you."

   "Just chill for a minute, OK?"

   "'K."

   Spooning together, she in front of me, pushing her cute little
   ass into my flaccidity. Well, it was flaccidity before she
   started bumping against it.

   "Jasmin?"

   "Mm?"

   "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

   She turned toward me slightly, thinking. "A dancer," she decided.

   "Have you taken dance class?"

   "Um, yeah."

   "What kind of dance?"

   "Ballet. Only I never went up on point. I want to make up my own
   kind of dance, and have a company, with fifty ballerinas. Girls
   only, `cause they're smarter."

   "Thanks."

   "You're welcome."

   She turned around facing me, and was playfully toying with my
   hardening penis.

   "How come there was a regulator missing?" she asked.

   Her her tiny nipples stood out in crimson against the background
   of her blushing-white flat, thin torso, as if finger-painted on.

   "You mean the cryo-regulator."

   "Yeah. I noticed the one from my mom's pod was missing."

   "Right." I balked at the idea of introducing this innocent sweet
   young girl to the concept of evil in the world. It was a door
   never to be shut again, once opened. Still, it would have been
   wrong to lie.

   "Shortly before I found your ship, it had been boarded by the
   Inquisition. They had removed the regulator from your pod."

   "From my..." she fell silent, and stopped playing.

   "Meaning that if I hadn't arrived when I did, and inserted a
   working regulator into your pod--"

   "Stop!" she said. "I know. I would have woken up and then frozen
   to death." The sound of her gentle breathing rose and fell ever
   so close to me, but her eyes had gone distant, to some faraway
   dark place no one could fathom.

   She trembled, this time with apprehension, and reached out,
   drawing me close to her.

   "You saved my life," she whispered. "You rescued me."

   "It was extremely fortunate that I happened along when I did. I
   mean, what were the odds?"

   "Destiny," she said. "We were destined to be together." She
   thought about it a bit, then scrunched up her face: "Eew, gross."

   Then she winked at me. "Just kidding," she smiled.

   "Of course," I continued, "the person who destroyed my ship was
   most likely the same one who... took the regulator."

   "What an awful thing to do! How could anyone ever even think to
   do such a dreadful thing?"

   Here, I thought for a very long time. "Because he's afraid," I
   answered.

   "Afraid of what?"

   "Afraid that if he doesn't go around hurting people that
   something worse will happen. It's common knowledge that inside
   every bully is a coward, the bigger the bully, the more cowardly
   they are deep down inside. They're afraid that if they don't act
   tough and show how strong and mean they are, that somehow
   something or someone will hurt them. Thing is, it's like trying
   to quench your thirst with salt water. The more they drink, the
   thirstier they get. The nastier the bully becomes, the more it
   becomes certain that someone will hurt them. So the cycle
   continues, and gets worse and worse if they don't find a way out.
   "

   "So what are we going to do?"

   I sighed, crushing her gently against me. "Oh Jasmin," I said.
   "The best we can. Be honest and loving and hopeful, and set a
   good example for how to live right. Sometimes words aren't much
   use to change a person who is living in fear."

   "Oh. Kind of like George, this real mean guy at our school, who
   used to always beat up on people who were weaker. My mom always
   said to just pretend he doesn't exist and then he would forget
   that I existed, `cause the more you resist someone like that the
   more they pay attention to you. "

   "By God, that's it!" I exclaimed.

   "What?"

   "Mu x squared minus x to the ninth, partial sequence asymptotic
   to the last relative slope. It's the missing piece of the
   anti-klepto beam algorithm!"

   "The what?"

   "Just a minute. I gotta write this down. Lessee, where's a
   pencil?" After I had satisfied my craving, I lay down beside her
   again.

   "What's a klepto-beam algorithm?"

   "It's an application of the G-field that the Inquisition uses to
   immobilize ships so they can't go anywhere. It uses G-field to
   generate a wrap-around force loop that causes energy spent
   resisting the field to power the field itself. Ingenious,
   actually, were it not so sinister. I've been working on an
   algorithm to counteract it, and I think I just got the missing
   piece. Yes, that's beautiful!" I rejoiced.

   "I'm glad one of us understands this conversation," she said.

   "Sorry," I apologized. "Was that too technical?"

   The sound of her breathing rose and fell quietly on the pillow
   next to me. After a while, she turned to me and repeated: "Will
   you fuck me in the ass? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

   "Are you sure it won't hurt?" I asked.

   She giggled. "After all the things I've stuck in there? I don't
   think so. Just try it, please?" she had set to playing with my
   penis again, and I felt it start to stiffen in a good way again.

   "Ok, if you insist."

   "Yay!" she exclaimed, and kissed me again on the lips. "You can
   go in the front door after that," she rubbed her clitoris,
   "Because I know you want to."

   "Uh, yes. You're right, I certainly do."

   "Yay!" she said again.

   "His throbbing member penetrated every orifice of her body," I
   mis-quoted.

   "What?"

   "From Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I replied."

   "I like it," she said. "Here, let me help you out." She reached
   over the side of the bed and produced a tiny plastic bottle
   which, when she squeezed it into the tiny pristine palm of her
   ivory-white hand, yielded a clear fluid which she eagerly spread
   to the other palm and then, by rolling my penis between her two
   palms spreading the slippery stuff up and down my hardening
   shaft. She gave a little peck to the tip. "My sweet little
   darling," she said to it.

   Then, as my hardon throbbed and surged like a horse impatient to
   draw the sleigh, she made me hold out my hand and squirted some
   of the lubricant into my palm. "Now put some all around the
   hole," she said, sticking her butt in my face, squirming her buns
   to open up and give me access.

   Carefully and lovingly, I anointed her anus with the sacred oil
   of the bride's lanterns.

   "Oh, very nice," she said. "You do that very well."

   "Well, it must be by accident. It's not like I've had any
   experience to learn from."

   "Good. Now, go. I want to feel you come inside me," She demanded,
   reaching under her legs to grope for my penis so she could direct
   it into the hole. I got into position, and placed it between her
   fingers.

   Delicately and lovingly, she took pointed the tip toward the
   center of her sphinctre, and said "OK, now push!"

   I did, and with a little `pop,' I felt myself inside.

   "Are you OK?" I asked.

   "Oh yeah. Go in deeper."

   I did, pushing myself half, then two thirds of the way in. "Still
   OK?" I asked.

   "It feels like I'm taking a big old shit. Only a lot nicer."

   I thrust with all my might, all the way up to the hilt. She gave
   a groan of satisfaction.

   It was a long hump, with her calmly working her butt under me as
   I ascended higher and higher to the peaks of ecstasy. I felt
   crimson burning of pleasure moving up and down my shaft, over the
   hump of my glans until the tip almost popped out, and then
   plunging deep into the profundity of her secret dirty forbidden
   passage.

   Long and satisfying, the undulations went on and on, crest and
   peak, wave after wave of gentle, soothing pleasure. Now and then
   she would reach her hand down and twiddle with her clitoris, but
   for the most part she was satisfied to play the part of the
   impartial observer, uninvolvedly enjoying the effect she was
   having on me, the control she had over me, devilishly grinning
   back at me as she spiraled and twisted, turning and churning with
   amazingly subtle control over her pelvic muscles, thrusting back
   and forth, and then circling with ever-so-tantalizing leisure as
   I watched her tiny shoulderblades below me, her thin neck, her
   mussed-up hair (which she still hadn't gotten around to
   brushing), her tiny fingers splayed out on the sheets as I held
   on to her shoulders for better leverage while I pushed and
   explored the caverns of her dark and dank nether realms.

   Finally, after what must have been several blissful centuries
   that seemed only like a few moments, I knew I was about to cut
   loose inside of her. She recognized the change in energy,
   correctly parsing the guttural syntax of my loud ecstatic cries
   and carefully and lovingly coaxed me with her skillful pelvic
   muscles, and as perfect partners in the synchronized trapeze act,
   she reached out with the greatest of ease to catch me at the
   exact apogee of my degenerate parabola. Surrendering with
   complete abandon, I plunged again and again to the hilt as the
   searing fluid gushed from my testicles into her the crack between
   her cute little pearly-white buns, into the depths of her eagerly
   waiting tiny abdomen.

   After a short break during which I took to the bathroom basin
   nearby and cleansed my soiled sword of the little brown clingy
   things, we again collapsed together in blissful embrace, this
   time she facing me. I kept glancing down with anticipation at the
   third orifice, anticipating the end of flaccidity that would
   herald the completion of the circuit.

   She looked up at me sweetly through the bangs falling across her
   forehead, with the satisfaction of contemplating her power to
   grant me intense pleasure.

   "Did you like that?" she asked.

   "Amazing!" I replied. "And how old did you say you were?"

   She shrugged. "I was eleven when I went into cryostatis, but if
   you go by my birthday I'm two-hundred and twelve."

   "Which, I guess, technically speaking, would be beyond the age of
   consent."

   She grinned. "Exactly."
     ____________________________________________________________

   We were taking a shower together when it happened. This bathroom
   was enormous. Bigger than in some planet-bound houses I've lived
   in, with a huge bathtub, all done up in fancy patterned and
   mosaic tilework. And a veritable plethora of shiny chrome
   plumbing fixtures for various purposes.

   I couldn't take my eyes off of her little flower, her petite
   hairless vagina. Never before had I been allowed to let my
   fascination linger on such a thing, so now unbound it leapt forth
   like a greyhound out of the gate.

   There was something truly delightful about it. As she and I
   conversed with words, and our mouths and ears, it was having its
   own conversation, squishing around, spreading and closing subtly
   with the movements of her thighs and pelvis, now and again
   granting me a cherished peek at the rosy Fleur-de-Lys within. The
   iris had its own train of thought, and my curious mind probed the
   compelling lexicon of its contractions and dilations.

   My conversation with Jasmin fell silent as we both stood enjoying
   the warm gentle rain, reveling in its freshness though we both
   knew that it was an illusion wrought by the fusion-driven
   filtering system that recycled, reheated, and recirculated.

   To us, it was a night in the tropical rainforest, with the lights
   all half-lit, the extravagance of a candle consuming the onboard
   oxygen, and incense-smoke laced the air with the intoxicating
   steam of thick, lusty floral fragrance.

   I looked down at her wondrously porcelain figure, hands splayed
   upward at shoulder-height as if she were a camellia soaking in
   the moisture through her leaves, blissfully, eyes-closed and
   smiling, water-droplets beaded on her cheeks and forehead, her
   mussed-up bangs pasted across her smooth brow.

   I knelt down and examined her pink flower, unseen because she
   still had her eyes closed. A subtle breath within, pulsating down
   from her cute little belly-button, beckoned me.

   My tongue on her outer lips caused her to start -- slightly, then
   she gently placed her tiny hands on the back of her head, spread
   her thighs, and commenced a moaning rhythm with her pelvic
   muscles in response to my loving probe. Oh, how I love kissing
   her vagina.

   She tossed her head back and cut loose even more loudly -- in
   space, nobody can hear, remember?

   I added my finger, probing and thrusting until I found the almost
   imperceptible rough grooves of her G-spot, and between my finger
   inside her and tongue on her pearl, she was lost in space.

   In short order, she was flinging her head in reckless abandon as
   I felt the pulsation of tiny contractions in my mouth and around
   my fingers dripping with stickiness.

   I let her rest, as she caught her breath, hoarsely echoing the
   blissful ecstasy she had just discovered.

   Then, as I sat on the tiled floor, her towering above me, she
   bent over and kissed me on the lips, tasting herself on me,
   lovingly and sweetly our tongues spoke to each other in the
   exotic languages of profound heartfelt intimacy, our two tongues
   speaking in tongues.

   Then she knelt over me (I was half-laying there against the wall)
   and gave a kinky little giggle. As I fondly gazed at her
   beautiful flower, I was surprised by the surreal-seeming
   incursion from a gushing yellow stream that burst forth, the warm
   fluid landing caressingly right on my semi-erect penis, gradually
   bringing it fully to attention once more, as she goadingly pissed
   on my dick.

   As the warm acrid-smelling fluid coursed from inside of her and
   dripped delicately over my stiff naughty piss-pipe, I vicariously
   felt the enjoyment of her release, watching her eyebrows raised
   in sweet surrender. It was as if she were having an orgasm and
   pouring her juice into me, the way that I was about shoot through
   my own pee-hole into her.

   The stream ebbed and ceased, with one final orgasmic burst, and
   she trembled with the tingles of release. I reached out and ran
   my finger lovingly around her right ear.

   Seeing my upstanding spear shaft below her, covered in her bodily
   fluids that were slowly washing away in the warm gentle rain, she
   lowered down to impale the center of her gorgeous flower on the
   towering sharp pointed tip of the skyscraper.

   By now, we were well-accustomed to each others' sense of rhythm,
   and with ever-rich and satisfying harmony, the circling and
   gyration of her miraculously controlled pelvic muscles drew me
   immediately into a trance of unprecedented mindblowingness,
   shattered any remnants of sadness as my attention melted into a
   haze of sparkling and shimmering delight.

   She alternated between staring down at me with a wicked
   satisfaction at her power over me, and being lost herself in the
   ecstasy of sexual sensation.

   Our lovemaking went totally wild, and this time, with leisurely
   building anticipation, the orgasm approached slowly, stealthily,
   sneaking up as if a jaguar on the prowl, ready to pounce at any
   moment.

   Eagerly, my hands devoured her innocence, touching and probing
   every square millimetre of her silky-soft skin as we orbited each
   other, as I voraciously explored the forbiddenness of her
   undeveloped body. From her flat, smooth little torso with the
   tiny points of dainty finger-painted nipples, to the smooth
   hairless lips that surrounded my sturdy erection, to her cute
   tight little porcelain buttocks, to the prim little ankles that
   she crossed behind my buns to pull me deeper inside of her, to
   her beautiful little feet ending in such cute tiny toes.

   Over and over we rolled, each taking turns being on the top or
   the bottom, until finally I lay with her sitting upright, gasping
   heavenwards over me, impulsively thrusting herself up and down
   with the energy and determination of the piston on an old railway
   locomotive, when I knew I could take it no longer.

   "Wait," I whispered hoarsely, and she settled down deliberately,
   as hard as she could, and stopped for a few moments, her sweet
   fluids coursing freely around my stocky shaft. There, at that
   point of perfect stillness I felt each blissful spasm of release,
   as again and again I carefully and delicately pushed my juice
   into the profound depths of her welcoming womb.

   She felt it too, because at that instant she cut loose with a
   seizure of epic proportions, arms flailing and pelvis churning,
   then clutching my shoulders frantically towards her and yelling
   at the top of her lungs with the anguished bliss of the deepest
   possible sexual release.

   Then, with me still comfortably stiff inside her, she lay down
   gently and caressingly on top of me, and we relaxed in the thick
   floral vapors and gentle falling tropical rain.
     ____________________________________________________________

   In the steamy chamber, we towelled off together, and she
   (finally) brushed her tangled locks.

   "You know," I mentioned, "hearing you play the harp yesterday
   made me wish I still had my flute with me."

   "What kind of flute?" she asked.

   "Regular transverse concert flute," I said. "though I like
   playing the penny-whistle as well. I like playing Shakuhachi too,
   but I'm not too good at it."

   "I've got a flute," she said, leading me down the hallway,
   inviting me into her room. As I reverently stepped inside, I
   enjoyed the beautiful decor, a combination of frilly girl stuff
   and (wouldn't you know) life-sized posters of bubble-gum pop/rock
   musicians. (or at least, so I assumed from the style of photo and
   hype which, I might add, has apparently not changed much in
   several centuries).

   She opened the case -- the silver flute was a German brand I had
   never heard of, looking kept up and well-oiled.

   "Do you mind?" I asked.

   "Sure," she said, handing it to me.

   I assembled it and blew, letting loose a little riff.

   She raised her eyebrows. "You're not so bad," she said.

   "Well, you haven't heard much yet, but thanks. Can you give me a
   `C' so I can tune?"

   "Sure," she sat down at her harp and plucked a pair of strings in
   octaves. "Not like this thing is that well in tune."

   As I blew and adjusted and blew, I felt her strumming behind me,
   supporting my thin little melodic line.

   "I don't imagine," I said, once the instrument was approximately
   in sync with the harp, "that we know any of the same pieces."

   "Oh, I mostly know traditional songs from the British Isles.
   They're usually a bit depressing."

   "Do you know `Londenderry Air?'"

   "No, I don't think..."

   "I guess it's usually called `Danny boy.' Like this..."

   I played a phrase of it for her.

   "Oh, that. Sure. Let me see."

   We found the right key together, and then she jumped right in,
   following me with delicious sensitivity. As I caressed the
   ancient, ridiculously sentimental, overplayed melody, the support
   of her gentle strumming beside me caused it to cross over from a
   hackneyed cliche into a haunting and delightfully lush realm of
   pushing and pulling with tantalizingly taffy-like tension between
   us, as the chords rolled and faded behind my soaring melody like
   clouds behind the eagle in a midsummer's sky.
     ____________________________________________________________




  -------------------------------------------------------


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________________________________________________________________________
Like most religions, reason presents itself as the solution
to the problems it has created. 

        John Ralston Saul
        
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