My Travels with Clytemnestra Ch. 04

"You mean, like a date?"

She thinks on that for only a moment, "Yes."

"I'd love to."

Clytemnestra leans over the table and kisses me gently.

I'm excited as we set out in the morning. I've put on my nicest clothes, my sleeveless red satin blouse and my long, pleated red skirt embroidered with roses. My blouse is so short, leaving my flat tummy exposed and showing my thick, dark treasure rail all the way down from my navel disappearing under the waistband of my skirt. Thick tufts of black hair are easily visible beneath my arms and on full display every time I raise them in this loose, sleeveless top.

A broad, dense treasure trail and a great patch of hair beneath each arm is considered highly attractive in this world, part of the cultural ideal of female beauty and something to show off with clothes that reveal both.

I plait my hair like Clytemnestra likes, it's so long, and such a pain to do, but she's worth it. I don't know what she may have planned, if anything, but I am content just to walk by her side, to hold her hand and be in her company.

As intoxicating as Clytemnestra's company is, and it is, I am equally thrilled just to be able to walk with the woman I love, to hold her hand, kiss her if I want and be normal! In this world I can do all of those things, and no one thinks it's strange, or wrong, or right, or some kind of political point-scoring demonstration of pride!

I can be in love with a woman and it's not a matter for shame or pride, or any kind of emotion but that love itself. As bizarre as it sounds, I -- a sorceress, and the only light-skinned person in this city, walking hand in hand with a centaur, feel normal. Normalcy is a powerful, addictive feeling.

Clytemnestra shows me to the merchants' quarter where she'd been yesterday and we slowly wonder amongst the vast open-air market. People hawk spices and dyes and bright coloured cloth and pretty birds with ribbons tied to their legs. Clytemnestra buys me a piece of hot, fresh gingerbread when I tell her it's my favourite.

Of course, I haven't anything like her stamina, and even if I did, I really do find such crowded places stressful. So, after a few such hours of wondering and window shopping I'm very happy to find that we have reached a strip of lush, attractive pleasure gardens which run for some way along the riverbank. With hindsight, Clytemnestra was clearly guiding our seemingly aimless wandering to this place.

Attractive, happy looking people promenade by the sparkling green water and handsome, painted marble statues dot the landscape amongst old growth trees. Clytemnestra leads me deeper into the gardens until we come to a wide shallow amphitheatre. There are already many people here, couples and families with excited children all talking amongst themselves, or laughing or waving to friends. Some of the children gasp and point at Clytemnestra and she giggles until their parents tell them not to. A little troop of people in the centre mill about, tinkering with the contents of a couple of wheeled chests.

It's all together an agreeable spot to pause and enjoy a little wine which Clytemnestra produces proudly from her bag. I recline comfortably against her body and light one of my long, thin cigars. Clytemnestra explains her devious plan, how carefully she'd had to regulate our morning to arrive here just at the right time, which we have.

The performers in the centre, dressed in outrageous rainbow-coloured clothes and wielding props twice the size or more of whatever they represent begin their story.

It's a wonderful kind of pantomime about a knight called Pretty Silly (and she is both of those things) and her best friend Bookish the Sorceress and their increasingly convoluted schemes to get married and get rich, respectively. The plot, such as it is, is all mixed with with big doses of knockabout comedy, a legion of puns, long stretches of swapping jokes with the audience and an ad-libbed interlude where the characters complain about what terrible actors they have to portray them.

I love every minute of it. When a girl makes her way through the audience collecting donations in a leather bag, Clytemnestra and I both pay generously and consider it well worth the price.

In the finale Pretty Silly rushes up the amphitheatre's steps brandishing her oversized gun and sword to save the money collector from the audience -- describing us as a mean looking bunch who will no doubt want our money back after such a terrible play. The money collector gives Pretty Silly the takings in gratitude and since that makes Pretty Silly rich, Bookish marries her and everyone's happy.

Clytemnestra and I applaud as loudly as anyone when the cast bow and wave. We sit for just a little while longer while other people climb the amphitheatre and go on with their days and the actors at the bottom pack up their giant props and silly clothes.

I admit I had my doubts about spending the day roaming the city, but walking back to the the ordinary I feel very content. I squeeze Clytemnestra's hand in my own and lean against her strong, comforting body as we walk. I really did enjoy looking around the markets of the merchants' quarter, despite the crowds. The play was just the thing to make me forget my fraying nerves afterwards and it was very funny. Moreover, I still, still just love to be with Clytemnestra.

I'm in an excellent mood all the afternoon and even into the evening while she and I watch the taproom and deal with the night-to-night villainy that has become almost routine to me. I'm no longer so intimidated by it, I accept it and by accepting it, it's power over me is broken somewhat.

So comfortable am I that come closing time, for the first time I'm not completely impatient to escape the place at once. Clytemnestra gratefully bids goodnight to the waitresses and heads for our room. I know her routine well by now, she'll have one of her little fifteen minute naps and I decide to hang around the taproom for that quarter hour and have a little drink. Then I'll go and give her a damned good seeing to! That seems like a splendid plan to me.

Kyani passes by clearing tables and I ask her for a cup of red wine. When she returns she puts the cup in front of me and then sits herself down on my lap, arms around my neck and enticing little boobies thrusting under my chin.

I can't help but be a little surprised, "Ooh!" Surprised, but not at all unhappy.

"Yesterday was fun!" she giggles into my ear. Her giggle sets those lovely brown breasts quivering excitedly in her teeny tiny top.

She squirms tighter into my lap and I put my hands around her narrow waist.

"I had fun too."

"Well there'll always be a place for you between my legs," she whispers happily, "Especially tonight. I need another ride on your lips."

My body can't fail to respond to such lewd talk, already aroused as I am by thoughts of Clytemnestra. Ah, Clytemnestra, or Kyani... No contest. I love Kyani's cunt, but I love Clytemnestra. There's the difference.

For emphasis, Kyani kisses the lips she wants to ride, visions of her huge bush swim in my lust-drenched mind. Distractedly I hear the tittering of a couple of the other barmaids.

"Ah, but I think," I manage to mutter, fleeing her kiss for a moment, "I think That would be too selfish of me... Unless of course, you'd consent to giving Clytemnestra a taste too?"

"Clytemnestra!? So you and she really are? I mean, do? She's a centaur!"

"I've noticed."

"That sounds so wrong..."

"Try it, you may like it," I lick my lips, "And I'll not give you so much as a kiss on the cunny unless she can too."

I can see real temptation in Kyani's eyes. It's gratifying to know how much the girl wants me, or at least, my mouth, and I certainly want her, if less than I want Clytemnestra. Both together though? That will be a lot of fun.

"Okay, you win. Oh! What won't I do for a woman with a tongue like yours?"

I can't help but flash her a predatory smile and steal another kiss while the other girls nudge one another and make salacious comments in undertones on their way out of the taproom.

She tries and fails to stand, wheels turn in my head. I keep my grip about her waist.

"No," I say, sweetly.

"What?"

"What wont you do for a woman with a tongue like mine?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, let's see what you'll do for me? Will you sit right here, on my lap and wet yourself?"

"Wet my..! You can't be serious."

Her face is halfway between shock and laughter, as though I may be joking. Of course I'm not. She looks dumbly at me for a long time. I meet her stare, eye to eye.

"I want you to wet yourself, right now, right here."

"I... I can't!"

"Try," I enthuse, before kissing her, she doesn't kiss me back, shocked and confused.

"I... I... I..." she stammers and looks around the empty room for I don't know what.

"Wet yourself, Kyani."

I'm so excited, so turned on. Kyani is shaking on my lap, her body flooded with conflicting desires, with fear and lust and revulsion and more besides.

"It's wrong..."

I interrupt her, speaking quiet, urgent words, my lips almost against her ear, as intimate as telepathy, "It's wet, and it's hot and nasty and sexy and sordid and I want you to wet yourself right now and I want to feel your piss soaking into my lap and running down my thighs and wetting my wet cunt!"

"I don't... I can't..."

I can almost hear her heartbeat, she's trembling with nerves, but I feel her weight shift subtly, I feel muscles shift against my lap, I feel her tense slightly.

"Good girl."

It takes a long time. So long. But yes! Her weight shifts slightly again and I feel a hot, wet trickle. A wonderful patch of warmth and wet grows against my thighs. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her.

"I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" She's almost laughing.

Her face is wild and exultant and shocked all at once. She stares down unbelievingly at the dark wet spot growing on her short black skirt Now a thin stream of pee splashes between her slightly parted legs, the force pushing it through her no doubt sodden pants.

Oh! I must taste it! I snatch up my wine cup and hold it to the stream. Kyani's lovely piss splashes noisily into the red wine, throwing glittering droplets into the air. The cup is brimming almost immediately and I bring it to my thirsty lips. Kyani gasps unbelieving as I down the froth topped pissy wine in one long draught.

Wonderful, the taste is just watery wine, but the knowledge of what I'm drinking is erotic and nasty and I love it! Kyani's shock and the wet heat soaking through my skirt is beyond exciting.

Just in time I return the cup to her flowing crotch to catch the last little spurts to make it through her knickers. Kyani has barely begun to recover her composure when I bring the cup toward her lips and she recoils in horror.

"No!"

Shame, that would have been so perfect, but I'm not inclined to force her. I've had better of her than I'd hoped and on the up side, if she won't drink it, I can, and do.

She watches me drink, fascinated horror on her face, like someone watching an accident and unable to look away. I put the cup down again and for one long moment, debate kissing her. No. Not yet anyway.

She's squirming on my lap again, clearly unused to the feeling of wet thighs and clothes. Her sex must be soaked, all that thick black hair, absolutely dripping with her piss. I have to get her to the bedroom now!

"Wonderful..." I sigh, meaning it, "Delicious."

"I... That was..."

She can't seem to think of a way to end that thought, so I heave her to her feet and, taking her by the hand, steer her for the exit and the bedroom I share with Clytemnestra.

I almost wish it was farther to go to reach our bedroom, just to walk farther all lovely and wet with Kyani's pee. It's soaked my skirt, making a giant wet spot all across my thighs and wrapping around. I can even see little drops running down Kyani's thighs. It's all I can do not to dive down and lick her all clean again.

We barge into the bedroom... Well, I do, Kyani I think is still in shock at what I made her do, she just follows her own hand as I pull it, and her inside.

My name dies on Clytemnestra's lips as she sees I'm not alone. Immediately she also sees the big wet spots on our skirts and smiles lustily.

"What have we here?" she purrs.

"Um... Clytemnestra... Um... Hi?" Kyani manages, weakly, trying hopelessly to hide her wet crotch from view.

I skip into the sexy centaur's arms and kiss her lavishly when she bends down to meet my lips. Kyani gasps, no doubt remembering me swallowing her piss a minute before. I wonder if Clytemnestra can taste it.

"Well I never have seen the like!" Clytemnestra exclaims, when I let her, "Two grown women have both wet themselves

Kyani squeaks, panicked and shamed, glancing about, at a loss for what to say.

"That's not true!" I reply, acting just as indignant as Clytemnestra is pretending to be, "I did not wet myself."

I pause for just a moment before switching to a far more petulant tone, "Kyani wet us both, so there!"

That's more than enough teasing of the poor girl. I fall to my knees before her, raising the hem of her tiny skirt.

"And now, it's time for her reward."

Her little white pants are utterly wet, soaked through with heady, aromatic pee and muskier feminine love. Masses of black hair escapes from all edges and shows through the wet material. I press my face hard to her pissy wet knickers and breath deep. My hand rubs hard, trying to stimulate my cunt through my clothes.

"You're really going to eat me after that?"

"Try and stop me!"

I lick passionately at her knickers. Even if I never get at her sex I could lick her knickers all night long and be happy.

"What if I try?" Clytemnestra's strong hands ease me back from Kyani, "I think it's only fair, don't you?"

She takes Kyani by the hand and seats her on the edge of my normally unused bed. I can only watch enviously as Clytemnestra settles to the floor and leans between Kyani's shapely brown legs. By the time I've torn my clothing off, Clytemnestra has Kyani's out of her pants and I deftly snatch them from her hand.

The most beautiful woman in the world is right in front of me, lapping noisily at the hairiest cunt I've ever seen. If a sight alone could send me over the edge of ecstasy then I'd know, because this would be it.

I jump on to my bed where I can see them perfectly. My fingers work hard at my overexcited sex while with the other hand I hold Kyani's soaking knickers to my face. I draw great lungfuls of her wonderful scents, else lick greedily at the wet fabric.

Kyani's hands grip the centaur's head, her joyful mewling mixes with my own little gasps of pleasure as we both rise toward our plateaux. I masturbate faster and faster, watching these two women, remembering the feeling of Kyani's hair against my face and the feel of Clytemnestra's mouth against my sex.

Three fingers continuously make a rapid circuit over my clitty, driving me higher toward the peak of pleasure, my own dense pubic hair tickling the palm of my hand delightfully. The taste and smell of Kyani's piss drenched pants underline every erotic sensation, every sound and sight of the woman herself quaking under my lover's assault.

I come at last with a long, hard-drawn sigh, my fingers jerking wildly, sex contracting, spasming making every muscle in my body misfire until I fall back on the bed, sniffing Kyani's knickers and listening to her own orgasm.

Too good an opportunity to pass up and in a trice I'm on her, kissing her moaning mouth and groping a firm breast through her thin top. I kiss her down from orgasm. I kiss her soft, warm lips and she kisses me back, hungry for the sensual pleasure until, as her orgasm ebbs she freezes. She realises, I think, who she's kissing, whose lips and what those lips have done!

I look at her. Our lips part and our eyes meet, holding one another's gaze for a long moment, faces inches apart. I kiss her again and she doesn't resist.

I kiss along the line of her jaw, and down her neck. My lips trail little kisses and licks across her collar bone and down her chest, toward her tempting cleavage as I open her blouse. She's worked up quite a sweat under Clytemnestra's care and I can taste the salt tang on her skin.

I raise her arms above her head. Little droplets of crystal sweat cling to the mass of black hair under each arm until I lick it away, the the strong sweet scent and salt taste as powerfully erotic as the feel of the rough hair against my tongue.

No! I shan't be distracted. As desirable as Kyani is, I want Clytemnestra right now! There she is, still licking Kyani's hairy snatch just for the fun of the thing, and who can blame her? I roll to my feet and scamper around her, pausing only for the quickest squeeze of her breasts. Just because I can. Kyani's disappointed sigh would bring almost anyone back to her. Not me though!

Not now I can see Clytemnestra's infinitely edible sex so wonderfully on display beneath her swishing black tail. Clear trails of glistening nectar run down from her beckoning black womanhood. It winks constantly, showing me little flashes of pink from between the engorged black lips.

Clytemnestra's whole body jerks the moment my fingers touch her there. She's so sensitive and I love the power I have to make her feel nice. I settle as close as I can to her big, glossy, black body, leaning forward until my face is an inch away from her most intimate place. The heat radiating from her is amazing, the smell of her arousal all-consuming

I carefully spread her lips apart exposing her wonderful hard clitty just waiting to be suckled. I wait as long as I can stand, until I know that Clytemnestra can feel my hot breath on her wet lips and must be aching for the feel of my lips and tongue.

Finally when I can no longer stand to wait I tease her labia with just the tip of my tongue. I want more. I love the way her cunt tastes and smells. I want it so badly, but I can be strong a little longer. I slowly, lightly work my way up and down the spread lips and even gently touch her clit. I think I can stand no more teasing. At last I allow my tongue deeper into her sex. The warm, wet embrace against my face is heaven.

I lap at her slick pink walls, noisy and wet and wonderful. Her juices overflow and I do my utmost to suck and lick every drop up. Her love coats my face and drips down my chin, I feel it run down my neck, and drips fall onto my thighs.

Two fingers slide effortlessly into her slick canal, but I know she can take more than that. She can take more than that and I can give it to her! Two fingers glide in and out of her streaming cunny, then three and four. Four fingers piston into her and her body jerks back and forth to meet them. I give her a long moment of this stimulation before folding my thumb tight into my palm and on the final forward-stroke I'm in!

"Aaah!" She cannot help but cry out, even muffled as she is by Kyani's hairy jungle.

My whole hand is in her tight horsey cunt! In, out, in, out every stroke a fraction deeper than the one before. So tight and so, so very hot, I need all my strength to drive my arm within her. My muscles burn and sweat beads on my brow with the effort of it.

Clytemnestra is quivering all over, no longer able to meet my thrusts in any deliberate way, she gasps insensibly into Kyani's bush. Her quaking cunt contracts rhythmically around my arm, now thrusting almost elbow deep. She must be so close to coming and I want nothing more than to drive her over that divine precipice. She wails aloud, body quaking like never before, her cunt spasming, locking down so tight that I too cry out, in pain not pleasure.

Her orgasm is almost tectonic in ferocity. Kyani squeals in fright, cringing away and I can but suffer through the pain as my hand is crushed by Clytemnestra's sex.