Two
'Canu' her voice drifted into his awareness. 'Canu!' he murmured, Dury smiled.
'Stars!' Dury looked at his bleeding fingers. 'It was too much!'
Lifting his hand she sucked on his fingers, they were red raw across the pads. The tips bleeding, just enough to leave footprints across the lute. 'Mothers help me!'
Dury was upset that her personal magic, had inflicted harm on an otherwise musical soul.
'Canu, come with me!' Dury helped him stand; he took two, then three giddy steps forward. Leaning into Dury to avoid falling into a litter of rubbish. Canu allowed her to lead him up the stairs and into a chamber. He did not cower, he did feel assaulted, but it was a pleasurable assault.
His heart skipped as she dipped his hands into a bowl of warm water. Massaging his hand to the forearm, and then walking her thumbs down between his tendons, kneading the joints of his knuckles. Slowly and gently, she encased his fingers, one by one and pulled. Nothing to hurt, just a firm pressure, running the tips of her fingers over the smaller joints in small circles.
Canu watched her as she massaged his hurt hands. Turning them over she kneaded the padding of his palms with her thumbs. One hand on each side of his, working simultaneously. Slowly she stroked his wrists with circular movements, one thumb over each of his wrists joints. Repeating the process on the inside of his wrist.
Canu, relaxed. He felt the small building of his arousal as he gazed at her working on his hands. He watched as wispy strands of her hair danced across her face. Slowly she walked her thumbs back up his forearm and then into the inside. The circular motion easing the tension and relaxing his muscles. The pain was abating, the bleeding had stopped.
Canu reached out, pushing some of her hair away from her eyes. As he did, he let his fingers trail across her temple; he felt the throb of a vein. Their gazes held each other, she reached for his hand. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed the tips. Mouthing I'm sorry.
His kiss was hot and salty, tasting of sweat. ‘This is madness!’ he thought, and yet her lips were parting, allowing him full access to her mouth and she was unresistant when he began to pull at the corset. He wanted and needed the access to her glorious globes of flesh.
Dury’s ample bosoms pressed against Canu’s chest, their embrace tightening. His head spun with the folly of his own lust, with a passion so unnatural to his character, he felt at once transmuted, and yet demoniac, as though surely something outside of himself inspired this abandon.
This woman’s body, lush and hot, ground and rutted against Canu’s. His fingers probed her drenched under-garments; a tongue both skilled and playful teased his lips and lashes, and then ducked down to drink at the droplets of sweat on his neck. All the while, their noises mingled. Suckling, gobbling, slurping, and the occasion giggle. Their bodies pounded and whined in a carnal melody, that only the God of Lust could have orchestrated.
Dury guided Canu to the bed, it was soft and giving, much like the woman in his arms. His avid lips sought out her nipples, his hands removing her undergarments. Dury cried out in ecstasy as Canu inserted an exceptionally long finger deep into her love canal. Contractions of pleasure shuddered her womb, her orgasm leaving Canu’s hand dripping.
More climaxes were wrung from her, the last of these was so violent that she locked her thighs together and cried out for respite. Dury was bewildered; she’d met her match in the sack. However Canu had other thoughts, and was not suffering with a loss of appetite. Leaving her lying on the bed, he strutted across the chamber, his member waving proudly. It’s deep purple head and one eye, looking around with a mind of its own. It looked like an obscene jester without the cap.
Dury watched, tweaking her deep purple nipples into the size of small effe cups, her hand slid down between her legs to strum her clitoris, the way Canu would his lute, a virtual guitarist, with the fluidity of her movements. Muttering in a language that Dury did not understand Canu squatted, his testes, clearing the floor. Dury was unsure of Canu’s next reactions. Unsure if their lovemaking had somehow made a screw loose in his brain. Her lips still throbbed and tingled from the force of the last orgasm. She felt undone, sapped, but not senseless by the heat of the sex. She was happy to incline and watch, what soon appeared to be a dance.
© Findbotr August 2007
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