[Author's note: Continued from Chapter 2 of THE ECCENTRIC HERO AND THE DANCING GIRL: (2. Helpless Cunnilingus) here.]
THE ECCENTRIC HERO AND THE DANCING GIRL: (3. The Sea of Perpetual Surf)
Yoru emerges as from a cocoon
Lorenzo's tender care helped Yoru heal from her battle wound, and when she finally arose from her recovery bed, it was as though she emerged from a cocoon, as enticing and innocent as a newborn butterfly.
"Innocent?" you may certainly ask of the assassin whore who sliced the Emperor into erotic oblivion. But you will know Yoru, dear readers, for the sexual freedom in her eyes, the mark of a polyamour who loves many with a passion as pure and principled as perception of a universal truth allows. Even the Emperor she had loved, for she had admired the man's potency, and was careful to send him on his way satisfied.
The kindness of travelers
A farmer who lived in the same district kindly offered to help the travelers with a ride in his cart the next time he went to market. The handsome farmer had witnessed Yoru's suffering, and secretly admired her from afar, but dared not glare too lustfully at her for fear of offending her behemoth husband. But to the farmer's surprise, Lorenzo sat on one side of him with his muscled sword-arm flung over the man's shoulders in a friendly manner, and Yoru sat on the farmer's other side, snuggling.
This made the jovial man nervous and he began chattering, proving himself an adept storyteller. Yoru listened to his village humor, enraptured, and Lorenzo took a liking to him as well. It was then that Yoru realized she was also attracted to him sexually, for he was the first man besides Lorenzo she had seen since her injury. Like a newly emerged, famished butterfly, she was drawn to the country man's package protruding in his simple peasant's trousers as to a spray of freshly bloomed flowers in a fertile, earthy garden. She rubbed her nipples across his naked arms as he manfully guided the massive ox, and she pulled out his erection, leaned over and took him between the red lips of her mouth, and had a rustic breakfast.
The poor man was dealing with the blowjob from heaven as he kept the rickety cart on the narrow path, but he knew it was going to be his best ever day at market. It got easier when Lorenzo took the reins and drove the ox, winking at Yoru and smiling. Pretending a bump in the road threw her, she bounced up onto the farmer's lap. Instantly the man's phallus grew stiff again, and thenceforth she had him snugly between the pink lips of her pussy, in her own warm barn, all the way to market.
The poor man was dealing with the blowjob from heaven as he kept the rickety cart on the narrow path, but he knew it was going to be his best ever day at market. It got easier when Lorenzo took the reins and drove the ox, winking at Yoru and smiling. Pretending a bump in the road threw her, she bounced up onto the farmer's lap. Instantly the man's phallus grew stiff again, and thenceforth she had him snugly between the pink lips of her pussy, in her own warm barn, all the way to market.
Eccentric Lorenzo , it appeared, loved the arrangement. He had that peculiar trait of men who get off watching their woman with another lover. Man or woman, it did not matter, Lorenzo loved his bisexual, poly Yoru, and knew she was a woman to be shared with all whom she desired.
Floating on the farmer, Yoru turned to Lorenzo and kissed him, deep and loving and unending, kissed him the way he liked it, lapping and licking. She was lost in pleasure with his bearded lips, while the prick of another man curved evilly up, up into her tummy. Lorenzo tongue surrendered to hers, for as petite and delicate as she was, she was also relentless, and Lorenzo, strong and able, held the reigns of the lumbering ox while Yoru's tender hands clutched his thick-veined cock.
And so the merry trio made their way to the marketplace, sexing the length of the journey.
Floating on the farmer, Yoru turned to Lorenzo and kissed him, deep and loving and unending, kissed him the way he liked it, lapping and licking. She was lost in pleasure with his bearded lips, while the prick of another man curved evilly up, up into her tummy. Lorenzo tongue surrendered to hers, for as petite and delicate as she was, she was also relentless, and Lorenzo, strong and able, held the reigns of the lumbering ox while Yoru's tender hands clutched his thick-veined cock.
And so the merry trio made their way to the marketplace, sexing the length of the journey.
On the shores of a great and violent ocean
The marketplace was in a town on the shores of a violent ocean. It was the first time Yoru and Lorenzo had seen an ocean, so they weren't aware of any danger. In contrast to the dense forests of the mountain village of their birth, where they could kiss in secret, unnoticed, here were long, sunny stretches of fine sand to warm their libidos. When Yoru realized it was a beach suitable for public sex, she was instantly wet in her bikini. One could shout out in orgasm with abandon, too, for the beaches were beaten by the drumrolls of an expanse of noisy sea.
They didn't know that on this beach there were no days without waves, days when big surf gives way to relative calm, as on normal beaches. These waves crashed remorselessly from continuous lines of swells spewing out of blue water into turquoise reefs. Yoru and Lorenzo stared stupefied as the angry surges rushed up to overrun the black lava toes that had flowed long ago down from the volcano to the beach and into the ocean. Reef fish cowered under ragged coral in the Sea of Perpetual Surf.
Like teardrops on a watery graveyard
The ocean's overlapping skirts of foam exploded and hissed as living lines of surf roiled towards them from the horizon. Above this watery hell, quiet clouds of angelic white crowned the mountains above, reaching their own slender fingers of gathering mist flown thousands of miles across the brutal sea. The clouds, once driven to cluster with one another, were pushed gently over the high peaks to shed light rain for an hour or two above the maelstrom below, like teardrops falling on a crashing, watery graveyard.
Yoru was to wish she had never seen such oceanic violence.
Yoru was to wish she had never seen such oceanic violence.
Arching upwards in graceful, mighty curves
They found a place to stay in a congenial shack on stilts high on a dune above the frightening surf. Mist from the ocean spray covered their skin with a thin layer of salt, thickening their hair, and indeed, it coated everything with a crust of dirty white, but they were enchanted with their vigorous view, and too much in love to feel fear of the depths beyond.
The first time Yoru and Lorenzo went exploring along the beach, they were careful to stay well up from the dangerous water. Walking barefoot, they touched and kissed, and dug their feet into the powdery sand, enjoying the sheer raw nature of their neighborhood.
After a while, they came to an outcropping of palms that stretched out over the incoming waves. It was a wild tangle of thick trunks piled one on another, up against a wall of lava rock where the beach ended, and it was blocking their way. The trees arched upwards in graceful, mighty curves, ringed with shaggy ribs, stretching, narrowing only slightly until, high in the sky above the pounding ocean, they sprouted great heads of green leaves, wafting in the onshore wind.
They could try to wade around the outcropping, but the water was daunting, swirling and growling like a predator, sending plumes of spray against the trunks to soak the shafts several feet up. Rather than trust the unknown waters, Yoru decided to climb over the Polynesian phallic phenomena. The trees were magnificent, offering abundant coconuts hanging lasciviously in all stages of ripeness, looking much like men's balls, but even better, suspended in clusters of 4 and 6.
Alas, a girl can only be forced to deal with so many such erect obstacles before she becomes completely exhausted. Yoru, sweet woman, is possessed of a high tolerance for multiple manly challenges, but penetrating these erect forces of nature proved a little too much for her soft, creamy skin. And so it was she became stuck up a palm tree, legs spread wide, straddling the rough bark, with raw, reddening thighs.
Alas, a girl can only be forced to deal with so many such erect obstacles before she becomes completely exhausted. Yoru, sweet woman, is possessed of a high tolerance for multiple manly challenges, but penetrating these erect forces of nature proved a little too much for her soft, creamy skin. And so it was she became stuck up a palm tree, legs spread wide, straddling the rough bark, with raw, reddening thighs.
Meanwhile, Lorenzo had decided to swim around the outcropping. A muscular warrior, he had often swum around whole mountain lakes with ease. He was confident he could make it, but alas, poor man, he was swept away at once in a powerful undercurrent. He only then learned what fishermen know, that water penetrating the shoreline must suck its way back out in a rip current more concentrated and therefore greater in force to that which brought it in. Yoru sat helpless above as he thrashed and struggled, but in seconds he was gone.
The Sea of Perpetual Surf
Yoru hung horrified, watching as he swept away. From her vantage point high in the tree she could see his head bobbing, but at about 100 meters he vanished behind the swells. Yoru was wailing, and her first reaction was to slide quickly down the trunk, but that had set her bleeding. She couldn't move an inch more down the wide, ragged shaft for fear of tearing her skin even more, and to make matters worse, she had forgotten to wear panties. Other beachgoers, who had heard her screams for help, skillfully climbed the tree and lifted her, from one set of hands on her bare thighs to the other, down onto the sand. She was pointing out to sea and screaming Lorenzo's name, but nobody could see him, and none dared swim out. They knew the hopelessness of a body caught in the malevolent Sea of Perpetual Surf.
Beyond the swells
Yoru lying with a cad in an upscale haunt
Yoru goes on a sex rampage of grief
Everyone was shaking their heads and whispering that Lorenzo was surely drowned. He had disappeared into the vast blue, and was beyond what any human array of muscles could do to save him. Yoru couldn't at first accept it, but when the loss hit her, she became temporarily crazed.
Instead of going to their shack on the top of the dune, she went down into the town to find a man. Why would a woman do such a thing immediately after losing her lover and soul mate? Every person is different, and something triggered a need in Yoru to find her Lorenzo back again, if only for a moment during orgasm, when she could fantasize it was him while her eyes were closed and her face was buried in the genitals of another. Many men, it turned out, for Yoru was ravenously searching for her lover, and when she was finished fucking one, she turned to the next.
She couldn't help herself. Once word got out about her raging lust, she was dragged into posh parlours in an upscale part of town, where respectable gentlemen shucked off their pants in undignified frenzies to pin her helplessly in private rooms. But soon she was lying on the floor of a tavern on the rough side of town, surrounded by unshaven toughs who were sneering down at her, arguing about who would beat and fuck her next.
The squeal of love
A stupefied haze of sexual splendor
His own near-death experience had exhausted him, and as he gazed with hardened cock, hidden from her, he was happy to touch himself while she experienced what he began to suspect was insane sex. But he was transfixed with empathetic ecstasy at her capacity to love, again and again, and each time she came Lorenzo had his own offstage climax, mumbling running exclamations of amazement at his capricious woman's unearthly desires. He loved her deeply for it, but his hesitation was a fatal mistake.
A white dress soaked in semen and tears
Lorenzo had it wrong. Yoru was caught up in desperation, seeking to replace him, her hero warrior. She was an unconscious icon of sex gone mad, and her voyeur husband was not coming to her rescue. He innocently, but stupidly, let her suffer alone while she drove herself into the gutter, all in a matter of hours. Yoru searched for her lost lover through the rain, filth, and rough men who wrenched their pleasure from her broken beauty. She was an angel encased in the muddy water of a ditch, clinging to life in a dirty white dress soaked in semen and tears.
When finally she fell limp, Lorenzo woke as from an erotic nightmare and rushed forward to find his ethereal Yoru gone, succumbed to grief in lost love.
