Crossings Ch. 04

Callie had oil on both her hands, handed the bottle back to me, cupped her breasts, circled her hands around them once, spreading that oil, smiling, long red nails extended, let her hands trail oil down, down her belly, her tummy, splitting to her spread legs, thumbs and forefingers joining to form a rough triangle, framing her glorious sex.

"Oil me," she said, stepped down to the chaise and lay on the towel, face down. "Keep me warm." I rubbed my hands together, heating them, poured oil into one palm, warming it, put my hands together over her, then laid them on her lovely back, spread it around, rubbed it in, massaging. There was serious muscle underneath her soft smooth skin, far more than before, what many Olympic athletes could only aspire to. She felt as spectacular as she looked. More oil warming in my hands, more oil spreading on her lovely body. I worked the muscles of her shoulders and back, down to her sacrum, took her magnificent bottom in my hands, spread that much more oil there. It had a subtle scent, more than one scent. Jasmine, rose (hips!), something that might have been (was!) passionflower, and something earthier that I'd never smelled anything like.

"Labdanum," she said softly. "Keep going, my beautiful slave. No thoughts, only action."

The back of her legs and knees, the muscle of her shapely calves, squeezing, stroking, up and down, sometimes with my hand in a fist or my forearm, pressing harder, and then her feet. So much pleasure to give her feet. Reflexology, chakra, all mingled, intertwined, parts of the same whole, different areas of her graceful feet linked with different parts of her beautiful body.

Callie sighed happily. I didn't need extrasense to know how much she was enjoying this, and I kept on. Her sounds of appreciation increased, and I knew she would orgasm if I continued.

She rolled over, looked deep into my eyes. Into my soul.

"Deeper," she said. Goddess, she had beautiful eyes, such a beautiful body, but the most beautiful thing about her, now as ever, was inside, her spirit, her essence. Morgan's brother figured that out in just half a minute, bless him ... it'd taken me more than a month, though maybe there had been extenuating ...

"No thoughts," she said. "Your body is the only thing that matters to me right now, so it's all that matters to you. Your fingers, hands, arms, pleasing me your only purpose, let your body do that without thinking, do only what I tell you, only what I want. I am your goddess, don't anger me again."

A process had begun within me two days ago, some kind of inhibition falling away, a closer awareness of the world, a closer link to Callie. Jess, Dani, Kelsey, Taylor ... Morgan. All these women, these wonderful women, so beautiful to me, I loved them all, even ... and as quickly as that my mind fell away.

"Yes," she said, and some part of me knew she was smiling. "Good boy ... I'm so pleased with you." My body thrilled to hear her say it.

I worked her feet without thought, without plan, my body just doing something it already knew, knowing Jess could do even better but taking inspiration from that even though I'd never done anything like this with Callie before. Her breath came faster, I pulled her toes from their top and bottom, squeezed their pads, stroked and gently twisted from their sides, then she was moaning as I pressed thumbs where the ball of her foot joined the more sensitive arch, squeezing around the top of her foot, walked thumbs around and into that arch and finally to her heel, squeezing hard and rotating her ankle, gently squeezing her achilles between thumb and the side of my forefinger, then walking thumbs along the juncture of her arch and heel until her moans increased in intensity, one shallow peak after another like waves on a windward shore, one of my hands moving up to squeeze the pads of her toes again, her pleasure crescendo'ing, and finally it was time to move to her other foot, Callie's awareness almost as distant as mine now. Eventually my hands moved to her shins, behind to her lovely calves, her knees, working her quads hard, one leg with two hands at a time, fingers tracing gently up to her beautiful center until her hands stopped me.

"Not yet," she whispered, "my good slave, such a good slave, just oil there for now," and she released me to gently do as she asked. Then, my hands around her hips to her beautiful bottom, up her sides, the sides of her breasts, down to her belly, her solar plexus, the bottom of her full breasts, around and spiraling in between them, gently squeezing her, my thumbs brushing her hard, oiled nipples as she gasped, each breast big enough to need two hands to fully encompass it, gently kneading, then to their sensitive upper slopes, fingertips tracing lightly to her shoulders, working her strong muscles hard, down her arms, twisting and pulling, her breath coming faster again, me moving her arms to cross her breasts and then my thumbs brushing her oiled nipples again as I blew cool air through puckered lips onto them. She cried out, another peak in her pleasure.

I moved to her lithe forearms, sensitive skin on their inside, then to her wrists and hands, those long graceful fingers and dangerous sharp red nails, my skin and blood under them and on her fingers. She put one long nail after another, one fingertip after another into my mouth and I knew she wanted me to lick her clean, my own blood and skin. I was straddling her now, my balls in cleavage made deeper between my upper legs, and Morgan's leather cord came to her hand, uncoiling by itself around my hips, binding my hard cock tight to my own flat, hard-muscled belly. I worked her cleaned hands just as I had her feet, rotating thumbs around the base of each of her fingers, pressing harder into the muscle on the flat of her palm and then rotating thumbs more gently on its base where it flowed into her wrist, then back up her forearms to her elbows, the strength of her upper arms, her shoulders, gentle strokes on her graceful neck, and then her beautiful face.

First on Callie's cheeks, my warmed fingertips from under her eyes, against her nose, to her upper lip, up her nose and forehead to her hairline, out to the sides, back down all the way to her jawline, then back up from her chin. Again. And again.

"Relax," my voice said. "Keep your beautiful eyes closed. Let your awareness out, let it flow, let it be within you and without you. Just enjoy." She made a small mew of pleasure.

Again.

"Let your body relax," my voice said, "sink into the towel, let the oil soak into your skin, so relaxing, so warm, fragrant, welcome, so safe here with me in this warm place you've chosen for us, where everything happens exactly as you want."

She twitched as if resisting.

"Deeper," I said, doing rather than thinking, and she sighed, relaxing.

"Yes," I said softly, and watched her face relax further. My hands moved to her earlobes, squeezed them, moved slowly up the outside of her ears, squeezing as they went, around the top, traced back down and repeated. She moaned.

"Good girl," I said, and she sighed, my hands moving to her eyebrows and forehead, thumbs down the sides of her nose to her jaw, back up, fingertips circling her temples as if they were sacred (they were!) before continuing up, back down and around her jaw, up the outside of her cheeks to her hairline, back down and splitting on each side of her nose, my thumbs on her cheeks, her eyes fluttering but staying closed.

"I love you," I whispered, and she twitched, just a little.

My thumbs alternated circling a point on her forehead, the same place I'd felt our souls join.

"Not yet," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

My fingers moved to her scalp, rubbing, squeezing, pressure on and off, sometimes appreciating the texture of her hair, sometimes the skin underneath, me still straddling her chest above her ample breasts, enjoying the feel of her skin everywhere it touched mine, my balls maybe four inches from her chin.

Callie's eyes opened. I stopped moving.

"That's so nice, my beautiful slave," she whispered. "I want you inside me," she said. "I want it so much. Not now, but later, after tapas. It's time." She raised one hand to the top of my right leg, one long finger and nail extended. Tapped once. I rose.

"Bring me my robe," she said, and I did. She pointed to another one, larger, and I put it on. Hers wasn't so much a robe as a gown, lushly colored, light and shimmery like silk, mine plain and white.

"Mariano," she said, and he came in through the door. He went to the vases, all three of them. I picked up my other gifts, all three of them.

"A moment," my voice said. I unwrapped my bundle of gifts and extracted the feathers. She saw them and nodded. I put them into her wavy, tangled, oiled hair, still damp from her bath, just the way I thought they would look best. She smiled.

"Come," she said, and we processed out to the garden, Mariano leading, me following. There was finger food on seven trays, each on its own stand, like Mariano had brought a fine restaurant with him, seven morsels on each tray.

Sprigs of herbs lay on the central chaise, cilantro and thyme and rosemary, extravagant purple-blue flowers with yellow centers nearby, some kind of peavine (butterfly peas!). They reminded me of ...

Callie lay down, her gown concealing the wonder of her beautiful body, though some part of me knew that wouldn't be for long. She crooked her finger at me and I came nearer. She pointed at one of the trays and I brought her a morsel. She looked at me in a way every man who loves women hopes a special woman will one day look at him. I fed it to her.

"Mariano," she said, "eat your fill. And thank you so much for bringing this ... it is magnificent."

Mariano dipped his head, politely had one item from each tray and another from just one tray, then took his leave. He'd already let us know he would be calling Jess, and he seemed eager to do so, almost impatient.

Each time Callie pointed, I brought her something. Twice she said "You try," and I did, and every time I did, it was something wonderful. Seven trays, the scallops with the ceviche were amazing, the shredded pork sopitas were even better.

Callie was smiling, reclining, her willing slave (me!) bringing her anything she wanted, wherever she wanted, enjoying what she told me to enjoy, feeling what she wanted me to feel. She gave me permission to eat when I wasn't bringing her something, and I ate, a morsel at a time. Wherever Mariano got this food, it was outstanding.

"I want you inside me," she said. "Not now, not yet, but I want this, and I know you want it, too, but we're not done, you still have so much to learn."

Fuck yes I wanted that.

There was fruit, grapes and strawberries, melon, dates and figs, all of it fed from my fingers to her full red lips, her fingers touching nothing but her mojito since my massage. She had a few sips and seemed content, and despite my current lack of extrasense I thought it important to know what she felt.

"Take it away," she told me with a small flick of her long fingers, and I took each tray, two at a time, into the kitchen.

Her robe was off. She lay on the chaise, resplendent, me stopped in my tracks, desiring her. She crooked her finger and I came close. She pointed down and I went to my knees. She put the end of one long nail on her lovely tummy, pointing between her legs.

"This is my center, the most beautiful thing you've ever experienced, the most wondrous thing you will ever experience. The center of my physical power, of my control over the world around me, around us, my control over your desire, and over you."

Her other index finger pointed further down and my eyes followed. I felt her hand on the back of my head. No sharp nails this time, just soft gentle fingertips.

"Your other gifts," she said. "Show me."

There was incense, white and black copal. Three braziers around the raised center of the garden, already lit (thank you Mariano!) but not with anything like this. I put a few chunks of copal into the fire and before long its light, woody pine-y scent pervaded our space, making me feel just a little lightheaded.

Then, the necklace. Not really a necklace, more of a torc, polished marquise jadeite cabochons set in lapis lazuli and braided gold, joined with gold Möbius loops, a gap that had a gold chain suspended from each end supporting an emerald pendant in a small gold sunburst, or maybe it was a rosette.

"Oh Bob," she said softly, and I slipped it around it around her lovely slender neck.

"You are breathtaking," my voice said. "You are the love of my life," as if that explained everything. It was hard to know how good it looked on her because she looked so fucking wonderful with or without anything else.

"This is ... the most beautiful thing ... I've ever worn," she said. "I love it, I ..." She collected herself, took a deep breath and then another, smiled, let her smile fade. She pointed between her legs. "Oil me," she said, and I brought her oil.

"See," she said. "Smell. Know my scent, my essence. It surrounds you, pervades you, it ... possesses you."

"Yes, my goddess," I said softly.

"You are coming here," she whispered. "I want you to come here. But first you will please me, just how I want, just how you know you need to."

"Yes goddess," I said softly. She was glistening.

"Oil," she said, and the bottle was in my hand. There were two small dishes on a table next to her and she brought them closer, honey and cream.

"See how my lips part?" she asked. "They part because I want you." She lay back and drew her knees up, opening herself to me.

"The most beautiful sight and smell, taste and touch and sound, that you will ever behold," she said. I rubbed my hands together, heating them, poured oil onto one palm, closed my hands together, warming that precious oil, fragrant and edible. She reached into her bowl and her finger came back dripping with honey, touched it gently to her nipples and then in a line between her breasts to her clit, refreshing it once so there would be plenty, then did the same with the cream.

"Now," she said, and my hands went to the juncture between her legs and groin, such strong long legs, such a wonderful bottom, oiling her, sleeker now than ever. My thumbs traversed her, outside her lips, crossed and came down the opposite sides.

"Oh Bob," she gasped. "Good ... slave."

I bent further, began adoring her, my tongue exploring outside, then closer, then inside her outer lips, every petal of her flower, then her inner lips and entrance and ...

She grabbed the back of my head, pulled me closer, and I plunged my tongue into honey and oil and flowing cream and her, my hands finding their way under to clutch her magnificent bottom. A scant minute later and I could feel her approaching her edge and I backed off, laid my thumbs alongside her beautiful clit, alternated gentle pressure on and off, waited for her breathing to slow.

"Yes," she said, and my thumbs moved again, brought her close, backed off.

Again and again, surfing her edge, she squirmed under me, gasping, moaning.

"Inside," she said, her eyes closed, and I couldn't have been happier to obey. The cord keeping my cock tight against my belly unwound and coiled around her wrist and forearm, my cock springing free. I entered her, filling her, both of us already slick with desire, slid myself all the way in, as deep as I could go, which was as deep as she could take me, a perfect fit, a perfect woman.

"Fuck me," she said. "I want this so much." I drew back and that's the last thing I remember until morning.

Lyrics:
Babyfather - Sade
A Case Of You - Joni Mitchell
Love Has No Pride - Eric Justin Kaz & Libby Titus
Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye
The Order of Death - John Lydon, Keith Levene & Martin Atkins

Next in chapter 5:
Nightswimming | An overnight sail with a swim in bioluminescence. And sharks.