THE ECCENTRIC HERO AND THE DANCING GIRL: (2. Helpless Cunnilingus)

                                                          "All Wet" by Laura Richards (Flickr)

[Writers note: This is a continuation of  Chapter 1, THE ECCENTRIC HERO AND THE DANCING GIRL: (1. Until I beg you thrice to fuck me), found here.]


THE ECCENTRIC HERO AND THE DANCING GIRL: (2. Helpless Cunnilingus)

Floating encased in her own love liquids

The silvery highlights on Yoru's creamy skin blended erotically with those on the surface of the moonlit pool, making her surreally seductive. The exquisite creases of the woman's flower-like folds of swelling flesh, tufted with brown-black pubic hair, converged between her thighs in the clear water below. 

A deep well

No longer did the eccentric warrior need to lick the erotic dancing pole of his darling girl to get a taste of her pussy, for she herself opened her legs and gave him to drink the womanly nectar he so craved directly into his mouth whenever he wished it. Yoru's well of liquid love is deep, its flow responsive to the call of ecstasy. She has much to give, it is as though her entire being floats half-submerged, encased in her own love pool.

Spurting spring of love

Enso, for so was Yoru's warrior lover called, had swept her up with one arm, planted her behind him on his horse, and struck out from the village of their birth, heading for the lands of Kama Sutra. With every step on their path the intensity of their passion grew. The man's feverish tongue, so long driven to lick the polished hardwood pole, found itself in this new life, living with the dancer herself, transported to the paradise of her pussy. Now, the very liquids of her essence were being squirted pure and fresh and in abundance over his nose, his face, his whole body, candy-coating him in the same way she formerly covered her pole of desire.

Yoru's sexual brain had always flowed effortlessly between theatre and reality, animate and inanimate, and her icy intellect mixed heat with liquid languidity. When they made love, she pressed her pubic bone and turned screw-like around his cock, so that he became locked in her love chamber for hours. She was his spurting spring of love.

Dangerous journey

The slain Emperor's soldiers wanted revenge for what Yoru had done to their Emperor. Enso had battled soldiers on the ramparts of the castle with the huge dancing pole, and all agreed it had been an admirable, surprise combat tactic of the enemy warrior. But imagining Yoru slicing the emperor with a dancing fan tipped with razors, easing him into the endless sleep of an erotic death, the last images burning on his inner eyes of the nude dancer squirting the abundant, clear liquids of her pussy into his throat as he gulped for air instead, well, it was too much, it evoked their impassioned hatred.

Was Yoru worth the price of eternal sleep?

And worse, it was told she had dispatched other high-ranking officers that night on the way to the Emperor's tent. None had lived to tell of the pleasure, to tell if Yoru was worth the price of embarking upon eternity erotically. Some savants in the empire, those experienced in the ways of love, whispered death by Yoru a resplendent way to die...

This infuriated the soldiers even more. Spies waited for the warrior to make his move, trusting he would take the treacherous assassin whore with him.

Neck taut with terrible intention

Indeed, Yoru and her lover did not get far before a small band of the emperor's men ambushed them on a dark road that passed through a forest of tall trees. The warrior instinctively shoved Yoru off the horse and into the forest behind him with one hand and drew his wakizashi sword with the other. He was a formidable sight, shoulders wide with hairless chest, heaving, neck taut with terrible intention, bellowing.

As the hero's sword sang instadeath, lithe, little Yoru, having been vaulted behind his shrieking frame, easily escaped attention and slipped deeper into the darkness of the forest. She made her way around behind the soldiers, and while her warrior faced them in front, she crept in and sank her daggers, one in each hand, deep into the soft flesh behind the knees of the last two ambushers.

                                                              "Broken," by Ceakay Ballyhoo (flicker)

Engulfed in her own blood

It was soon over, but soldiers of the emperor are not easily defeated. Before Lorenzo could finish the second knee-stabbed ambusher, the man had spun over Yoru and slashed her upper back. In his dying movement he had transformed her from dancing assassin, artful whore, seductress extraordinaire, into a living mummy, unable to move, encased in pain and blood.

Encased in Pain, but unable to forsake love

Yoru would heal, but the brave woman's injury was a serious obstacle to lovemaking. Pain, it is enough to say the word. She laid rigidly in one position, for any movement created waves of nauseating suffering. Only immobility, holding completely still, offered tenuous relief, but even that was cause for complications, which gave birth to additional pain. She was plastered over, held tight, a slut embalmed into utter helplessness. It was a terrible thing, being a living statue, for a woman unable to forsake the art of love.

Fortunately, her caregiver was Enzo, the eccentric, pussy-loving Enzo.

Wounded, Yoru could take no cock

The couple tried every position. Broken Yoru twisted and writhed, trying to find a way to fit Enzo's cock into her tight vaginal cavity, but it was no use. She closed her eyes, opened her thighs wider, and tried breathing out the pain while breathing in the pleasure, but the pain stayed. Yoru was desperate to share love with Enzo, but their union was blocked at the iron gates of physical incapacitation. She was ever fearful of an approaching, debilitating throb, growing from a sinister whisper of discomfort, churning restlessly to expand its stark outline, thrusting from an uneasy, half-slumbering dread into full blown searing pain flooding her waking, waiflike, trembling body.

Willing receptacles of love

Yoru knew little about the erotic potential of her body when physically injured. She had never thought about wounded, sick, paralyzed, or otherwise incapacitated lovers, and wondered about their ability to absorb erotic love. Would they or could they be willing receptacles of large quantities of pleasure? With her hero she was willing, but eager Lorenzo had not yet found the key to overcoming her pain.

One day they discovered that her entire body was being held motionless by the pain, much like rope functioned in the Japanese discipline of shibari bondage. Through artful knots, no muscle is allowed freedom to move except those of the genitals, which are forced in such constrained circumstances to respond in focused, gushing orgasms. Moreover, the circular connections of experience, the convergences of sound, sight, taste, touch of lips on swollen, slippery, bright pink flesh, all of this was present as during "normal" lovemaking, so that the circle of existence completes in ways sufficient to transport the lovers to the ultimate pleasure known as mutual climax.

"There must be a way," they whispered to each other.

There must be a way

The brutal truth was that the pain was blunted and made more endurable when Yoru closed her eyes and surrendered herself into the arms of the mighty warrior, but it wasn't enough. The exhilaration of sex was bound up in a fever, and even though the ferocious warrior fought to displace the ferocity of the pain, he was defeated by it... defeated by pain.

Helpless love 

But Lorenzo was not just ferocious physically, he was a warrior who thrilled harmoniously in the body and spirit of his erotic dancer. So close was Lorenzo to Yoru that he recognized the moment when her pain was almost absent, and it was then he took complete control, seducing Yoru the seductress, flooding her in pleasure, driving away the agony, if only for a moment.

He found her pleasure wounded, lurking afraid in a dim and tenuous place, and he captured it.

Shallow on the surface of my pussy

Lorenzo could not penetrate Yoru's mouth and dared not finger her pussy, and so he devoted his desire to her clitorus. It made her coo. He created a quickly passing moment, dreadfully short, but for that few seconds he floated her in bliss. It was a wisp of pleasure strong enough to cap the peak of mighty pain, and Enzo, licking his woman into a supernatural state of ecstatic radiance, effectively united with her in that mutual love-chamber in their sexed brains. Her body was immobile, but her mind was soaring, and her pussy was squirting.

"Please baby don't hurt me," she begged him, "please baby lick me, shallow on the surface of my pussy."

Thrice-sliced pie of woman

Lorenzo lapped Yoru's inner thighs with open tongue, wettening the soft skin covering hard muscles. Hovering above her crotch, he slipped down and traced the outside of her swollen pussy along the right crease where the leg attaches to her torso.

Woman is known by many things, but surely the slit between her thighs is one of the most prominent. Enzo, looking at his incredibly beautiful dancing girl, legs wide in the dim light, discovered three slits between her thighs. The two creases where her thighs met her torso complimented the larger slit of her pussy, the lips closing softly at the entrance to her womanhood. He perceived the thrice-sliced pie of woman's love triangle, crowned with a pink flesh stud at the convergence of the creases.

Lick-food of the gods

And so Lorenzo lapped at the creases between Yoru's swollen outer lips and her smooth thighs, teasing her, gently steadying her raised legs, trying not to move her. Back again he licked on the other side, avoiding her pussy proper, priming her, tantalizing her outer erogenous zones so that the ordinary flesh of her thighs was transformed into lick-food of the gods.

When Lorenzo saw that his tongue was leaving her breathless and moaning, he relented and placed his mouth directly on her main slit, gently on the pussy itself, and searched with little sideways motions of the tip of his tongue for her clit. Her pussy is small, and her button of pleasure not easy to find, but it perked up thankful and pink when dug from the folds of her soft labia.

Then began the most amazing erotic event Lorenzo had ever seen: the touch of his tongue on her clit precipitated a shower storm on the surface of this exquisite woman's pussy.


A shower storm on the surface of her pussy


Yoru's naked pussy enveloped him, floated him in unfiltered, fluid, fragrant femininity, not just because her juices were on his lips and cheeks, but also her sexual essence was in the air he inhaled, the oxygen blending with the sweet musky vapours of the vaginal dew that he swallowed, passing through his nose and throat, the moisture of her swollen pussy, the heady scent of her sex mixing with the pheromones of her perfume, it all penetrated to the most recessed vessels of his lungs and from there was absorbed into his blood, the clear fragrance of her pussy thus transformed into the red fluid of life that carried her spirit beyond all boundaries to the extremities of his body and being.

Yoru, helpless, had invaded the mighty hero from within his own veins.


Epic eyes

Lorenzo saw in Yoru's dark eyes the exact moment he took the pain away and replaced it with pleasure. He had been locked in a gaze with her while his tongue lapped her labia and his lips fondled her clit, and she had remained looking intently back at him as he pleasured her. Her pussy was wet, flowing clear and ample, and their eyes gripped each other as he gave her oral adoration. They were mesmerized, gaping across her flat tummy through heaving breasts, watching each other in ecstatic powerlessness.

And as their eyes held together in this endless gaze, he noticed hers were half filled with tears. Her eyelids quivered to keep the salty liquid from spilling down her cheeks.

Were they tears of pain or happiness?

Flash of love

And still their eyes were locked as he lavished love on her pussy. Something in her look made him blink, shocked to see the pain mirrored there. If her eyes revealed such suffering, imagine how her voice tore his heart when she whispered for him to "take the pain away please please please."

And when she finally came, he saw in the half-pools of her eyelids a flash of love for him that accompanied the moment the pleasure overtook the pain. It lasted for only the time it takes the sun to set, but she gave it him, the ephemeral flash of pure love, so pure it was like the green flash that blazed that day on the ocean horizon at sunset, brilliant, unexpected, and testament to the utterly real.

A good definition of love

Lorenzo laid Yoru gently on the beach, careful not to move her head and shoulders, and tenderly closed her legs.

He had bathed in a shower storm on the surface of her pussy while they adored each other with teary eyes, and it was as good a definition of love as ever he had imagined.


[Author's note: Chapter 3 of THE ECCENTRIC HERO AND THE DANCING GIRL: (3. The Sea of Perpetual Surf) continued here.]