Scintillectually Yours

The excitement and anticipation surrounding us was palpable. My senses felt overwhelmed as I clutched your hand and took in the scenery around us. Throngs of men and women in costume—everyone masked—waited impatiently for the castle doors to open and the events of the night to commence. I felt as though we were in Venice rather than the small Southern town barely 20 minutes from home.

I looked over at you and you grinned widely at me. Your features, sharp and delicate (so like Cary Elwes), stood out in stark contrast to your black bandana. Your black shirt was open at the neck and I barely suppressed an urge to lean over and run my tongue from collarbone to ear. My darling Dread Pirate Roberts. You looked every bit the part tonight. Sadly, I hadn’t time to find an appropriate medieval gown—but, then again, Princess Buttercup I am not. I opted for a black corset tied tightly over a voluminous Victorian-era skirt that tied up in tiers, exposing thigh high fishnets and gray ankle boots. I adjusted my top hat and felt the layers of tulle ribbon settle themselves upon my bare back.

There was a murmur from the crowd and we began jostling forward as the large, heavy door swung open, revealing tantalizing colored lights within. The Castle Carnivale. So many years I’d wanted to attend. You put your arm around my waist protectively and ushered me along. Once we entered the high-ceilinged foyer, I couldn’t decide where to go first. The options presented to us were dizzying. There were so many performers booked in so many rooms. I wanted to take it all in. I wanted to be part of the magic.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered, “Please?” You understood that I was indecisive and needed you to be in control of the night ahead. You nodded and moved close to my ear, “As you wish.”

You led me to the first room, filled wall to wall with people. There was no music—just a steady, rhythmic drumming. I could feel heat from the platform set in a far corner but couldn’t see over the elaborate hats and headdresses. You deftly maneuvered us to the front and there were two men and woman, nude save for absolutely breathtaking body paint. One of the men was swallowing a flaming sword. The woman was dipping torches in some kind of flammable liquid, lighting them with a torch, and passing them to the second man who knelt on the floor touching each one to his tongue to put out the flame. His movements were rapid—their synchronization complete.

The next room was a burlesque performance and I delighted in the often bawdy revelry. We moved from there to the pole dancer. As far as I could tell, she was wearing string—strategically placed to showcase her head-to-toe tattoos. Tiger stripes. Pantera Blacksmith. I’d seen her in Boston and had photos taken with her. She was pure artistry wound up in a tight little muscular package of athletic grace and agility. I took the time to say hello in between shows and was surprised she’d remembered me. Perhaps it was the same corset that tipped her off, or she was just being gracious.

The exotic sights and sounds were getting to me. I could feel the heat building in my groin as we moved from room to room. The drinks were flowing and everyone seemed to be affected by the intense sexuality emanating from the performers and party-goers alike. We grabbed a couple of waters and headed to one of the dance bars—a DJ spinning the kind of erotic techno that makes you want to strip down and have sex in the middle of the room. You pulled me into a darkened corner and wrapped your arms around my waist so that we could both watch the dancers. I felt you hard against me and realized for the first time all night that you had packed. My breath came just a little faster in my throat and you chuckled. Your own breath tickling the back of my neck and sending shivers down my spine.

I backed up further into you. Nestling my ass against your crotch. A crowd was gathering in front of us as a professional dance troupe took the floor. Everyone’s back to us, I turned into you. My hat and your mask made kissing virtually impossible. But your cool gray eyes glinted with mischief and lust. I could feel my body flush with desire and I knew that I didn’t want to wait to go fuck in the car. I hoisted one leg over your hip and draped my arms around your shoulders. Our eyes locked and you let one hand trail across the top of my breasts, spilling out of the tightly bound corset. My head dropped back for one second and then I stared back at you again, licking my lips ever so slightly. The music, as loud as it was, seemed to fade into the background as you ran both hands down my sides and then slipped one hand between my legs.

I gasped and reached for you. The skirt I wore concealed our bodies well although anyone paying attention could clearly see that my body was gyrating of its own accord. Our private performance may well have been the subject of discussion but I didn’t care enough to notice whether anyone was watching. As you slipped your hand inside my hot pink ruffled panties, I slid your zipper down and pulled your cock out. Reaching down, I slid my hand between yours and my incredibly wet cunt. I came away with instant lubrication for this hot and steamy handjob. You moaned and broke eye contact so that you could watch my hand move from base to tip and back again. My other hand held firm to the back of your neck and I dug my fingernails in deep as you drove several fingers hard into my pussy. We picked up the rhythm of the bass beat and our hands moved together upon each other. Our breathing heavy, our moans loud but not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

This was our show. Our time. As we so often do, we came together—staring each other down. My eyes closed first and my head fell back again, my hat toppling to the floor as I cried out my orgasm and bloodied the back of your neck with my nails. I felt a tap on my shoulder and quickly whipped around, protecting your exposed cock as you pulled yourself together. A young woman, scantily clad in feathers and satin, was offering my hat to me. “I believe this belongs to you?” she smirked. I blushed deeply, still breathless and contracting. I couldn’t find my voice and nodded my thanks as I put it back on, pulling it low over one mascara-smeared eye.

I turned back to find you grinning like the Cheshire cat, “I need to fuck you. Now.”

I wasn’t arguing. I wanted you inside me desperately but, after assessing the looks on our nearest neighbors’ faces, I decided we’d better find another room. We took off in search of the perfect place in this Castle Carnevale. Somewhere loud, crowded, filled with hot and sweaty bodies—average folks who, for one night of the year, let loose their inhibitions and allowed two slightly off-kilter dykes like us a single dark corner in which to do our dirty deeds.

I turn the camera on you and catch you, tan and content, just as you look up from your shell hunting to show me the tiniest, most perfect cowrie. You pull a face and start to chase me down the beach. It’s quiet now—most of the sun worshippers and families with kids have headed back to their respective cottages to have dinner. We, however, have wandered about two miles from our oceanfront rental and it is our last night here before we have to make the 4 ½ hour drive home; we are determined to watch one last sunset together in one of our favorite places.

The week has been idyllic. Just the two of us this time, filling our days with long walks, cooking great meals together, basking in the sun, riding our bikes the seven-mile stretch of the island in the mornings, sitting on the porch during afternoon thunderstorms watching dark gray waves pound the hard sand, and making love to the sound of the surf at night through the open windows of our loft bedroom. Now, at the end of our stay, I am feeling that end-of-vacation letdown. You sense my mood, as ever, and reach for my hand. We walk quietly along the water’s edge—our footprints disappear behind us with each step.

I ask if we can stop and rest for a bit. I want to sit, read, just be near you. I pull a blanket out of my tote bag and we unfurl it against the dunes. We both settle in, creating concave spaces for our bodies in the soft sand underneath us. You reach over and pull my face to you, kiss me lightly, whisper your love to me. I smile in return and pick up my book.

Disoriented. At first I think I must be home in bed. Something covers my body and I feel your hand on my inner thigh, stroking me. I try to open my eyes. “Honey,” you say softly, “it’s almost sundown.” I can’t get my bearings but I’m intensely aroused. “You fell asleep, baby, it’s been almost an hour.” What? I’m fuzzy. I try looking up at you, perched on your left elbow, your hand stroking me, closer, closer. The light is too bright and I shut my eyes again. Murmur something. Mmmmm…oh, it feels so good. Your hand begins to trail away and I let my legs drop open wide. You chuckle under your breath and return your hand to its proper place.

I can feel the breeze upon me and you take the beach towel that you had covered me with and pull it further over us. Even though we are tucked against the dunes, anyone walking by could easily take notice. The thought makes me feel even more delicious. My hips grind against your hand of their own accord and now that I’m fully awake I reach down and slip my bikini bottom off, giving you complete access to my cunt, warm and ready for you. You nuzzle your face in my neck, softly at first, then you almost playfully bite that spot that you know drives me absolutely wild with desire. I gasp and moan and spread my legs wider as your fingers trace lazy circles on my clit, pausing only to dip occasionally into my abundant wetness and back up again.

My hands wander your torso, under your tee, and I pinch your nipple hard just to hear your quick intake of breath. My nails rake crisscross patterns across your back, upper arms, and sides. You lean over and run your tongue lightly across my lips. I open my mouth to you and suck softly on the fullness of your lower lip. As our kisses become more fevered I reach down between your legs. “Off. Off.” I have an urgent need to touch you—to come at the same time.

You comply, pulling off your board shorts. I pull you on top of me so that you straddle my right thigh. At the same time I reach down and push several of your fingers firmly into me. I lose contact with your mouth as my head drops back and I arch upward, my body lost in the moment of you. your hand. us. our bodies. We move together in a well-rehearsed dance—my thigh rising rhythmically between your legs, my hand pressed into your cunt, your shaft hard against my palm, my fingers slick and satisfied.

Your fingers curl into that spot—that spot—and I suddenly feel flush from head to toe. Warm ejaculate spills out over your hand and forearm, raining down upon the blanket beneath me, soaking the sand below. I shudder and pull you tight to me as you come against my hand and thigh, burying your face in my neck. We lie, panting, out of breath. Quiet.

I open my eyes to a sky lit up in brilliant hues of reds, pinks, golds. “Look,” I say. You roll over on your back as six pelicans fly low along the breakers, silhouetted against a venetian blind of wispy clouds. The sun is setting behind us and we sit up to watch the yellow angles fade from the rooftops. You pull me back against you and wrap your arms around me. I drink in the salt air, the richness of the colors, the long strand of deserted beach, and the sound of the waves moving in and out and in and out.

Your tongue traces a well-worn path down the nape of my neck. I reach around and grab a handful of your hair as I flip over and straddle you. I’m not ready to leave yet. It’s too beautiful. You are too perfect.

Ang, our dear Sweltering Celt, has given us another gem. This MFM was inspired by a true story. Oh, how some visuals still pack a punch!

We had stumbled into a Brazilian costume party. The club was open to anyone but clearly  a special party had been organized. Most of the die-hard regulars must have known, as we were surrounded by heterosexual couples in all manner of disguise. However, as many of the men were dressed in drag, it was hard to tell who was here for the party and who was just club-hopping.

I sat on a high stool with my back to the wall nursing a seltzer and cranberry juice. Those things can be potent, you know. I watched my friends dance in the midst of the revelry…it looked like a small slice of Rio had landed in Massachusetts in October. When I turned back to take another sip of my drink my eye was caught again by the couple sitting in the corner. They had been pretty serious about their public display of affection up until now. Par for the course on a Friday night when the drinks are flowing, the music is loud, and the lighting sucks. This was different, somehow, and I found myself staring.

The girl (beautiful, young, dark skin and long, thick hair) had been wearing one of those tiny nurse’s costumes. There were several floating around. I had noted, with a mixture of envy and admiration, that she filled hers out rather nicely. Her (date/friend/lover?) was wearing chefs whites with an apron tied loosely around his waist and checked pants. He knew the uniform…probably worked in a kitchen. He faced her now, her legs wrapped around his backside, his pants looked suspiciously baggy. I savored a long sip of my drink as I took in her white thigh-high stockings, garter belt now clearly visible from the side of her body closest to me, and her Fredericks of Hollywood “come fuck me” pumps in requisite white.

They were no longer kissing…no longer filled with the fervor with which they had been tackling each other earlier in the evening. Now, it was slow, intimate. I almost turned away but my gaze lingered on his ass. Moving almost imperceptibly. My brain popped a synaptic response. They’re fucking! One would think that jaded old me wouldn’t be shocked at such a thing. Perhaps I wasn’t shocked so much as intrigued. Jealous. I felt my own cunt grow wet, my clit grow hard and crossed my legs tighter. Raised my glass to my lips, unconsciously licking them, as I continued to intrude on their moment. No one else seemed to notice. Her head was thrown back and he reached down to kiss her exposed throat. The muscles in his back and arms rippled as he continued to silently, steadily pump his cock into her.

My imagination was going wild. I wanted to stand next to them. See the physical connection between the two of them. I wanted to run my fingers through her hair, expose her breast, pinch her dark nipple, guide his movements. My glass was suddenly snatched out of my hand as I was surrounded by three of my friends. They unceremoniously yanked me off of my coveted bar stool and began to pull me into the sweaty throng. I looked back longingly and watched her nails dig into his back just before I was swallowed up by the crowd.

We had reservations for dinner and a movie but the only thing that looked good enough to eat or watch was you. I was to pick you up at work to catch our 6:30 reservations at Sky. Well, I’d pick you up as intended but there would be a slight alteration in the evening’s  plans. I took my time getting ready – not that I had that much to wear. Picking out clothes was not going to be taking any time at all this evening. I took a long, hot shower and shaved it all – smooth as silk and naked as as the day I was born. I love to run my fingers over my bare lips – full and ripe with the promise of events to come. Mmmmmm…to come…I smiled at myself as I meticulously applied my makeup. Big smoky eyes and full pale lips. I stood naked in front of the mirror and realized I’d forgotten something. No birthday suit would be complete without boots. I found them under the bed. Soft black italian leather, skin tight, knee high. I zipped them up the sides and went for my car coat, the scarf gifted from the neighbor upon her return from India and black leather gloves. A final check in the mirror and I was ready to go.

A chill breeze caught me by surprise as I locked the front door and turned for the car. Although my coat came down to mid-thigh, there was nothing else to protect me from the elements and again I grinned at the sheer audacity of leaving my provincial little neighborhood in nothing but a coat and boots. I prayed I wouldn’t have a flat tire or run out of gas on the way.

You came out to meet me and I stepped out and threw you the keys, letting you drive. I didn’t say a word. Just slipped into the passenger seat, leaned into you and kissed you hello. You pulled out of the parking lot and I turned in my seat and threw one booted leg over the console and propped the other against the parking brake. You throw me a look of shock, knowing that I never go without a seat belt and then do a comical double take when you realize that my coat has opened to reveal pale white thighs disappearing into moist, swollen flesh – bare and ready to be touched. Which I do.

You slam on the brakes, narrowly avoiding what could be a potentially embarrassing rear ender as we come to a stop light. “Are you going to dinner like that?” Mmmmm…dinner yes, but not exactly what you had in mind. “I want to go to the park. Take me to the park.” Your eyes flash and a slick smile spread slowly across your face. You had once mentioned your fantasy of fucking me on a park bench and it has dawned on you that I might have just planned out your ultimate birthday present.

Early spring and the light is just starting to fade at this hour. There are a lot of people taking their evening walks around the park’s many paths and hiking trails. We park in a fairly secluded spot and you turn to me. Your eyes riveted on my fingers as they slip in and out, around my rock hard clit and back in again. I lift my fingers to my mouth and take a taste before offering them to you. You suck greedily and reach for me but I hold you at bay. I grab my bag at my feet and, adjusting my coat, I get out of the car and start walking up the hill. You have no choice but to follow me, no desire to do anything but.

Darkness begins to fall and I pull you to a nearby bench – just off the main pathway but tucked into a small wooded area. Offering little privacy but the walkers and runners are getting few and far between and all mothers pushing strollers have taken their charges home for dinner, baths and bed. I push you down lightly and then straddle your lap. Taking your face in my hands, I kiss you lightly, playfully and then deeper and full of intention. Our breathing quickens, your jeans are wet now that I am riding your thigh as I grind against you involuntarily. “wait”  I whisper, “I want something.” I reach into my bag and pull out a small bottle of lube. You look at me questioningly and then knowingly. I pour it into the palm of your hand and lead your hand between my legs. I know I’m wet enough for most things but for this I need a little extra help and you start by sliding two, no three, fingers inside me.  Curling them towards you and I gasp with a rushing intake of breath. You fuck me slowly, my coat covering both of us – two lovers getting carried away in the gloaming on a cool spring night. Now you have four fingers inside me and I breathe deeply and methodically. Willing myself to open up to  you. Your thumb slips in and your hand curls into itself as you disappear inside me. I look down and see the bones of your wrist up against me and sigh deeply as you fill me up.

Now I can let myself go. It is dark and we are alone. I can’t control my deep throated moans as you fuck me harder. You reach around and put one finger in my ass and I am full to the hilt. Riding you, frantic, exposed and completely there for you. My orgasm comes in white hot waves and I throw my head back and you bury your face in my neck as I hold you tightly while my body thrusts against you of its own accord. I feel as though I’m exploding from the inside out and I don’t want to stop until you laugh and whisper that you think I might have broken a few fingers in there. I am reluctant to let you go but I know you must be aching to come. Yet when I ask what’s next you say, “we’re going to dinner, of course”.

And so I sit in a banquette at Sky, eating steak frittes in my coat and boots. Silently cursing the ruination of the silk lining every time I watch your hand move from plate to mouth. At least I’ve been given some time to plan my next move. Payback, in this case, will be rich indeed.

It’s nearing midnight but you want to leave already. I could dance till the club closes but you obviously have other things on your mind. I grab my motorcycle jacket from behind the bar, blow kisses to the bartender, and race out the door as fast as my spike heel boots will carry me. You are leaning against the wall outside the door. Your arms crossed, impatient. I think for a minute that I’ve pissed you off somehow but then I catch a familiar glint in your eye and know you are up to something.

Indeed. You grab my hand and pull me into the alley between the club and the restaurant next door. I go to kiss you but you spin me around and before I even know what’s happening you’ve got one hand under my tank pinching my already rock hard nipple and the other is up my skirt and into my panties – the black lace that you requested. I’m already wet from the heat of our dancing and it takes no effort on your part to slide your fingers inside me. I try to reach back for you but you take your hand off my breast and pin my arms against the wall. My face is pressed up against the rough brick and I realize we’re barely in the shadows and with the club still open, women are passing by on their way to their cars. I don’t care. I don’t dare care.

I’m trying to stifle my moans and you are whispering in my ear “do you want me to fuck you? Fuck you here? Fuck you now?” yes. yes, please. yes. yes please. I lay my forehead against the brick and put my palms flat against the wall. My back arching involuntarily as you pull my skirt up around my waist and rip the black lace from around my hips, dropping them to the gravel beneath our feet. Our breath coming in white clouds although I don’t feel the cold wintery air. All I feel is you yanking at your belt buckle, hearing your zipper. My breath stopping momentarily as you enter me without hesitation. There is no fumbling. You know right where to go and you go hard and fast. One hand on my hip and the other tangles in my hair and yanks my head back towards your mouth. “Do you like it?” yes. oh yes. “more?” yes. oh yes. “what if we get caught?” you growl. I moan. I don’t care. I don’t care. Please don’t stop.

You push my legs far apart and I grab for a crate in front of me. You brace yourself with one hand on the wall and hit it. deep. hard. fast. I can’t hold it in any more. I can’t stop—I’m grinding my ass into you as you fuck me to the hilt. Now my legs shudder and my knees go weak. You put your hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming out loud and I feel you bucking one last time before you collapse over me with a low gutteral moan.

I start to get myself organized—thinking that, post-quickie, we’d be going home now. You grab my hand as I start to turn away “not so fast.” Your voice is rough and full of sex. I turn back and you push me down to my knees, the grit pressing painfully into my bare skin. Ah. Uh huh. I know what you want. You have one hand on your cock and pull my head toward you. I take you into my mouth and suck you hard down my throat. “That’s my girl, clean it off for Daddy.” Ohhhh…those words just hit me in the clit. I move from the head down the shaft and back again, licking every bit of my cum off your dick. When you push your cock between my lips again I feel your hands in my hair and you can’t help but move, driving into my eager mouth. I look up at you and see you watching me, your eyes half-lidded and glazed over. I notice your nipples erect against your t-shirt. I reach up to grab your breast but you are over the edge now. One final thrust and my gag reflex kicks in, which makes you cum that much harder.

You pull me back to my feet and kiss me deeply. I whimper and tangle my hands in your hair, trying to get closer and closer to you. Eventually we part, get ourselves together, and you steer me toward the car. The promise of a long night ahead lingering in the winter air.

The tension in the car is thick as we drive to the club on Saturday night. We know what we want to do but still aren’t sure we can pull it off. I’m wearing a denim mini skirt without panties, at your request. At mine you are packing and ready for anything. I rub my hand against the hard bulge in your jeans and feel the seat beneath me get sticky and wet. Your breathing is hard and you moan a bit but I pull back and look out the window not wanting to sidetrack our plans for later.

We play some pool and I try hard not to flash everyone in the lounge every time I bend over the felt for a long shot. When I have a shot near the wall you come around and run your hand up my skirt and drag two fingers through my glistening cunt. You walk away with them in your mouth, in search of a drink while I try to regain my composure and end up scratching, giving up the game.

You lean against the bar and watch me dance with your friends. Our eyes lock across the room and everyone else just disappears for me. There is me. On stage. You. At the bar. Everyone else has evaporated into a whirling fog of luminescent bracelets, tight jeans, and the occasional bad wig. It’s time. I can’t wait. Come join me.

I watch you set your drink down. I watch you walk across the dance floor. Climb onto the stage with me and my breath quickens with every step you take towards me. I want you so badly but my nerve is flagging. The place is so crowded and no one seems to take notice and when I grind against your leg I know I have to follow through. I need you and I want you and I can’t wait. I can’t wait. I am facing the wall and you are dancing behind me your hips mimicking my hips until I thrust back against you feeling your cock hard against my ass. Your friends are on stage. Everyone is caught up in their own world. Their own dance. Their own partner. I am caught up in you.

I reach around and unzip your fly. You surreptitiously slide your cock out and raise the back of my skirt ever so slightly at the same time. It takes nothing to slip inside me and I steady my hands against you – one holding your hand, one playing in your hair. You keep one hand on my hip and guide us through the dance. The speaker is so close and the bass drums away as we push against each other. Grind into one another’s bodies. I feel as though I’m on some kind of drug. I’ve lost all care as to whether anyone can tell or whether anyone has noticed. It’s just you the lights the music your cock my cunt and oh my god I’m coming and you are right behind me breathing your orgasm into my ear as I lean back and say NOW NOW NOW.

I’m sweating and you’re sweating and I can feel my own juices trickling down my leg and the emptiness as you ease out of me and pull my skirt down around my ass. I turn around and kiss you long and hard as you put yourself back together. It is then, and only then, that I hear the sound of dozens of people clapping. All around us. I cover my utter embarrassment with small curtsy, grab your hand, and make a quick exit to the car, followed by hoots and howls of appreciation for our seemingly private performance.