Şub 02

Seducing the Imagination

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Italicized portions are from Marcus Aurellius by Paolo Labico. Reprinted with permission.


She begins to squirm now, she knows what he will do to her. Although she can’t understand what they say, it is obvious that he is going to bite her in revenge for earlier…but there!!! These men are animals! She braces herself for the pain…

Thus she is taken completely off guard when he does not bite, but gently licks her helpless womanhood. Her eyes pop opened, she was braced for pain, but this is something altogether different. He continues his assault on her virgin sex. Licking, sucking, probing her tight opening.

The topic is such a monumental turnoff, but the words are so incredibly seductive. Despite my distaste with the subject, I keep returning to the story, to the words that never fail to make my nipples get hard and my pussy get wet. Somehow he found the words to seduce my imagination. The expectation of pain and suffering is met with a gentle licking. Something inside of me likes the idea, likes it so much that I shut my eyes and lean back in my chair. The ghostly butterfly of that tongue slips through my imagination into my own wet opening. Licking, sucking, probing.

The faceless touch of the author’s fingers on my body is almost palpable. I spread my legs wider, until my sex, not quite so virginal as the girl in the story, is exposed and vulnerable to the man I’ve never seen but can’t get enough of. I read over it again- the scene unfolding richly in my mind, hands ties, legs held apart by two men. The rich smell of earth and men fresh from battle underscore the darker smell of her fear, my fear. Subtly overpowering the scents in my imagination is the thick scent of my excited pussy. Between my legs stands a man I don’t know. His eyes are dark and intense, boring into mine moments before they drop to stare at my exposed pussy.

Unlike the girl in the story, I know what’s coming and what it feels like. I shiver in my chair, feeling the imagined eyes on my pussy. The fear of being bitten isn’t there, just the fear that the touch will never come. It does, a light flicker over the slick lips. My finger echoes the movement, tracing a faint line from the bottom to the top of my slit, licking at my clit with the same seductive strokes the writer is using with his words.

Licking: to pass the tongue over or to move unsteadily over like a tongue. The meaning of the word doesn’t do it justice. The connotation of it heats my blood; the dipping of a head, bringing his face in closer to the most private parts, the feel of his hot breath rasping over the wet sex, a testament to his arousal. Licking, a tongue rasping over pussy flesh, tasting, caressing, and burning. My fingers pause, a hair’s breadth from the pussy my imaginary lover is getting so wet. I can feel my pussy quivering for the first touch of the tongue. Would he burrow it deep into my cunt, then slowly drag it through my swollen lips to tempt my clit from its hiding spot? Is that the licking? Would he lap at the lips themselves, teasing me with the promise of a more thorough licking? Or would he just apply himself to my clit, bringing on the orgasmic tide with a briskly seductive efficiency?

He would tease me, I decide. He would worm his tongue in and around my pussy until it begged and wept for orgasm-inducing licks.

A single finger eased down until it rested on my pouting pussy lips, testing the wet heat. I gently wiggled it back and forth until the lips slipped apart and wrapped around the finger, kissing it as if it were the tongue of my imaginary lover. I moved the finger slowly, a vague and arousing imitation of the tongue I craved. Licking, sucking, probing.

To suck is to draw into the mouth through a suction force produced by movements of the lips and tongue. I slip my finger through my wetness and consider the delicious ramifications of having the lips I’m teasing being drawn into his mouth. I shudder, causing my pussy to swallow a bit more of my finger, at the thoughts of his lips and tongue moving through my pussy and creating a suction force. I haven’t even gotten to the meat of the story and already I want to cum.

Returning to the naive virgin experiencing a man’s mouth on her sex for the first time, I twist my fingers just to enjoy the feel of my own wetness. What would it be like, to have the arousal overtake and destroy the fear, to suddenly want more of the hated Roman enemy? To be held up so that a tongue and lips could plunder into the burning private area that had never been seen by man before? Would she smell her own juices leaking out past the tongue, bathing her captor’s mouth and chin with her first taste of sexuality?

I can smell mine easily enough. I’ve never been so jealous of a fictional character before, but suddenly I am. All I have is two fingers wriggling through my pussy, she has the agile tongue and mobile lips of her lover drawing her lips, her clit, poker oyna her entire sex into his mouth and sucking. He is a clever man, slipping his tongue inside to taste the sweet cream he is drawing from her. In my imagination I can hear her gasping and panting, begging almost incoherently for him to do something. What, she doesn’t know, not yet. In my ears I can hear my own panting and whimpering, sexual heat generated by the imagine burning behind my eyes. Licking, sucking, probing.

To search into and explore with great thoroughness, to subject to a penetrating investigation. Cold definition and heated connotation have finally met in exquisite innuendo. How long and how thoroughly would he explore her? How long could she stand it? My fingers plunged into my pussy, probing the tight ring of my vulva. I didn’t pause to explore, but brought them back to lick at my clit before thrusting them back into my hole.

I recognize the haze that’s falling over me, the one I get right before I orgasm, my ears get hot, my heart throbs so hard it feels too large for my chest, my nipples poke out like miniature ice picks, and my pussy burns. Half of my hand and all of my fingers are wet. So are my thighs. The same mewling cries that the virgin in the story might be making are coming from me, something I would ordinarily find embarrassing just arouse me even more now. Should I let myself cum? Just from three little words? My body clenches, preparing to explode, just before I lift my hand back to the mouse. I ignore the wetness that makes my fingers slip as I click and drag the scroll bar down.

Paullus takes her face in his hands, she doesn’t resist. He pulls opened her mouth and places two fingers inside. He begins to fuck her hot young mouth with these fingers.

Unconsciously I slip two fingers into my mouth, slitting my eyes until the monitor is nothing but a blurry background for the images of him penetrating her for the first time. I can’t help but notice the taste as my tongue wraps wetly around my fingers, probably like her tongue is wrapping wetly around his. Opening my eyes, I let my fingers slip out and re-read that part again. He begins to fuck her hot young mouth… I can almost see the intense expression on his face while he moves his fingers where he wanted to put his cock. What kind of lust does that stir in him? How hot does it make him to see her lips and feel her tongue knowing that in a few short moments it’s going to be his cock?

Sticking my fingers into my pussy, still throbbing from my almost orgasm a few moments before, I realize how wet it is in there, almost as if my verbose, unknowing lover had already cum inside of me. There is nothing quite like the sensation of my own thick, hot, juiciness. I spread my fingers apart slightly, pressing against the humming walls of my pussy and slowly twist them back and forth. My thumb brushes against my clit slightly, making me squeal deep in my throat.

…the centurion frees his turgid member. Her eyes grow wide yet again, she has only seen a few of the village boys. They had nothing like this to show. He slowly pulls out his fingers as he feeds his hard cock into her soft, wet mouth.

“Here it comes” Bellows Arminius, expecting to hear his centurion scream for the first time.

He hears nothing more than the wet sounds of her taking his manhood into her hot mouth. She feels the flat of the cold steel sword against her warm wetness. Unconsciously her hips beg into grind her wanton sex against the smooth metal.

I close my eyes and imagine what it would look like, wondering what the author’s looks like. A Russell Crowe style gladiator took his fingers out of the wet lips of a Queen Boadicea style Celt princess and pulled open the leather armor to pull his turgid member out. I could hear her gasp at the sight of a man’s hard and ready cock for the very first time.

My comfortable imagery takes on a new and wildly exciting twist. He is sitting in my chair and I’m in his lap, both of us facing the screen. My legs are widespread, hooked around his, and his gorgeous cock is pushing up obscenely between my legs, warm and throbbing where I’m wet and throbbing. He is reading in my ear in a soft, deep rumble that makes my nipples even harder and my pussy even wetter. Sighing in pleasure, I settle into this new fantasy, letting my hands rove my body as he might do.

I crack an eye and look at the ridiculous piece of rubber sitting in the light pooling from the monitor. I usually have it on hand when I decide to immerse myself into a story, but I’d yet to use it. Gingerly, I pick it up and wiggle it. I don’t understand how a man can’t be horrified by the sight of one, a bodiless cock, but it serves it’s purpose. This dildo has a set of balls on the bottom of it that are slightly hollowed. Makes it stick to a wooden chair, nicely hands free. I slip it between my legs and settled my ass on the balls part, the cock part canlı poker oyna pushing up between my legs.

The cool rubber of the dildo is quickly coated with my hot cum. The real touch of the cock sucks me back into the fantasy. It seems wrong to fantasize about some man I don’t even know, but I am doing exactly that and it is making me incredibly wet.

Shutting my eyes again, I move my hands from my collar bones down to tease my nipples. The imagined voice that stirs the hair curling around my ear breathes, “He hears nothing more than the wet sounds of her taking his manhood into her hot mouth.”

I groan, two fingers tweaking on nipple and the palm of my other hand smoothing down my belly, slowly and with extraordinary care, until the fingers are resting just above my slit. I can feel the wet, humid heat coming from between my gaping pussy lips and the smooth firm shaft of my lover against my nails. I lick my lips, thinking about swallowing the cock between my legs, tasting his precum and my own juices. I can hear his heavy breathing in my ear, he would be imagining the same thing. A woman, laying with her mouth wetly slurping a long marble-hard dick into her mouth. A man, standing with his muscles corded, his breath held taught, waiting for the first bite, but feeling a soft tongue probing along his length, tasting him.

My hips rock gently, moving my pussy fractionally along the veined surface of my faceless lover’s cock. Noticing my action- how can he not? -my lover pulls momentarily at my earlobe with his teeth, then gives voice to the words on the screen.

I gasp a loud cry that echoes through my room, surely penetrating the walls cocooning me in my fantasy. I pause for a moment, then slide my fingers into my pussy, jerking another long cry from me. The twin sensations of the shaft being pulled from the kiss of my lips and being penetrated by two of my fingers overwhelms me. My pussy is vibrating, begging to orgasm. The unseen lover sits under me, his ghostly kisses trailing wetly down my neck. All it would take would be a few rubs to my clit, a few flicks and I would shatter with the ecstasy he has built in me.

Instead, I pull my fingers from my pussy, moaning in disappointment and delight. Disappointment for the emptiness following my brief penetration and delight at the wet slurping of my imaginary lover’s shaft nestling back against my lips. Unsteadily I reach for the mouse, my slick fingers slipping from it a few times before I manage to grab the scroll bar and move the text.

Paullus kneels between her outstretched legs. He catches her sky blue eyes with his. They smolder, but no longer with hate. He sees the hot embers of passion. He takes his rigid member in hand. Fanning the flames of her desire he rubs the swollen head along the slick cleft of her virgin sex. Her eyes half lidded as he rubs the places he has learned that women love. The two men at her breasts stand off to watch his entry, kneading her soft flesh roughly in their calloused hands.

She struggles in the bonds which tie her hands to her sides, breath quick and shallow, like a cornered animal. She looks into his eyes as he teasingly pushes his hardness against her maiden barrier. He sees the pain contort her features, he feels the barrier tear as he enters her. She bites her lower lip, but doesn’t look away as his length slides into her. A single tear slides down her soft cheek. He feels suddenly humbled by this stoic display of courage.

“Release her” says Paullus, her legs are freed, but her hands remain tied.

The rough hands still grope her body, but more gently, almost with respect. He begins to slowly thrust himself into her, gently. He can no longer rape this girl, he knows that now, but she seems to be taking him as an equal. As he begins to pick up the pace she begins to moan, crying unintelligible words.

Paullus is disappointed as she apparently begs for him to stop, over and over moaning what must be “No…No…”

“Tell her to stop her complaints, and this will go by faster for her, Getorix” he snaps angrily at his make-shift interpreter.

Getorix bursts into laughter, causing everyone, even the girl, to look at him as though mad.”She says not ‘stop’, but ‘more’ Sir.”

A wide grin breaks over Paullus’ face, she too smiles in reaction. “free her hands”

This passage plays through my mind several times, the imagery capturing me again, pushing my fantasies of the writer to the wayside for the moment. I picture the perfectly formed helmet of his cock slipping between the wet lips and rubbing up and down, spreading her freshly drawn juices over the fully swollen head. He presses a little farther in, for only a moment, feeling the tightness of her body kissing the slick tip before pulling up between her lips to rub the little, leaking hole in his cock on her clit.

My fingers touch the cock head between my legs and twirl around it, as internet casino if it were the real cock of my writer. He would jerk and then settle in with a groan at my touch, I think. In my imagination I watch the cock of the Roman centurion slide inch by inch into his Celt’s untried sex. She winces and he inexplicably turns gentle, a rapist turned lover. Unable to communicate with each other verbally, their bodies have no such difficulty. She loves him in return as equally as he loves her. My fingers pause on my fake cock for a moment, considering this piece of the story, the part of it that I like the most.

I firmly grasp the head of the cock between my legs, rubbing its hard surface back and forth across my pussy. I want him inside of me with a sudden ferocity that takes me by surprise. I also know with a firm certainty that my writer/lover wouldn’t give his cock to me, not yet at least. He would enjoy tormenting me, knowing he has me to the point of pleading for his cock and deliberately withholding it long enough to drive me even more insane. I slip a finger between my lips and brush against my clit. Gasping, I raise my hips, my mind once again returning to the dual images of the centurion’s cock burrowing into the Celt’s cunt and my lover’s cock following suit.

No, not yet. He wouldn’t fuck me just yet. My right hand is glistening in the light from the monitor and visibly shaking. It takes me a few tries to scroll down. I’ve been through the story too many times, I read through her unspoken capitulation and the near fight when the centurion orders his men out. I’m too deeply into the need for orgasm, too meshed in my arousal to pause anywhere else.

“There it is,” his voice whispers, “what you want from me.”

“I want you inside of me,” I hear myself say, forgetting for a moment that I’m the only one there.

He easily picks up her slight form, and without losing their connection, seats her on his broad lap. Her small hands grasp his harness firmly, her hips instinctively know to move in slow circles, grinding her engorged clit against the leather flaps of his protective skirt as his cock thrusts up between them. he takes her smooth face in his strong, rough hands. Pulling her ripe young lips to his. Their mouths partake of each other, tongues searching, teasing. His fingers run through her braids, freeing her hair to fall in a long golden cascade down her back. Her silken tresses spill across his chest as she lay her cheek against the cold metal of his shoulder guard, pulling his armored torso into her soft flesh.

Ghostly hands on my hips urge me upwards. Here it comes, what I want more than anything at the moment, even more than an orgasm. I want to feel him sliding deep inside of me until there is nothing but his hips and mine. His cock slips through the wet embrace of my pussy lips until the head is all that’s nudging between them. I stand there a moment, poised awkwardly on my chair, firmly calling to mind a body to go with the rigid cock.

My hips move in slow circles, mimicking the Celt’s instinctive mating. The motion makes the flared head of the cock bury itself a bit more deeply inside of me, until I can feel only the bumpy shaft with my fingers. Finding my clit again, I start a slow rubbing, enough to make my entire body twitch in excitement, but not enough to make me cum. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, the hard cock burrows deeper into the heat of my cunt.

I picture the two in the story again, feeling the hands of my absent lover on my body. The pale, naked body of the woman riding the hard, taut body of her leather-clad lover shifts through my mind. My pussy sighs at the image, swallowing another inch or so of the cock lodging itself within. I consider how it might feel to rub my nipples across his leather covered chest. Twisting my torso slowly back and forth, I tease the hardened tip of a nipple with my palm. I shiver, imagining my fantasy man doing that to me.

Using the fingers of my other hand, I check the cock, it’s only about a quarter of the way in. My legs are starting to quiver from the sweet strain of holding me up, so I brace a wet hand on my desk. I know what’s coming next, he is going to give me what I need. My hand pulls away from my clit again, finding the mouse with an accuracy that’s surprising considering how aroused I am. I grab the scroll bar, slowly pulling it down. The words scroll teasingly along the page, until the full passage is in view for contemplation, for excitement.

He takes her firmly by the swelling of her hips, and moves her body over his manhood, pleasing them both as he thrusts deeply inside her. With each thrust she feels the hard leather of his armored loins brush across her straining clit. His hands roam over her body, gripping her soft, firm ass and pushing her further onto his cock. She throws back her head, moaning incoherently. He swiftly dives for her exposed breasts like a falcon after two soft white doves. His hot, rough tongue finds her turgid nipples, as he feels her pleasure rising within her. He sucks hard at her nipples, flicking his wet tongue over each in turn. All the while, bouncing heron his rigid man-blade.

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