Zoetic Primality
by Jonathan Quince
Friday, March 11, 2005 18:13:26
His eyes glinted at her, wolf-like and intense. Their gazes locked; and with that long, deeply-searching look, he told her wordlessly of unconditional love, of loyalty true, and yet, of raw, animal lust. Lying on her back, she saw him above her, ready now, aligning his body to hers; she opened her thighs to him, inviting his entry with neither pretense nor preamble, letting herself melt away and flow with the aching need of her cunt.
Foreplay was alien to his mind, frenzied as he was by her scent, her touch, her overwhelming femininity. He had known her long as a friend, a mistress, and a lover; but in the moment’s haze, his instincts told him above all that she was a female in heat. He thrust into her with uninhibited zeal, cycling a piston through her wetness with swift, rhythmic strokes; she gasped with pleasure and moved to accommodate him, arching her back to grant him full access to her depths.
Drawing her fingers through the rough, vital fur of his chest, palms pressed flat against the stony hardness of his body, she felt the rippling movement of his muscles; his body, to her, was a machine of masculinity uncompromised, a toy for her pleasures, an athletic battery of kinesis to be unleashed on her command. She slid her hands over his brawny neck, down his shoulders and embraced him, relishing the contrast of his steel against her soft skin and smooth curves. She opened her mouth to his tongue, meeting it with hers; the feel of his hot breath on her face drove her wild with a passionate craving for his essence.
She felt her orgasm growing within her, the pressure rising as he pumped her flesh. And his own, she knew, could not be long off. Even as she writhed beneath him, she willed herself to relax, to slip away, to ride on his inertia toward the climactic plateau.
Time distended, lengthening and flattening, and she lost track of the moments as she drowned in a wave of ecstasy that rose and fell and rose again. His flesh was her own in union; they were bound together in desire’s fulfillment, tied between the legs and in the hot blood thundering through their hearts. His cock swelled beyond her imagining, hard as a knot, and she felt the spurting of his semen shooting deep within her. Her womb was open to him as he filled her with his seed; her thoughts were numb, her mind half-conscious, her awareness limited only to him and to the liquid light washing through her.
An eternity passed over just the two of them; yet finally, time resumed its rhythmic march. She smiled giddily, half-delirious, and wiggled gently to regain the feeling in her legs. Tousling his head with her fingers, she winked at him and laughed; his only response was a growl deep in his throat, then a stream of kisses that ran over her face and down her neck. Her skin was scratched, her muscles stretched and kinked; she lay limp as a ragdoll, light and airy and very much alive, floating on a cloud of satisfaction.
Sex was tonic to her, that healing drug she drew for fuel, for fun, for life. Her philosophy was one of complex joys and simple freedoms: First principles, to her, reigned primal o’er morals reduced to bromide; and life itself was a first principle more obvious to her than the basest axiom. Such zoetic primacy served her well in her private life, and she cared aught of other realms. Happily thus living, she hugged her male companion tightly and kissed him, then went on about her day.