In Xanadu Ch. 04

She had been right to trust Xanadu to take good care of her, Jane thought. It was good to allow these unknown others free access her body, good for her to be pleasured so, with no need for her to direct their movements, no need for her to attempt to control anything. Her only role was to feel! This was freedom!

Jane felt the fingers exploring her cunt continue their movement while the palm of the hand pressed harder against her now engorged clitoris. Her moaning increased, her breathing grew deeper. Her body, hands massaging everywhere, was on fire. She felt a penis touch against her hand and she closed her hand to hold it. She felt a woman's breast

against her face and tried desperately to capture it into her mouth. Sensation filled every part of her body, but, somehow, it was not enough.

"Please, please," Jane began to utter, not knowing, really what the please was asking for, except that she wanted more, more of what she didn't know, just more. More.

"Please" she continued and now the 'please' was more of a moan than it was a particular request. The hands and fingers pressing, touching, exploring her body continued their movements, and Jane continued a steady moaning and now purring sound as feeling dominated every inch of her body.

Jane attempted to relax the intensity of her experience by trying to think of other things, where she was, how she had arrived here, the identity of those around her, but she was unable to escape into her mind for more than a second before she was engulfed by an overwhelming sensation of sensual fulfillment. Aroused wasn't an adequate description of what she was feeling.

Her clit was tumescent, swollen out of its covering sheath, her cunt wet with its juice now flowing copiously and continuously. The shuddering of her body, which she hadn't even realized was continuing unabated, seemed to be ready to explode into a grand tingle of sensation that would become an enormous climax.

But the climax didn't come!

The fingers in her cunt and ass stopped moving. The palm of the hand continued to press against her clit but didn't move; the pressure remained constant but unvarying.

She was so close to coming. She moaned again and again. Her whole body was on the edge of a huge orgasm. It was as if she had just run up a mile long hill but was now stopped, running in place, unable to reach the crest just a couple of yards away.

All was quiet around her. Then Jane heard the rustle of movement, of breathing, a hushed whisper.

She wanted to scream it, but all Jane was able to do was whisper, "Please, please," over and over again. She wanted to come! She needed the orgasm!

Jane reached out her hand and felt the hip of one of the people around her. Desperately, she snaked her hand around the body until she found his cock. It was hard. It was large, and heavy; it was thick. She held it tight.

Oh, she wanted her own orgasm, but if they wouldn't let her come, she would have him cum, his orgasm in place of the one she needed.

She gripped his cock in her tight fist and began to wank it at a frenzied pace. She couldn't come, but she would feel his cum, his jism splash against her face. As she continued her mad wanking movements of his cock, she felt, suddenly, a woman's cunt rest against her face. The cunt was wet and Jane could smell its musky odor reeking from the dark, dank interior. Jane opened her mouth and thrust her tongue past the open lips of the cunt to taste the pussy juice. She needed more sensuality....anything.

All the while, she continued her hectic pulling and yanking of the man's dick. She was in a sexual delirium. Jane slurped from the cunt at her lips, she seethed with need as the orgasm she wanted so much was kept from her.

Then the man's penis erupted with its orgasm, spilling its jism onto her body. She could feel its pasty thickness resting on her chest, her tits. her neck. She could feel, as she slurped from the cunt at her face, the woman's clit awake and engorged. Jane snaked her tongue up inside the cunt to press against the inside bone beneath the clit. She could feel the woman fingering her own clit until the woman let out a stifled scream and began to shudder her own creaming orgasm. Jane felt the man's cum on her body and tasted the woman's cum on her tongue. Her hands were free, but Jane was unable to bring them to her clit, her own cunt to bring herself to orgasm.

The someone's hand that covered her cunt stayed there, not moving, pressing down relentlessly. Her clit wanted rubbing. Her cunt wanted fucking. Her ass wanted the finger that was still inside her there to move. Every part of her wanted. They couldn't keep her this way for much longer, Jane thought.

"Please," Jane whispered again.

This was torture, she thought. Every nerve in her body had been brought to a heightened sense of excitement, to the brink of a huge orgasm but had been stopped there, not allowed to glory in the grand relief the orgasm would bring. She wanted it. She needed it.

"Please," she said again, louder this time. She strained to hear a response to her plea. She could hear movement around her. She could feel a stirring of air in the dark room. But nothing was visible. There was no response.

She was able to taste and smell the sweet musky vaginal discharge still wet around her lips and her chin and nose. Jane reveled in the smell and taste, in the feel of the man's cum still on her chest. It could not of itself bring her to the orgasm she so wanted, but it was able to keep her excited, sustained and totally immersed in her sexual need.

Jane thought that what she was feeling was a sort of agony, but an agony that she understood (while her body felt only an overwhelming need) would be ended at some point and that when it was ended, would result in an orgasm of huge proportion. She realized that she needed to be patient, to wait and that her patience would be rewarded. But the soft cry of, "please," escaped her lips once again as she tried to be patient waiting for the fulfillment she craved.

Jane felt, finally, the fingers that had been in her cunt begin to move, spread the loose lips of her vulva. Her breathing increased in pace, became deeper. The outer lips of her cunt were swollen, the pink inner lips exposed, the sodden vagina, warm, wet and contracting wildly. She was ready to receive what it needed,------ a long, hard, thick prick.

She needed for her cunt to be invaded by a penis so large that she would be able to feel it everywhere.

Again there was movement around her.

This time she felt a body joining hers on the platform. The body was on its knees. Hands pulled Jane's legs apart and the body lay down, atop of Jane. No penis. It was a woman's body.

Jane felt the woman's breasts against hers. She felt the woman's stomach rest against her own. She felt the woman's cunt lips against Jane's own cunt lips, the woman's clitoris pushing against Jane's own clitoris. Jane felt the woman's thighs brushing against the inside of Jane's outstretched legs.

And then the grinding began. The woman who so perfectly was covering Jane's body with her own began to grind her pussy in a strong circular motion against Jane's. The grinding motion hard and quick. Jane felt her clit begin to shudder as the woman's clit pushed against hers and brought Jane's clit with hers in a quick, circular motion. The woman's tongue pushed into Jane's open mouth and as their tongues mimicked their clits' circling motion, Jane felt a finger enter into her rectum again. They were kissing and grinding and pressing body against body and Jane felt her whole being ready, finally, to explode into the orgasm she had been so greedy for, so hungry for, so desperate for!

She opened her mouth wide to let out a scream and felt the woman's tongue enter deeper into hers. She felt the woman's hands pushing through Jane's hair to grasp her skull. Above all, she felt her clit being pressured and massaged by the woman's until, until the long delayed orgasm began. First her clit, then her cunt, then her thighs, then her stomach: her breasts, her knees, her neck, her calves, every part of her began a shuddering quiver of pure, intense orgasm.

And it didn't end. Hands replaced the woman's cunt, a man's penis replaced the woman's tongue in Jane's mouth. The woman had escaped from between Jane's legs and

a man was laying there. He snaked his cock into Jane's too long empty cunt and her orgasm continued.

And it continued.

Pricks replaced pricks; cunts, cunts; mouths, mouths. Hands were replaced by other hands.

Sometimes the sex stopped and Jane was allowed to relax. Once , when the sex stopped, Jane was offered a cup of coffee, once some newly cut fruit.

Once Jane was permitted to fall asleep for a little while. When she awoke, the sex began again. The orgasms started again.

Jane could feel her body wet from her own and the others' sweat. Cunt juice, her own and other women's, soaked her legs, her body, her face, mingling with sperm from how many men she lost count of. The smell of sex permeated the room. Jane could hear the sound of the other's breathing, grunting. Her own voice continued moaning and groaning and she could only mutter over and over again, "yes, yes, yes." All the while, her orgasms continued unabated.

Finally, after how long she couldn't tell: time had stopped while her orgasms had gone on and on. Jane could not have estimated how long the sex, from the moment she had entered the dark room until now had lasted. Everyone had gone. At least Jane was not

able to hear anyone else in the room. Light began to filter into the room, gradually brightening until Jane could see around her. The room was empty of other people.

Jane felt tired but, at the same time, reenergized and ready to go. She sat up and looked around. At one end of the room was a door that was open. She could see that it led to a shower room. Jane got off the sperm and cunt juice soaked platform she had been lying on and began to move towards the shower.

Clean, dry, her body fresh, her hair combed, her clothes, which had been laid out neatly in the shower room, put on, Jane breathed deeply.

On a small table near the door lay an envelope. It was the same color and shape as the envelope she had been given nearly two years ago. Jane smiled. She wondered if Fanderpeice had been one of those who had delivered sexual pleasure to her in the room. No matter if he had been, he had arranged it. There would be more visits to Xanadu. She hoped the next visit would occur in less time than this visit had taken. Well, she would see. Jane opened the envelope.

Inside the envelope was a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it. Written on the unfolded paper was a short message. It said that H. C. Sarikoff had requested that she visit him at his home in Vermont. He wished to be interviewed by Jane. A date, a time, a telephone number was included.

She was exultant. Sarikoff was the notoriously reclusive author whose novels forty years ago had dominated best seller lists for years until he had suddenly stopped

publishing and moved to Vermont where he had refused all interview requests for over 3 decades. Rumors abounded about his writing. Stories circulated about his life, but

nothing had been verified for all those years. He had refused all overtures for meetings. The citizens of the small community in which he lived had protected him from all outsiders. His life was the proverbial enigma wrapped in a conundrum. His plans, any new writings, why he had decided to seclude himself, had been argued about and discussed for all these years, but no authoritative explanation had ever been forthcoming. And now, Jane Bederson had been offered this, another scoop of a lifetime.

Was she happy to have been asked to join Xanadu? She didn't feel it necessary to answer that question.

Dear Reader: Your servant, ILienBagby, the author of the foregoing tale, has prepared two more additions to the story of Xanadu; however, puzzled by the lack of response from readers of the story so far, he is wondering whether or not he should continue to post further episodes. Readers wishing to explore further adventures from Xanadu may express that wish in the box so kindly provided by the prescient webmasters of Literotica at the end of each chapter. The author waits for comments before posting other chapters of this submission.

One more thing. One reader has asked to learn the derivation of the name "Xanadu."

Of course it is taken from the unfinished poem by the 19th century English poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge which begins : In Xanadu/Did Kubla Kahn a stately pleasure dome decree..........

More to follow? Depends on response!