UNHINGED LOVE, A HALLOWEEN STORY OF DUPLICITOUS MARRIAGE

                                                                                                                               Fenton Maurer

(Writer's note: this story is a mix of several earlier passages pulled together with the story of IRISH RICHARD HAS MY HEART in answer to a call for Halloween BDSM stories.) 

UNHINGED LOVE, A HALLOWEEN STORY OF DUPLICITOUS MARRIAGE

Robert was rough with me that Halloween night, so much that he made me a little frightened. He tied my hands angrily behind my back, I was quite helpless, but I love hard BDSM and thought little of it. Was he punishing me for the treachery shown him by his jilting fiancée, Patatia? It was then I realized to my horror that it must be her who was laying--only symbolically of course--in an iron coffin on the patio next to the pool, her Italian boots neatly arranged on top.

The sight of the coffin made me want to leave, but I confess I did know the background to this macabre, although empty, burial relic. Robert was supposed to be getting married with Patatia and had sent all his friends invitations, but "three days before the wedding my betrothed turned up and said she would not go through with it. She had met someone in RL and would be leaving SL. All of which (as I found out later) was a lie." To put on a brave face, he was going ahead with his wedding, but calling it a "wedding wake" instead. It added to my uneasiness that the creepy, duplicitous woman was there, too, in a horrible manner of speaking.

At that moment Robert snapped me back from my dark musings, pushing my legs open wide, and entered me. I reacted by twisting my hips, flexing and struggling. This had the effect of making me unwillingly clutch myself even tighter around his cock as it curved evilly upwards inside me.  I stole a glance down at our naked bodies and wet genitals glistening in the moonlight, and without warning I began experiencing deep pleasure. He then laid me in a different position, forced my pussy open wide with both his hands, and buried his face between my thighs in a swoon. He needed to drink me. Next he pushed me down and filled my mouth with the oddly contradictory sensations of his erect dick, the rod all stiffness but topped with yielding, swollen, moist, purplish flesh. He used my throat as a vagina until I took him in my hands tenderly, withdrew him, admired him, licked him languidly, and plunged him back between my waiting lips, again and again. Purplish cock... it made me, like him, a little crazy, inhaling sex, a "dispenser" of dirty thrills and divine comfort.

I sucked him until I tasted that gentle surprise, the addition to my saliva of a slightly sweetish, musky, viscous body fluid unlike any other. My own climax felt unusually indulgent, for I had cum with only my lips and tongue on his cock. He got up, went out, and soon returned with more guys. After 10 minutes anguishing about being gang-banged (it is such a high-school term), I couldn't help myself, I began to relish being fucked in every hole of my body. I sank to that level and came hard--I am embarrassed to say it, I felt dirty but I loved it. It is a contradiction to think about. Oh hot Halloween!

Trying to dismiss a growing revulsion with my weakness for pleasure and the creepiness of the location, I said to myself that it was, after all, just Second Life. My body had stopped trying to flee, since that was clearly impossible. It was then that I escaped in my mind to a vivid scene from when I was a young girl. I had always loved climbing high in a poison berry tree next to our house. It was leafy with yellows, greens, and blues, and stretched out to me its smooth, brown, veined arms.  Years later I realized that being in love is like climbing that tree, for in my fortress of airy green I was uncatchable. I was as good at climbing as I am now at making love. Always I could find an escape from playtime "enemies," or put my hands on a bunch of smelly berries to throw at neighborhood children attacking my fortress from the ground. Once having learned how to swing, trusting one's grip, it is exhilarating to glide confidently between the limbs. But while climbing high one must be careful, for like love, falling from a branch is always unexpected.

When Robert and I first made love, months before, we had snuggled deep under blue-green domes of impenetrable woods. I trusted him, had been his lover, had embraced him in secret as the heat of the day gave way to cooling shadows and hot desire. Licking his neck, I had tasted the salt clinging still from our swim in the sea where we had surrendered again and again to deep waves of female invitation and male thrust. He gulped in my heady, perfumed wetness, flourishing in the fullness of feminine rain, abundance feeding pleasure, passion bursting to fruition in the dewy night. 

And so you understand, I had been surprised when he told me he was going to marry his Italian lover. I remember blinking involuntarily. Weeks before, I had made love with her also, but why would I have bothered mentioning it? At that time it mattered not at all. Her hands had pulled me hungrily down onto the bed, and when I opened my eyes I saw a delicate, fragrant pussy trembling close to my face. Tentatively, I inserted my tongue into the musky slit... I couldn't help myself... I loved the dark pubic forest, I wanted to make it my new home. 

How was I to tell him? I didn't. And now it was time for my punishment.

SECOND LIFE = DREAM LOVE WITH OPERATING INSTRUCTIONS ATTACHED

                                                                                                                                                              Akiko Sekiae

SECOND LIFE = DREAM LOVE tomorrow come to the Love-In orgy!
Sun, Oct 20 2013 10:54:46 AM PDT

Have you ever woken from a dream and wished you had stayed? Wished you could have had a say in what next to do? Wished you had kissed a certain person again before bidding goodbye to the sleepy land of love? 
ORGY NOW at the COMMUNE UTOPIA--come love and be loved!
Mon, Oct 21 2013 6:32:45 PM PDT

Second Life is a dream, where one can be one's own director, where the avs are real people from all over the wide world, and what you say and do is as real as the steel frames of the computers that construct so faithfully the intricacies of your online stage. Talk of the virtual world as not being "real" is as vaporous as air, for to deny Internet love is like questioning the existence of delicate vapors of fine perfume solely because, like sunsets, they are ephemeral. 


Come love!!
COME TO THE ORGY, be a star in your own dreamy movie. TOMORROW MondayLoveday commune orgy.

KAHRIN, FAMILY OF THREE (1-3)

                                                                                                                                                                                  Fenton Maurer
(Editor's note: This story is a rewrite and continuation of an earlier post.)

KAHRIN, FAMILY OF THREE (1)
The first place Kahrin took her new girl, Yoru, was shopping. She bought her a body tattoo depicting red whipping whelps, front and back. "No dress?" thought Yoru,  but she said nothing. Next was a collar that forced her to her knees. Yoru was shocked when, for the first time in her Second Life, she saw herself jerking clumsily behind her new Mistress, obeying the leash.

Kahrin's eyes were frightening, unforgettable. Light blue, glittering with intelligence, she outlined them in inky black mascara under her Scandinavian blond hair. Wavy, blue-black streaks emanated from around her gaze. 

First date... ahhh! Do you remember how nice that was with your best lover? Yoru's first date with Kahrin was nothing like that. No romantic thoughts of dinner spots, no dancing until dawn. Something like a loving embrace, but not like she had imagined. She was unprepared for this new flow of experience dripping with spurts of emotional attachments. How did Kahrin achieve this for her girl sub?

She kept Yoru on her knees in two separate bars, humiliated, kneeling with her head down among the standing and sitting patrons. That is at the level of everyone's genitals. Her "stripes," red, painful whelps, glistened like congealing red sweat on her formerly perfect, amber-ivory skin. The two women, Mistress and sub, hadn't been in the first bar very long before a tough-looking, quiet man named Griegol instant messaged Karin to negotiate the use of the slave.

"Oh," said Karin in open chat, "no payment needed. You may do what you want to her, as long as I can watch."

"Curious," thought Yoru, "she likes to see me sex." Her heartbeat suddenly betrayed to her how intensely exciting it was to be given to such a force of manhood, without warning or apology. He took her leash and jerked it once to see if it was working, making Yoru dance drunkenly like a noob and causing smirks from other patrons in the bar.

He turned out to be kind to Yoru, refusing to add to the whippings or harm her, but he fucked her in every position she had ever experienced, and some that were new to her. Karin was arroused, commenting and goading him on.

In the second bar, Yoru was given to Karin's current boyfriend, a huge man, also from Northern Europe, who felt it inappropriate to fuck Yoru outright in front of his new girlfriend. Karin helped him out of his embarrassment, tying Yoru up, not quite dangling, hands and arms stretched out in two opposite directions above her, feet and legs tied open wide. The powerful man finger-fucked both of her holes, normally hidden in the delicate slit between her legs, now spread pink and exposed as she hung helpless, ball-gagged, unable to talk or resist the man's fingers, emoting fear and pleasure and a little pain and climaxing again and again. She couldn't help herself.

Second date saw Yoru laying in Kahrin's arms, safe and satisfied. Kahrin asked Yoru to tell her of her aspirations, and she did. Karin explained more about what she expected from the relationship and informed her of her duty to love her sister sub, Myraka. Passionately love her.

                                                                                                                                                                                    Fenton Maurer                       

KAHRIN, FAMILY OF THREE (2)
"Karin explained more about what she expected from the relationship and informed Yoru of her duty to love her sister sub Myraka. Passionately love her."    

                                                                                                                            

Myraka is a smooth-skinned tattoo-less brunette of great beauty, charm and cunning. Yoru met her for the first time at a dance in a tall field of wheat where only their heads were visible bobbing above the wafting kernels. Yoru's eyes were riveted to Myraka's face as though they were being forced by the power of nature to adore the source of all beauty out of sheer astonishment at the perfect symmetry of extraordinary loveliness. There is something sublime in Myraka's eyes, and just beholding her face was enough to make anyone miss a breath. But at that moment, slowly, Myraka began to drift up, her round shoulders emerging from the field like a white, scintillating rainbow into the blue sky, the ripples of her silver silk tank top loosely draping her brown shoulders, one side dropping off, glittering, revealing one breast and darker nipple like an amazon warrior woman of desire. Higher she floated, motioning to Yoru to join her, and when her hips appeared rising out of the wheat, the sheer lace, see-through white panties rendered the pubic hair beneath even more visible than if she had been nude. By now, everyone's gaze transferred from their respective lovers to Myraka's legs.

And so they drifted above the field of dancing, undulating, IMing avs in the clear SL afternoon, participating in the party yet above it, uniting in a couples dance of great closeness, high in the air looking down on the heads floating on a sea of golden wheat kernels. Their caresses became more seriously emotive, showering down on the party-goers like sticky-sweet over-ripened cherries, the words dripping the juice of woman's rain.

"I want to know who you are," Yoru said, "why have I not seen you before?"

"Oh Yoru," Myraka answered, "I have loved you from afar, but I dared not approach you, because I am not sure if my new Mistress is a jealous woman."

Yoru opened her profile and saw the name "Kahren" in the partner slot. Myraka's Domme was Yoru's new Mistress.

"Your Mistress knows. She sent me."

Myraka was silent.

"Kahrin sent me, sweetie, I am your new sister lover. She wants us to be friends... may I friend you?"

"Kahrin sent you?"

And as bewildered as Yoru thought she may have been, Myraka swiftly changed the dance to one that allowed her to kiss Yoru, bending her over almost in half, so she couldn't move, and she held her there for a long time, emoting heavily, kissing her without pause, without withdrawing her tongue from the dainty, red lips of the Japanese girl, causing the dancing couples and singles below to hush their open chat to catch the dripping heat.

"I have loved you for almost a year!" Myraka said, not in open chat, but in IM.

Yoru didn't know what to say. This angel of Asia had been watching her, all her torrid affairs, her heartbreaks, her emotional ties, broken, repaired, her inevitable swooning in the arms of another av, female or male it mattered not to her, living brightly then fading, the alone, her eyes attached irrevocably to the horizon, looking for a lover of her own dedication to utter pleasure. "You have seen my unhappy love affairs, and you still wish to dance with me?"


                                                                                                                                                                           Fenton Maurer
KAHRIN, FAMILY OF THREE (3)
"This angel of Asia had been watching her, all her torrid affairs, her heartbreaks..."

The two dark-featured brunettes knelt noiselessly. Their Swedish Mistress Kahrin had forced them to gather on her own bed, a bed of hellishly unending variations, the deepest poses of which had never been used, never drilled down to, were still unpenetrated, unrevealed. Kahrin watched her girls.

Both shy, they had not yet made love after they met. Yoru had at first been a little dismissive of the short, compelling messages Myraka sent her once or twice daily, finding them pleasantly hinting, flirting, if vaporous. But the messages continued for several days and took on context, and Yoru began to look for them on her phone. She had felt surprised at her yearning to read the delicate girl's purring, pretty words. The vapors, it seems, were congealing into fluids, Myraka's body fluids, the wetness, the sensuous rain, of a woman captured in passion.

Still they paused, wondering why their Mistress had allowed them to explore as they pleased. It was exciting, but a little scary. Are there things a girl should reserve for Mistress only? If one were too willing to give everything to her sister sub, would Mistress disapprove?

Then something that could only happen in SL moved the shy scene forward. A random male passerby clicked onto the dance pole from outside the building into their private room. They paused, but he quickly apologized for his intrusion, and they saw he was a handsome guy. Noting the two girls naked together on the bed, he offered on the spot to make up for his intrusion by dancing nude on the sexy pole while the girls played. Mistress considered for a moment, then agreed. And so it was that the four of them sexed spontaneously, simultaneously, languid with the syrupy feeling of people at the height of physical and mental pleasure, each doing different things, each beginning to feel the passion of online love in various ways, subtle shades of swirling thrills growing below their bellies. The man was good, opening his legs wide on the female pole, and best of all, he emoted skillfully about the luscious sights in his viewer.

And who was in his viewer? It was a worthy view. Myraka is a classy dancer at a BDSM club, a busy, reputable place that takes care not to hire escorts. There, almost nude, she had polished her emotive power in the perilous vicinity of powerful doms, under the tutelage of her Mistress, and her chat could dig as deep as her nails. And Yoru, who was at that moment swimming in desire for her "sister sub," her playmate peer, her beautifully sculpted SL apparition... you have met Yoru? You would remember this Asian-American.

Swim, Yoru, SWIM! Abruptly, her shyness was overwhelmed by the sight of Myraka's generous triangle, and Yoru plunged into the fragrant pond surrounded by the glistening blue-black pubic forest and was swept up in a current of desire, her tongue at first lapping delicately, concentrating exclusively on the rosy flesh of Myraka's clitoris, wetting her lips on the clear, essential liquid welling up from a woman on a rising plateau of sexual arousal. Gently Yoru continued on the pretty button until Myraka's inner and outer lips became swollen, until the flowing rain, the liquid love that feeds the pleasure of all pleasures, became visible, very visible, until finally Myraka's soft thighs closed tightly around Yoru's ears and neck, ahhh... the delicious leg-clamping of clitoral climaxes! Yoru snuggled in deeper, using the writhing thighs to work her head closer to the fountain, evading the crossing movement of strong muscles, then opened her mouth and puckered her lips to suck in the divine rivulet. No drop was lost. And energy! Oh, the effortless energy was self-generating, the primal example of the power of mind over matter, churning out reserves of strength from thin air in that shared pleasure dome of lost inhibitions and ecstasy. Yoru spread her tongue wide and placed it flat on the curving vaginal lips of soft, shiny, silky skin as Myraka recovered, and as Yoru caught her breath her lust welled up with the oxygen in her lungs. Myraka widened her legs slightly, then more, lifting only a centimetre, signaling to Yoru she was open and utterly surrendered, the sweet, sensual, swollen knob having done its task, delivering everything.

And of what may the "everything" of such a woman consist? Sliding her hands up from Myraka's buttocks to behind her knees, Yoru put light pressure and lifted her hips easily, then smoothly higher, so that she could lick her pussy from top to bottom, and back again, again, again, swallowing the squirting darling. She felt the ease of power she had over Myraka's erogenous zones, all of them, as if they were laid out for her, banquet fashion, to luxuriate on the most lovely, most private corner of the universe. Yoru began cumming with only her mouth, as was her habit, a continuous series of sweet sensuous highs until at last Myraka's urgent positioning told her to lick and suck exclusively again on the clitoris for a second climax, this time more urgent and thrashing. Yoru rose, the musky, clear love fluid permeating her from nose to inside her belly, dripping deliciously, ready to push her fingers deep into her lover's most intimate places, experiencing the desire to mirror the penetration Myraka had accomplished with her fluids of desire draining over Yoru's tongue down into her core.

And so she did, climbing up over Myraka's body, taking the domme's role from the beginning, rubbing her breasts slowly back and forth across Myraka's tummy as she rose, stopping off to adore the rigid nipples on swelling breasts, then traveling with her tongue up her neck to her lips, positioning nipples on nipples, hungrily inserting her tongue, slipping one hand behind her neck to pull a shock of hair firmly together to pin her rigidly in a forced kiss. Yoru turned to lick her fingers and reached down for more, bringing them back and putting them in Myraka's mouth, both girls sucking the wet fingers, becoming intoxicated on the dripping woman-scented ambrosia. Her hand fulfilled its highest aspirations of touching as it caressed and cupped and covered and fondled lovingly and finally pushed deep into the fleshy slit. She writhed and undulated, they both did, never stopping, until that breathtaking moment when they knew with surety they were almost there, and then the promised thrilling rush of über-pleasure, when Yoru breathed  in sharply, filling her lungs, and somehow through the soaring bliss she felt Myraka's breasts press against hers as she, too, gulped in the same impassioned breath, the body's ultimate gusty intake enabling extraordinary effort, the explosion of mutual climax that is most excruciating because shared. Transcending the searing delight, Yoru envisioned the breath exhaling out in some form of pure sigh of the soul, together, emanating from them both at exactly the same second even as the sucking in of air had been simultaneous, and at that instant she crossed again from the mental to the physical as both women did indeed cease holding the tremendous, crushingly held breath inside their heaving torsos, mutually exhaling it in the most profound sigh of satisfaction either of them had ever known.

Then, without a word, it was no longer the two of them, no 69, it was a triangle, not yin-yang, but something perhaps beyond the Chinese philosophers' ability to describe. Yoru was in it, living it, and she realized in her haze of passion that she was licking her Mistress and her sister sub, both of them,  it was two currents, two rivers of female fluid becoming a single, deeper river converging in her mouth, the flowing women were becoming one passionate organism cumming, orgasms simultaneous, lengthy, and gasping, into the welcoming home of Yoru's cumming mouth and throat and down into the center of her body. She gulped twice, thrice, and thought: "Only three women can continuously feed each other two female sex-rivers until the utter drowning of all in one." Divine, perhaps a little devilish, it was the unending climax of the goddess of passion. Surely there is such a goddess--at that moment, Yoru felt she was herself such a being.

WOMAN'S RAIN

                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Fenton Maurer

(Writer's note: this story is an rewrite of an earlier story that was the result of a commune writing exercise led by Howard.)

WOMAN'S RAIN

Both Fumiko-san and I were nineteen years old when, together, we had our first experience of love between girls. It was storming in our country village on the day we met, and I suppose one could say it was the rain that caused us to become girlfriends and lovers.

One can faintly see Mount Fuji from my home on clear days, but even though warm rain pelted my head, neck and shoulders, that morning it stood nobly in view. Also, I wondered why the sun was on my face at the same time the ditches were swallowing rivulets away all around me. Shielding my eyes with both hands, I discovered the rain was blowing from a tower of purple clouds some distance away. I had never experienced rain and sunshine together like this and remember hoping these natural phenomena were an omen of something wonderful to come.

Fumiko was smiling at me through the sheets of slanting rain from her side of the muddy road, her hair glistening like the wet fur of a slick, black kitten. Her thin arms stuck out of her soaked yukata as she waved the wave of "come!" to me, hand and forearm motioning down, Asian style. I pulled my dress high, gingerly crossing to her, avoiding puddles, and saw her charcoal-black eyes gazing down at my exposed thighs through the watery curtain. I picked my route carefully to her driveway, and there she gripped my wet arm and pulled me quickly into her garage, out of the rain. Inside were many cardboard boxes, so many that their Toyota would not fit into the garage. They were recently moved from Tokyo, and until they unpacked their things, her garage was a wonderful labyrinth with paths and alleys and hideaways.

We were wet through but soon fell to laughing at how waif-like we looked. She was strong and held me tightly as she collapsed giggling to the cool concrete floor, dragging me with her. After laying on top of me a brief, embarrassing moment, she crawled off through a dark passageway. My face close behind her wriggling panties, the seams of which were visible through the thin, wet garment, I followed her under and around to a hiding place with only a faint streak of light from an opening in the packing boxes above. There she turned around in a tight spot in the semi-dark and kissed me! I remember startling at her eyes and lips drawing near me out of the obscurity. I had been kissed before, but only by boys, older boys, never by a girl my own age.

She timidly offered to pretend I had captured her, and she helped me tie her feet loosely propped above her on a boxtop. I could see under her yukata the soft skin of her trembling thighs and the white cotton-covered triangle between them. As I touched her there she lay very still, her eyes wide. I don't know how long we did this, but we did nothing more than touch. How was I to know what else to do? A grey streak of moisture appeared on her white panties, and I remember thinking I would love to taste this woman's wetness, the fragrant rain in her panties, but I dared not. Isn't it strange that at that early age we already thrilled at the powerful attraction within us to same-sex love? I remember a thought popping up in my hazy, sex-drenched mind that, in addition to men, the other half of humanity, feminine and soft and curiously unpredictable, could now take me for their lover. When later we went outside, the skies had brightened, and there before us a rainbow rose into the blue sky, growing visible, then fading, then waxing colorful again, shimmering on the sunny side of Fujisan. It was my first rainbow love affair. 

INTERVIEW with HOWARD: "additional interpretive notes" to "Poetess"

(Writer's note: Below is the transcript, authorized by Howard, of our our original chat about his haiku and later, the interpretation. I have edited it, made it more readable, took out the time stamps, repetition of speakers, and avs' names, and provided brief context from Yoru's side.)

INTERVIEW with HOWARD: "additional interpretive notes" to "Poetess"  

Rummaging around in his inventory, Howard Plutonian IMs Yoru:

"Ah here it is...


Poetess

Shadows on the lawn
She spins a web of words
To speak with demons"

Yoru IMs back, "Oh Howard it is beautiful and it has meaning."

Howard grins, "You like? o good.  It was from that day we sat in the courtyard ... doing impromptu poetics :)"

"I remember that day," Yoru murmurs, "I like :) It was written with me in mind?"

"Yes that is my yoru poem!  i sort of composed it that day but revised it a few months later.".

"Awww, I am shadowed spider enmeshing other people in their own darkness. A woman to be careful with LOL."

"Indeed !  :) Howard smiled back, "whatever - you are a teddy bear."

"How are you, my long time friend?"

"Quite well thank you!  happy as a clam.. or a mountain lion. i have wrapped up my unfinished business from my first 40 years... slowly but surely... and am ready to get on with love, painting, and a masters degree"

Yoru was genuinely happy: "Oh that's wonderful for you my howard"

"and you?  how is my little Hawaiian dancer?"

Yoru's eyes misted, she feels deeply for Howard, born of a teacher/student relationship that has worked both ways at different stages of their friendship. "I am glad you IM me again--I have missed you. Oh, I am fine, hehe you remember the Hawaiian connection :)

"You at the commune?  i might drop by there in a bit after some paint clean up here." Howard was creating, which meant I could expect a dazzlingly weird display when he got to the commune.

"Yes," she replied, "and may I post the yoru haiku on my blog H?"

Without hesitation, Howard replied, "Go for it :)"

":) Please let me know when you are here :)"

"Boo!" Howard had found Yoru in the middle of a pile of sexy avs emoting in the weekly commune event she organizes, the LoveIn Orgy. Howard often watched but never jumped in.

"Howard!" Yoru laughed, "You want to play?" Knowing he is in love and feels he must be true, she always tries anyway, just to let him know he is welcome. She explained that a guy had just crashed out of the orgy so there was a blue ball ready for him to sync into the writhing, glistening bodies without delay.

"No you all go ahead.  (...) is my playmate." Sweet Howard is very devoted to his love, loyal, even in the presence of a proven seductress of considerable infamy.

":) I am so happy for you," she said, meaning it in her heart, and later, "Night baby thank you for the poem."


                                                                                                                                                                                Fenton Maurer

(Writer's note: Below is a transcript of Howard's and Yoru's interpretive notes with musings on haiku, persona, zen, haiku & tweets, and more:)

Howard Plutonian:

Poetess

Shadows on the lawn
She spins a web of words
To speak with demons
 .....
 [18:12] howard (howard.plutonian): yes that is my yoru poem!

Here is Yoru's interpretation of Howard's haiku "Poetess" from an earlier blogpost:

Thus the "shadows," pixels, of our Second Life avatars on the "lawn" of our monitors is a chilling reminder of the tenuousness of our SL existence. Yoru is like a spider, "spinning" scenarios with her long legs, enabling her lovers to commune with the "demons" on the dark side of their desires.

"Ah i like it.  a bold interpretation.  and it reminds me of the comments zen guys would make on each others manuscripts," said Howard.

"You like the interpretation, that makes me happy because it really spoke to me this haiku--at first it was difficult but then *ping* I got it LOL."

"And i like that you are extending the metaphor to include its second life origins. Definitely some subtext in that haiku beyond 'the facts' - which i think is what haiku is supposed to do."

"The shadows are perfect for pixels, so fleeting and insubstantial," Yoru agreed, thinking they are nevertheless potent emotional provocateurs. "Subtext, nice."

"Indeed.  And i will confess i had not made that connection consciously..."

"I wondered if you had," she said, "it is what makes a writer and reader come together -- the interpretation."

"...nor even the interpretation of demons as dark sides of desires - although considering you were actually talking to (a demon av), and that was the image, i suppose it fits :)" Howard paused, then added: "All of us avis are kind of walking talking metaphors for something anyway."

Yoru suggested that "the demons are another way of saying naughty, "dirty"--all silly ideas because the ultimate gift (of erotic love) is giving angelic comfort."

"Right.  Maybe we only treat them as "dark" because society taught us that. When you really face them though, they aren't that dark at all."

"So," Yoru concluded, "naughty has nothing to do with it, but romantically it does help LOL."

"And notice that in the haiku there is no sense of fear in her. She is speaking with the demons, not even confronting or anything. It's a conversation."

"It is more," she thought to herself, and whispered, "She speaks as the medium for her lovers. No fear."

"Yes," Howard croaked, his voice catching.

Yoru was silent for a few seconds, then said: "Fuck H you got it going on!"

"Well i think," Howard spoke slowly, "your interpretation really captures 'yoru' as a character, as a persona - what she's all about."

"That's nice the way you say that--hey this conversation is blog material!" screeched Yoru, ruthless as always in her search for stories.

"Yes :)," he grinned, we could call it "additional interpretive notes."

"We just figured it out together --that's what the writers' group is all about :)"

"I think so, totally agreed."

"You restart the writers' group, I will come."

"Plus it's hard for me to work with haiku - so to see you take it as a springboard for expansion - is actually pretty rewarding.  It means i managed to squeeze (in) just enough 'cognitive material,' as my friend says, to make it interesting to talk about. Haiku often feel like - i have not enough room to say what matters and am not sure i pointed to it clearly enough."

"That little impromptu,  'practice' haiku turned out substantial! And my short prose piece during our writers' workshop about the rainy meeting with another girl in Japan is now a complete story." (Writer's note: the story is a post and is also located at the bottom of this blog as an introduction to Yoru entitled: FUMIKO, RAINBOW, AND RAIN)

"Oh nice!" Howard smiled.

"Doesn't it remind you of tweets? How short they must be I mean."

"Haiku?Yeah, and as the Japanese seem to write them, they really are more like tweets.... the "lines" are kind of american i guess. So using 140 or now 160 characters as a limit is also a way to practice."

Yoru nodded, admiring the fish, fins, pink and blue kitty, and boobies floating around in circles in the air surrounding. her writing teacher. His latest invention... an all that in addition to his outrageous stockings.

"H you are a piece of work, isn't that the expression?"

"Yes :)  it is," he admitted good naturedly. "Well, there was something i wanted to see... so i began making it :)"

"Hahaha!" Yoru laughed, needing no explanations, "Goodnight mr inventor."

                                                                                                Tarjiman Ort

Fumiko, Rainbow and Rain

                                                                                                                        Yoru at the summit of Mount Utopia

(Writer's note: this story is an update of an earlier story that was the result of a commune writing exercise, led by Howard.)

Fumiko, Rainbow and Rain

Both Fumiko-san and I were eighteen years old when, together, we had our first experience of love between girls. On the day we met, it was storming in the country village where we lived, and I suppose one could say it was the rain that caused us to become girlfriends and lovers.

One can see Mount Fuji from the village on clear days, and that day it stood majestically in view even though warm rain pelted my head, neck and shoulders. I wondered why the sun was still on my face at the same time the ditches were swallowing the rivulets away. Shielding my eyes with both hands, I discovered that the rain was blowing from a tower of purple clouds farther away towards the mountain. I had never experienced rain and sunshine together like this and remember hoping it was an omen of something wonderful to come.

Fumiko was smiling at me through the sheets of slanting rain from the other side of the muddy road, her wet hair glistening like a slick, black kitten's. Her thin arms stuck out of her soaked yukata as she waved the wave of "come!" to me, hand and forearm motioning down, Asian style. I pulled up my dress gingerly as I crossed to her, avoiding puddles, and saw her charcoal-black eyes gazing down at my exposed legs through the watery curtain. I picked my route carefully to her driveway, and there she grabbed my arm and pulled me into her garage, out of the rain. There were many cardboard boxes, so many that their automobile would not fit into the garage. They were recently moved from Tokyo, and until they unpacked, her garage was a wonderful labyrinth with paths and alleys and hideaways.

We were wet through but soon fell to laughing at how waif-like we looked. She was strong and held me tightly as she collapsed giggling to the cool concrete floor, dragging me with her. After laying on top of me a brief, embarrassing moment, she crawled off and I followed her under to a hiding place with only a faint streak of light from an opening in the packing boxes above. There she turned around in a tight spot in the semi-dark and kissed me! I remember startling at her eyes and lips coming closer to my face out of the obscurity. I had been kissed before, but only by boys, older boys, never by a girl my own age.

We timidly pretended I had captured her, and she helped me tie her feet loosely propped above her on a boxtop. I could see under her yukata the soft skin of her trembling thighs and her white cotton panties. As I touched her there she lay very still, her eyes wide. I don't know how long we did this, but I remember we did nothing more than touch. How was I to know what else to do? Isn't it strange that at that early age we already thrilled at the powerful attraction within us to same sex love? I remember suddenly realizing that, in addition to men, the other half of humanity, feminine and soft and curiously unpredictable, was now available to me as lovers. Next time, I would taste willingly a woman's rain.When later we went outside, the skies had brightened, and there before us a rainbow rose into the blue sky, growing visible, then fading, then waxing colorful again, shimmering on the sunny side of Fujisan. It was my first rainbow love affair.

ORGY begets Passion begets Love begets Friends beget Humanity

ORGY begets Passion begets Love begets Friends beget Humanity
Sun, Sep 29 2013 5:04:54 PM PDT

Commune Love-Ins promote passion shared among friends, creating more love in the world. Come tomorrow to the HEARTBREAK ORGY--MondayLoveday, all day! Emote healing a broken heart until your tears short-circuit your keyboard. Roleplay finding love anew--or just come have a sexy good time :)

"Those claiming immunity to Second Life love affairs are often victims of heartbreak themselves, chapters in the thick book of virtual love's power to reach beyond the web." (CELESTIAL, ABANDONED)

ORGY NOW! freely realize your innermost wishes & SECRET DESIRES
Mon, Sep 30 2013 6:46:14 PM PDT

Have you a HIDDEN DESIRE for someone at the commune but never dared express it? Have you heard sweet words and seen erotic moves make you yearn? MEET AT THE LOVE-IN ORGY! Romantic, time-tested courtships are wonderful, but on Mondays it's be nice to everyone time!

"dizzily uncaring because the pleasure was so intense, they floated side by side in mutual minor climaxes, lots of them, creating a location in the mind where they shared overwhelming pleasure, mutual orgasms making them one organism." (CELESTIAL, ABANDONED)

CELESTIAL, ABANDONED (1-3)

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                             Akiko Sekiae  

(Writer's note: this story, a work of fiction with real life elements but no real av names, is not just about any specific friend's heartbreak, it's about everyone who has experienced such disappointments. I have combined the three posts so the entire story may be read from the beginning, and thank you for your lovely comments!)

CELESTIAL, ABANDONED (1)

"Celestial was a sensual, highly evolved pixel goddess in love with a mortal man who was lost behind an av that no longer existed."

Unhappy Celestial was abandoned by the talented man who had been her deepest lover in Second Life. His avatar, Sureal, had surreally poofed, and she was left to drift on the wings of brief and shallow affaires.

When Sureal had come into her life he seemed powerful and proved eloquent, loving her deliciously with words. But when he left, he had said nothing. At first she role-played "plunging into impending heartbreak," but drama soon failed her. Utter lack of love, where once there had been him, wrenched her mind.

Worse was that the last time they made love had been the best of their relationship. He took her where she'd never been, to a pleasure room of the mind. She sucked and licked him until she tasted that sudden, gentle surprise, the addition to her saliva of a slightly sweetish, musky, viscous body fluid unlike any other. Her own climax felt unusually indulgent, for she had cum with only her lips and tongue on his cock, imagining it was him as she slathered adoration on her yielding, lifelike dildo. Writhing on her computer chair, she watched the screen intently, gazing at his av thrusting his cock upwards. She realized such a hands-off climax must sound bewildering to many, but it was easy: no touching of her pussy, just losing herself with his cock in her mouth, lapping him lusciously, slowly, then faster, then pushing only the head of his stiffness in and out with just her lips slipping over the sensitive ridge, her tongue tickling the tiny slit where precum oozed, then plunging the length in as deep as she dared, once or twice, then back out again, according to ancient Indian tradition. On a whim, she pushed his cock into the right cheek inside her mouth so that it protruded against and extended it, making visible to him, as he knelt above her, the outline of his own cock pushing outward. Immersed in another world that was driving her creation of ever-hotter fantasies, she realized that nothing in human experience signals quite as clearly one's sexual subjugation to a man as his cock making your cheek bulge in plain sight to amuse him as he luxuriates in your mouth. Her face was willingly and lusciously distorted in the lofty cause of his hard-on. They came and came.

Together they had been to what Celestial called a "pleasure dome of the mind," although she felt the description inadequately described all the feelings of his touch on her quivering skin, the rubbing of her hardened nipples back and forth across the soft blond hair of his chest. All that intense touching had propelled a dance-like, trance-like flow of love in which both of them were caught, swimming as in an ocean current, flailing in a passionate tide. Although wholly physical, they steadily elevated their consciousness until they effortlessly connected, discovering they were now somewhere together, oh yes the bed was still there, but because of the incessant thrills of contact, they encountered each other beyond the heat of sex in a state of being consisting of pure pleasure, absorbed into the thrill of sharing pleasure. They were somehow so close that every touch by one of them was met instantly with its perfect match, that without being aware of the change, dizzily uncaring because the pleasure was so intense, they floated side by side in mutual minor climaxes, lots of them, creating a space, a location in the mind where they shared overwhelming pleasure, together, mutual orgasms making them one organism. Both knew at that moment that love had transformed them from the physical to the spiritual, for what is a space one can only describe as a room of raw flowing pleasure, somewhere that is engendered by, yet now beyond, the writhing, syncing bodies, where one encounters the delicate lover in a perfect state of bliss, other than a pleasure dome of the spirit?

 Celestial had tasted both men and women, and as she thought about her ability to cum merely by licking and kissing them, her mind returned to the oral climaxes of that last night with him. After she had posed helplessly, tied, gagged by his cock bulging in her cheek, she submitted to sucking willingly, putting her whole heart into it, she couldn't help herself. She'd been so tightly bound, not able to move an arm or leg, that her only controllable body parts were her lips and tongue and throbbing genitals. His cock, she insighted pleasurably, was so snugly lodged in her protruding left cheek that it was not only a turn-on for both of them to see her in this state of role-play humiliation, with the distorted cheek full of dick for all to see, but also the rapturous quirky fact thrilled her that the very same dick was tightly captured in place by the position itself. Pushed out between her gums and her cheek, wedged firmly, the tip of her tongue could pin him, drill him, press relentlessly against his special “male-clitoris" spot. This area, she knew it well, was just below the head where a small pucker of foreskin provides supple flesh enabling deep massage. It hosts a concentration of erotic nerve endings similar to those of a clitoris, but women have more of course, so sad boys! One need only apply enough pressure there to penetrate to the little bones snuggling within the erect shaft to rivet a man, quickly transforming him into your love toy. He was indeed so mesmerized he hadn't been able to withdraw from her ecstasy-dispensing mouth, and she knew he would never want to. His cock lodged there securely, rendering her irresistibly effective in unleashing on the trapped, precious staff of flesh a stream of penetrating pleasure precisely on the male body’s most vulnerable receptor. Within minutes he came in her mouth, down her inner cheek, the semen searching, swimming, according to its nature and reason for being, swiftly down her throat to the interior of her body.

                                                                                                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                     Akiko Sekiae
                                                                                                                                                           
CELESTIAL, ABANDONED (2)
"… swimming, according to its nature and reason for being, swiftly down her throat to the interior of her body."

Broken Celestial was still waiting for Sureal to come back to ravish her, to return her to her natural state of dreamlike arousal. But he did not come.

And so she embarked upon a life of drifting, her eyes darting, drooping, fighting sleep, but searching for what, for whom, if not for him? Something happened one night in a dance sim that made her heart jump. A random newbie had said something that reminded her of Sureal's style, and it had triggered a river of powerful yearning that flooded her brain with emotion as warm as the blood that fed it. Could it be an alternate avatar?! Would his "alt" reveal himself to her, dodging his real life spouse, blazing across Celestial's monitor in a newbie skin, lovably awkward without his familiar male animation override, talking sweetness and plunging her into a new erotic Second Life? "No, no, Sureal-baby, no, no," she sang hauntingly to herself, "I'm still alone, Sureal-baby, still alone." Pobrecita Celestial was a sensual, highly evolved pixel goddess in love with a mortal man lost behind an av that no longer existed.

And during all this, Yoru had loved her as a best friend, had been her confidante, shared her stress, seen her cry. She wondered if Sureal’s real life wife had caused his sudden disappearance. Many "first" life spouses feel overshadowed, even eclipsed by erotic second lives. It had happened to Yoru. A spouse had pulled the plug on her swooning, potent man for loving too fondly online the stunning real-life girl behind her doppelgänger av. The power of Second Life love affaires is denied by none, although some avatars profess themselves immune to relationships. Ahhh… but those claiming immunity to their own humanity are often victims of heartbreak themselves, chapters in the thick book of virtual love's power to reach beyond the web.

Naturally, since Yoru is bi, she had fantasized what it would be like to be Celestial's lover, but had never seen Celestial show romantic interest in other girls until the evening she begged Yoru to kiss her. It happened not long after Celestial found herself abandoned, and it took Yoru by surprise. She told Yoru she had experienced lesbian affairs in Real Life, but never in SL. If Yoru kissed her, she wondered, if she cuddled with her on the lakeside chaises, would it lead to "virtually physical" love? Would she become Celestial’s first girlfriend lover in SL? Celestial was rebounding, and Yoru was hoping, recklessly, that it would be with her.

She set about planning a date with her best friend, her new girlfriend, wanting desperately to please her. Yoru cared nothing about age differences, but she knew Celestial was ten years older than she, and was excited she would learn much about love. Her tendency had been to follow Celestial's lead. Did that make Yoru a sub? A switch?

She decided to invite her to onzen, a Japanese hot springs, spread in several pools built high on a beach. “I will paint on her screen the steam of our passion,” she laughed nervously to herself, and so it seemed to happen. The girls spent an hour sponging each other’s skin, soaking, rising from the water nude to climb gingerly from one scented pool to the next, showing their half-moon buttocks glistening brilliantly in the reflections of stars off the water, dripping condensation from their slick, shining, plumping breasts, arching their slender necks to kiss and lick in the steam-laden air. They brought each other to unbearable lust in the furiously bubbling pools, both touching themselves and each other in the torrid liquid, adding to it in their passion. After heating their cores repeatedly, and on the brink of bursting with pleasure, they climbed into a pool of icy water, succumbing to the numbness, cuddling and cooling themselves, as their skin embodied the contrasting sensations, gulping in caresses along with the crushing chill.

Celestial was to Yoru a heady enigma, someone who seemed foreign when placed against the backdrop of Yoru’s beloved ofuro, Japanese baths, but at the same time achingly familiar to her heart, because she was also her best friend. Celestial confided she was a little nervous, wondering if Yoru had noticed, but Yoru simply offered her a cup of warm sake. Does one notice if the adoring angels fidget as one enters the realm of bliss?

Finally Yoru could stand the wait no longer. She pulled herself out of the pleasantly freezing pool and lay down on a sandy towel on the sand in the sun. Celestial went to her, pulled her up and pushed her back down, spreading her knees in the process, then licked her finger and touched Yoru's clitoris while she forced her, with the other hand behind her head, to kiss her open mouth. Yoru, thrown into a love affaire she had dreamed of many times, melted into the scene, instantly cuming on her fingers. Celestial giggled at how easily it happened and Yoru admitted it was not unusual, she would climax many times that night. Hearing that, Celestial sat up straight and ran her hands down to her own hips, shaking her breasts and inviting Yoru to kiss her nipples and the wet-darkened, bumpy, curving flesh around them. She was firm with Yoru, holding her head immobile with both hands,  pushing her nipples, first one, then the other, across her face and into Yoru’s waiting mouth. Yoru obeyed, cooing “Nnnnh…” in a high-pitched voice, lapping them, almost trembling with pleasure.

Halting the “feeding,” Celestial pushed Yoru back by her shoulders onto her back, legs up, and covered the entire slit between her legs with the flat of her hand, back to front. Yoru reached down and put her own hand on her lover's and put pressure on it, pushing it deeper into her until Celestial's fingertips got wet, and at the same time widened her thighs, letting Celestial know she loved what she was doing to her. Deeper and deeper the fingers tunneled, cornering her clit, surrounding her labia and caressing the swelling, utterly feminine, squirting woman, causing Yoru to spin into ecstasy, cumming again, wet and moaning.

                                                                                                                                                                                                   Akiko Sekiae
CELESTIAL, ABANDONED (3)
"...those claiming immunity to their own humanity are often victims of heartbreak themselves, chapters in the thick book of virtual love's power to reach beyond the web."

“Baby?”

“Yes, Yoru?”

“I came again.”

“Haha! Mmmm. I know.”

“You did not yet?”

Getting no answer, Yoru leaned over and kissed Celestial furiously, deciding to take the lead. Having tasted her, she wanted more, and isn't life simple that way? She ran her right arm down under Celestial’s buttocks, under her thighs, and laid her roughly back on the towel, keeping her legs spread long enough to crawl up between. But Celestial was stronger and managed to twist away, and taking Yoru’s hands, she climbed on top of her and pinned both of Yoru’s arms with her knees. She then lowered her pussy, lips wide, onto Yoru’s mouth, forcing her to lick and swallow, but it hardly needed forcing, for Yoru's mouth was hungry.

With pussy touching her nose and dripping in her mouth, Yoru lost all inhibitions, circling with her tongue the fragrant area just between the pubic hair and the smooth skin of her swollen labia leading to the inside of her cunt, stretching her neck up and around to reach more skin, burying her nose in perfumed, glowing, blue-black pubic hair. Celestial quickened the rocking of her hips, increasing the pressure on Yoru’s face, her languid brushing over the girl’s outstretched tongue becoming more urgent, wetter, shuddering in anticipation. Yet no matter how sweet were Yoru’s caresses, how divine were her skills, how utterly lost in spiraling perfection were her single-minded adorations of her girlfriend's clitoris, Celestial did not cum.

It was then Yoru noticed that Celestial still had on her flower panties, had pushed them aside to give access to her swollen sex. The panties were pale blue and very thin, and Yoru knew them immediately to be the same Celestial had worn in a scene she had described in detail to Yoru about a dreamy date with Sureal. Celestial was undulating more slowly above Yoru now, careful not to hurt her, but Yoru wanted harder, and was so lost in love with the finger on her clit that she couldn't help herself cuming a third time. As she slumped back, catching her breath and cuddling, Yoru pulled Celestial’s hand to her face and languidly began inserting each of the slender fingers, fragrant with Yoru's own pussy liquor, one by one into her mouth and closing her lips snugly around them. Treating each finger like a thin, finely sculptured cock, she pointed her tongue and rubbed just under the tip on the opposite side from the nail, pretending she was focusing on the same male pleasure spot that Celestial had enraptured Sureal's cock with, using her own tongue, only a couple of weeks before.

When Celestial noticed this, a stream of cruel memories of Sureal welled up in her, and she jerked her hand away and sat up. Their steamy date was over at that point, with Celestial crying, missing her former lover, and Yoru laying restless and miserable next to her. Yoru was bewildered, but didn't have to ask why they had suddenly stopped. Had Yoru been too loving? Too reminiscent of Celestial's true love, Sureal?

Thus it was that Yoru fell prey in the game of love to the memory of a stronger love, becoming another of Celestial's brief and shallow love affairs.