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Reality in the Twilight Zone

[This little erotic novella is a collaborative effort between myself, and another, who has fleshed out Snama in more ways than one.]

Part one . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

Perhaps it was a gentle, anemonic caress of his manhood sheathed inside Snama's yoni that had awakened Neshe. Or it was just a sleepy stirring of the angelic form spooned against his chest and loins that encroached upon his sleep. Maybe it was a combination of these two. Or was it . . .

He was not clear. His eyes wandered to the Spartan face of the phosphorescent clock. Four thirty seven it said. "Almost daybreak" he thought. His mind meandered to when they had actually slipped into the realm of sleep.

He clearly remembered it had been exactly the stroke of midnight when his white hot signet had first kissed Snama's delicate, almost translucent skin. He had branded his initials on the small of her back, just above where the cleavage of her buttocks began.

It had taken him barely four minutes to indelibly inscribe his mark on five points of Snama's quiescent form.

The first brand had seared the small of her back. The second and third ones had settled on the peak of each perfectly rounded buttock. The fourth and fifth brand he placed on the velvety smooth inside of either thigh, almost kissing the rising swell of either outer lip of her yoni.

He had not been surprised that she hadn't uttered even a sob as the white hot gold had five times seared her soft, delicate skin.

As a matter of fact nothing had surprised him about Snama. Right from the moment he had first set his eyes on the reality of her late in the afternoon -- at the airport, where, courtesy of one of his friends in the Customs, he had been able to receive her on the tarmac.

He had positively known, ever since the day she had responded to his Valentine with the picture of a hennaed hand, that if he ever met her, the first time Snama would be in a sari.

Though he had seen just two small pictures of her, he had recognized her instantly. And in a sari she was, pale golden pink brocade in a very complex filigree pattern . . . as complex and as beautiful as the online relationship they had developed.

Snama stirred almost imperceptibly. Her haunches burrowed another hundredth of a millimeter into his groin, as if there was still room to be united more than they already were. In the gentle prison of her yoni, his manhood throbbed. Once again his mind meandered, in a "slow, smooth, sweet mind fuck" on how they had become so close.

___________________

They had met on the net, in a chat room famous [or infamous] as a blatant sex chat site. Their interchanges, though, had always been short, and philosophical. So far as he was concerned, they had left him always thirsting for more.

Over time he had come to know that Snama also thirsted for his company.

And when she had responded positively to his invitation that she vacation with him in India this year, he had known.

___________________

He had complimented her on how her form beautified the sari she had donned, and her slightly diffident, just this side of shy smile had emblazoned itself on his heart.

In the car, he had only uttered three sentences to her in the hour long drive to his home.

"Welcome to me, and welcome to India."

"I knew you'd be in a sari . . ."

"I also know, there's just you under the petticoat."

His left hand had found her lap, slid comfortably into the gold silk "V" formed by the juncture of her thighs.

Snama had just uttered four simple words . . .

"I knew you'd know."

___________________

Her flight had been long but not tiring, she had told him. He had wanted to show her around what little his city had in the way of cultural and historical interest, but she had gently demurred.

"There'll be time for that later, there's so much to explore in us here first."

Dinner had been early, and a simple affair. It was embellished only by Snama's glowing presence in the muted candles between them in soft rose tinted candle holders. A shashlik on boiled, white aromatic rice, kebabs, unleavened bread . . . no wine, though later, some time after dinner, some cognac in exquisitely etched, warmed balloons.

Those softly sparkling glasses in hand, he had guided her to the roof. He knew she would be charmed by the view of the already half somnolent city, the shiny domes and turrets of the Temple a burnished gold in the glow of faraway focused spotlights.

The soft night breeze carried the waft of her scent to him again and again, almost as if insistent. But instead of obeying the impulse that impelled him towards Snama, he took a step back, standing almost at a right angle to her body, his eyes taking in her soft profile.

He watched her with half closed eyes, sipping his cognac, his gaze following the darting of her eyes on the darkened horizon, knowing that she'd turn to him . . .

And turn to him she did.

"This place is beautiful" she said

"More, because of you being here"

Again that almost shy smile.

"Let's go to bed," he said

"So soon?" she asked

"I didn't say let's go to sleep..."

___________________

Snama stirred slightly again, intruding for a moment into his reverie. Then she settled down, and his mind again meandered.

In the subdued light of the bedroom, her looks, her form gained a new softness, a subtle accent to her womanliness.

There had been one soft kiss, and then his fingers had unwound the brocade cocoon of her sari . . . in a moment her blouse, bra and petticoat had gone too, revealing the golden wealth of her ripe womanhood as he disrobed.

He had been as ready for her as she had been for him. A step towards was all he needed to close the gap the gap between them. A simple extending of his arms was all that was required to pull her close. His hands had themselves found the roundures of her buttocks lifting her up to him.

"My kuss, my yoni, my cunt." He had whispered into her mouth as he had effortlessly impaled her on his impatient manhood, flashing onto her mind an instantaneous playback of all they had said and "done" via the chat messengers.

Snama's arms and legs entwined around his body. For a lifetime he held her crushed unto his chest, then in a couple of loping steps crossed over to his bed, gently lowering her underneath himself, his lingam still sheathed in her heat.

Of themselves her legs flexed, retracted, her knees finding a place on either shoulder of his.

Their need was totally mutual . . . it had not needed any assistance of motion to impel them into nirvana.

___________________

Part 2 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

To be or not to be was a question with Hamlet.

Beyond being is becoming, and that, somehow was the path being traversed by Neshe and Snama.

Becoming one.

An enfolding, encompassing, a melding on the part of one. A dissolution, a surrender on the part of the other. And such is the beauty of the quest that distinctions evaporate in the face of the ardor. The seeker becomes the giver, the recipient becomes the beneficent. Where to give is to get, to get is to give.

________________

Part 3 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

Neshe had no idea how long he would have remained atop and within Snama, his pubis crushed to her, his fingers embedded in her dark tresses, but for the phone that jolted them both out of their trance like state.

It was a dud call, but it awoke both of them anew to each other.

Snama was sitting up by the time he was done with his cell, a slightly bemused expression on her face. His gaze followed hers, down across his own body.

"Wondering why I keep myself shaved?" he asked her.

"Also that your lann is still rampant" she answered, bringing a warm smile to his eyes, by giving his member the vernacular name he had taught her.

He took in her entire body in a sweeping, lingering gaze before saying,

"That's a tribute to Madame."

Her smile was dazzling bright, yet shy.

Neshe stretched languidly, rose to a sitting position, took both her hands in his, kissed both her upturned palms, said

"You're so worthy of such a tribute" adjusting himself he stretched out, laying his head in her lap

"I've often imagined lying with my head in your lap, like this."

As if with a will of their own, Snama's hands found his face, the fingers of her right hand combing through his hair.

"You look so boyish right now," she said.

"I am boyish" he replied looking up into her eyes, "even babyish, if you will . . ."

A golden pink bathed Snama's face.

Neshe rolled half onto his back.

"Your scent and mine have mingled beautifully" he said, nuzzling his cheek against her thigh, then parting both with his hands.

Snama braced herself, but he suddenly uncoiled himself up into an upright sitting position, forcing her down on her back.

"Let me look at you part your legs, part them Lattaan khole . . ."

Time seemed to have stood still. Snama felt his gaze on her center as a palpable caress, felt its warmth gradually transform into a searing heat. It took all her self control not to close her thighs, not to squirm, not to roll over, not to take her eyes away from his face.

He was stock still, his eyes riveted in a fixed focus on the entrance to the core of her.

She felt herself melting, liquefying under the intense heat of his gaze. She felt herself very naked, totally exposed, and yet not vulnerable. More, that she was open and knowingly offering, her part of the act . . . his, to penetrate.

Her own exhalation told her that she had been holding her breath for quite some time. And it dawned upon her that it was the softness of his kiss on her yoni that had triggered the sharp outflow of breath.

It was a fleeting, butterfly touch, given more in reverence than in ardor.

"No wonder you women rule."

He broke her reverie, imposed himself in another dimension on her senses.

She just smiled.

When Neshe next bent, it was almost with animal lust, parting wide her petals with both hands, and thrusting his tongue in deep.

Snama gasped. But the next moment he was sprawled half across her, his mouth hovering upon hers.

"Taste us" he said. "Taste us from my mouth."

Snama's mouth fused with his. The tip of her tongue traced between her lips, slipping first only partway between Neshe's, surely tasting sex; and on a second sweep, penetrated fully to meet his tongue.

She allowed her tongue to dance with his, to tempt him, and when she was certain, she withdrew her tongue from his mouth slowly into her own, and his followed.


Part 4 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

Fusion.

Minds. Bodies. Hearts. Souls.

Desire is like a beacon, guiding the eyes.

Hands explore the body's truth. Mouths are hungry.

The loins love, the hearts lust..

Sensation usurps the role of words.

Skin communicates with skin.

Fusion.

Large, broad, slightly rough, warm male hands. His.

Dainty, delicate soft female hands. Her's.

Exploration that seems unending.

Caresses. Kisses. Tangling, untangling.

Neshe's body. Lean and hard from years of daily swimming, almost hairless yet rugged. Sharply defined planes and angles of chest and torso, nipples small chocolate isles, navel a sharp gash in the concavity of his belly, hard, solid hips and strong thighs.

Snama's body. Soft skeins of dark silky hair, lush vales and hillocks proud with promise.

Snama lingered most at his face, his eyes and his chest. Neshe's lips and hands tarried and teased most at the juncture of her thighs. He probed, delved, coaxed out secret after secret of her being. At a singularly excruciating moment of pleasure mixed with equal pain she cried out repeatedly, as supporting the small of her back on his left forearm, he explored her viciously, his right hand taking her yoni, the thumb stabbing in again and again, first one finger and then two battering into the cloistered recesses of her anus.

In such torment he held her, heaving and bucking and mewling, till the sensations overwhelmed her capacity to bear them, and she fell limp on his arm, a rasping moan escaping her throat ...

"Do you intend to kill me?"

"Yes." he replied "And resurrect you again and again, with the need of my love."

__________________

Part 5 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

He had mixed them a pitcher of an exquisite aromatic sherbet, telling her that it will revive her drained energies in minutes. It did seem to have a salutary effect -- enough to make her ask for another glassful immediately after she had finished the one he that had given her.

Standing with one foot resting on the bed, he had poured her the second glass, brought it between his thighs, dipped the head of his half erect phallus in it for a moment and handed it to her, his eyes never leaving hers.

Unflinching, she had taken it from his hand, and siphoned it away in one long draught, her eyes riveted to his.

He stood, daring her with his eyes. She had to look away, lowering her lashes and tilting her head. Crawling now to the end of the bed, to the most inviting and commanding body standing statuesque before her she sought to meet her match.

When she reached Neshe, she took his offering in her hand and looked up to him once again. In a small and teasing explanation of what would occur next she stroked him in her hand. An immediate power exchange occurred. The woman had the man in the palm of her hand.

"The sherbet was so good, I want more yet. And there is just a little taste more here for me, not to be wasted."

She smiled at Neshe, more with her eyes than her mouth.

Snama's cool lips connected to tip of Neshe's manhood, and she smoothed it across her moist mouth. Her tongue trailed his length, and nibbled back up again in tiny chewing bites, until she reached again the glossy dark head of the wondrous erection she held.

Parting her lips, and laying out her tongue, she drew him into her mouth. Descending and ascending, exploring, tantalizing then retreating, she took Neshe to a beautiful completion with her mouth.

What he had begun with a cool dessert, he had finished with hot cream.

The moment of Neshe's coming was given an explosive eeriness by a power outage. Total darkness immediately redirected all sensory reception to the active principle of both; Snama's mouth and tongue, Neshe's phallus.

Both were hit by an intensity of feeling never experienced before. Snama felt her lips clamping at the base of his shaft as he pulsed with a demonic delirium in her mouth, his glans literally lashing at her throat.

Neshe's thighs rippled as if with Herculean effort, his buttocks clenched, as bullet after bullet of thick, lumpy, searing hot semen spewed out of him and into Snama's throat, almost scalding the soft insides of her.

But that was how their nerves responded to what was happening. In another, different, the emotional sphere, there was a most powerful, totally alien paradoxical perception. Both felt themselves totally in the power of the other, yet in total control.

Therefore, it was an abandoned engulfing, absorbing on the part of one, an abandoned lunging, an erupting on the part of the other.

The overwhelming impact literally drained both of them of their energies, and they collapsed on the bed, Snama's face still buried between Neshe's thighs, he himself grotesquely half sprawled on her, his legs a tangle on her breasts and torso, his phallus buried in her mouth, his upper body atwist on the bed.

And at that moment, the power came back, once again with a blinding impact.

_________________

Part 6 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

The first reaction of both was to immediately separate from the other, as if they'd been engaged in some nefarious pursuit.

And then it was spontaneous, bubbling, side splitting mirth.

And the uncontrollable laughter once again physically drained them.

"We should fix us a snack," Neshe said, when he was able to coherently speak.

Snama patted her belly expectantly,

"I'm feeling famished" she grinned.

"Despite the high protein dose you just got?" Neshe winked as he uncoiled himself.

"Move, let's have a midnight picnic."

The cleanliness and order of his simple, functional, bachelor kitchen impressed Snama. And she complimented him on it.

"One of my Freudian friends maintains I'm obsessively anally clean, and that reflects in the cleanliness of everything around me" he laughed.

"I'm not very sure of the clean business, but you do seem to be obsessed with the anus" Snama ventured.

He laughed again, half seriously this time. "Aye Madame, that I am, I am, and I intend to take you that way."

She turned a dark shade of red, turned away from him.

He extended his hand caressing her exposed back, His fingers trailed down her spine, till he reached the small of her back. He let his fingers linger, sensing her tremble expectantly.

He removed his hand, gave the soft, sensitive spot just above her buttocks a lingering kiss.

"Bring your hands back Snama," he whispered "Part your buttocks, let me see your bundd" his lips bestowing soft caresses on her skin.

Snama's hands were trembling slightly as she brought them back, parting her cheeks for his gaze.

Neshe just sat there unmoving, and she could sense his fixed gaze. She felt more naked and exposed than she had ever felt before, a red hot flush bathing her from head to toe. She wished he would say something, do something, but he just sat there, gazing, till she could no longer bear it, and her trembling hands slipped away.

"No." Neshe's voice was soft, low, almost inaudible. "Not yet, not till I tell you to."

"I . . . I" she started to say something, but was surprised at her own acquiescence as her hands of themselves came back to the roundures of her buttocks, parting them, baring herself mercilessly to his gaze.

"Thank you, my love" she heard him say, and after almost an eternity, "You may sit now, Snama."

________________

Part 7 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

A boiled egg each, toasted slices, liberally buttered and coated with pure golden honey. The "midnight picnic" was spare and Spartan, yet food for the gods.

The time spent in the kitchen with him was a revelation for Snama on many counts, unveiling aspects of him, she'd never been aware of.

First, the way he moved about and worked. Total economy of movement, total economy of time. He knew exactly where everything was, and in a trice he'd set the eggs for boiling on one burner, the tea kettle on the second, toasted the slices and buttered them while the eggs boiled, all the time keeping up a steady stream of conversation with her. He told her he hardly ever used the kitchen himself, except at such odd hours, when the live in help was asleep, but he'd trained his people to be organized and disciplined.

In her forty four years, Snama had known quite a few bachelors, but none as good a "housewife" as Neshe.

When she complimented him on this, saying she'd never seen a man work so efficiently in a kitchen, he'd responded

"That my darling is because you've never known a man like me before" emphatically cutting off any further line of enquiry in this direction.

Then there was the total ease, at his nakedness, and of hers. As if he was oblivious to the fact that both of them were naked.

Soon they were washing down the rich golden toast with sips of aromatic green tea, of which he poured himself a second large mug, offering her another too, which she graciously declined.

When she'd risen to tidy up the table as he sipped the steaming hot golden brew, he stopped her, saying he'll have it done in a minute, he just wanted to keep looking at her as she sat opposite him.
And he'd done exactly that, tidied up in no time. Drying his hands with a paper towel after he'd washed the plates and mugs, dried them and placed them in their proper places, he suddenly asked her,

"D'you remember once I told you that the nose ring Indian women wear is a physical mark of belonging, a sort of brand?"

Of course she remembered.

"And you remember what you had said?"

She did.

"I'll be a minute, I want to show you something" he'd said, and walked out, leaving her bemused.

He returned almost immediately, placing a heavy ring on the table between them.

Snama picked it up. It was solid gold, thick and heavy, with an oval face, the letter "N" in sharp bas relief on it in an exquisite gothic style.

"What d'you think of it?" he asked.

"It's beautiful. And quite expensive"

"Try it, it'll probably fit your ring finger"

Amazed, she tried. It fit.

Before she could say anything, another bolt from the blue.

"It's yours to wear. And I intend branding you with it."

For a moment she was struck speechless. Then . . .

"Bbb .. Brand me? me?"

"Yes." His voice was soft, very low. "Just like I've branded your soul with myself, your body with my body, your kuss with my lann."

Snama looked into his eyes for a long while, unflinching at his deep, dark gaze, then quietly said.

"Just tell me one thing Neshe?"

"Ask?"

"What makes you so sure of yourself?"

"You."

There dawned a hint of a smile on her lips. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper.

"And what makes you so sure of me?"

"Us." He answered.

She reflected on that for a moment. Then asked, again in a soft, almost inaudible whisper.

"And what is Us?"

For many a moment he just gazed deeply into her eyes, his own almost burning with a dark flame. When he spoke, his voice was soft and sure.

"Remember the day I told you that if we were to turn around your name it would become "A Man's"?"

She nodded assent.

"What did you say?"

Again, that hint of a smile.

"I'd said that is the essence of me . . . for man, I'm woman, for my beloved, I'm comfort, solace, and warmth . . . for my lover I'm desire and satiation."

"And you know for me you're all this"

She suddenly burst out laughing.

"You know Neshe, this is the most arrogant proposal I've ever heard"

"I know." He said softly. "And I also know you value it."

She looked into his eyes unflinchingly, for a long moment. Then she spoke, softly

"You know . . . when we'd first met, I'd thought I'd penetrated this strange man in a far off land. I didn't quite realize it was I who was being penetrated."

Neshe rose, took a step to close the distance between them, bent and lightly kissed her forehead. With his lips cool on her skin he whispered

"I'll brand you on five places Snama, on the small of your back, on both your buttocks, and on either side of your yoni."

A hot and cold thrill ran down her spine right down to her anus. Almost in a whisper, she said,

"The decision is made."

"Yes, it is made. It was made the day you told me you'd rechristened me Teags after I sent you that poem Succubus."

Her arms went round him, she raised her mouth to his, kissing him viciously. Then with a surprising vehemence she said,

"You frighten me with your knowing of me."

Neshe just recaptured her lips in his mouth, hungrily.

_____________________

Succubus

You

Who knows that many secrets are told untold Some mysteries, for certain minds themselves unfold Some moments often a lifetime within them hold Claim one's thoughts and make one bold Words can sear and brand one's soul Distances span, and make one whole

You

Who knows that while in their place the stars are set Me, you, and us you will never forget Never, ever, shall leave me behind Whatever else lives in your mind Your Lord to call me there lives no need Though each on the other, we do feed

You

Who knows that you have a found a way In the dead of night and heat of day To ever and anon, always be In my mind, and within me Your words, you know, make my manhood rise Though my gaze has yet to penetrate your eyes

You

Who knows that it's not only arms that do bind Imperishable bonds are created by the mind Words do touch, kiss and caress The body may suffer distance's duress You, sweet Succubus, you certainly know In my thoughts, my blood, you ever flow!

Part 8 . . .Reality in the Twilight Zone

The branding had been short, swift and painless. After desensitizing Snama's skin with ether, Neshe had marked her body with the signet in the five places, again spraying the spots with ether and then rinsing them out with chilled alcohol. Finally, a rinse of ice cold rose water, and the deed was done.

The emotional searing, however, had drained Snama. When Neshe had given the brands the final irrigation with rose water, she had hidden herself in his chest, her body slightly atremble.

He had soothed her with kisses, his fingers gently stroking her hair, till the trembling had subsided.

"Do you feel any pain, any burning sensation?" he had asked.

"No." She had responded firmly. "But I feel weak, exhausted, hungry."

"Feed on me, " he had said, rising to full stature, his arms around her body guiding her to a kneeling position between his widespread feet. "Feed on me darling, and your strength will return."

It had happened exactly as he had said.

With his phallus in her mouth, Snama had felt connected to the sources of his being, partaking of him. Each passing second animated her more. Her ministrations engendered a massive upheaval in him. He thrust uncontrollably into her mouth again and again, his hands clasped on either side of her face, his grip hurtful. Snama, however, drew strength from the primeval pulsing of his lingam, and persisted till she sucked the vital sap out of him.

Even then she did not let go, feeling him soften, and nurtured him back to a steely hardness with the warm and velvety caresses of her mouth and tongue. When she was certain she had returned him his power, she rose, lying down on the bed . . .

"Now" she called him. Softly, in need... "Please. Take me Neshe . . ."

It was then that he had entered her yoni again, taking her from behind, her buttocks fitting into his groin, his arms around her, and it was thus that both of them had drifted into a sweet slumber.

__________________

Part 9 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

A sudden, frenetically insistent spasming of Snama's yoni around his phallus made Neshe withdraw and thrust back hard into her, again and again, his groin smashing against her buttocks punishingly.

His hand found her belly, ascended on to her breasts, pulling at them at them roughly as he thrust into her again and again.

Snama strained back at him with every thrust, moaning his name, her voice rising as the turmoil in her being spiraled into a crescendo.

Neshe became even more vicious.

And then something snapped.

Snama became absolutely limp, still.

Neshe continued thrusting still, wanting to immerse himself entirely into her. He pumped into her with increasing force, till he himself burst, his lips seeking her shoulder, his teeth sinking in.

"Ahhh!" she cried out softly, gasping at the lust within her own flesh. Her head rolled first away from the pain, and breathing deeply, she accepted it, as a gift from her lover.

For a moment in time, she was suspended; he was pushing her with his ferocity...pushing her, to reach beyond her fear.

Under the pain of his teeth, she transformed, from prey to beast. He awoke the sleeping tigress in her.

She turned her face to his mouth, his teeth brutally close to tearing her skin.

She licked out, and touched his lips with her tongue. She licked them, softened his mouth, his teeth losing their grip as his tongue sought to meet hers. She kissed him using feline power, licking him, and loving him with her tongue.

Here, her ferocity began.

Her power first came from her mouth. She sucked it from his tongue, as though this tongue was the very organ that had just so ravishingly filled her.

She sucked his tongue as if to make it cum into her. Her hands clasped his face in a tender grip.

He became lost in her mouth, in the passion with which she held his tongue. He began to penetrate it deeper toward her throat, and she instinctively bit him.

While he drew back in surprise, she pulled away quickly, rolling her body to cover his.

Taking his hands in hers she stretched his arms out to the side. She hooked her feet around his ankles and parted their legs together. Her skin met his at every possible point.

She was on top.

She kissed him again, this time slipping her tongue over his lips. It was the sweet delicate kiss of satisfaction.

Snama then took her mouth to Neshe's right ear, nibbled on the lobe, and whispered into it

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Her hands pulled his flat and she stroked circles in his palms. At the same time she began to nibble and suck at his neck. She dragged her fingertips along the taut musculature of his arms until she reached his firm shoulders.

Pushing herself further now down his body, Snama took an exploration of Neshe with her sensitive lips. Reaching his small hard nipples she sucked and licked as a kitten, first at the left and then quickly attaching to right and dining there.

Once satisfied by Neshe's response that she had lit those two flames Snama proceeded downward, her hands caressing his sides, her tongue trailing downward, discovering his navel and swirling there in two sensual sweeps.

Kneeling up now between his legs, she looked down to Neshe.

He locked his eyes on her and she held his gaze. Indeed, her eyes did flare as she smiled at him and smoothed his abdomen with her fingertips, brushing the warmth of his naked skin -- over, and over, and over again.

Without removing her eyes from his, she let her hands slide onto the flats of his hips and down in between his thighs. She smiled into his eyes with a wicked playfulness, running her hands quickly under his thighs to beneath his knees. She lifted his legs forcing his knees up and apart.

Never leaving her hold on his eyes, she slowly bent herself in half, lowering her mouth to his spent penis. Finally, she closed her eyelids. She expected no arousal; this was an exercise of completion. It was a finale, an absolution of his parts with her mouth.

With him open, she was able to access all the reaches of his privacy and in sensory delight she lingered there, with her hands and mouth, chewing, licking and sucking on him like a toy.

When she had finished her play, she, being so very satisfied, pushed his legs back to the bed. Curling up in between them, she nuzzled her cheek into the soft naked bed of his pubis and fell asleep with him gently stroking her hair.

___________________

Part 10 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

Was it one night?

Or was it a thousand and one nights?

Or a thousand and one nights encapsulated in one?

This was the question that confronted both of them in the morning, each to their own perspective.

It all appeared surreal, like a dream that had overstayed from slumber into wakefulness.

Except that the brands on Snama's body were very real.

And if possible, even more the brands on her heart and soul.

_________________

Snama

ON A PLANE TO INDIA

She had never lost the hennaed hand with which she had entered him. It had been an unwitting penetration, an honest deliverance.

The poem, she had destructed, in a fire cleansing, something she was wont to do.

She could not remember it.

But she could, perhaps, reconstruct it.

Some words exact, some words new.

All words appropriate.

SHALL I?

Shall I stroke your ego with hands adept, or hold restraint with words well kept? Shall I invite you close, bring your manhood to rise, or hold you afar with the blue of my eyes? Shall I hold myself open, reveal secrets untold, or leave you to watch my own mystery unfold?

Snama knew it continued, and remembered the direction, in fact, the destination, but felt it best now not to recall. She did not need to, since she already had his response, in Succubus, engraved on her heart.

_______________________________

It was the immediate destination that was on Snama's mind now, with the information from the Captain that it was one half hour before landing.

Snama rose from her seat and took her bag from the overhead compartment, retreating to the restroom to freshen and change.

She stripped herself completely of her comfortable travel clothes, and washed with the soft cloth she pulled from her bag. Once cleansed, she dusted with baby powder, then placed kisses of fragrance in her most sensual places.

Never one for facade, she applied just enough makeup to highlight her features; darkening her lashes, shading her eyes, and lightly blushing her cheeks. Finally, unsheathing her lipstick, she stroked a soft pink glimmer across her lips.

She stood naked, gazing at herself in the mirror. The next step would be an important one, a statement she wanted to make -- the donning of the sari.

Snama put on her blouse and the petticoat followed. Lastly, she wrapped the sari around her body as the shopkeeper who had sold it to her had showed her. Her mind wandered to when and how she might become unwrapped.

Once again Snama took in her reflection in the mirror. She had not pre-decided whether to wear her hair up or down, and played with it now both ways. Finally, she decided to pin it up.

She could let her hair down later.

_______________________________

Preparation

[MANDALA: A schematized representation of the cosmos, chiefly characterized by a concentric organization geometric shapes, each of which contains an image of a deity or the attributes of a deity. A symbol representing the effort to reunify the self.] She had ventured across the world to seek the reunification of her self.

Snama, not being exactly standard, had not checked travel guides before heading to India. Instead, she pulled off her book shelf her good memory of India . . . "Mandala" by Pearl S. Buck.

Nothing along the way had disappointed her, nor surprised her. Neshe, was as intense and dark as she had found him to be in chats and correspondence. She felt an immediate captivation, or perhaps an affirmation of a captivation long held.

Lusciousness. In him, and in his home. A delight to her senses, a splendid mixture of unfamiliar and incongruently strange familiarity.

Strange, but so good.

Looking out onto the rooftops, Snama could only think "Buck has written this . . . us. This moment." She inhaled the air of Neshe and felt a deep and blessed rush of timelessness.

In such timelessness, and in order to reunify herself, Snama submitted to Neshe.

He slowly and effectively prepared her. A proud offering her submission, and a daring trust to give it.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Perhaps that was it. He dared her.

When she first met him in chat, she was charmed by his elegance and intellect. She had always enjoyed the opportunity to speak with him.

She had a web site of writing he had read and discussed with her, and also sent her writings of his own. These writings were the basis of many satisfying conversations – and it was in these conversations he had revealed to her the sensuousness of his nature, as well of his native tongue, Punjabi.

While these chats often included an insinuation or innuendo of sexuality, she felt it more the natural play that occurs at the meeting of a man and a woman; a gentle charming, to open each other and add enough intimacy for deep and honest discussion.

But for that undercurrent, they were platonic, respectful and professional with each other.

Then, he sent his picture. There it was, his first outright dare.

His eyes black and connecting. His mouth promising both humor and passion. Thick raven hair, cut neatly, with a sweet stray lock at his forehead. The strong jaw and a chin that had just the hint of a dimple. A classic white shirt and golden tie. A picture of a most striking and handsome man.

And to Snama, the vision of a predator...a tiger to her deer.

Confirmed by the reality, the flesh of him.

Looking at his picture, Snama could hear him thinking "Resist me. Try. I challenge you."

The photo had immense and shocking power.

The flesh and muscle and sinew blatantly asserted that power.

Returning to his eyes she was captured. There was no speculation. Snama knew.

"I would submit to this man"

And that was how he did it. He cut her open, penetrated her first with his eyes.

Slowly, naively, she bled feelings for Him. She did not realize, he tasted her blood and grew hungry.

____________________

REACHING ACINTYA (no thought)

Mindlessness, the gift of pain.

Mindlessness, sweet bliss, ah sweet bliss.

I am grateful for you and for your sense of timing.

You walk me down a path of darkness.

You take me no further than I want to go.

Tell me please how is it . . . how is it that you know?

Snama took her fortieth year as a point of transition. As a renaissance. Feeling fully accomplished and well in need of cleansing of her soul, she took leave of her profession and went into retreat for one year. One year became two, two became three.

In her life, Snama had accumulated enough pain to bring her to her knees. Her greatest pain was the abuse and suffering of children. The mother in her suffered as did her inner child.

From her knees, Snama was able to draw strength. She asked her higher power to deliver her more pain, but to take it away from hurting children. She knew the pain must exist. Such is life. She truly believed if every adult accepted his or her share of pain, fewer children would suffer.

In meditation, study and creativity Snama spent her hours. She also started dissecting her mind. She cut it all apart and examined it piece by piece, replacing every thought into a compartment. And when she had filed everything in her mind neatly she was able to access the fullness of her pain.

She did reach mindlessness. She did enter onto a higher plane. From there, she did have vision.

____________________

The notions that all opposites are polar, that light and dark, winning and losing, good and evil, are merely different aspects of the same phenomenon, is one of the basic principles of the Eastern way of life.

Since all opposites are interdependent, their conflict can never result in the total victory of one side, but will always be a manifestation of the interplay between the two sides. In the East, a virtuous person is therefore not one who undertakes the impossible task of striving for the good and eliminating the bad, but rather one who is able to maintain a dynamic balance between good and bad. [Quoted from page 146, The Tao of Physics, Fritjof Capra, Shambala Publications, Inc. 1999]

It was from this confirmation of her own thinking that Snama took peace.

Having stripped herself down of all the layers and labels she had gained through life she had a clean mind and was prepared for a new growth, in a second time.

____________________

Sexual submissiveness was in Snama's nature. She had not been happy about it, feeling vulnerable to any male who picked up on her need to be taken and to serve. She had therefore an armor.

Desiring to spend the rest of her life being true to her nature rather than resisting it and fearing it, she began an exploration of submission, Dominance and power exchange.

The more she discovered, the more she felt she had found her place. She could pronounce herself submissive, and feel happiness and pride in it.
Her first public admission of submissiveness was made in the chat room. Here she was able to meet other submissives like herself, as well as meet Dominants.

Neshe, was a Dominant.

With any Dominant, Snama showed respect and courtesy but also stood ground not to be taken. She was sure that if she would show great strength and character she could only be taken by a Dominant of equally great or greater strength and character.

This is what she desired; a King to her Queen.

Neshe, was a King. He had a regal presence, strong enough to reach Snama via internet chat. In Neshe, Snama felt she had met her match, a man who could challenge her, mind and body, heart and soul. A man, she was sure, could make her Aman's. ____________________

Submission

In submission, Snama felt the number one gift she could give was trust.

Flying across the world, to a land unknown, to a man she felt equally that she knew and did not know at all, this took trust.

Now, naked and before him she felt both powerful and submissive. In fact, she believed her feeling of power to come from her submission.

Neshe had commanded her to part herself, and she did submit. "Part your buttocks for me, Snama" he had said " I want to see all of you. See your bundd." She had parted herself and burned with humility under his eyes.

Submission was the flame that strengthened her.

She had parted herself, and he had fallen into her with his eyes. His gaze seemed a penetration of rampant desire. She called to him with her gift. He knew he tortured her with shame. She knew she tortured him with lust.

Two captives they were, each held fast by the nature of the other.

____________________

Des flammes d'enfer fortifier si vous danser vite et avec direction.

Her branding, while trying her emotions, did bring her joy. He marked his territory and his territory was she herself. She welcomed him. He was Man, perfect compliment to her woman. She allowed him to stake his claim.

She was signified, five times, in his name.

The comfort and joy she received from her branding was almost inexplicable. She took it as a promise, a promise from Neshe to care for her as a valuable complement.

She knew that in return for the gift of his name, his caring, his passion, she would honor him. She would act with a grace that met his gracefulness. She would return his passion and more.

Neshe undid her. He stripped her so completely that she felt he could see inside her soul. He took her with intensity and she did feel ravaged. He delved into all of her entrances, with his hands, his mouth, and his male sword.

Snama wanted it, him, in all ways, even those ways she had never before experienced. She trusted him completely.

A man had never entered her back passage. Neshe made it clear that this was going to change. During their lovemaking he began to prepare her for this eventuality.

Deeply, with his fingers, he entered the tightly closed door of her bottom. Shame was soon overtaken by lust, and she became wanton. She called out to him over and over in a soft but desperate cry "Yes! Yes Neshe, oh yes!".

To his satyr, she became a nymph.

Deep dark desire he unleashed from her step by step.

____________________

[It is impossible to go through life without trust. That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself. GRAHAM GREENE THE MINISTRY OF FEAR]

Neshe was off, away on his business day. Snama was left to her own devices. She wandered to his library and felt as though she was walking into a part of his mind. A man's library is an enticing place.

She ran her hands across his books, stroking the spines of familiar and loved titles, curiously pulling down unknown titles of interest and fanning the pages front to back. At the back of the book she would stop and that's where she would begin to read. From here, she would quickly pass through to the front and slowly approach backwards and she would decide if this book held any potential to excite her.

The leather bindings on certain books, the varieties of papers, the variety of texts, there was so much just sensually to enjoy, without truly even going to content.

She breathed the paper of a modern textbook and experienced a schoolgirl shiver that raced through her like static from her nipples to her clitoris. Deeply she inhaled and allowed the feeling again, this time savoring it slowly, flipping the pages so the scent of the book could feed her.

She smiled, closed the book and replaced it to its original position.

Snama wandered to the table that stood in the corner and picked up a paper...

Orientalism, Self Exoticism, and the Oriental Despot: Nasir ud Din Shah -- Ali Behdad

My paper deals with Nasir al Din Shah's photographs of his harem and the ways in which such self representations are mediated by orientalist aesthetic modes. I will read a series of these photographs to address both the aesthetic dimensions of his work and the ideological implications of these representations. Among the issues that I will discuss is the notion of self exoticism, and oriental perception of oneself that enable the King to both empower himself as a King and fall into European ideologies of otherness.

Snama took immediate interest in the paper and sat herself down in one of the comfortable leather chairs to read. While she attempted to remain focused on the topic, she found her mind wandering over and over, back to Neshe, back to his expressed desire and his confident determination that he would get what he wanted.

Again a shiver ran through her; this time not a school-girlish tickle of pleasure, but the full out blatant rush of sexual sensibility of a newly maturing woman. A red hot blood rush and a tensing of her bottom, her anus, and the backs of her thighs.

For how long she held this dark thought, held her breath, held her tension, she did not know. Eventually she laid the paper down in her lap and rubbed her tired eyes. Enough of studying. It was time to breathe....the exhalation especially important.

Exhalation is the much undervalued, underestimated part of breathing. Laughter, sobbing, sighing, sex . . . these natural occurrences are often a well needed release of pent up exhalation of breath and emotion.

Snama leaned back in the chair, not in a mood to laugh or to cry. But sex, this did not leave her mind. She was alight.

She unfastened the tie at the waist of her loose gauze trousers and slipped her right hand down under her panties, laying the tip of her right finger on the aroused pistil nestled within her.

She barely moved the soft pad of her fingertip. There was enough stimulation between the two connection points. The sexual build up was extremely quiet and effective. She moistened, and her finger reached into herself and trailed upwards into the hot crevice, picking up her own juices, and carrying them back to her highly stimulated bud, lubricating it. Tiny, almost imperceptible movements she made, but to her they were a wick burning toward a dynamic explosion.

The explosion did not take long in coming. With the stimulation of the place, the promise and the threat of the man, the workings of her own hand; she achieved a heavy, pulsing, satisfying orgasm.

And she sighed, a deep and needed exhalation of relief.

____________________

Snama accepted the luncheon offered by Neshe's staff, and sat quietly in his library enjoying the meal. As she dined, she began to think on Neshe.

She thought of his hand in their entire meeting, his pursuit, and her slow fall. The trace of a smile crossed her lips as she thought of how the image of a hennaed hand had meant so much. Even still the impact of this gesture surprised her.

The thought was a trigger. She'd like to surprise Neshe now. She'd like to present a new adornment, a new image, for him to discover. She wanted a graphic that said...You are welcome here.

She did not know what she was inviting Neshe to, except that whatever it was, she would submit willing.

Speaking with one of Neshe's household help, she described what she wanted to do. Quick arrangements were made for later that morning.

Snama was going to make a surprise presentation to Neshe when he next uncovered her. A delicate gift he would find . . . her new submission.

____________________

The Hips of a Woman

It was still hours yet before Neshe was to arrive back in his home. Snama had her gift ready.

She took from her portfolio a sheet of her favorite writing paper, high quality and white. With a fine nibbed fountain pen and black ink, she wrote to Neshe an invitation to open her.

"N, unwrap me, find what you will."

Snama gently blew the ink dry, folded the paper. With a whisper of a kiss she attached an invisible seal.

She asked one of the servants to please attach the note to Neshe's bathroom mirror.

It was done.

____________________

When she slept They stood in the semi dark warmth of his den. Naked they were, face to face, his arm across her back, his one hand supporting her waist, the other hand plunged between her legs. She was arched trustingly back against his strong arm. Her left hand held his shoulder, her right his hip. Her head lolled back, her hair flowing down.

He had his mouth to her left breast, attached there, suckling with such enjoyment she was maternally pleased. His finger fucked into her, effortlessly, with a rhythm mixed by hers as she rocked on his hand in time with the blue, oh so blue music infusing the room.

She swayed in his arm so relaxed by the complete sensuality of sound, scent, sight, and touch. She was aroused too, by the wonderful selfishness with which he was using her body. She reveled in his enjoyment of her and his talent at teasing her.

As he sucked her nipple she reached for his cock and held it, hard and weighty inside it's velvety skin.

Her hand moved on him with the same rhythm as her sway. She became entranced. She could stay like this forever; nursing him, feeding his mouth with her energy, providing another dynamic by stroking his erection, and finally, completing the circuit, devouring his energy with the mouth of her womb.

Soon, she felt a familiar tingling, a rushing of nerves beneath her nipple in her breast. It was the rush of her stimulated milk glands. As he sucked her and fingered her more and more her relaxation built and a sweet little taste of milk did flow into his mouth.

A burning blush spread across her cheeks.

He was clearly surprised and sucked greedily with an intense excitement for a few frenetic moments. She stroked him while he fingered into her, passion rising to its peak. She felt him build to an intense need, and before she knew it he had his hand on her shoulder and crashed her forcefully to her knees.

He held his cock ...aiming it at her like a threat, ready to come. She reached backwards placing her hands on her heels, arching upward for him to target. She laid her head back submissively exposing her neck.

It was immediate. He came in hot uncontrollable spasms, moaning out and splashing her throat, her breasts, the nipples. She gasped in delight. He panted in exhaustion and relief. She looked up to him and he down to her...

She smiled, and rubbed him gently into her skin to her own satisfaction.

Oh! If Neshe could see into her mind....

Seeded there in her private thoughts was a garden being planted by Neshe. Her dream flowering from so few words among so many..."even babyish if you will".

She sank herself deeper into the pillows and covers of Neshe's bed. Against her naked skin she felt those same sheets that wrapped him in his unconsciousness. She slipped off into her thoughts and her mid afternoon sleep resumed.

____________________

Snama awoke to the soft knocking at the door that was her five o'clock wake up call. Arising from the bed, she raised her hands over her head and arching her back, stretched the sleep from her body, her jaw straining against a yawn.

She drew up the sheets and remade the bed. Neshe was to arrive home in approximately one hour. Her heart beat faster at the prospect. He was not accustomed to arriving home to a woman. She wanted to be prepared, dressed, when he came through the door. Ready at his call. She felt this to be the style of the house, that all is clean, in place and ready for Neshe.

Clean. There was a word that suited him in more ways than one.

Naked still from her nap, Snama entered the inner sanctum of Neshe's bathroom. This was the place where his perfect grooming took place.

She gazed at the glass shelves that attached at either side of the mirror over his basin. Here were the items he chose to care for his body . . . simple personal items and products selected clearly for their practical or sensual efficiency, not to satisfy egotistical needs. Neshe was simply confident.

In the center of the mirror . . . her note, affixed there before her own eyes. The sight of it caused a rush of something quite undefinable. Inviting Neshe to interpret her, openly . . . the thought caused her to shiver and tense though the room was warm.

She looked at the reflection of the flaming scroll she'd had hennaed on her hips, turning to see the back view, where the tips of the scroll turned curls around her brands then aimed to the center of her buttocks. What would he think?

Snama exhaled deeply and turned from the mirror. She walked to the shower, starting the water to moderate its temperature. Below her feet the beautiful gleaming black marble floor risked spotting. She took a mat that hung at the edge of the tub and placed it outside the shower.

With her hand she reached in, tested the water and finding it comfortable stepped under Neshe's shower, feeling for the first time the stimulating sensation of the very water that cleansed him daily. She faced into the spray, leaning her head back and feeling the sharp points of water against her breasts, her nipples hardening in reaction.

The heat of the water stung the burns of her brands as if Neshe were there again branding her in five places at once. Gasping, she quickly reached and turned the water cooler to ease the pain.

She picked up his soap, held it up under the showerhead to wet it and then slicked it across her breasts, over her shoulders, down her arms, around her belly. The masculine scent of the soap pleased her and she inhaled it as it rose in the steam. She closed her eyes and sighed.

So calm, so private, so clean. She continued to smooth Neshe's soap over her body long beyond necessity. She was sensualizing. This soap had been shaped from the repeated caressing of Neshe's skin. This soap had traveled places on Neshe that Snama longed to visit.

She did not dare to rub the bar between her legs. Instead, she lathered her hands and put the soap back from where she had taken it. With her hands, Snama cleansed her private parts thoroughly and then let the shower rain down and rinse her.

His shampoo was marked clearly "For Men" but this did not deter her from using it. After the standard "lather, rinse, repeat" she turned off the water and stepped from the shower.

She picked up a towel and bending so her hair would fall forward she wrapped it up tight. A second towel was used to dry her skin. When she was dried, she wrapped her body in the towel.

Before the basin again, she took his talc (!baby powder! she smiled) and dusted under her arms and breasts, between her legs and buttocks and on her toes and the soles of her feet.

She removed the towel from her hair and blew it partially dry with his high powered blow dryer.

Looking about the room, replacing anything she may have moved...even wiping the finger prints she left on his blow dryer...she knew the space was clean, things were in place, and all was ready for Neshe. Including herself.

She dressed quickly into her day clothes and slipped out of Neshe's room, up the stairs to the guestroom, where she would dress for the evening and await his call.

____________________

Snama's blue eyes tended to be accented by the colors of certain blues and greens. Knowing this, she had chosen her second and third saris in these tones. She had laid out on the bed the beautiful soft ocean blue/olive green silk, trimmed in gold.

The ring of the cell phone caught her half naked. First startled and then thrilled, knowing it was he, she leapt onto the bed where she had tossed the phone. She rolled happily onto her back with a beaming smile as she heard the plans for the evening. She almost lost track of his words as she became enchanted in his charm. She remained so enchanted even after he had hung up the phone and took several seconds to realize she ought to get busy and dressed.

Well that calls for a slight change, she thought after the call. She had assumed they would be at home for dinner. What Neshe described was something more formal, and she therefore would dress in her most formal of the three saris, a fine silk of twilight blue.

At her neck, a medium gold chain with a pendant of sapphire surrounded by diamonds. At her ears, diamond studs, two in each ear. Her hair, swept up in a French roll and neatly pinned, stray trails of hair swept behind her ears.

Snama had perfumed as usual with her floral scent before dressing, but noticed now something different. She thought "I smell like India". She brought her forearm to her face and inhaled the scent from her skin and warmth ran through her.

It was the scent of her, and the scent of Neshe. His soap, their talc, her perfume. She felt suddenly enveloped by him, closed her eyes and inhaled again. Her thoughts were broken by a knock at the door.

She opened the door and was told by the servant that master's car was waiting out front. Snama wrapped the silk of the sari about her shoulders, and with a heart beating for him, went down the stairs to meet Neshe.

_______________________________

Part 11. . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

It was just force of habit that awoke Neshe at his usual time.

Snama was fast asleep, having rolled away from his groin, oblivious to everything now, in the abandon of someone who has newly rediscovered her shamelessness.

For long moments Neshe just sat there, looking at her, flat on her back, one arm thrown to the side, the other crooked, the palm resting below her left breast, her thighs spread wide.

The rose tinged brands on either side of her yoni were like guardians to her citadel, guardians he had placed to ever remind her of himself, no matter who entered that coral portal.

He bent, quickly placed a soft kiss on her yoni, and left.

_______________________________

She had been left to her own devices, without any intimation as to where he had gone, when he would be back, what they would be doing ...?

And yet she found herself completely at home.

She had no idea how the servant became aware that she was ready for breakfast.

She had just dressed, and was thinking of going out of the room when she was requested to let know what Madam would have.

The servant did not mention his master, and she did not inquire.

She just asked him to serve what Neshe usually had, and she was.

Crisp, thin loaves of unleavened bread, fried in butter, a rich, aromatically spiced omelet, a pitcher of freshly expressed carrot juice with a tangy bite, which she was later to learn came from a few wisps of ginger shredded into the carrot. And rich, creamy coffee afterwards.

She made a mental note of talking to Neshe about the richness of his diet.

When she was done, she was given a pile of local English newspapers, a cell phone, was informed that all numbers where Neshe could be reached had been entered into it, as well as the number of his doctor. And that if Madam wanted to explore the town on her own, a car was waiting.
She declined, thinking "I'd rather explore what's here first."

She had the freedom of his home. A quick round of the grounds, then a rather more leisurely round inside.

But that was not to be. The first room she entered was his library, and that was that.

Like the man himself, the room was a study in contrasts. Sparse yet elegant and luxurious. Comfortable as a workplace yet stately.

It was a large room, full of double backed open faced bookshelves, most of them full of volumes neatly arranged and organized.

The shelves lined three walls, and a dozen units stood free on the floor, arranged in rows of three each, with narrow aisles between them. The arrangement was such that a part of the free wall and a corner of the room had become a segregated alcove furnished simply with a small round table and a computer workstation.

It was what she found on the table that kept her ensconced in one of the three deep and comfortable leather upholstered library chairs around the table, Neshe's diary.

At first she only picked it up to examine it's construction, and flipped through observing changes in its rhythm, both flow and tension showing in the handwriting. She read the last entry first...and the power of his confidence in making the statement that he made to himself there literally shocked her. At that moment the somewhat heavy, leather bound diary did slip from her hand to the floor.

Just as she reached to retrieve it, the servant appeared to inquire her pleasure for lunch. She picked up the diary, and replacing it on the table she said once again, she'd have what Neshe usually has.

She was served, in the library, at her request. And what came up made her forget the mental note she had filed away in her mind regarding Neshe's diet.

It was a medium sized bowl of simple, tossed up salad, consisting of carrot, cucumber, and apple cubes, with salted, boiled beans thrown in.

Of course, accompanied by rich, aromatic coffee afterwards.

Once the servant had gone, she read the newspapers Neshe had so thoughtfully provided, and caught up with the issues in the media.

After some time her gaze wandered to the clock.

She decided to take a little nap before getting dressed to greet Neshe, who, the servant had volunteered, would come home around six.

_______________________________

The lilting trill of the cell phone caught her right in the middle of pulling on her petticoat.

Stretching herself halfway on the bed, she scooped the phone and brought it to her ear in one fluid movement, and was surprised at the breathlessness of her whispered hello.

"How's the lovely one?"

"As usual" she chose to answer as he was wont to do.

He laughed.

"Rested?"

"Aanh. Yes."

"The brands? Any problem?"

She felt a thrill course through her body.

"None at all. They seem as if they've been there forever."

"Aaah"

She could feel his smile.

"And, you, in my home?"

"At home . . ." she couldn't say more, nor any less. Then asked,

"How long will you be?"

"I'm just about on my way." He replied. "Actually there's a Hindi passion play running at one of the theaters here. A depiction of the ordeal of Lord Rama and his wife Sita. I have had a box reserved for us, if you'd care to go?"

"Isn't that question a bit belated, since you've already had the box reserved?" She couldn't refrain from asking.

He laughed.

"Point scored!"

Then . . .

"I'll be home in a while. We'll dine out, and then we'll go see the play."

"You'll find me ready." She said.

She distinctly felt as if he had kissed his phone before signing off.

"Incorrigible romantic" his own description of himself echoed in her thoughts.

_______________________________

Part 12. . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

At the airport, Neshe had not been surprised to see her in a sari. He had somehow anticipated, known, she would be in one.

Today, he was surprised, and Snama's dazzling smile acknowledged the surprise silently.

Like yesterday, when he had received her, he touched her between her thighs when she took her place beside him in the limo.

_______________________________

The dinner was simple. Neshe had asked Snama what she would prefer. She had replied she would love to sample more of local fare. So he had taken her to a cozy little eatery going by the unlikely name of "Mama Mia". They had both had a good laugh at the incongruity of an Italian restaurant serving Indian cuisine. Neshe had explained that fancy European business names were an ageless fashion with Indians.

Long grained aromatic white rice, lentils, grilled chicken and a vegetable Thalee made up the meal. Snama was particularly enchanted by the Thalee, a large circular tray of burnished copper, in which sat eight little bowls of different fried and steamed vegetables, with a set of seven smaller bowls of various chutneys and condiments making up a smaller circle within. Neshe told her Thalee literally means plate in Hindi and Punjabi.

The service was excellent, responsive yet unobtrusive. The decor, neither Italian nor Indian, was purely functional, but aesthetically so. Whoever had done it had an eye for detail and knew his business well. The ambiance exuded a warmth and hospitality, and this made the time spent there quite pleasant.

The theater was a total contrast. Red and Gold dominated the place, to the point of being gaudy. The box was a cozy little affair, for four but reserved for two. The play, depicted an episode in the Ramayana. Snama was enchanted by the colorful, quaint costumes. The dialogue was delivered in rather loud tones. The make up, usually gauche, almost obscured the expressions of the performers, who made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in finesse. The music, the choreography and some of the songs, however, were unabashedly artistic, conveying moods and emotions beautifully. Snama became totally engrossed in the unfolding spectacle before her, oblivious even of the man sitting beside her.

While she watched the play, he watched her.

So immersed was she in what was unfolding before her that she did not even notice Neshe getting up from her side, and sitting down the low wall of the box, from where he could observe her entire visage, as it continued to present a kaleidoscope of changing emotions.

When the climax arrived, the ordeal of Sita by fire, Snama was almost transfixed, her breathing imperceptible, her face composed, only the pupils of her sapphire eyes betraying what was going on in her heart. The rise and ebb of the tide of molten blue fire told Neshe everything.

He was enchanted anew.

_______________________________

Manger

manger: to eat

Snama ate hungrily that night. She had a voracious appetite for the unknown. She had hunger too for the deeper, the known and the unknown beyond that. Layers.

Neshe had a talent for feeding her, whetting her appetite with tastes of him. She watched his lips, a mouth he had once said had been described as cruel, and yet all she could think of was kissing the cruelty from his lips with her own soft mouth.

The foods Neshe had ordered for their meal delighted her palate. His charms while they dined delighted her too, revealing themselves more and more.

He seemed to have a penchant for taking innocent commentary and finding in it a sexual metaphor . . . enough to make her blush and softly laugh over and over again. At times she would parry, with wicked eyes and a quick quip, in an attempt to shock his senses as he had hers.

At other times she could only blush and smile, involuntarily lowering her head and looking down first, then raising her eyelids to connect in knowledge with his sultry dark eyes.

What a pleasure it was to be with him. She likened it in her mind to a dance, he leading with grace, elegance and confident moves, she following smoothly with a confidence all her own.

___________________

The confidence, his and hers, somehow conjugated, to produce a trust that Snama had never before experienced.

A trust so implicit, that when, after the play, on their way back home in the limo, Neshe mussed up her sari and petticoat to have her legs bare, and then parted them wide, moving from the seat to be between them, she did not demur at all.

Her legs, long, slender and silken, were open and welcoming. Neshe ran his hands along them from her calves upward, to the inside of her thighs sending a shiver through her insides. She watched him, watched his face as he touched her.

"Hungry still Neshe?" she asked, baiting him.

"I'm just checking the spread" was his response, serious and yet witty and well humored.

She knew he had yet to find the note she'd had attached to his mirror. Her petticoat and sari were pushed up about her hips, hiding the skin and the message she'd had painted on it.

"Would you care to hear about the piece de resistance?" she teased.

"Certainly" he smiled, enjoying the way she was toying with him.

Snama parted her legs even more and then reached for Neshe's hand. She folded his fingers into a fist, then pulled straight his index finger.

She brought this finger to the arch between her legs, and dragged it along the slit, making his finger tip wet. She then sat up and drew his wet finger along the lips of her mouth, moistening them with sex.

"The special is a taste sensation" she said. She was not smiling.

She locked her eyes on him and dragged her own finger through the wetness of her sex, and then painted his lips with her dew.

"Aaah!" His lips parted and he took her entire finger into his mouth, then holding her hand, drew it slowly back out as he sucked it and squeezed his teeth gently about it.

She moved closer, leaning in and kissing his lips, licking them. He kissed her back with animal response. The passion was as if they had been long starved.

Snama broke away from the kiss as quickly as she had delivered it and pulled her clothes back in order, sitting up straight again.

She was not ready yet for him to find her hips. She wished to hold her gift private until they were home, and they would have the rest of the night in which to uncover, discover and explore.

"That Sir, is one of our specials tonight" she spoke with a straight face.

"There are more?" he asked, staring into her eyes.

Those penetrating eyes of his....were stealing away her control.

She braced. "If you look hard enough, yes."

He continued to stare into her eyes, then just smiled.

She reached out and held his warm hand, and the drive home continued. He played his tongue in the center of her palm, teasing her now. When she least expected it, he sunk his teeth into her and it was her turn to cry out. He shocked her senses yet again, and in his own way, let her know that he had his own specials to offer.

"Manger Neshe" Snama spoke in soft French. "Manger moi et je mange tu. Comprendre?"

"Je sais. Je comprendre." He understood.

Snama and Neshe both salaciously anticipated: the feast would continue into the wee hours of the morning.

___________________

Part 13 . . .Reality in the Twilight Zone

Snama's hand in his own was a thing alive pulsing, throbbing, just like her heart would have under his hand.

A few moments beat by, and then, unable to contain himself, Neshe raised her hand to his mouth, his lips settling in the center of her palm.

It was as if Snama's hand had become her entire being, the way he kissed and kissed.

His lips, hot and hungry, traced infinite patterns all over her palm, often straying onto and between the fingers, kissing, licking, nipping, as the miles were eaten up by the car.

As the limo turned into the driveway, he viciously bit into her luscious mount of Venus.

_____________________

Disembarking from the limo, Snama had excused herself for a few minutes, leaving Neshe to his own devices.

When she came down, he was in the living room, waiting for her, a purple silken robe having replaced the suit he had been wearing all day. On a table sat a chilled jug of the same sherbet that he had mixed them last night.

Snama had just removed her jewelry, except for her tiny gold initialed ring on her right baby finger, and the heavy ring he had given and branded her with on her left heart finger.

She had walked down barefoot finding the cool floors underfoot strangely soothing. By contrast, Neshe's smile was warm, his eyes alight with the same fire she had noticed at times last night too. His question was simple, direct.

"Where do I unwrap you?"

"Wherever you will . . ." she replied with a throaty laugh, accepting the glass of sherbet he held up for her.

"The evening's been wonderful Neshe ..." she said in a serious tone, "This Ram Leela . . . it was an exquisite experience I'll never forget."

"Its something purely India." He said ...

" And so beautiful"

"Well . . . most of that is your eyes"

She just smiled.

"You were completely absorbed . . ."

"Oh yes ... it had an effect ..." and then, as if to elaborate "Just like you have on me"

He smiled.

"It's mutual Madame,"

"Is it?" she asked, half serious, half cajoling ..

"You can ascertain for yourself, Madame .." he responded by pulling undone the knot of the belt that tied his robe at his waist, which fell open, causing Snama to gasp.

_____________________

Though she wasn't exactly a stranger to the sight of Neshe's rampant and powerful need, the way he had imperiously bared it for her totally overwhelmed Snama.

Having done that, Neshe did not move from where he was standing, neither did he say anything, his eyes locked into hers as he saw her flush a deep red, the sapphire blue of her eyes darken to almost a night sky.

Suddenly Snama felt an urge to escape from the captivity of his gaze, to somehow break free.

With a swift uncoiling of herself from the loveseat she'd been sitting on, she closed the gap between them, both her hands rising to his shoulders and in one fluid movement, divesting him of the robe completely.

"Now, now, who's unwrapping whom?" he laughed as he felt her hand, soft and cool, slide down his hard belly, and hold him.

Pressing herself to him, she sought his mouth, lips just touching his, her fingers sending a million electric messages to him silently.

"May I, Neshe?" she asked " May I?" She punctuated her whispers with tiny kisses on his mouth.

He gently guided her to kneel between his legs.

_____________________

On her knees, Snama was in a position of worship, and she did so worship him. Through her, he shall feel as a God, omnipotent, when in fact she knew it was she who was to be omnipotent now.

"Neshe" she said, with her hands running up and down the sides of his hips "place your hands behind your back and clasp your hands. Do not, under any circumstances let them go."

He looked down to her eyes with amusement but he did consent.

"Snama, you vixen . . .what is this?" he asked as he placed his hands behind himself and held them together.

She placed one hand around his smoothly bare testicles, and the other held his lingam. "This is my indulgence." she replied, looking up to him with temptation.

"Any objections?"

"None. Do indulge"

She smiled. "Please stand with your legs apart for me." He did so and she smiled approvingly into his eyes.

Bowing, she kissed and licked the tops of his feet completely, running the tip of her tongue in the eight grooves between his toes. Her hands ran along the back of his hard calves and her tongue ran up each of his shins one at a time, from his ankles to his knees.

Neshe could only look down in wonder, aroused so by her actions and her certainty. Once she had reached his knees with her mouth at the front and her hands at the back, she stopped and rose to her feet.

She left him standing in this position, and helped herself to a mouthful of sherbet. She returned to Neshe with the ice cold sweetness in her mouth and kissed his lips, parting them with her tongue, draining the sherbet into his mouth. Without thought his hands reached out to hold her in the kiss.

Snama pulled back, grabbed him by the wrists, and commanded

"Behind your back Neshe . . . do not let go."

He growled but did move his hands back and clasped them together again.

"Good Neshe, now please, remain in this position as I have asked."

She leaned down to his chest with cold lips, and sucked first at the right then the left, making his nipples stiffen.

Walking now behind him, Snama returned to her knees. Her hands ran this time up the front of his thighs and she licked with her tongue up the backs of them, one at a time, from the back of the knees to his buttocks.

Her hands came around his hips, to his asse and held hard the muscles of each cheek. In a soft whisper she breathed

She softened her tongue and licked from the bottom to the top of the cleft between his firm muscular behind. She placed the four fingers of each hand between the cleft, parting his tight bottom, and licked again . . . from the bottom to the top of his cleavage, her tongue reaching deep . . . but not yet deep enough.

With prying fingers, she pulled him yet further apart, and he was exposed, the dark closed hole of his anus appearing to her eyes. Here she tongued him, not to penetrate, but to tease, to soften and make wet.

She could hear his breathing, controlled yet heavy.

With a sharp nip to each hard buttock cheek, she caused Neshe to cry out in surprise.

Once again, she rose to her feet, drank more sherbet into her mouth, and kissed it into his mouth. As she did, she held his stiff shaft in her hand and stroked it, her fingers pressing lightly along the vein that filled his penis with red hot blood. His tongue cold, icy, ran across her mouth.

She pulled away, and lowered her mouth to his hard brown nipples and sucked and bit gently.

She bent down, lifted the hem of her sari to her thighs and knelt again with her bare knees on the floor. She delved two of the fingers of her right hand into the wetness of her kuss, plunging deep and coating her fingers with slick moist woman lubrication.

With these moistened fingers she reached into the crevice of his asse and toyed with and wet his back entrance. With her left hand she stroked his lingam in smooth rhythm. She could feel him tensing, building in excitement.

Her fingers probed, pushed, and she poked her middle finger deep into the recess of his asse, feeling the hot tight velvet texture of his insides. At the same time she took the dark hot head of his penis to her lips and spit a tiny splash of saliva onto it. She smoothed the tip of his cock across her lips, making them wet.

Snama ran her tongue from the base of his manroot to the underside of its tip, and played around here, then toyed with the moistening hole of emission. Neshe moaned.

Now, with one finger buried deep in his asse, she took his cock deep into her mouth and enveloped him in it, sinking him deep toward her throat.

His hips began to push and thrust, fucking himself into her mouth. She kept time with his rhythm, feeling him slide in and out between her lips on the bed of her tongue. Her finger inside his asse curled and tickled his walls, and finding his prostate, she pressed and released, and pressed, and released. She continued this teasing of his inner gland as she sucked with love and to draw his love from him.

Neshe, with his hands held behind his back, was captive . . . pinned by her finger, caged in her mouth. He began to lunge his hips forward harder and harder into her and she steadily worked her finger on his prostate.

He could not hold back . . . he reached forward, pulled the pins from her hair and it fell loose about her shoulders, still slightly damp having been tightly rolled partially wet.
His hands grabbed handfuls of her cool hair in a tight grip and he thrust deep and deeper into her mouth until she had milked him to the point of explosion.

And so he did . . . he exploded with glorious vigor into her mouth, crying out lustily, and nearly choking her with his self absorbed need. Her finger inside his asse could feel his heaving and pulsing, the spasming of his muscles gripping her finger in back as he came like hot lava from a volcano into her mouth.

She drank down his potency, his life fluid . . . and fed herself heartily and with pleasure. She wiped a small trickle of semen that had spilled out onto her lips and chin with her fingers, and licked them clean.

Neshe dropped now to his knees and they together held each other there on the floor.

Snama nibbled on his earlobe and murmured lovingly "mmmmm....so good."

_____________________

The Blue Sari

The unwrapping of Snama, was a slow, almost agonizing process. With each little movement of his hands as Neshe unwound her sari, he rained kisses and nips on her as she dawned from the silk.

Her neck, her shoulders, her arms, all received their share, some small and flitting, others wet and long and lingering. His hands denuded her of her blouse. Her breasts grew proud and heavy under his hands and mouth and lips and tongue, her nipples hard and then soft with his suckling at them.

His lips kindled a trail of clinging sparks across her belly as he unwrapped the sari from her waist, his hands tarrying, his fingers teasing on the sweet swell of her hips as he slid the belt of her petticoat past them.

His lips and mouth followed his hands and fingers across her thighs and calves, small, butterfly kisses here, lingering, laving kisses there, little nips in between, right to her well formed ankles and the sweetly pink soles of her feet.

With the petticoat out of the way, Neshe simply turned her on to her belly. And for a moment he was just transfixed. Hennaed scrolls on either side of Snama's spine, gently curving down and inwards, beckoning his eyes to the cleave between her warm, inviting woman mounds.

With a sharp, loud exhalation of breath, he pulled her on to his lap, her legs he parted wide, either side of his waist.

That was when Snama's agony of pleasure transmuted into an ordeal.

He didn't do anything, didn't say anything. The only sign of his life was a slight shortening of his breath, and the palpable heat of his gaze.

Snama wished he would do something, make a move, say some of the words he'd taught her, but he just was there, immobile except for the shortness of his breathing, his focused gaze burning into her.

It took all of Snama's strength of will to stay still, not to squirm, or to slide away from his lap, to cry out. She closed her eyes to obviate him, herself, them.

The only result was a heightening of the sensation of heat wherever there bodies touched, an even greater searing heat from his gaze which she felt was boring into her, penetrating her shamelessly, inexorably.

Neshe's breathing and the ticking of the clock were the only sounds she heard, along with the heavy thudding of her heart, which she felt beat somewhere between her buttocks.

More fire was added to the already engulfing flames. She could sense his manroot throb now, underneath her thighs, regaining its strength from the visual feast Neshe had made of her.

She broke.

Her body trembled, her hips quivered, her buttocks clenched and unclenched repeatedly, she felt her kuss pulse, and spew out a thin, sharp stream of her juices on Neshe's cock and thighs.

__________________________________________

So intense was the orgasm she experienced that she went totally limp, almost unconscious. Neshe lay beside her and fell off into dreamland.

______________________

Neshe's Diary

Neshe's Diary: 23 August 2003

Shy, simple, sweet Snama; simple and sweet she is, and the shyness ingrained. Yet, at the proper time and place, with the person right for her, she becomes a sensualist's wildest dream.

She has taken me into herself repeatedly. She has given herself to me unreservedly, given me the freedom of her yoni and her mouth. She wants me to take her as she has never been taken before. And yet she has not shared a bath, a shower with me, I have not seen her sitting on the throne, have not seen her relieve herself of nature's calls, haven't heard the cute little tinkle a mature woman makes when spending a penny. She hasn't seen me spend one either.

There is a tide in the affairs of men, said Shakespeare. There is a high tide in mine these days. Where will carry it me? I don't know. Frankly, I'm not even interested. The rhythm of it, the incessant beat, the movement itself is enough. Whatever direction it takes, what shore I touch, will be safe harbor as long as Snama is with me.

Dylan said "Love is all there is." He wasn't talking about the love one has for one's mother or one's parrot. He was talking about attraction, intimacy that wonderful feeling of following your heart to someone who makes you feel complete. Your heart bursts out of its cage and takes off in the direction it bloody well wants to take you and drags your head along with it.

That is what has brought Snama and me together. Brought her here, across the seven seas.

With me she is, at present - though the present itself is a mirage. Becomes past sooner than we can pronounce "present". And the future flows from the past. Muddled thinking?

No. It is very clear and precise. The present is a mirage . The past a beacon. The future is a dark tunnel one has to light with luminance from the past.

The past is also the night become morning, as she sleeps, sated, in the living room. There is an innocence about her that is heart rending. A trusting that is so untutored, one is afraid that one may unknowingly hurt her.

I am mortally afraid.

She has said pleasure and pain are provinces of the same realm. She also knows that these do not have any defined boundaries. So do I. She and I have both stumbled from one into the other, repeatedly. But there is a difference between us. I am a cynic. She is an optimist. I doubt. She trusts.

You, who may someday stumble upon this diary, be aware that I do not talk of physical pain. In my time I have been through corporal torture of the worst kind. Snama too has the greatest possible tolerance for physical pain. Those five brands with the white hot signet that I placed on the most delicate parts of her body. She bore them with silence, with grace, with equanimity. So I do not talk of physical pain.

A fracture of trust, a sundering of faith is what I talk about. And I am mortally afraid, that unknowingly, some day, I may hurt her.

The total, blind trust she reposes in me is frightening. If I lead her into a pit, she will fall.

And if she falls, I will from grace with myself.

She has been here only two days? Only forty eight hours. It was a few to midnight the night before last that I said to her, I will take you in your anus too.

Today, when we got home after dinner and the theater, and were together, there it was.

"N, unwrap me, find what you will."

Her note, taped to my bathroom mirror. I didn't get the import and purport of it till I had disrobed her.

Hennaed scrolls on her back, either side of the brand I first seared into her tender skin, on the small of her back. Each pointing down and inwards, where the roundure of each buttock melted into the crevasse between the two.

The invitation, and the trust that birthed it, hit me with hurricane force. Snama, of course, does not know, what it would be, at her age, being opened there.

I was gripped by raw animal need to enter that small, tight, unplowed bundd of her's.. There was such an explicit, blind, unconditional trust in that invitation. The two had an effect on me I've never experienced before. A lust that impelled me to act, a tenderness that held me spellbound, immobile.

In my lap she lay, face down, her thighs parted to the full, either side of my waist, her buttocks sundered, her anus a target vulnerable in the extreme.

My eyes became fixed on what she had so blatantly, so trustingly offered. My heart thirsted to break in. My body, in the very intensity of its need, cautioned me not to.

I obeyed my body. I did not. It was just providence that her circumstance, her being thus open in my lap overwhelmed her and she broke, came, without being touched, molested, harmed.

The force of her orgasm drained her into a faint. I had to revive her by sprinkling water on her face, by kissing her back to a consciousness where she could feel and express pleasure and pain. I bit her on the neck, on the undersides of her breasts, and she retaliated. I knew she was safe from me, for the time being at least.

Her voice grew husky; the sent of her became more and more musky. Once again she was at my lann with her mouth. But this time my mouth had reached her kuss too. And when, my hands reached her buttocks, she, once again explored mine, once again probing my asse hole with that slim shaft of her middle finger, her mouth avid on my cock.

Bliss. It is Snama with me. Snama, my woman, my kuss.

When He Slept

He dreamt, and he got more than he bargained for. ____________________________

Just a single window was lit in the cabin. Neshe could discern a soft silhouette behind the frosted panes. He knew it was Snama.

This cozy little cabin deep in the Canadian highlands was Snama's idea. Not being familiar with the area, and as usual having succumbed to an all too familiar rush of blood, Neshe had said, yes, I'll be there. And here he was, late by more than 12 hours, and still a hundred yards away from her. Inside him, there was a strange calm coupled with ever increasing turmoil. The feeling was inexplicable. Just like the taste of something he had never savored before, and therefore, was unable to name, to categorize. He knew her, and yet, he did not. Very familiar with each other they were, yet complete strangers. This is the paradox of the Internet at its best and worst. Closeness in the extreme wedded to total unfamiliarity.

His step quickened, as did his heartbeat. He had been looking forward to this for a long time now. And the time now had come. Snama's picture is vivid in his mind. So are the many other meetings, the torrid trysts they have had. Like a wet behind the ear sophomore, Neshe had been thinking ahead, trying to imagine how it will be.

A gentle, almost timid caress to the door bell. A soft padding of naked feet inside. The door opens, a broad swath of light falls on the aged timbers of the verandah, her figure is limned by the soft light inside.

"Is that you, Neshe?"

" Yes. I'm sorry . . ." His voice trails off as she gives way, he enters.

Words, perhaps, were not created for such a situation. There aren't any.

It's the eyes that speak, and the tongue they speak is primeval, age old. Her blue, sapphire fire eyes on him, his dark, and deep ones on her. And then locked in an embrace, the eyes.

Somewhere, from the deep, dark recesses of his mind, something she had said, suddenly bursts forth on his consciousness, becomes the definition of the moment.

"It's a very hungry mouth . . ." She had once said of her mouth.

Neshe is seized by a hunger for this hungry mouth. He reaches out, pulls Snama to himself, his lips bear down on hers, to devour.

Who was the hunter? Who the prey?

He doesn't even recall how many times he took her mouth, doesn't even recall whether it was he took her mouth, or she who took him in her mouth.

The only recollection he has of the remnant of the night is slowly easing into wakefulness, (or was it coming to), her head cradled in his groin, his cock captive in her mouth, in the last throes of a climax . . .

__________________________________________

II

Her cunt is an exotic orchid in full bloom, it's scent heavy and hot as Neshe's lips and tongue have teased and tormented it, despite her protestations.

Now the blunt tip of his cockhead is doing the teasing and tormenting. Heavy on the distended pistil of her flower, it gently caresses her bedewed petals, reveling in their velvet warmth.

She moans. Again and again. She wants him in. He tarries. But for how long?

Her cunt is too inviting to resist.

He thrusts in.

_____________________________________

III

The two.

The male. And the female. The woman, and the man. Both in heat. In rut.

Desire on the sway. Rising. Like the sun toward high noon. Ascending higher and higher.

Tightening its grip ever more on its two hostages.

Snama and Neshe. Apart from the muted rustle of silk on skin, the audibly heightened breathing, there is silence.

As she removes her pajama top, then the bottom, the moments seem to slowly trickle by. Like cum oozing out of the cunt of a fully sated woman.

In his mind a loop is playing. Maddening him more with every passing second.

"Neshe" That was Snama.

"Jaan" That was him. He has taught her the sex words, simple sentences of his mother tongue. The saying of them are whiplashes of desire for both.

"Mayree bundd maar [Fuck me in the asse]" That was Snama.

It hit him like a twister. The seriousness, almost earnestness of the tone.

"I want to have anal sex with you, Neshe."

"Mayree bundd maar"

She is naked now, bent from the waist down, her hands resting on the side of the bed, feet planted wide.

His desire grows even more.

"Daikh, mein tayray layee chuttar khole dittay nayn [See I've parted my buttocks for you]"

It is like a sharp, vicious spur, this half whisper.

He bends down behind her. Like a dog in heat, he sniffs her, the hot, heavy musk from her cunt intoxicating him. For a moment he is tempted to kiss and then enter her there. But the loop playing in his head . . .

"Mayree bundd maar, Neshe"

Her slim, tightly rounded, buttocks are spread wide, her thighs slightly quivering. Unfolded before his eyes is a rich vista of curves and planes and rounds, her back from her shoulders down to the downslope of her haunches.

Nestling in the cleavage between her buttocks is her anus. Shy. Tight. Tremulous. Virginal. Neshe is overwhelmed. In a blinding flash, all that has passed between him and her, the quest and the unfolding, is relived again.

"Mayree bundd maar, Neshe"

He bends.

From the honey and gold of her wide spread asse the dark mystery of her anus beckons him.

He bends to kiss her there, his lips spreading around the crinkled rim, his tongue caressing the orifice repeatedly.

She moans his name.

His tongue becomes insistent. He licks, again, his lips fastened around the rim of her anus, the tongue seeking entry into the tightly puckered hole.

She squirms. He gently nips at her perineum, moves his lips to really bite on her buttocks, either one, hard.

Again she moans out, loud now . . .

"Mayree bundd MAAR, Neshe"

He takes in the sight of her, widespread asse, thighs quivering. He takes in himself, erect, burgeoning, raring to go in, the plum head of his cock purple with desire and need. He takes in the earnestness of her plea . . .

"Mayree bundd MAAR, Neshe"

He positions himself behind her, placing the blunt tip of cock on her tight anus, and holding her buttocks apart with both hands, stretching her cleavage wider, thrusts in with full force.

For a moment it seems he won't be able to get in, but her sphincter gives, and he is in.

He felt he would be her captive forever.

_______________________________________

Falling Through the Fog

Snama awoke to find Neshe had left for his work. Again this day, she was free to relax, and of course it was the library that attracted her.

There were things, underlying things since she had arrived that led her to questions regarding Neshe; small things he had said, papers that made no sense. Somehow these pieces did not fit in the picture of himself that he had painted for her.

And then, by chance, she found it. His fold of business cards. Neshe was not who or what she had been led to believe he was. ____________________

She was shocked beyond belief. She spent the rest of the day in anticipation of confronting him; every second agonizing, waiting for Neshe to return.

Snama felt like a parachutist who in the middle of a free fall discovers that the parachute isn't opening.

She felt as if her innards were convoluting in an attempt to tear out of her in some way.

The discovery that Neshe hadn't been entirely truthful to her had uprooted her self belief.

It wasn't of much consequence that he was a businessman and not a professor as he had told her. Or that he ran a successful business instead of being employed at the University. What was of consequence was that her trust had been fractured.

When she had confronted him, he had been very forthright, even contrite. Had told her exactly what he was, exactly how it had come about that he had posed as a professor at the chat site where they had first met, and how, by the day, he had thought of apprizing her of the reality about him, and how he could not.

She had asked his servants to arrange a taxi, and had walked out his home, out of his life.

If only he had let her. _____________________

He had not let her. She had come to the hotel which his servant had told her about, and there he was, right after her, now ensconced in the sofa, while, she, it was her room, dammit, paced the carpet, still fuming.

He didn't speak, had just said,?Let me in.? when he had knocked at the door, had come in, closed the door behind him, and simply made himself comfortable on the sofa.

Suddenly she whirled at him,

"And I'd thought you were a gentleman, a real gentleman."

"What's an unreal gentleman?" he spoke for the first time since he'd come in.

She stopped in her tracks.

"You see," he said softly "you're anger is clouding your ability to think, to speak rationally"

"So, what do you suggest, I applaud your chicanery?" she asked.

"Take it in your stride," he said, still very softly " you and I met in a fantasy world, and from there traveled to reality."

"But I never lied to you Neshe" she fumed "Why should you have?"

"I was already a lie when you met me." He answered. "I didn?t make it up for you."

"But you could have told me the truth at any time." "And risked losing you?" he countered.

"As if you haven't now?" she said disdainfully, looking straight into his eyes.

"No." he said emphatically. "I haven't."

"You're here, I'm here, and I propose to take you back with me."

"Fat lot of chance of that" She answered, "I suggest you take your leave and go your way."

"We shall see." He replied softly, rose from the sofa, poured out a glass of water from the carafe on the table, drained it, sat down again.

"What makes you so sure that you've banished me from yourself?" he asked her, his eyes, his gaze steady.

Snama sat next to Neshe on the sofa, and faced him. She looked straight into those sharpshooter eyes of his.

She thought before she spoke.

_____________________

"It is difficult, Neshe, to be sure of anything, when you come to realize the unreality of what is presented as "Real".

You have asked me what is an "unreal gentleman". The answer is simple to me. It is a man who has presented himself to me to be of gentle bearing, polite and considerate; and then proves not really so in my eyes.

It was inconsiderate of you to let me believe so long in your falsehood. The longer this deception lasted, the farther up the mountain of faith I had climbed. Faith in you and with you. And now, I am pushed off that mountain. You have disrupted my faith, my surety. I am left in the fog. Alone and falling, in the fog.
You tell me "take it in stride"...This is easier said than done. You ask me how I am so sure I have banished you from me. My answer is this...I am not sure at all.

I find you lacked faith in me. You did not trust that I would accept the reality of your identity. That I would judge you based on your identity. You should have known better.

It is not the reality of your identity that disturbs me. It is the illusion I was under that we were being honest with each other. That. That is what disturbs me. You allowed that illusion, perpetuated it.

Why Neshe? Why did you have such a lack of faith in me?"

"It never was a question of my lack in faith in you" he answered immediately, "It was a question of my ability in breaking the news to you in the least possible hurting manner." He paused looking straight into her eyes. "It does not shame me to confess that till today I had not found that ability in me."

"Which means," she said "had I not learned this today, you would not have told me."

"Yes. I would not have told you." Neshe answered, evenly, "Not until I had the ability to tell you without damaging you, myself, and us, what he have between us."

"Pray tell me Neshe, how would you have achieved that ability?" Snama asked him, her tone flat, her eyes eloquent.

"Frankly," he responded, "I haven't the faintest idea. Had I known that, I would have had found that ability too."

"In a way, you are admitting that you would have continued with this subterfuge . . . till whatever time you could tell me." Snama spoke slowly, evenly, without a trace of emotion in her voice. Her eyes told an entirely different story altogether.

"Yes."

He spoke in a monosyllable. She answered with silence. And the silence oozed into long, sterile minutes. Neshe's eyes found hers. She matched the intensity of his gaze with her own.

Thus they were locked, eye to eye, soul to soul, when there was a thunderous crash, a blinding burst of light, and then, sudden, total, all encompassing darkness.

With a muffled scream, Snama sought refuge in Neshe's arms.

_____________________

He held her clasped tight to himself. A hand gently caressed her back. Softly he murmured,

"This is the reason. For the lie. And for the truth. For your traveling to me. For my being here. For you being in my arms."

His lips found hers. He kissed her. She kissed him back.

Snama undressed him, and then herself. They slipped into a torrent of lovemaking, there in the hotel room and all issues vanished. All that mattered was the truth of their connection. ___________________ Part 14 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

In the dark it seemed that new light was being shed on their relationship, the bonds that had come to exist between them, and bind them together in myriad ways.

Neshe's mouth had devoured hers. Snama's had melted in his. While in the darkness, time seemed to stand still, their yearning and lust for each other scaled new heights.

Without ever breaking contact with each other, without ever saying a word, they had melded, denuded, primeval man and woman.

Just a hint of pressure on her shoulders and Snama had slid to her knees, her face warm in the bared trough of his groin as her mouth sought him out to suck.

Just a light tap on the crown of her head and Snama had risen to stand facing him, the whites of his eyes a beacon to her. Neshe's hands had possessed her buttocks and he had found her ready and welcoming, impaling her with his lann in one swift measured thrust.

Just a tiny little sliding of his hands from her buttocks to the downslope of her haunches and Snama's legs had encircled his waist, her arms going around his hard shoulders, her breasts crushed to his chest.

She could feel him throbbing inside the sheath of her cunt, she could feel herself clasp and clench tightly on him as his hands rocked her on his hardness, his lingam knifing up into her and away again and again.

In that cocoon of darkness, the room, the hotel, the world, time did not figure. What asserted itself was raw need, a desire to consume, to annihilate and be annihilated.

Neshe hands became sharp claws on Snama's haunches. His fingers dug into her soft flesh as he thrust hard, exploding in swift short spurts, his phallus berserk in her kuss.

Snama felt him flow into her, felt the frenzied throb of his lingam vibrate through her entire being, felt its steely strength despite his eruption.

She felt him lift her from his erection, his arms steadying her, holding her in a vicious grip, turning her around till her back touched his chest, bending her down, felt him enter her once again, from behind, her own hands supporting her by clasping her knees, as he again thrust into her repeatedly, brutally.

Her buttocks sizzled as Neshe's thighs and groin smashed into her again and again with a force she had never encountered before. His hands clasping her waist, she felt him thicken even more inside her as he thrust and thrust, till once again she felt the storm in him build to breaking point.

She felt his still engorged penis leave her yoni, but he did not leave her. His hands crushed her down, till she was squatting on the carpet, when with one deft movement he had her lying on her back, his body covering hers, his thighs prising hers apart, his phallus once again seeking out her kuss to fill it. His hands possessed both her breasts now, pulling them painfully as he withdrew right to the tip of his cock and smashed into her again and again, silently, viciously.

With supreme selfishness he ravished her, again and again and yet again, and the awareness of the ecstasy he derived from it, transformed Snama's entire being into one warm, welcoming, hungry cunt. For Him. His.

And with this new awareness of being His, exhausted by his continuous assault on her raw and mangled nerves, somewhere in between orgasm and death, she fainted.

__________________________

Part 15. . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

When and how she came to, when, how, and who transported her from the hotel room, Snama had no idea.

She was in Neshe's bedroom, in his bed, naked.

The first, fragile rays of the dawning day were making a weak attempt to pierce through the draperies, Neshe was nowhere in evidence, probably gone for his daily morning swim.

She stretched languidly, closing her eyes the while, savoring the first waking moment of the day to its fullest sensuousness, as had been her wont for so many years now. Then she uncoiled herself to a sitting position, stepped down from the bed, her arm instinctively reaching out for an exquisitely lace trimmed white georgette nightie draped on the back of a chair. Absently she realized it wasn't hers, but it became her as if it had been created with her in mind.

Unknowingly, she smiled.

In the bath she found a note taped to the mirror, just as she had had one taped.

"S, My Life is very, very important to me. It's the only one I have. How could you attempt to take it away from me?"

Once again she smiled, silently. Knowingly, this time.

________________________

At the breakfast table Neshe was his usual charming self. He was dressed for his business day, had already been through a pile of newspapers and some mail that found its way to his home. She wondered at the amount of energy he had, at the almost brutal efficiency with which he ordered his time and life.

Towards her he was solicitous as ever, asking her if she wanted to be shown around, that a car would be at her disposal in any case. She was non committal, in fact still undecided on what to do.

He did not make any mention of the evening before, and neither did she.

Done with breakfast, he went to his room, and she followed, only to be greeted by another surprise.

No sooner than the door had clicked shut behind them, Neshe turned towards her, unzipping his trousers, baring himself, totally unaroused, silently motioning her to a kneeling position in front of himself.

She knelt. __________________________

The papers, the TV could not hold Snama's interest and attention for long. It wasn't much time after he had gone that she found herself in the library again, a small world, but infinitely interesting for her to explore.

It was, she realized, his diary that had lured her here.

For the next many hours, until she was informed of lunch, she consumed each and every word he had written about himself, wishing she could somehow find out when he had started writing the diary, and read the earlier volumes, if there were any.

She didn't find any other volume, but she did find references to herself here and there, and avidly read them, marveling anew at the insights he had gained into her from such a distance and in such a nebulous relationship.

In it were also entries about her, which revealed to her that he, indeed, had been burdened by guilt, by not being able to disclose to her that the persona she had known of him via the net was only part reality.

The rest was a twilight zone, his inability to brighten which with the illumination of his own reality he had often lamented.

_______________________

Snama had taken a small catnap after lunch, and was surprised to find Neshe home when she woke up. He told her that a cultural troupe from Malaysia was in the city, and that he wanted to take her to the show.

The show turned out to be an extravaganza of song and dance. Snama was enchanted, particularly by the way Neshe explained each item to her as it was presented, pointing out the various similarities between various Malaysian ethnic groups, and India's own. For the better part of a long evening, her senses were regaled by haunting melodies and exquisite choreography that reached out and stamped vivid memories of Asia's common culture on her mind.

Once again they dined out, this time a restaurant that did serve western cuisine, and which Neshe told her was owned by a British family who had migrated to India in the early nineteenth century.

On the way home, Snama once again found her hand captured by his. She, however, turned the tables on him, pulling his hand to her lips.

_______________________________

With the tip of her moist tongue she licked the salt from his palm. She nipped his had, chewing up and down his fingers.

"My animal!" he gasped as she pinched his hand hard with her teeth.

"My prey" she purred. "My prey. Tonight I shall devour you."

______________________________

Snama did devour Neshe as promised.

Once out of the limo and inside the hall, Neshe had crushed Snama to himself with an urgency that itself spoke that he had waited far too long than he was used to.

One, swift, sure movement had unzipped him and bared his phallus, magnificent in its pent up need.

She ate him alive. She took his erection into her mouth and was not soft about it at all. She was all hungering, all consuming. She showed no mercy, gave him no time to pay his attentions to her.

The only thing she wanted . . . the thing she starved for, was his vitality. It did not take long, for the entire evening had been one long and merciless stoking of fires in their hearts, minds, and loins.

With her hands adept and her mouth silken, she pulled from him her reward. He came with thundering force deep between her lips and she held his gift greedily on the bed of her tongue. She rose with her mouth full of his semen, and kissed it into his own.


His semen, her saliva and his mixed in his mouth. He kissed it back into her mouth and she swallowed this unique and wondrously intoxicating cocktail of desire and love and lust.

And she licked his lips, and thanked him with a soft whisper.

Together, they were satisfied, curled together in a loving embrace, and thus, supported by each other's love and need for the other and fell into a deep and happy slumber.

____________________

As she awoke to the gentle caresses of the early rays of the morning sun, the realization that she had fallen asleep in the hall left Snama surprised and aching with desire at the same time, as her devouring of him replayed itself on her senses.

And it was exactly at that moment that Neshe walked in. He'd probably been for his swim already, because he was wearing a simple terry towel robe.

The sight of her, naked, and still languidly stretching, hit him like a tornado.

With one impatient movement he let his bathrobe fall to the floor, another had him out of his swimming trunks in a flash, revealing tumescence threatening in the severity of its need.

She was again wonderstruck at the response she aroused in him, as almost desperately he pulled her to himself, molding her onto hands and knees before himself, pulling her skirt and panties down, his phallus thrusting deep into her in one swift, sure stab. He made her gasp, fucked her hard and fast, coming almost immediately.

"Damn." He whispered against her back, his lips trailing a wet fire along her thigh as he slid down to the carpet "You turn me into a kid having his first fuck."

Her laughter was deep, throaty, as she gently pushed him away from herself.

"You know Neshe," she said with a twinkle in her voice, a sparkle in her eyes, "You are a kid in more ways than one, and yes, even babyish, if you will."

He laughed ... pulled her close again, said

"This has made me thirsty, and more hungry for you."

Snama just smiled radiantly, rolling on to her back. Neshe's hand shot out with a will of its own to caress her buttocks.

"I can offer you sherbet, vodka, gin and tonic, cognac. . . a cocktail of these . . ." he laughed, "Unfortunately, this establishment doesn't stock any Bubbly."

"Ohh, you're enough effervescent without that, as it is." Snama looked sidelong at him, nimbly moving away as she saw him raise his hand to swat her behind.

She chose two drinks, the vodka straight up, and the sherbet. He mixed himself a cocktail and as he brought the drinks to her, her amused expression at both at her own half nakedness and his stark nudity made him laugh again.

When he handed her the glasses of sherbet and vodka, she did what he had done once. Before raising either of the glasses to her lips, she closed the small distance between them, and gently took hold of his still half erect penis, and dipped it first into the vodka, and then into the sweet, aromatic liquid of the sherbet.

"Now, Neshe" she intoned in a mock serious tone "I'll drink you and myself in this sherbet cocktail."

He watched her, entranced yet again, as she took a few dainty little sips of the sweet beverage, then longer ones, the porcelain translucence of her delicate neck undulating slightly with the passage of the fluid.

She drained her glass of sherbet one quarter down then raised the vodka to her lips and shot it back.

He had been so absorbed in watching her that his glass remained untouched. Snama put the empty vodka glass down. She picked up Neshe's glass, and holding her drink in one hand, and his in her other, enfolded him in her arms, placed her lips on his, and drained a vodka sherbet kiss into his mouth, her tongue setting his afire. He raised his arms to clasp her to himself, but she gently restrained him, moving away . . .

"Now finish your drink, baby . . ." she smiled, handing him his glass and seating herself exactly opposite him. In one fluid movement she lifted her blouson above her head and stripped it away, removing her brassiere with the same fluid ease. Standing up, she rolled her panties down her hips, delicately balancing herself first on one foot, then the other, to remove them. This done, she sat down again, a bit shy now, not looking at him as she unrolled her stockings and removed them one by one.

Neshe watched her in silence, his eyes aglow, s he nursed his cocktail. For a few moments she too sat silent and motionless, aware of his intense gaze, feeling captive and captivated. She wished he would say something, do something, but he didn't.

A few moments were all she could bear. Then suddenly she raised her arms, stretched herself languidly, and defiantly meeting his gaze, touched herself between her thighs, a slim, long finger teasing the slit, finding the embrasure and sliding in, deep.

Withdrawing her finger, she slid closer to him, still meeting his gaze, and dipped it into his glass. When she spoke, her voice was husky . . .

"And now, Neshe, you drink us too."

It took Neshe just a single long draught to do that. Snama espied a movement in his loins, his penis again rising to an erection. As he moved to set his glass on the table, she took it from him, placed it an arm's length away on the carpet, and returned to his groin, her velveteen tongue snaking out to seek his turgid glans.

"Dammit" he growled "You ensnare me anew every moment."

"I'm your Succubus, aren't I." She laughed, her eyes sparkling, as she raised herself to rest both hands on his shoulders.

This brought the succulence of her breasts within the reach of his mouth, and he pounced on the proffered delight, his lips fastening to her right nipple, sucking voraciously, drawing from her a soft inner sigh.

Like this he held her, his hands clasped around her waist, hers resting on his shoulders, her knees on his, all the intensity of his desire for her focused at the nipple his lips and mouth and tongue tortured, till Snama moaned, writhing in his grasp.

Gently he lifted her in his arms and set her down on the sofa raising her left leg onto its back, himself settling between her thus sundered thighs.

Snama had expected penetration, or perhaps his mouth. The slightly stinging, sharp pat with the flat of his fingers on her yoni surprised her, causing her to call out his name.

He did it again. And again. And yet again, falling into a rhythm. The sharp pats of his flattened fingers stung lightly, teasing, and Snama felt a glow build from the outer lips of her cunt, and slowly, but inexorably spread all over her being.

Neshe's other hand joined in, the two alternating, as if beating a drum in some primitive, pagan beat.

Snama's hips started moving, in time with the fall and rise of his hands, seeking the strike.

The writhing of Snama's torso, the heaving of her hips, riveted Neshe's gaze to her body, and his hands changed tempo, faster now, the strikes just grazing caresses, but far more inflaming than the sharp, stinging ones had been.

A bright crimson flush spread across her lower belly to right between her buttocks, as if all her blood was rushing there. And then Neshe was rewarded by the most wondrous sight, her kuss blossoming fully, before the agonizing throes of ecstasy made it spasm again and again, clenching and unclenching, and a sharp, clear white little stream squirted from her onto his hands.

Wordlessly, he spread himself over her, his phallus finding her opening welcoming, and comfortably slid in, his lips finding her mouth, capturing it.

Snama's mouth melted with the heat of his, and almost instantly she began to move under him again, hips heaving, her yoni throbbing with his presence. Neshe's tongue plundered her mouth, making short, stabbing forays, and hers pursued. His teeth nipped at it. His lips clamped down on it. He sucked, as he thrust.

Snama encircled her arms around his neck, crossed her calves around his waist. Fighting his lips she freed her mouth, and bit him hard on his right shoulder, sinking her teeth in, drawing blood.

Thrusting, Neshe caught hold of both her arms, stretching them, making her head fall away. The sight of her blood slicked lips inflamed him even more, and crushing both her hands under his own, holding her pinned, he bent down and bit her neck and shoulder, again and again.

She moaned his name at each sharp nip, her heels beat a tattoo on his back as she spasmed again and again, milking him with her kuss, drawing out the sap of him.
___________________________________

Part 16 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

Drained, Neshe lay atop her, his lips just touching her forehead, his body still aquiver. Snama's hand reached up to softly caress the back of his neck, whispered softly,

"Oh my, oh my; what a baby I've got me . . ."

"Yes, " he answered sonorously " an incestuous one."

She broke out into a sharp peal of laughter, then said,

"Aren't all men the sons of woman?"

"Yeah, all are mother fuckers . . ." he lapsed into slang, an idiom he rarely used.

She smiled, her fingers still tracing small patterns on his neck, said . . .

"Do you have plans to sleep on me? I don't make a very comfortable mattress."

"For me you do." Neshe answered, stretched himself lying atop her, then rolled off her on to his side, and slipped down on the carpet . . .

"Careful!" Snama was up in a flash.

"Mother instinct!" he laughed "That was a calculated move . . ."

"Aren't all your moves very calculated?!" she quipped back.

"They are, but not with you " He said, quite serious " . . . you are a gamble I took, and fate smiled upon me."

Snama slid down to the carpet beside him, looked him in the eyes,

"Fate smiles upon me too." she said simply.

Neshe stretched out full length, resting his head in her lap.

"This is bliss,? he said, looking up and into her eyes "You, me, and no taboos, no walls, no veils."

She looked down into his eyes with love, such a risk.

"It's true. There are all these blissful things Neshe, and to such an incredible extreme" she spoke with a tone of concern in her voice.

"You find it incredible Snama."

"I just find it."

Snama lapsed . . . sighed resignation. A slight laugh, a shake of the head and a widening of her eyes in this low light . . . looked directly at him and nodded.

"Yeah, you do. Scares me."

Quickly she bent down, gave him a small, cool kiss on his forehead, and said,

"Give me a minute please, I have a penny to spend." She smiled softly and lowered her lashes out of need.

His eyes laughed . . . and he rolled onto his side, watching her as she rose, and walked across the room, resplendent in her nakedness. When she returned, he was fast asleep, sprawled on the carpet, naked as she had left him.

"Baby" she sat down beside him and quietly sang

Longue journée Qui s'achève dans une chambre foncée J'entends au loin les sirenes Qui comme une vague me tirent, m'amènent Chez Morphée Emerveillé

Ce doux piège Ou les gammes en délire s'arpègent M'emportent si loin des villes Et je fuis, je fuis les escadrilles du privelège Beau sortilège

On solde les vieux pays au marché des gorilles Caché dans les bras de Morphée je rène Nemo en exil

Sur mes rĂŞves fragiles

__________________________

"Sweet dreams baby boy." Silently she mouthed the words, collected his clothes, and her own, leaving his in his bedroom, and walked up the stairs, softly humming the tune again: so pretty.

__________________________

Morphee Long day Which ends in a dark room Far away I hear the Sirens Like a wave they pull me toward sleep Wonderment

This soft trap The music notes are in delirium [?] All those notes Came far away from cities I run away, I run away from privilege groups. Beautiful spell!

They're selling old countries on the guerrilla market Hidden in sleep's arm; I'm the king of my fragile dreams.

__________________________

Lying down in the solitary bed, knowing that Neshe was in the house, gave Snama an unfamiliar, uneasy feeling of loneliness which she couldn't quite cope with. She really didn't want to leave him alone . . . but she had, perhaps the mother instinct, knowing that he worked long hours, kept tight schedules and took exceptional stresses.

The sun was up, she did feel exhausted, but wasn't used to being in bed in the morning. Tossing and turning, she recounted all that had happened between them, since that one fateful day when he'd encountered her over the net, read her profile, visited her personal site and sent her a private message of appreciation.

Memory has supremacy over time. Years are replayed in the blink of an eye. And vividly so.

__________________________

Snama had no way to really accept the reality of the beautiful gift Neshe was in her life. She recognized wonderful gifts as blessings not as anything she herself had done except circumstantially.

Her life brought her more gifts than she felt she deserved.

For a while, Neshe had been an occasional charming presence within her online social life, and then he just disappeared. She had tried once or more to contact him to see if he was all right, never heard back, and gave up, thinking.... Such is the Internet.

When he arrived back on her screen, some half year later, it was with an energy that had just exploded into her presence and seemed to have no end.

Across her mind, a black cloud thought rolled.

Any fire, which is so quickly lit, burns so hot and so fast, is sure to burn out without the fuel to feed it. There was no question in her mind that he had more fuel than she did. She sorrowed that she would run out leaving him cold.

She only hoped, and she knew that if she said it to him he'd understand . . . that he would recognize the high oxygen levels in her.

She sighed deeply . . . just air! That's me. Smiling, grabbing the CD player and headphones, she just let it go. Let it go. Didn't worry about it.

She didn't really worry about anything. She just floated into the music she so carefully chose and sunk deep into the bed. Her right hand went where her right hand always goes at times like these, to her sex. Just lightly, the tip of the index finger resting on home. Not even moving.

It is her body that moves.

Her heels dig into the bed and her toes point. Her hips rock just gently, in a rhythm that arches and falls...she smiles, sighs.

The legs alternately drag her heels around the bed...smoothing...stretching.... lifting her in an open rise.

The blush comes to her cheek, and even alone, she is shy of this feeling, and turns her face to the pillow. Her left arm bent up, her hand close to her face...she nuzzles the back of her fingers.

She needs to widen, to expose, but cannot draw back both heels at once. This is too much for her.

Only one. The left one.

She draws it back and it falls bent to her side and she is open. Sighing breaths, gasps...each nipple energized, calling for attention... soft rhythm... sliding up and down against her finger tip... her head turns occasionally, burying the other cheek in the pillow. Lips pout to the imagined kiss.

Her music consumes her, her body dances for her without concern. Her eyes closed...dark, lustrous feelings...surrounding a dancing flame.

______________________

It was in this transcendental state that Neshe found her when he tiptoed into the room.

Thrice he had knocked, to no avail. His ears detected soft, muted moans. He was intrigued.

The sight that greeted him had him transfixed.

But for a moment only. Then he was on the bed, with her, creating a place for himself between her legs, his mouth homing in.

The frenzy in Snama's senses that was just ebbing built into a twister again.

Her hips bucked.

Her cunt pulsed.

Neshe was relentless.

Explosion after explosion tore through Snama's being. Her moans rose to shrieks, her thrusts against his mouth became convulsions, yet he continued to torture her with his tongue, lapping into her, nipping at her, licking and sucking at her, till she became absolutely still, totally drained, only her breathing betraying life.

His lips still resting against those of her yoni, Neshe tarried a moment, letting the cloying musky aroma of her penetrate deep into his senses. Then moving his mouth just a fraction of an inch, he sank his teeth sharply into her fleshed out mons, causing her to jerk and writhe violently again.

"You, you . . ." she panted " . . . are a brute . . ."

He did not answer, just bit her again, a bit lightly this time, but the effect it had on her was of the same electric intensity.

Neshe lifted his mouth, and placing his hands either side of her on the bed, effortlessly thrust his rampant phallus into her with one sharp fluid thrust, causing her to gasp yet again.

He started moving immediately, fucking her in short, hard, swift jabs, a fast, urgent rhythm, till he felt his climax building, when he withdrew from her, moving atop her till his manhood touched Snama's lips.

She opened her mouth. He fed her.

_________________________________________

Part 17 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

The next day, at 5:00 p.m. Neshe called on the cell phone and apologetically explained to Snama that he would be held up until late, and that she perhaps ought to retire at a good time rather than try to wait up. He could not predict how long he would be delayed.

And so she did. She lay naked under the covers, choosing to sleep tonight in the guestroom, in order to ensure that Neshe get good rest this night.

She was cozily propped in her pillows buried in a book. She did not know what time it was when he knocked on the door, but she knew before opening it that it would be him.

She rose from the bed, wrapped a golden shawl quickly about herself, and opened the door. It was him. He did look exhausted and she told him so outright.

"Darling I am" he sighed so heavily.

Still in his clothes from work...he had come straight in the house to her door. He held forth a sprig of jasmine obviously hand picked from a garden along the way. "May I come in?"

"Of course Neshe" she welcomed opening the door to him. "Come in and relax with me." She took the sprig of jasmine and closing her eyes inhaled it's sweetness, his sweetness, then lay it on one of the pillows on the bed.

He smiled in obvious gratitude and walked into the room. He removed his jacket and hung it neatly on the back of a chair. He loosened his tie and removed it. Next the shirt.

"Stop" Snama said. "Come sit on the bed."

He did.

Snama let go of her shawl and draped it over the lampshade, muting the room. She knelt at his feet and removed his socks and shoes. She then lifted his feet onto the bed and pushed him gently back onto the pillows. He was on top of the covers.

Snama climbed on top of the covers and lay out with him. She held out her hand and stroked his hair. Tonight, she saw him boyish. Fatigued, slightly vulnerable; this Neshe and his many levels.

She ran the tip of her index finger nail from Neshe's scalp, down the center of his forehead, the bridge of his nose, over his lips, stopping to smile in each place and trade words with Neshe. Snama traced a line on his forehead and said "la tete". Neshe repeated, then said "maththa" and Snama repeated.

The nose. She drew her nail down. "Le nez" she offered. "Nak" he exchanged.

She smiled as her fingertip reached his mouth. "La bouche", and as he repeated, she leaned in the middle of the word, his mouth formed beautifully for the slip of her tongue.

"Munhh" he spoke into her open mouth on his. "Munhh" she said as she kissed with eager lips.

Snama pulled away and smiled with a naughty sparkle in her eyes, reached between her legs with her hand and hid her fingers from Neshe's view. She laid her body onto of his.

With these fingers, she covered the shape his mouth, completely applying the shine from between her legs to his lips . . .

Lips. "Les levres"

"Mmm" he hummed..."Les levres" "Hontt" He sucked her fingers for a quick nip, and she drew them away quickly, crying out "OW!"

She took his hands into his and held them just above his head on the pillow, her breasts pressing into his chest, her tongue licking clean his lips.

"Bite me will you?" she pressed up on her arms, still holding his hands above his head, her breasts now dangling above his mouth.

Slowly, very slowly, without breaking eye contact with Neshe, she lowered her nipple to his mouth, and before his mouth could react she pulled back and said "No biting."

Neshe's eyes. Those black hypnotic depths, contrasted with the sharp white orbs, and wrapped in a deep almond shaped arched fringe of black lashes.

Almost stunned was Snama. But her gaze into his eyes was fixed, her upper hand was the smile with which her eyes received his penetration. Her bait was her other breast, dangled now above his lips.

This time, she did not pull away, and he kissed softly. He began to suck, but she did not lower, and he had to suck hard to keep the nipple in his mouth as she slowly drew back.

When the nipple popped from his lips, his face jumped up and his jaw snapped at the nipple, but not catching it.

Snama gasped! "No biting I said!"

She held herself straddled across the naked skin of his upper abdomen, his trousers still buckled and zipped. Her hands still pinning him, she crawled, one knee sliding alongside his torso after the other, until the ticklish curls of her pubis barely brushed his chin.

The challenge of the eye hold had still not been won. Neither had let go of their intense and daring gaze.

A smile, a brilliantly satisfied smile broke Neshe's face and he closed his eyes quite slowly and deliberately, and jumped up with his mouth and bit her mound more than playfully.

"OW!" Snama's hands flew in shock to her sex to cover the pain and protect herself from further of his dangerous animal moves.

With her distraction, Neshe moved into total control, taking her by the shoulder with one hand and her hip with another and turning her flat on her back and he on top and between her spread legs.

Now he had reversed the tide. The game of eye control began again. But this time, it took on a different form.

Snama was looking down and away, Neshe's face so close above hers.

"Look at me Snama." She raised her eyes in fear from the bottom and looked him in the eye. She swallowed deeply.

"No biting? Are you sure?" he asked her directly. His voice was gentle but clearly dominant.

Her lashes lowered and her cheeks flushed.

"Look at me Snama." She grimaced then opened her eyes with a flare of anger at the nostrils and the eyes.

As soon as her eyes connected he asked her again.

"Are you sure?" he pierced her eyes and her lashes needed to lower.

"Look at me Snama. Answer. Are you sure?"

She opened her eyes and answered in honesty "No." Then closed her eyes again so she could hide.

"You are not sure. I am going to make you sure right now. You must answer Biting or No Biting. You can change your answer at any time by telling me and that's the way it will be. Now answer."

"Look at me Snama. Answer. Answer so we both know." He spoke gently and firmly, and with his final statement she felt safe enough to open her eyes to him and they pleaded through his eyes to his heart for her safety as she answered.

"Biting."

_____________

Neshe took her from there in a raw lustful fuck, and both received and relieved crashing waves of pressures and tensions with the other. His way, and her way, coming together. Coming. Together.

Afterward, he rolled off her, and lay beside her in his arm. The side of her white breast next to his lips. She was still recovering her breath, when he sunk his teeth into the flesh of her breast and bit with a slow but ever increasing pressure.

Snama closed her eyes. She began to breathe deeply. She examined the sensation of the pain as long as she could stand it. She traced the pain signals until the track ended in her about to release a desperate cry.

But now, before she could cry out at the pain she could no longer control, he released the grip of his teeth and began licking and blowing on the wound.

Over and over he soothed the same bite mark he just left.

He'd had her that close; brought her split seconds from the edge of screaming

"NO BITING!!"

_________________

They both fell asleep with him licking and sucking her wound.

Her wound.

Inflicted by him at his will by her want.

_________________

Snama's Notes

It is a Cambridge Notebook....a navy cardboard covered 8 x 10 book...fine white paper. The pen had flowed, as a fountain, gushing her emotions.

Here now, spending another new day in Neshe's home, looking at her own notes, remembering her own anguish and torture in his regard.......

It was not long ago. And yet, it seemed of a completely different time.

And so it was.

For now, she was here, His, in an earlier world, staked and claimed.

________________________

Snama's Notes: July, 2003

He eats at me. Oceans away, half a day before me, and He eats my skin alive as if He were attached to me with His mouth.

Does He know I put up His picture as we speak?

Does He know I look at His lips and I taste them?

Does He know I see his gaze and feel it through me? His X ray vision, raising my nipples and blushing me through......

His words! I swoon. Like some inexperienced virgin I am.

Does He know...I am dying of abstinence? To know He abstains Himself...dies beside me...ah! Hold me in this sweetness!

What shall I do? Come. Come to India. Ai yai yai!

How to resist? He tempts and he knows it. It is purposeful, deliberate, naked and without shame. And completely successful.

Do I deny that I also tempt? Tease with purport?

How malicious fate, that puts miles between lovers and turns them into arrow slingers?

I die.

Le petit morte.

One day, one day...I will devour You.

________________________

A smile broke across Snama's face, remembering now her own vow. What a difference to be here...to have her plan, to devour him.

With R & B on her headphones and gentle breathing, she lay back on the pillows, imagining the surprise lunch she would share with him today.

_____________________________

And she did. Devoured Him. Annihilated Him.

_____________________________

Snama's Notes:

Ohhh being here now!

I fear I have some sort of jet lag today. Between having traveled the geographic distance that has been between us, and making up for it by virtual non stop lovemaking...

well my little old brain feels a little scrambled today.

I am so happy here.

This is better than a dream come true.

This is a surprise.

I could never have imagined Neshe, this home.

But now, I am here and it is not my imagination.

I feel embarrassed that I must seem incapable of more than basic sex...when Neshe knows so much.

I love his strength, his command...which really I see first is his command of himself...

Maybe I have dreamed of him...a man who feels completely strong in himself without having to stand on a woman...

and continues to feel completely strong in himself when he finds himself standing beside her.

This is Neshe.

How I love him!

_______________

Aprés...

I had to check the shade again before the mirror I did bend and sure enough in different light, the single bulb above at night, did shadow dances on my bundd.

I had not pulled myself apart or lit myself to show the art as I did now in different light Neshe's morning, Snama's night. Shadow dancing in my bundd.

The cheeks were pulled as far they'd go and I alighted the dark shadow, and pulled open this light pink door, and saw raw flesh not seen before; not my eyes. They've been shadowed to my bundd.

And now because of Neshe's brand his burning touch invades each hand and I pull apart. They bring to see the light that shines from him to me and picture open, moist, pink, round and without shadow... Mayree bundd.

Tayree Neshe.

_______________

Lunch

One of the most fun things she had found in coming to know him was how he knew her, predicted her. This created in her a desire to throw a monkey wrench into his cogs...jolt that brain of his to stop and think . . .
A NEW IDEA FOR ME!

She'd sent off a semi business like request for an office lunch meeting. She'd already teased into his mind how she might dress in the office. He had a mental picture. He could see the color and cut of the suit, her stockings, her shoes. He saw how her hair would hang. This is what he expected. He knew. She'd told him.

But she, had her sous chef training under an exceptionally food sensuous Head Chef. She was crafty.

She decided to try to outplay his expectations this time ... adding the first hint of surprise to what she hoped would be a lovely lunch.

_____________________________________

She did not wear the navy business suit, the pink stockings, the navy t strap high heels.

She wore a dress. A white dress splashed beautifully with outrageous large red peonies. The dress had the smallest capped sleeves, was tailored to flatter the bosom and waist, buttoning from the center of her cleavage to her waist. Covered buttons and belted with the same cloth, it flowed in a bias cut swirl to her knees.

Nude legs, straw wedged sandals adorned with mother of pearl fragments. Her toenails, painted the red of the peonies. Her fingernails, remained a delicate trimmed French manicure. The gold rings, His, hers, were in place on either hand.

Modest gold hoops in the ears and a gold heart locket on a chain. No watch....but on each wrist...the most intriguing bracelets, pearl beads braid among gold chains.

Her hair she rolled up and off her neck with no visible comb or adornment. There were always those trails that refused to stay in place...and trickled down her neck or needed pushing behind her ears.

Her make up was not her usual today. The dress required more color for balance. Her lips and cheeks...more reddened...and at the eyes, rather than her usual silver liner...black. Kohl. Just the top lash.

It did work. When he first walked out of his office to greet her in he was clearly struck.

What business did this woman, this feast of color and freshness have in mind? For once, he did not know. But he did smile appreciatively and greet her in with normal business tone....

...until they were inside the office.

And then, he just looked at her and laughed. "Huh!".

She was holding a small red shopping bag, not big enough to hold a loaf of bread. No purse. Just this elegant, but tiny shopping bag. He looked at her and laughed....

"And where is our lunch? If you're going to tell me it's in that sac I'm a little worried. I was hoping we would feast."

"Really Sir! Would I let you down?"

"Of course we have a feast. Tell me now that you did not feast your eyes on me already. And, I'm not bad at this job. I worked as an apprentice chef for a short time...I was in charge of desserts and appetizers...."

"Color. Texture. Visual Presentation...I POPPED into your eye. I know this time. I know you. You find me appetizing. That is what I'm here for."

She smiled with warmest welcome and invited him to please unpack the bag....

....which he did.

A lemon, gorgeous yellow with it's tiny belly button of green; a container of honey...crystallized solid; a miniature bottle of tequila; and a thick bar of white chocolate (a prior request). The only cutlery or setting piece at all was a very lovely silver spoon with an oversized deep blue marble handle.

He looked at the items she had brought to feed him, looked at her with her perfectly painted on innocent face, and shrugged.

"It's your show" he smiled bemusement and leaned back in his chair.

She strode the distance between them and stood now within his grasp, her dress in fact grazing his pant legs.

From his position leaning back in his chair, it was the back of her he watched. She carefully arranged the items for lunch to the side, efficiently organizing any working documents on the desk, and clearing the tableau.

She sat on the desk smiling so politely to him; truly meaning and feeling it. With hands joined over her knees, and legs crossed, she sat: the server on his desk.

_____________________________________

"There's not a lot I know how to do...but there are some little tricks...that make a meal just that much better. Those sensuous touches... like the way I would shape the smoked salmon rosette appetizers to purposely look like sex on a plate...."

(I loved how no one knew I wore red underwear under the crisp white and checkered black of my uniform. My private sex life...the food and I.)

"Today is about just a few good color punches; aroma and bite; a few good tastes and textures; some savoring; some contrast, and frankly some flat out experimentation. I think I've got a menu you will enjoy."

"To begin with, I recommend the woman's legs rubbed in cocoa butter...excellent for it's aromatic quality and smoothness."

With not a moment of hesitance, and in fact with a clear sense of presentation, she uncrossed her legs, uncrossed her arms, wrapped her hands around his neck and draped her legs over his shoulders at her knees.

His smoothly shaved cheek, slid up the length of her thigh, inhaling the cocoa, slipping on the butter. His tongue trailed up her path.

Her dress fell in a flourish about the desk, revealing the entirety of her thighs and that, which was between them....

....on the left thigh, a shocking punch! A black garter of kid leather, tied on, and hanging inside the thigh, draping down it, a small black leather sheath with a black handled knife. And covering her, black panties of satin and lace. "This knife!" he was shocked.

She only laughed.

"Isn't a knife a common tool at most meals?" She grinned into his eyes so playfully that she took the edge off the knife.

"It's a Norwegian ladies knife," she explained. "I received it as a gift but I was never explained it's use. So I just imagined one for us today."

"Tell me then, what do I do with the knife?" He asked.

She took on the tone of the most well trained of restaurant hosts. "The knife is for removing these panties...that is how you begin. Set them aside, we will use those later."

And he did.

Now, she was open to him, exposed, and she took her two modestly polished fingers and covered the brands on either side, and spread open the lips between her legs. She told him, still in her tone of service...

"Please take the knife and cut the lemon in half, and squeeze here, as much lemon juice as you think you might like."

He did.

She smiled and giggled at the tickle of pleasure.

"We are almost ready Sir. This is the final touch of this appetizer..." She opened the tequila bottle and as though it were a bottle of perfume dabbed her fingertip with tequila....

"Please open your mouth and show me your tongue Sir..."

He did.

She dabbed and painted and dabbed and painted his tongue with tequila.....

and placed the triangular large white Toblerone inside herself as he watched.

Even still holding her poise of presentation, she told him...

"Here Sir...is a tiny pearl, most electrifying, and now flushed with a sour juice...

You must lay your tongue...just the tip, under it to cradle it, and your teeth, on top to press it into your tongue.

Of course you do not wish to bite through this...

The challenge will be in your control."

__________________________________________

He did. He brought his face to her and laid his tongue under her small pink pearl, and brought his top teeth down on it most gently.

His senses were being assaulted. Bitter lemon, burning alcohol, the scent of cocoa and white chocolate, woman taste, the tiny flesh gift...He salivated. His teeth shook with his resistance of biting down harder, or letting go and just licking the plate.

But he was so determined...He held her perfectly in between his teeth and tongue, and he surely did feel sated.

_______________________________________

His eyes were closed, being both focused and lost at the same time...he truly forgot her.

When she spoke, even though still in a gentle and hospitable tone, it did cause him to start...

"Don't move your position, but open your eyes Sir and look at me in the eyes..."

He did.

He opened his eyes, but he bit her. Not just a nip. His jaw just placed more pressure and held her in a bite.

She could barely speak, gasping, but kept control, trying to bring him to focus, "Let go" she told him.

He still could not and it was painful for her. That was not his intent at all. But he still was losing the battle with his own mouth.

He was looking into her eyes. He knew this hurt. He could see her expression and the water glazing her eyes...

"Let go, and just relax. Shift your position just a touch, and now just feast. Taste to your heart's content and I hope that you enjoy"

And he did. And she did too.

__________________________________________

The finale of this portion of her presentation was not a plan, but a hope of hers. Of this part, she did not have control. It was up to the gourmet to stir this up.

And he did.

She blossomed open, red flower.

And he did draw from her the sweet liquid that flowed from inside.

__________________________________________

When each had recovered their breath she took no time at all in continuing.

She picked up the cut satin panties, and wiped his face, then cleaned her thighs and between. She put them back down to the side.

She picked up the silver spoon with the blue marble handle and the container of crystalline honey. Scooping in, she filled the spoon with a level measure of honey.

With the spoon facing downward, she inserted the cool blue marble of the handle into her very hot self.

"Now Sir" she spoke, "come take hold of this spoon in your mouth and just hold it there, not moving until I explain."

And he did.

He brought his face back between her legs and took the spoon into his mouth.

"You will note" she explained "not only the sweetness of the honey, but the crystal texture. It is slow to dissolve. You will also note the sensation of the steel back of the spoon."

And he did.

The sugar was already melting slowly on his tongue and he could feel it's rough grainy texture, melting, sweet, amorphous. He did feel that steel on the back of the spoon.

"Please Sir, without moving your head, unfasten your trousers and prepare yourself that I may now eat from you. As soon as you feel prepared, draw your spoon from within me."

He did it. He was prepared.

He toyed with her first, slipping the spoon back and forth in her before withdrawing it and sitting back in his chair.

His withdrawal was her signal that her table was set. She arose from the desk and knelt before him. She lifted him, hot in her hand, and said to him

"Keep that spoon in your mouth. Don't under any circumstances let it go until I say."

With great pleasure, for her own fulfillment, she ate from him. The more he enjoyed it the more she did.

His eyes were closed, being both focused and lost at the same time...he truly forgot her.

He had that spoon in his mouth, and the weight of the marble was causing the steel to push on his palate. By the time he was filling her mouth with his explosive reaction to her hunger he was biting down on the spoon hard.

But that, didn't hurt her at all.

___________________________________________

Once again they took time to recover their breath and composure. She smiled to him and said "I'll bet you could use a drink."

He looked and said, "All I see is a small amount of tequila and I don't think that will do us. You seem to have forgotten the wine."

She smiled with quite a sparkle and said "Really Sir. Do you think I would have forgotten anything?"

With a short walk to the console she said "I choose water over wine" and poured from the office carafe two glasses of natures finest.

_______________________________________________

She sat on the desk smiling so politely to him; truly meaning and feeling it. With hands joined over her knees, and legs crossed, she sat: the server on his desk.

They drank their water and smiled. She laughed lightly, looking at him....there was a little honey glaze around his mouth.

She took the black satin panties and dipped them in her water, and washed his face clean.

__________________________________

It was then that he thanked her for this exquisite torture with some of his own. Pulling her into his arms, he crushed his mouth down upon hers, capturing her lower lip between his teeth, nipping sharply, unrelenting, till the pain jolted her.

Wakefulness made her realize she was biting her own lip . . .

Lunch: Neshe...Office, 1 p.m.

Snama had asked Neshe's manservant if she could investigate the kitchen stores as she wished to prepare a lunch to bring to Neshe.

What she could not find for her menu, the servant offered to go to market for, and did. While he was out, she set to roasting a chicken breast, chopping melons, scallions, and vegetable sticks, and preparing a humus.

That being done, she began to create a simple pastry, filled with chopped nuts and honey, sprinkled with cinnamon before the oven and sugar crystals after. While the pastry was in the oven, the servant returned with the soft tortilla flat bread, Orangina, and Perrier.

Snama mixed together a bowl of chopped chicken with the melon, some lettuce and the scallions. She moistened the mix with mayonnaise and Dijon, simple salt and pepper for spice, and made wraps from the filling and the bread.

Snama's mind was on Neshe.

It was the dream of him she had just awoken from, and it made her smile. How easy it was to dream, how marvelous the places the mind would go when set free.

Now, in consciousness, she could not possibly arrive in such a flirtatious manner to his office as she had dreamt. And certainly while the sparse touch of food seemed enough in her dream, she knew in reality Neshe would need a more substantial feeding.

_________________

Snama did dress in her navy business suit, with no blouse, only a brassiere and panties of soft pink beneath.

She loved her unusual choice of pink stockings for the office, and respectably lady like but undeniably sexy shoes. The draw would be on the legs, to the hem of skirt, where it was back to business.

The suit is cut to flatter the figure, and yet speaks very confidently of authority. Then, she softens again, her hair half loose, with small fine touches of jewelry and makeup.

It is Snama's face and mannerisms that can pull this combination of sexuality and business together and land on the seriously respectable side.

Her voice is honest and speaks strongly on what she does know, and will listen with interest and an open mind when on a topic she knows little or nothing of.

_________________

The lunch was packed with cloth napkins into her leather portfolio, and she was driven to Neshe's office for 1:00 p.m.

Neshe was most gracious on her arrival, and conservative, almost as if they had not laid naked together for so many of the hours of these last several days.

Snama picked up the beat and they remained at that level of conservative graciousness as he showed her about the facility, explaining the various activities within the different departments, and introducing her along the way to much of his staff.

Once the tour was complete Neshe asked "Shall we go to my office? You did bring a lunch I hope."

"Of course Neshe, I've made us a lunch. Let's go sit in your office and enjoy."

They did proceed to his office and before he closed the door he asked his outer staff for no interruptions over the next hour.

_________________

She unpacked first the humus and vegetable sticks for dipping, opened a bottle of Orangina for each, and they chatted of everything and nothing. Snama loved most of all to ask a question of Neshe that would lead to a lengthy answer. Then she could just gaze into his eyes, listen to the velvet strokes of his words, and watch him get lost in the passion of the subject he spoke of.

But, he caught her at it. "You aren't listening! You haven't heard the last minute of what I said at all."

Snama blushed.

"Neshe" she arose from her chair and took his hand, pulling him to his feet.

"You have me hungry for you. So very hungry." She stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers and kissed his mouth first sweetly, and then, as his mouth responded, deeper, hotter, and hungrier.

His hands began to work on the buttons of her jacket and removing it from her, all the while his lips firmly on her mouth.

He led her like a dancer leads his partner, never missing a step, to the sofa, and pushed her back onto it.

"I am so hungry for you too Jaan" he spoke from a place deep within.

His words were still burning a blush through her as he undid the zip of her skirt and slipped it from her.

There is a point, a point of no return that Snama reaches, and that is the point where she is half stripped. She becomes unleashed, unabashed, and unashamed.

Now in her shoes, stockings and underwear, she felt far more powerful than she had in her suit.

It is an inner power that comes from the simple knowledge that she will be able to bring this businessman to complete distraction. She will take him completely out of his space and time and unto herself....and he will not want to leave.

"Neshe, let's get you out of that shirt and tie."

She undressed him thus.

"Now just stay seated for a moment if you will."

He only nodded and watched her. She stood, and removed her panties, sliding them smoothly over her bottom and then down her legs, and she bent in half to slip them over her shoes and off.

She was left with only her stockings and garter, her bra and her shoes.

Snama pushed Neshe's hands away as he naturally reached out for her.

"No..." she pushed him down onto the sofa and he just moaned softly as she straddled herself above his face.

She was open and steaming above his lips and he inhaled deeply with his mouth, then held her hips and pulled her down onto his lips.

Neshe's breath on her was as heated as the air of her kuss on his face.

His tongue swept her moist sex and sent shivers of delight through her. She stroked her hands through his hair as he ate at her...driving her to complete abandon.

She arched her back and her face turned up as to the sun. She closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation.

The two were united. There was no way to determine where the energy began and ended. It just flowed through them as naturally as their own blood flowed.

At times like this Snama was entranced, lost in the moment, the man.

Neshe had such a mouth, he worked such magic, she held on for as long as possible, to enjoy his kisses, his sucking, his licks, his touch.

Snama was awakened from her trance with a shock when Neshe penetrated her from the back with his fingers as he continued to eat at her sex.

She cried out and pushed down onto his mouth hard.

He responded aggressively, now bringing from her a soft, but desperate repeated cry..."Haan...haan...yes! Neshe...haan!

He was ruthless.

"Haan...yes, my hot lunch?" and more he ate at her, nipping now, his fingers penetrating her backside without mercy.

She was helpless to the command of his mouth and hand, and came in a rush, sighing out heavily in satisfaction. She pulsed over and over on his lips, feeling the rush of her own wetness flowing between her thighs and on his cheeks.

"Oh yes my love" crooned Neshe. "Oh yes."

He kissed her between her legs with a tender kiss of love.

Snama moved, once she had regained her composure, and sat back on Neshe's abdomen. She smiled at him, and removed her brassiere, her breasts needing his attentions.

She leaned forward, placing a nipple to his mouth and he kissed and sucked, and before he had finished, she pulled away and placed the other nipple to his mouth. He sucked it with the same hunger and attention as he had the first.
It seemed Neshe could stay at her breast forever sucking, but now Snama was hungry. She pulled her nipple from Neshe's mouth and slid down him to herself taste his nipples. To tease him as he had her.

She worked her way down his beautiful body, and when she reached his trousers, opened them and helped herself to the treasure within.

Neshe was incredibly hard. She grasped him tightly in her hand and stroked him, licking her lips and him too.

Snama's mouth had talents of it's own, and they were not lost on Neshe. He allowed his hips to thrust up between her willing lips.

With him in her mouth, her eyes closed, she chewed softly, sucked, licked and explored.

It was not her and Neshe. It was woman and man.

She was lost in paying attention to her hunger, trying to coax him into eruption . . . to fill her mouth with his coming.

Nothing mattered to either, they were in the moment, her time, and her space. Her mouth.

When Neshe came into her he had in his grip handfuls of her hair and pulled without thought as though he could pull her even deeper onto him.

His completion in her mouth left them both exhausted.

She remained, with her face in the soft, naked bed of his pubis, his spent, now softening cock still in her mouth, his hands absently playing in her hair.

They rested in this state, this glorious state, for a good long while.

When they had completely recovered, they arose from the sofa and stood in a warm embrace, kissing; satisfied lovers.

_________________

Now, with themselves pulled together again, dressed and back at Neshe's desk, they ate the rest of the meal Snama had brought and this time both sat with a glow in their eyes.

Gone was the conservative graciousness.

In its place was a graciousness of a complete difference: openly graceful sexual dalliance. The effect of their communion was savored by them both.

But, this was a business day, and a business lunch, and it was Snama who looked at her watch saying

"It's 2:00. I think your car will be outside. I must go and allow you back to work".

She kissed him goodbye and he kissed her back and they thanked each other for the lunch.

"Neshe.." she stroked his face again "I will see you at home."

Snama left and Neshe returned to his business day, neither really wanting to part from the other.

Bathed in Truth

Snama was on her knees.

She was naked and on her knees as Neshe slept. She was in prayer. To Him. For him.

This was not the religious prayer of a devout follower; this was the honest, from the heart prayer of someone close enough to heaven not to feel the need for formalities.

She spoke through her mind to the power that brought Neshe to her. First, she expressed sincere gratitude. This was her premiere emotion . . . how fortunate she; to have been blessed with Neshe in her life.

She asked for his health and well being, promising to care for him as heaven's gift. Again, she gave thanks for Neshe.

She marveled to her Spirit what a delight Neshe was. She was not afraid of explicit thoughts. To her they were pure.

As she knelt her sex was open and wet with preparation. Nothing felt more right.

Was it not pure to desire to lick love into Neshe from head to toe? To taste him in every way? To nourish him? To take him in? To ravage him? To kiss him?

Simply to kiss him.

"Thank You so. I don't know how I have come to deserve the treasure that is Neshe." ________________

In the morning, just as Neshe was beginning his shower, Snama slipped into the bathroom, disrobed and stepped in with him.

He smiled at her and drew her close.

She smiled too and they kissed cleanly under the warmth of the water.

Neshe had his soap, the aromatic scent that always lingered so perfectly on him. He began to lather her skin, beginning with her breasts.

Snama moaned softly and turned, stepping slightly out of the spray. She raised her hands high and apart on the wall of the shower, and stood with her feet back and wide open. Spread eagle and desiring.

She looked over her shoulder to Neshe and whispered . . .

"Wash me."

Neshe slid soap and hands sensuously over Snama; her breasts, her waist, her hips, along the curve of her back, over and between her buttocks.

He cooed to her over and over with words of passion.

Neshe bent and slid his hands up her legs, slippery soft with soap. As he ascended to the upper reaches of her inner thighs, his fingers sensed the slick, slightly sticky run of her sex.

He slid his hand in between her legs, but did not wash her. He probed her, slipped fingers into her, called to her . . .

"My kuss!" heatedly.

"Haan Neshe" she moaned "Yours". True and sincere.

He latched onto the back of her neck with his teeth and dragged his sex laden fingers out of her, up and back, in those places rarely touched . . . up the virtually virgin skin between the cheeks of her asse.

He penetrated her behind and she was completely welcoming, so stoked to thoughtless passion was she. She wiggled in slow rhythm, feeling his finger. Enjoying.

He entered another finger. She was fuller yet. Filled more with desire for him and filled more with him. More. More . . . she moaned, completely overwhelmed with pleasure.

She knew what he wanted.

Now, she wanted it too.

She looked over her shoulder once again, and in fierce passion, whispered to Neshe...

"Neshe . . .

Mayree bundd MAAR . . .

Please. Take me this way. FUCK me in my asse."

"AAAH" cried Neshe hearing words he had longed for.

"Mayree bundd. My asse!" his voice overcome with lust.

Again, Snama assented in a raspy whisper.

"Haan Neshe" she moaned " Yes. Yours. Tayree!". Honest and loving.

"Yours."

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VERITAS

"Neshe look at my brands."

"They say Yours. Tayree!"

Neshe parted her's and filled his.

Snama was blessed.

_____________

MANDALA

A schematized representation of the cosmos, chiefly characterized by a concentric organization geometric shapes, each of which contains an image of a deity or an attribute of a deity.

A symbol representing the effort to reunify the self.

* * * * * * * * * * *

She ventured across the world to seek the reunification of her self.

In Neshe, she had found a place where she felt wholly together. Complete.

In the concentric circles of life that find people cross linked, adjoined, Snama had found her deity . . . the One that completed her Mandala.

Neshe.

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