A Lust For Life

They walked down the beach to a secluded little cove. He stopped and held her close. The moon was rising from the sea. The beauty of the night and his arms around her captivated and held her. The sea sounds blended with the music in her head to make a symphony of love. They made sweet soft love as the sea waves softly touched them. Afterward they swam naked in the sea like playful dolphins.

Things had gone wonderfully the rest of their two months in Samoa and now they were home. Not his house. It wasn't his house any more, as he had told her upon their arrival at the Isis ancestral estate. Now it was their house. Mr. and Mrs Isis. At home. Life was idyllic. There were servants. Servants! For her! Who would have thought it possible? There were three servants who serviced her particular needs; Martha, the upstairs maid; Brenda, the cook; and Edward a kind of manager-butler who kept the house running efficiently. But oddly she hardly ever saw them. They seemed to do their work behind the scenes when no one was looking. Yet everything was impeccably cared for.

Despite the happiness and grandeur, Kathleen was troubled. Even after two treatments her hair still had the lifeless and listless look it had first taken on during their honeymoon. In fact, it seemed worse. And lately she had been plagued by a host of aches and pains. Especially in her joints. She still attributed these minor complaints to her rigorous lovemaking sessions with Dion. Their sex lives had become more and more vigorous and varied with each passing day. Sometimes they exhausted her, but they were always beautifully fulfilling, leaving her satisfied, yet hungry for more. She loved the way her body excited him. And the way his excited her. One look at his naked body and she simply couldn't control herself. He seldom took her aggressively, but was gentle and patient until she became aggressive. She was taking the lead more and more these days. The continual growth of her sex drive since their wedding day was wearing her out. Dion's energy seemed to grow every day. He often told her how good she was for him. And she was proud because it showed. He seemed younger, stronger, and happier day by day.

There was no doubting her own energy was waning. She had never dreamed that love making could be so exhausting. Little crow-feet wrinkles had begun to appear around her eyes. Her breasts had started to sag slightly. If Dion had noticed, he had said nothing. But she knew her body well enough to be aware of even subtle changes. Maybe it was part of the maturing process of marrying and becoming a full-fledged woman. She wished she had someone to talk to about these things.

She knew Dion was walking in the garden and rose to find him. She had to have him. As she wandered through the grounds looking for him and calling his name, she suddenly heard a sound, a whimsical, plaintive, erotic call as if from some incredibly beautiful tropical bird. Just a few short notes, barely perceptible, almost out of hearing. They had a strange almost mystical effect on her. She was drawn toward the sound and altered her path to move in the direction from which it had come. Somehow she knew sounds so pure and sweet must be connected to her dear husband, Dion. The rhythms seemed familiar to her mind, to evoke long hidden racial memories. She began to call his name loudly, began to run. The notes had stopped but their source was fixed firmly in her mind. Faster she ran. She must find him. Now! She must!

At last she saw him. He was standing in a clearing surrounding by forest in a far corner of their estate. It was a beautiful place. In the center of the glade was a high pillar, Grecian in style. Around it were the most delicate and colorful wild flowers imaginable. Their perfume filled the air. Spiral stairs wound up the pillar to the dais at the top.

Dion was standing near the pillar. He had neither seen nor heard her, but was looking up with a pensive, captive look. As she gazed at him, she was again struck by his rugged handsome features, his dark curly hair. She ran to him, threw her arms around him, and began to kiss and touch him.Her hands began immediately to undress him, cast aside his expensive linen shirt. She went to her knees, seeking. Seeking that hard beautiful penis that often filled her body and always filled her heart with joy. The vehemence of her attack caused him to sit roughly down on the grass. She discarded the rest of his clothing and flung herself on his naked body. Her face went down to his firm manly thighs covered with heavy black curls. Her hands curled around his now stiff shaft. She stroked and stroked as she kissed, licked, and nibbled on his thighs and balls. He began to sigh and moan and arch his back. Suddenly she took all of him into her mouth. Her hands found his firm ass and pulled him deeper inside her hungry throat. He screamed in pleasure and knotted his strong hands in her hair, holding her head on him as he filled her mouth and throat with his hot sticky semen.

Immediately he turned her over, tore off her clothing, and entered her from behind. Their combined wetness flowed over their legs and onto the wildflowers as he thrust into her again and again. Time swirled away. They continued to suck and kiss and touch and love each other until the little glen was deep in shadow. Finally they passed out from prolonged orgasms.

She woke some hours later in their large four-poster bed. Dion was sitting in the dark watching her. As she stirred, he came and got in bed beside her and took her into his strong loving arms. Together they drifted into deep gentle sleep.

III.

It became her life. Days and nights of splendor. In the glade. In the library. In the large four-poster. Even in the kitchen on the cook's day off. Wherever and whenever the urge struck her. Each day he became more and more willing, more able, more intense and virile.

And each day she became more and more overcome with the passion of her need for him.

And each day she became more and more troubled by physical problems. The pains came frequently now, but in no way diminished the intensity of her love and her overwhelming physical and emotional need of him.

Finally one afternoon, it happened. As she was beginning to tease and entice him into making love to her, she collapsed.She knew not how many days she lay in their bed, nearly unable to move. As he came and went from the bedroom, the sight of him still started the erotic melody in her mind and ignited the fires that burned in her loins, but now it brought only frustration.

Dion was kind and understanding. He held her each night until she slept; soothed and comforted her and told her of his love. But he would not make love to her, even though she could often feel his hardness against her. She tried to insist, but was too weak to have her way. He said it wasn't time yet. He said she needed rest. He was patient.

At last, she began to feel somewhat stronger. Dion had confined her to bed and had given Edward orders she was not to be disturbed. Edward came and went with food, clean clothing, and other necessities, but otherwise she slept and ate and grew stronger. Dion came in from time to time to bathe her. But he had taken to being gone for longer and longer periods. Sometimes she would not see him all day. But he would always be there at dinner time and they would eat together in their bedroom, then talk or read together for a time. Then he would hold her in his arms until she dropped into sleepHer craving for him, the fire in her loins, grew so intense that her sleep became disturbed. She was bothered nightly by erotic dreams of the wildest sort; woke panting in the night, desperate with the need for him. But he would push her away gently. "Just a while longer," he would say. "Just a little longer. Go to sleep." He would hold her and rock her gently until she drifted once more into fitful sleep.

Even after she felt strong enough, Dion continued to refuse. Finally, in desperation, she threw herself upon him at dinner one night. Inflamed with lust, she would no longer take no for an answer. All through the night and well into the day, she made love to him, used him. Madly. And he did respond and loved her in return. Finally, late in the day, she collapsed again, too weak to raise her head.When she came to, she had no idea how long she had been out. Dion was sitting, fully dressed, on the bed beside her, gently stroking her hair. Despite her weakened condition, desire flamed up in her. But she hadn't the strength to raise her head; her body could not meet its own demands. "What's wrong with me, Dion? We just made love earlier today. This can't be natural. I'm needing to make love to you so badly."

He chuckled softly, "No darling, you've been out cold for almost two days. I'm glad to see you come around. You had me worried. I hate to leave you and I haven't up to now, but now that you are better, I have some important business to attend to. You try to relax, eat something, sleep. I have left instructions with Edward to provide you with everything you want or need. Don't worry darling. You'll be all right. I'll see you tonight.

Kathleen had never felt so alone and miserable. And a bit frightened at whatever unknown force was overcoming her. She felt old and sore and worn out. Her body ached.

There came a gentle but persistent rapping at her bedroom door. "Yes," she called out, "come in." Edward swept brusquely into the room, bearing a tray.

"I have hot soup and muffins for madame," Edward said.

"Oh, no thank you Edward, I don't feel much like eating."

"Oh, but madame, you must. Mr. Isis would not be pleased with me if he felt I had not made you eat. He was quite specific. He said if you refused, I was to spoon feed you like a baby."

"Oh well, since you put it that way, I'll try a bit." After the first few spoonfuls, she discovered she was ravenous. She finished all the soup and ate one of the muffins with butter and marmalade. As she finished, her gaze fell upon an area above her dressing table that look eerie. Quite a large area was lighter colored, as if something had been removed. Of course, their elaborately carved, ornate gold framed mirror had been taken down from over her dressing table. "Edward," she inquired, "what happened to my mirror from over my dresser?"

"Madame, Mr Isis left distinct directions that all mirrors were to be removed while you were ill. He feared that your appearance, ill as you have been, would discourage and disappoint you and make you feel worse."

"Well, I am feeling much better and would like to do my hair and make-up before Mr. Isis returns, so if you will kindly replace it right now please."

"I am sorry ma'am you will have to ask Mr. Isis when he returns. It is not in my power to make the decision myself."

"But you are not making the decision, I am. And I order you to return my mirrors at once."

"Once again, ma'am, I am so very sorry, but I have worked for the master for many years and would not care to endanger my position over this matter." And so saying, Edward turned and left the room.

Kathleen heard the key click in the lock informing her with a sharp snap, that she had become a virtual prisoner in her own home. She rose from her bed in a fury. Slowly, painfully, she dragged herself to the wall and used its support to guide herself to the bathroom. Once there, she paused, gulping in vast amounts of air, surprised at how weak she had become. As she had expected, the mirrors in the bathroom had also been removed, even the door of the medicine cabinet. Now real fear struck at her heart. She knew now she had to get a good look at herself. She clawed off her nightgown and looked down. What she saw horrified her. Something was definitely wrong. Her once proud breasts were wrinkled and hung limply. Purple veins criss-crossed her arms and legs. The once beautiful golden hair at her groin, was lifeless and gray.

"My god," she cried aloud, "Oh my god! Now I have to get a look at my face." Supporting herself with one hand on the basin, she filled the sink with cool water. With great difficulty, she dragged herself back to the bedroom, unplugged a desk lamp and carried it back to the bathroom, where she placed it in such a way as to see her reflection on the surface of the water.

She was at once sickened and terrified. Her face was deeply creased, her hair lifeless and gray. She might have been looking at a woman of eighty. She slumped to the floor in a faint. When she came to, she was back in her bed. Dion was sitting in a wing-back chair, gazing out into the garden.

A pool of platinum moonlight illuminated his face through the leaded glass bedroom window. He was smiling softly, his face serene, unlined, young and strong, almost childlike in its innocence. He reached into his crimson satin dressing gown for an object she could not see and brought it to his lips. The soft, sensuous, tempting piping began to seize her body and mind and soul, exciting, inflaming her need and passion. Revelation finally came to her. Revulsion and an eerie horror came over her. She gasped.

Hearing her voice, Dion turned to her. "Don't fret my love. It won't be long now. Very soon it will all be over. You have been wonderful to me. I am filled with gratitude." He put the pipes to his lips and began once again to play. The plaintive sensuous rhythm wove its way into her blood. Lust replaced the horror on her countenance. She was mightily aroused, fluid flowed from her hot center, wetting her thighs.

With a new found strength born of desire, she rose from the bed and went to him. She tore open his satin dressing gown, took his huge throbbing cock in her mouth, and plunged it deep in her throat. Working her face up and down on him the way he had taught her so many times. Her laughter gurgled around his manhood as saliva and pre-cum drooled from her lips. When he carried her to the bed he was not gentle, thrusting harshly and cruelly into her over and over for what seemed like hours. He used and reused every orifice in her body for his pleasure and fulfillment. And the more he used and abused her, the more he poured his cum into her, the older she became. And the more of him she took into herself, the more she gave, surrendered, submitted to his piercing, plunging manhood, the younger he became.

But despite the toll their fucking took on her, she could not get enough of Dion and he could not take enough of her. On and on it went, neither of them knew how many days and nights had passed before she finally faded away, unable to move, completely unconscious.

When the time finally came that Kathleen was again conscious; when her mind at last cleared and her eyesight finally focused, the hopeless horror of her situation flooded over her. In desperation her eyes flicked around the room. The door was open! Her deliverance was at hand.

With achingly painful deliberation she struggled into her robe. Every muscle, every bone in her screamed in agony as she dragged her body from the bedroom, down the long hallway and toward the front door. Somehow she found the strength to open the door and take a few halting steps before plunging down the three steps onto the sculptured lawn.

Her knees and hands were torn and bleeding as she used a strong aspen to pull herself to her feet. She rested her face against its smooth, silvery surface while she caught her breath. She could see the red garage doors gleaming in the sun. She knew the keys were kept there to at least three of the cars. If only she could make it that far, she could get out, get away, get help for. . . whatever it was. She gave herself a few more minutes to recover, gasping in deep lungfuls of cool late autumn air.

After a bit, she set out in meandering, stumbling steps. She had managed about three, when the sound of the flute came, floating high and sweet and clear through the crisp October air. The lilting music stopped her in her tracks. A wave of crushing sexual desire swept through her emaciated frame. She fought the effects, clung briefly to the fading hope of freedom, then turned in her faltering steps toward the sound of the pipes. As always, she was helpless to their call, helpless to her need for Dion's cock.

Kathleen knew the source of the music; someone in the soft grassy forest glen was exhaling into the pipes between pursed lips. As she drew nearer, she stumbled and fell once again. Undeterred, she dragged herself onward, forward, she had to have. . . wanted. . . needed. She parted the dense branches of lilac that concealed the glen.

The music grew loud and wild, filled her heart and body and mind. She gasped at what she saw.

A young lad of undetermined age, danced atop the white marble pillar, blowing and blowing madly on the pipes. Dion danced and pranced naked on cloven hooves. His youthful body was covered with hair. Atop his head two tiny horns poked through the dense curl of dark hair. And below, his arrow-shaped cock rose high and hard, foetid fluid was flung from its bright red tip as he danced. Around the base of the pillar several dozen wizened old hags pranced and cavorted in the spray from Dion's enormous cock.

Kathleen's poor old heart could take no more. Even as it spasmed and stopped in her chest, her last thoughts were of desire for Dion, with her last breath, she longed for the satisfaction his loving could never give her. Even in death, her face showed not serenity, but lust.

The old hags quickened their dance, spiraling up the marble staircase that led to the prancing satyr, their long, wrinkled breasts flapping to the rhythm. Roughly they tore Dion from his throne, held him high, passed him from hag to hag. And each in her turn, had him, used him, impaled some part of herself on his enormous pulsing penis. The sad old mouths, the wrinkled lips, the loose and flabby labia of each harridan, sucked at dragged at him. Each hag took his long and thick and erect cock into every part of herself, drew his youthful essence from him, milked him until he could cum no more. Long into the night the dance went on, until the pipes no longer played.

As dawn broke over the peaceful glen and the doves began to mourn, several dozen sprightly young wood nymphs danced away into the forest.

Dion Isis, a man of about fifty, paused only briefly over the body of the fair Kathleen, who had been his young sparkling, innocent, loving bride. He turned from her and from the glen, though he knew he would return, and went off in search of a new young bride.