Aurora - Wings of the Goddess Pt. 01

Slinging a leg over and dismounting, Beck shuffled around until she was lying beside him, still heavy breathing from her exertions. "Geez..." she panted, "Gosh... that was fantastic!"

"Jesus Christ!" Bragg squeaked, raising his head far enough to take a bead on his aching cock. "It must be the dope. My penis feels a meter long and ten flippin' kilos."

Beck looked down, checking his dimensions. "Yeah, no, that's about right" She wrapped a hand around him. "Jesus, Rodge. It's actually hot!"

"Is that good or bad?"

"I'll let you know. Soon. When I'm being cooked from the inside out."

"So you wanna?"

"What? Get that gorgeous, great, throbbing cock up inside me?" Beck flicked her hair back, feigning indifference, "Oh, if you insist."

"If I don't last too long..."

"No disclaimers!" Beck glared, throwing a leg over his hips. "Now open your mouth and say 'ahh'."

Bragg did as ordered and Beck stuck a taut little tit in his mouth. After a few deep sucks he pushed her away. "Ahhhhhhhh..."

Straddling his pelvis, Beck manoeuvred herself into position by feel and reversed her pussy onto the tip of his penis. Bragg's head fell onto the pillow and he closed his eyes. "Holy shit."

Wriggling her hips, working her pussy up and down, Beck guided Bragg's knob into the sweet spot, the hot, tight, muscular opening to her vagina. He mushed into her, spreading her lips, forcing back her perineum. When he went to lend a hand she batted him away. "No, Rodge. They know what they're doing."

"So tight." Bragg gasped in a strangled voice. "So hot. So... beautiful."

Beck held her muscles in tension, pushing down as hard as she dared on the knob of Bragg's penis. While he was huge, he would fit, but Beck spent a few minutes pretending otherwise. "Jesus Christ," she huffed, "I don't remember it being this big."

Bragg reached over her again and once again she pushed him away. "Please, Becky. Will I fit?"

"Well we've done it before."

Beck relaxed her muscles a little and at the same time bore down and Bragg's knob popped through the outer constriction. Beck's eyes flew open as Bragg groaned, squirming beneath her, eyes shut, teeth clenched, body vibrating. "Holy fuck!" she breathed, "You're cumming!"

Bragg grabbed two fistfuls of her little round bum and drove himself into her, his cock hosing hot semen into her clenching depths. The vessels stood out on his neck as he bucked his hips, thrusting and squirting until two thirds of his cock lay buried inside her. "Sorr...

"eeeeee..."

"That's it Rodger," Beck urged, flexing her back, "fuck me! Fill me up with your cum! Harder Roger, FUCK me!"

As quickly as it had started- and Beck wondered briefly if it might be a world record- Bragg's desperate, unbidden climax subsided. He lay for a moment, head tossing from side to side, his face a mask of despair. "Oh Becky my love, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Beck pushed up so her glare could take full effect. "Oh for goodness sake. What now?"

"I didn't mean to... to..."

"What? Have a lovely cum?"

Bragg nodded and Beck demanded, "So how did it feel?"

"I wanted so badly... to give you-"

Beck grabbed his jaw and pressed her brow to his. "How... did it... feel?"

"In... credible..."

"So what's your problem?"

Eyes closed, Beck lay her head on Bragg's shoulder, luxuriating in the feel of the tumescent flesh lodged deep in her belly, the sensation of her hole being stretched, her pussy impaled, her insides swimming in cum.

"You called me Darling." Bragg whispered.

Beck arched her eyebrows but otherwise didn't open her eyes. "Yeah, sorry. It just sort of slipped out."

"It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard."

"Really?" Beck arched her eyebrows with a cheeky smile. "You're easily pleased."

"I'm not you know."

Beck snuggled into him. He was starting to go soft and her muscles, even in their resting state, were squeezing him out.

"Rebekah." Bragg croaked, "Would it be okay to tell you I love you?"

Beck rolled her eyes. Feeling it was one thing, saying it was another. "No."

"Well can I think it?"

Beck lay her head on his chest, listening to the thump of his heart. She could tell, just by the sound, it wasn't her old man's. "No worries, Rodgie-podge. You can think aaaaa-nything you want."

"Cool... Becky..."

"Mmm?"

"I think I love you."

* * *

The bed was on casters. The recoil from Bragg's vigorous pounding was steadily inching it away from the wall, widening a chasm that had already swallowed the pillows. Raising her head off crossed arms, Beck flicked her hair back with the toss of her head and looked over her shoulder. Teeth bared, eyes bulging like hard-boiled eggs, Bragg was on his knees behind her, frantically jack-hammering her swollen pink pussy with his rock hard erection. Sweat ran in rivulets over Bragg's face, streaming down his torso, droplets flying as his pelvis slammed into her.

Far away in a universe all his own, Bragg looked down at the lamp-lit spectacle before him. Beck's supple back and her perfect round ass, the thin, pink membrane of her pussy clinging like a cuff to his prick. Her tight insides felt like liquid fire and every time he drove into her, the super-sensitised knob of his prick punched into her cervix.

A dazzling bolt of purple-white light lit up the night, followed moments later by a long, rolling cannonade. Bragg froze, mid stroke, hands flat on the small of Beck's sweat-slippery back, his cock lodged fully three quarters inside her. "Beck?" he panted.

Beck dropped her head. A climax was welling deep inside her, her fifth for the evening and the second for this session alone. "Roger! Darling! Don't stop!"

"Do you believe in the afterlife?"

Beck wiggled her bottom just to make sure, but the evidence was conclusive. She was attached to another human being by an appendage, the thickness and consistency of heavy-duty rebar. It's fleshy knob was lodged somewhere near the small of her back and her orgasm was a dozen strokes short of detonation. "For god's sake! Roger! Just shut up and fuck me!"

"This can't be real."

"What?"

"This," Bragg panted, "you. Your incredible little body, what it's doing to me. The lightning, the thunder, the rain. It's all just too beautiful, too perfect. I must have died. Somewhere, sometime when I wasn't watching. This must be heaven. It's the only thing that makes any sense."

"Well what the fuck am I doing here?"

"You're an angel, what else?"

Beck dropped her belly, rotating her hips, and rammed herself onto Bragg's massive cock. "I don't care if you think I'm a Martian, Mister Bragg. I said fuck me! There's a joint in it for you if you make me cum."

Fingertips digging into the flesh of Beck's firm butt, Bragg took up a slow, measured rhythm, savouring Beck's grip, her tiny dimensions. Less than half his weight and a fraction his size, she felt so small, so fragile, yet at the same time so resilient and breathtakingly strong. Reaching between her legs, Beck cupped Bragg's bouncing balls and treated them to a loving fondle. "Rodge." she gasped.

"With you, Becky."

"If we both cum together," she panted, "you get a gold star."

"You gonna cum?" Bragg gasped.

"I'm close."

"Sorry, Becks. Here I go."

Beck reached between her legs and began to savage her clit, the first time tonight she had needed a hand but only because she'd just been ambushed.

"Oh Beck," Bragg gasped, pulsing sperm into her convulsing insides, "oh Beck."

Beck's strumming fingers set off a pleasant, mellow orgasm, more than amply enhanced by the feel of Bragg's cum-spurting prick. "Oh, Darling!" she gasped in a stage-managed endearment, as Bragg jerked a few, final shots into her.

Leaning forward, Bragg wrapped his arms around Beck then rolled onto his side taking her with him. "Ohhhhh... Becky!"

They lay for a while, spooning, until Beck roused herself and lifted her knee. There was something the size of an elephant trunk sticking into her pussy while the joint, left by her old man, was still sitting on the table out in the living room. Slowly, and with great delight, Beck commenced dis-impaling herself, watching the huge appendage emerge inch-by-inch out of her body. Bragg came-to as the flared base of his knob fetched up against a tight ring of muscle. "Beck, Honey?"

"Time for a drug break as Dommy would say." Tensing her pelvic floor, Beck expelled the last of the Bragg's huge weapon and sat, legs crossed, as an egg-cupful of clotted cum gave birth to another wet spot.

"Do you think we'd know?" Bragg asked rhetorically, "If we'd died? And this was actually heaven?"

"There'd be a sign, wouldn't there? Like, 'Welcome to Heaven. No rampant sex or lawyers allowed'."

"No, I'm serious. I mean, just look at you. Just look! You're so beautiful, so perfect... and the night... the storm, the thunder and lightning... it's all just so... supernatural."

"It's called the monsoon, Rodge. Happens every year."

"I know, I know... But after everything I've been through..."

Beck rolled over and wrapped her hand around Bragg's semi-flaccid prick. Speaking into it like a microphone she said, "Does he always go on like this?" Jamming his knob into her ear, she nodded a few times, going "Uh huh... uh huh, what's that? Sometimes he's worse? Right. And you want what?" Turning her head she spoke into his pee hole. "Okay, I'll let him know." Propping herself up on an elbow she looked at Bragg. "Rodge?"

Bragg gazed at her with owl-like eyes. "What?"

"The little guy just said to pass on a message. He said, 'if you're gonna stuff me into some tight, dark hole and make me do pushups till I vomit... I want a joint'."

Bragg rolled around clutching his ribs as Beck got to her feet and offered her hand. "Come on, Rodge, time for a top-up. Not every day the old boy leaves me alone with a nice fat joint."

"Jesus Christ, Beck." Bragg sighed, sitting and smearing his eyes. "You should be on stage."

"The first one out of town." Beck winked.

Bragg eyed her thigh gap, the delicate slit, all pink and puffy, still dripping cum. He fisted his cock. It just didn't seem possible that thing had been in there but the evidence, happily running down her thighs, spoke for itself. An absolute miracle... a wonder of nature.

It was going on for four a.m. The storms that had been banging-on all night were drifting offshore and a few wary stars were peeking through breaks in the cloud. The Goddess of Dawn was on her way. Bragg slid the doors open to the balcony and stood peering into the gloom, scratching his balls.

Beck lit the joint in the toaster, took a few pre-emptive puffs, then padded naked across the floor and passed it on. Turning she set off for the fridge, head back, exhaling a long aromatic plume. Opening the door, she bent at the waist and leant in. "Champers, Rodge? There's one last bottle."

Bragg looked over his shoulder at Beck's silhouette, backlit by the hard white light. Her little body was a work of art, a masterpiece, rendered by some genius of chiaroscuro. A sylph, a dryad, a skinny little Nereid with tiny little tits and tousled blonde hair. Bragg exhaled a lungful of smoke then coughed up a lung. "Know what?" he rasped, "I think I'd just rather a nice cup of tea."

Beck thought about it for an instant and gave a little nod. "Know what? So would I."

Assembling the components of a brew while the stainless steel electric kettle boiled, Beck returned a few moments later with two mugs full of hot, milky tea.

"Sorry, Sweetheart," Bragg coughed, "Didn't mean to make you do all the work." He looked at the joint. "I didn't want to stink up the apartment."

Beck cocked her head. "Oh it's been noted, don't you worry."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Aren't you always?"

They did a trade, tea for joint, and Beck had a few half-hearted puffs. On second thoughts it was a bit of an overkill and handing it back, she settled naked on the sofa and pulled up her legs. She patted the cushion beside her as Bragg sucked the last of the life out of the smoke, then flicked it over the balcony wishing it bon-voyage. He sat, then slung an arm around Beck's bony shoulders. "I hope Damon isn't missing you too much."

Beck quickly swallowed a mouthful of tea. "He flippin'well better be. He better be curled up on my bed sobbing his heart out, with a pair of my knickers clutched to his heart."

"I'd forgotten what a brat you could be." Bragg said with a big stoner grin.

"It's for his own good."

"He's got a kind heart, your old man."

"You don't know the half of it." Beck sighed, stretching. "He would die for me, Rodge. In fact he's already come close. A couple of times. And that's why I love him so much."

Bragg nodded... as if he needed reminding. A nice mellow dope haze settled over the world as the joint kicked in. There was none of the blunt trauma of the first instalment, but Bragg felt his nerves tingle when he looked between Beck's legs. He cleared his throat. "Tanny tells me you're thinking of becoming a pilot."

"I'm not just thinking about it," Beck said, "I'm already doing it. I've already started the theory. Here. Do you want to tell you the lift equation? Lift equals C L, half rho, Vee squared S."

Bragg's eyes rattled around in their sockets. "Know what? I didn't understand a single word you just said."

"That's what makes an aeroplane fly. It didn't make any sense to me either, but then Domm.. Damon said, 'just think of it as a magic spell'. And suddenly it all made sense. It is a magic spell. Angle of attack, air density... airflow velocity, the size of the wing... put it all together and voila... you're off to Honkers."

Bragg sat, listening politely. Theory of flight was all well and good but there was another 'F' word he was far more interested in. "What does Damon think? about flying?"

Beck shrugged. "He said aviation's like anal sex. It's a dark and dirty business but someone has to do it."

Bragg snorted with laughter. "He actually said that?"

"Those very words." Beck nodded. "He said I have to be one hundred percent serious if we're gonna spend that kind of dough. It's a massive commitment, I've already checked. It's gonna cost around one hundred grand."

The average fee for a couple of days' work, Bragg thought, much less money than he'd spent on many a night on the town. "What if some secret admirer gave you the money?"

Beck leant away, squinting at him. "What sort of secret admirer would do that?"

"Oh, you know..." Bragg squirmed restively, "the sort who thought you were the most stunning little girl in the whole wide world. The sort who had all the gear and no idea till the day you sailed into his life."

"You can't do that, Rodge." Beck frowned. "What would Tanny say?"

"I don't know." he shrugged, " 'Awesome idea'?"

When Beck picked up her tea her hand was trembling. Intervening months had done nothing to quench her ardour for flying and she was backing the fantasy up with hard gaft. The dream of jetting all over the world in a Gulfstream, apprenticed to the wild Ally Cat, had become all-consuming and now here was Bragg, offering to make it come true. And he could do it too, for the price of the odd juicy fuck, put her through the finest flight school in the land.

"Well? What do you think?" Bragg urged. "You could come and stay at our place while you're at school. We're always on the lookout for reliable pilots and Ally would be able to help you along. It might take a few years but sooner or later, just think, you'll be just like Ally, though hopefully without as much of the swearing."

And it hit her. With that sort of backing it would not just be possible, it would be easy. She was coming from so far behind, having had virtually no formal schooling in her young life. Watson had been patiently leading her through the basics- reading, writing, arithmetic- the stuff she'd have to master to make the fantasy come true. But the biggest hurdle was cold, hard cash- it was doable on her old man's earnings but only as long as he continued to work, foregoing his longed-for retirement from boilerplate scripting.

"You'd make an awesome pilot, Becky." Bragg said, stroking her back, "And the clients would be lining up to come onboard, some of them literally. Can you imagine? Flying all over the world in the Stream, all the great cities... Paris, London, Hong Kong, New York."

"Where would we keep the boat?" Beck asked, bringing Bragg to a screeching halt.

"Boat?"

"Aurora? I mean we can't just leave her behind."

"But, wouldn't Damon... I mean... doesn't he want to keep on sailing?"

Beck blinked her big blue eyes. "Of course he does. But he wants to keep sailing with me."

Bragg massaged the bridge of his nose. That was the trouble with fantasies- they had no regard for the constraints of hard reality. "Sweetheart." he said gently, "If you want to go flying you'll have to leave Aurora behind. Not forever maybe, and not all the time but of all professions, aviation's the most itinerant."

Beck nodded. In her heart of hearts she knew the two were irreconcilable- flying and sailing. So far she'd been working under the delusion she could just have both- lead two, simultaneous, independent, parallel lives. But it was true. She could only have one by forsaking the other. Bragg hugged her shoulders. "Sorry, Sweetheart, I shouldn't have brought it up. Tonight's for fun, not flippin' job interviews."

"No," Beck sighed, "you're right. All along I've been kidding myself I could just have both. But I can't. Thanks for the offer Rodge, it really means a lot to me. Really. But I owe it to Damon. We'll work it out together, the how and the when. And if I ever get enough experience and you still want to hire me, you won't regret it, I swear." Standing, she held out her hand. "Come on. Let's go and finish our tea in bed."

* * *

Watson was busy on the pier when they turned up just before noon. Letting go of Bragg's hand, Beck dropped her head and ran at the old man full-tilt, leaping into his arms almost knocking him over. Grabbing his jaw she turned his face to hers and peered into his eyes. This was the first night they'd spent apart since becoming a couple and she searched intently for any hint of diminished devotion. "Did you miss me?"

"Why?" Watson blinked in mock confusion. "Where have you been?"

Beck narrowed her eyes. "I'm serious." Compressing her lips, she pointed at her chin. "See? This is my serious face."

Watson put her down as Bragg ambled up, all smiles, and dipped his head in a bow. "Master."

Watson waved the honorific away. "Please, please, just call me Bates."

Bragg blinked. "Come again?"

"Bates." Beck rolled her eyes. "Get it? Master Bates? He thinks it's funny."

"Looks like you brought the good weather with you, Rodge." Watson said, taking Beck's arm. "Seen the sat-pic? No more rain for a couple of days."

"Really? It must have been those certain substances. I'm sure last night's given me superpowers."

"Hmph..." Beck grunted. "I'll say."

Turning, they set off for the fish and chip shop at the end of the esplanade, Bragg beside Beck, hands in his pockets. "So how was your evening?" Watson asked amiably. "Talk over old times?"

Bragg and Beck exchanged a glance. "Hardly a word." Bragg said and Beck snickered.

"You should never talk with your mouth full."

Strolling along between them, she took one each of their hands. She was wearing her beloved white denim shorts with the floral motif, the legs rolled up high on the thigh, the seam biting in to her slit. On top she wore a faded red T-shirt, with a black haired nurse in white cap and surgical mask which bore the indecipherable name of some obscure band. "Were you lonely, old boy?"

"If only you knew," Watson lamented, "I was beside myself. If it wasn't for the beer and the dope and the two or three hours of naughty movies I would have tossed and turned for absolute..." he looked around, then shrugged, "...minutes."