A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (5: Photo-shoot of the beyond)

                                                                                                              "blinded" by TheaMaiman 
A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (5: Photo-shoot of the beyond)

She moved over to him, knelt at his feet, and came with him, both still fully clothed. This was something beyond Yoru's experience, but there was no doubt about it: Lorenzo had climaxed copiously, and Yoru was a mess. With barely a pause she slipped effortlessly into a fantasy of her own, "talking" him along with her:

She forced-stripped him, admiring his erection so soon returned, but told him she needed only his face for the moment. She emoted herself with spread knees above his head, pinning him by his short, auburn hair with one hand, holding him straight up as she pressed her naked vagina onto his mouth. Rotating her hips, she felt an upward rush of emotion-laden, comfort-giving, enveloping pleasure, his hungry tongue giving her a perfect blend of physical heat and emotional depth, the supreme snuggle of pure sexual pleasure between mutually adoring adults. She forced him, cooing and breathing rapidly, to give her tongue-cum. He groaned as she shrieked in satisfaction and tightened her thighs, and although his groans led to no ejaculation, he climaxed repeatedly nevertheless, mini-climaxes much like those of a woman, ascending in arches of searing, cock-originated ecstasy that left him begging. Happy realization, multiple climaxes, a step on the path to enlightenment for a man. 

His hands were tied behind him so that he could not escape the continuing flow of her liquids down his throat, and she smeared his nose and cheeks and forehead and chin with it, transporting his mind. But did it go too far? She began hitting the cum button on his virtual cock, and as she came at home, squirting on her towel, so she mashed the button of his manhood, so erect and willing. It pulsed vividly, his entire lower body throbbing realistically, electronically, and with just the right positioning of the poses she had him in her mouth, drinking him in an unending flow she herself controlled. And she easily put his mouth in just the right pose as well, spraying her feminine essence, delicious human love secretions, into his inhaling soul. 

The unnaturally recurring, virtual throb of semen combined with her natural squirt at home propelled them to a higher arousal, the lightning pulses of pleasure pushed them closer to ecstasy, flashing optical nerves, searing genitals, and they came together again.

"It is as though I were blindfolded as before," she whispered in his direction afterwards, "for the clothing deprives my eyes of the deeply satisfying, brilliant display I desire. Your refusal to be nude with me casts my mind into unlit wanderings whose depraved nature is made more potently attractive by sheer animal attraction. It is a power that draws bodies together. Concealing the luscious skin adorning the body of your avatar, behold, you are blindfolded by the same conventions, of your own choice."

And so the sexual "hands-off" of the photo-shoot was much like being bound, the constraints of distance were handcuffs, grown familiar through the months of remote arousal. They were enabling her to leap into an exciting fantasy that would take her to her final, intense climax of the afternoon. He had prepared her vagina for many lovers, and she needed them now to enter her mind in a glut of masculinity.

"Ten cocks make the icing on my cake," she confided, smiling sheepishly. "You will watch me masturbate? I take them all, I revel in their potent curving erectness, I suck each in delight and admiration of the beauty of the male organ of love, thrusting up from the core of man. My cake is a series of climaxes, erotic, blissful events, but the icing is like flying." 

And so he watched, stunned at this capricious creature's capacity for love.

A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (4: The consummate photographic climax)

                                                                                                                                                                          "the sun and the moon" by TheaMaiman 

A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (4: The consummate photographic climax)

"She fought against her desire to fall at his feet. Ridiculous to be so happy." ~~D.H. Lawrence, The Lost Girl

Lorenzo sat on the horizontal trunk of a fallen tree watching the transformative beauty of Yoru in the little meadow from just a few feet away, not from across the commune sim as he had always voyeured her. It was close enough to virtually touch her. And for the first time in her Second Life, Yoru had removed her self-imposed blindfold to reveal her most ardent admirer. She gazed at his sculptured, Mediterranean face, and before she could stop herself she gasped: "At last I have you! I want to kiss you."

"Whatever you want..." he replied smoothly, "kissing you... yes, a very good idea, but still I have no idea about how do those pictures. I want first to see how you like to dress yourself. Strip and change, I love to see how girls see themselves. Let's play... how do you imagine I would like to see a girl like you?" 

Yoru realized he was eluding her as he had done for months, and even though he was here in front of her, he made no move to undress. His power of elusion was unfailing. She told herself he is a man who finishes his work first and plays after. But Yoru was mistaken, for he was past all that. He was having it all. 

She paused. "You are an Italian gentleman," she whispered carefully in his direction, "perhaps you like classical beauty?" 

"Traditional ladies know how to be very sensual," he agreed.

Yoru chose a long, shimmering, light lime-green gown with dainty black heels for dancing. After it had entirely rezzed, the gown flowed elegantly down her body, accentuating and falling dramatically over the curves of her breasts.  

"Special, very classy," he muttered in a voice that had dropped to a lower, huskier tone, "your breasts are strongly appealing." 

"Are they, darling? Shall I take off the top?"

"No," he grinned, "I saw them flash by, softly rounded, tattooed black with a twisting dragon that increases the perception of curvature, as the upper portion of your evening gown cloaked your ivory shoulders." He missed nothing.

"This is my most comfortable outfit," Yoru cooed, slipping into a colorful teal latex bodysuit. She left her Japanese headband on.

"Ohh, yes, your Asian clothing is my favoured, very sensual."

"This is how I would lounge at home on the bed with my Italian boyfriend *sigh* if only I had one..."

"Ohh, in NY there are many to choose from," he teased her,  his tone softening. 

"I don't want them, I want you," she quipped, and thought to herself: "That surely makes it clear I want him now." But he said nothing, and so she continued stripping.

"And this I wear when I go dancing in blues clubs. I prefer platinum blond hair with this sheer, silver-gray gown and transparent panties..."

"Naaa, Japanese are dark ... not blonde! lol" 

"Yes, darling," she said, "my RL hair is blue-black, sometimes I make it chocolate sunburnt brunette, too. But modern Asian girls are pushing stereotypes aside, sometimes deliciously, sometimes indelicately, but decidedly aside. Twenty Second Century girls with attitudes, like me."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she affirmed, "if being platinum blond makes me feel sexier than white-hot flowing Hawaiian lava, is it not to your advantage, chéri? When such bright heat spills into the ocean of your desire it will burst, hissing and wailing, and you will be like exploding rock, rending and groaning..."

Lorenzo gulped some of his coffee.

"This is very me, it is the strategy my life , like the RL me, sitting in my computer chair right now. When I dye my hair the shining blondness contrasts strongly with my naturally dark eyes, drawing your gaze to my face, and so I hold you steadily with my eyes while I penetrate your soul with furtive words, and when I tip my forehead down as though to look at my own body, your gaze tips automatically along with mine to glide falling along the swelling breasts, viewer touching closely the dusky, dimpled nipples, spilling down, down through my cleavage, traveling a clear passage along my flat tummy onwards to points south where all men want to go."

Her words tripped Lorenzo's mind into a fantasy:

"Yoru, I see your body pressed lusciously against me, and you kiss me as I lay panting from the exhaustion of life. To the disorientation of my aging mind you bring sweet, young love. I see myself sitting in a train, now alone on an endless night, the constant shaking and roaring of the steel wheels and squealing tracks putting me in a daze, and I drift into a fantasy that I am writing you a love letter as the rest of the world flashes by my dark window. In the letter I describe how your nude pussy trembles expectantly, dark pubic fluff offered for my hand to caress, hidden velveteen violet clitoris pressed forward for my tongue to lick, and I swallow juices dripping free from the entrance of the glistening channel to your aqueous, banshee sex."

Yoru squirmed in her chair.

"Your naked presence pushes me into the curious frame of mind of floating in unfiltered, fluid femininity, not just because your juices are on my lips and cheeks, but also your sexual essence is in the air I inhale, the oxygen blending with the sweet musky vapours of the vaginal dew that I have swallowed, passing through my nose and throat, the moisture of your swollen pussy, the heady scent of your sex mixing with the pheromones of your perfume, it all penetrates to the most recessed vessels of my lungs and from there is absorbed into my blood, the clear moistness of your pussy thus transforms into the red fluid of life that carries your spirit beyond all boundaries to everywhere in my body and being." 

She moved over to him, knelt at his feet, and came with him, both still fully clothed.

(Writer's note: Still to come 5: Photoshoot of the beyond.)

A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (3: The artist makes love like no other)

                                                                                                                                                                 "Don't die before I do" by TheaMaiman

A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (3: The artist makes love like no other)

Yoru stood spellbound: she had done it. The stage was set. They had agreed to wait until they both had time to make love at a luxuriously languid pace, and that day had now come. 

For many months she had cradled Lorenzo through his needy eyes, laid his voluptuous mind in her virtual lap close to the heat of her sexuality. And at last, she had her phantom voyeur close to her. He called it a photo shoot, but it was the beginning of a rare kind of love in the afternoon. 

"At your orders, my dear teacher of love!" Lorenzo said. He doesn't kid while he jokes, he is a serious man with a sense of humour. Yoru realized that her offer of virtually physical lovemaking had been accepted, and she thought to herself: "An Italian man with a good heart and artistic character... it is very attractive."

They had an hour together, he in Europe, Yoru in America, as close as words and images could bring them. Finally she would see his avatar's body, and he would embrace her as a man, not just as sexy text on a screen. Or would he?

"Maybe you could inspire me," Lorenzo whispered, "an Asian girl with a smart brain and a sensual soul .. that is what a man dreams of. Let me photograph your avatar for a special series."

"A photo shoot?" Yoru asked, wondering if he meant it.

"Yes," he answered, "follow me." 

He had transported her to a lush island, covering a whole sim, populated with log-fire animations, slithering animals, and a blue waterfall. He stood tall and handsome with wavy auburn hair in a classic cut Italian sports jacket. Yoru was thinking, "Isn't it understood what we are going to do?" 

"You look so nice," he offered as they climbed to a flowery meadow overlooking the ocean. 

Yoru tried again: "Do you want to shoot pictures or ... swim? What do you want to do, my honey-words Lorenzo?"

"Not enough time for photos," he replied, ignoring her obvious implication, "and I'm not sure how I want to photograph you, whether I want to see you well... half nude... lol, with pink headphones and naked breasts ... I want to know you better before making photos."

"Know me VERY better?" Yoru grinned.

"Yes!" 

He played along so beautifully. Sometimes he said a lot, sometimes not much, but what he said was always hot and at the right moment. 

"I want you, Yoru, as I have always had you: changing clothes before me, fleetingly, swiftly, uncaring who watches you stripping or whether or not they are quick enough to catch your special offerings, your dripping pearls of secretion like reflected starlight blinking through drifting raindrops falling from between your legs, vanishing into the night, flashing before crashing into the darkness of the earth like liquid comets rushing down from an eternally feminine universe."

Fuck. And that wasn't all he said: "But this time, I have an hour to drown in your flow of love. I want you to change every outfit you have for me, here in this sunny meadow as the butterflies wing by shedding color to adorn your pretty curves. And we shall decide how to photograph you to reveal your subtleties."

Yoru couldn't talk. She knew she must seduce him with her images, and without struggling further she began at the top of her list of outfits in alphabetical order to strip for her voyeur lover. 



(Writer's note: still to come: A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (4: The consummate photographic experience &  5: Shibari girlfriend)

A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (2: The Voyeur)

                                                                                                                                                                          "save me" by TheaMaiman

A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (2: The Voyeur)

Yoru felt exhilarated after riding such a magic, malleable male, but her second "love-stop" that afternoon completed her own transformation into a magical virtual woman. An artist named Lorenzo made love to her in a way that was different from any other. 

Yoru had long known she had a phantom lover, a voyeur who watched her from afar. He was not a stalker, for he had politely introduced himself in an Instant Message, asking if he might gaze at her from the other side of the commune while she changed clothes. Her island shack is a single flimsy room where anyone can look easily in through the windows, or shift the viewer for full frontal effect, at any time. Few people ask if they may "perve," as some call it, they simply focus their viewer on whomever they wish without a word of warning. For a master voyeur, Second Life is paradise. 

And Yoru is for master voyeurs a mistress exhibitionist. She was in the habit of welcoming such voyeurs, treating them kindly, adding as she changed a certain extra strip of pretty flesh with pubic hair, a glance at her intimate spots to please them, revealing her sex in a flashing moment that held the watchers' gaze like gravity between massive bodies of desire. Needless to say, Yoru was delighted that such a man, an artist from Southern Europe, let's call it Italy, would want precisely her avatar to satisfy his visual thirst for female beauty. 

"Lorenzo's getting off on my av," she thought, and agreed warmly to be his len's object of lustful focus. "But will we ever meet really, with our avs? Just for a kiss?" Yoru rarely forgets to ask for an embrace.

"Maybe," was his reply. 

But they never met. Lorenzo's background existence became a part of her world. She wondered what he looked like, and of course she could use her viewer as he did, but she didn't. For her it was part of the mystique of the man. It was as if Yoru were willingly blindfolded.

Which isn't to say they didn't become friends. Often, as she rushed from the club where she dances, or to an event she promised to visit, or to wherever her current lovers wanted her, she would pop in to change outfits before teleporting out again. When he was on the island he always whispered something sexy in her ear about her dress, or her stockings, you know, things that make you feel good about being in your skin. Soon Yoru began yearning for his IMs. He was adding substance to her Second Life.

"Good afternoon, Yoru," he would purr while she was rezzing in her little shack, changing into yet another outfit that barely contained her pubic hairs and most likely failed to cover her nipples as well. "You see, you are not escaping my voyeur eyes... Your hair, so long and blue-black and lush, draping your pretty curved buttocks. Can you get those panties in transparent?" *smiles*

"Hey :)" she would say, "Welcome my artist, and thank you for mentioning you are there once more." Although she never told him, she had come to instantly feel a rush of burning wetness welling up between the sleeping lips of her pussy whenever he told her he was watching her, rendering it slightly sticky down there. These chance meetings in the chatbox continued for months, moistening her panties just a little, never allowing her to mix his sensuality with her own. Finally, as always, Yoru could no longer help herself, could not bear his distance, his visual absence, his denial of her eyes while she reeled from the smoldering hot presence in her ears.

"I adore your body in black," Lorenzo had said one day. "Hello again, I'm peeping you ... (blushes) ...  my Japanese angel."

Yoru was riveted and hadn't even started to reply when his next IM hit her in her most sensitive spot, her desire for bondage. 

"Every Italian should have such a divine being tightly wrapped in black, finest silk, for throwing in the back of his Alpha Romeo and escaping with to a lover's tryst!"

She at last blurted out her feelings: "I would truly love to make love with you, Lorenzo."

He paused but gave her a smile."Oh, I'm at work, so it would be a little awkward, but I logged in just to greet you, I admit." 

"Awww," Yoru's voice cracked a little, "that makes me feel good. You want to voyeur me and I love it. We are a good match, artistically I mean. "

He grinned, "I wanted to ask you to model for me in a photoshoot, but I would be at your disposal to match you also in another way :-)" 

Yoru's instincts thrilled in the intricate channels of her ears before the full transmission of the words even reached her brain. He would look good, seriously good, nude. She shot back boldly, "I want to see you naked." What else would have been honest?

After a pause, as though giving it some thought: "OK. But I love going slowly, it is like Zen to my mind. It will be my pleasure to discover you slowly and to learn from you at the same time." 

Yoru stood spellbound: she had done it. The stage was set.