Supper's Ready

"Besides, you squeal like a girl when a frog touches ya!" she laughed, catching me up and playfully butting the basket against my leg.

I winced in disgust and turned to carry on up the steps; "you know I can't bear the slimy feel of 'em...it's 'orrible!"

"Do you remember that time I put one on the seat of your bike?" she said, and whooped with laughter at the top of the steps as I carried on along the path.

"That's still not funny" I commented indignantly, walking past the vegetable patch and taking care not to catch my bare toes on the low fence that surrounded them as I scanned the path with the light to avoid treading on any adventurous invertebrates that may be abroad. "I nearly puked to see all that frog-gunk on the seat."

Her laughter rose even higher and I turned to give her a rueful grin as she walked towards me saying, "Oh man alive, the look on your face was priceless..."

"...Almost as priceless in seeing your expression when I phoned up the pest control people to ask 'em if they did frogs," I interrupted.

"I knew you were windin' me up," she replied coolly to my bark of sardonic laughter as we carried on past the rose bushes to our left and onto the cool grass where I stopped to see how ripe the pears were.

"D'you fancy one?" I asked.

"I do, but I'll have the fruit after," she said with a leer.

"Ok, ok, spare me the 'carry-on' innuendo," I said, waving the lantern around the lawn. "Pick ya spot for the blanket."

"It's about time you cut the holly back around that apple tree," she chided, walking up to within a couple of yards of it. "How about there at the bottom of the bank?" she suggested, indicating the slight rise in the ground which led up to the low wall that separated our patch from the fields behind.

"Suits me" I said, unrolling the mylar then laying it flat between us before placing the blanket on top - the mylar would keep the blanket dry and also protect us from the ground which was getting cooler as the night deepened into early morning. "There's not much cloud about so we'll get a good show of stars and I'll turn the lantern down low so we can pick 'em out easier and not get so many moths." I said, placing the handle over a convenient branch that reached out from where I'd nailed a small, earthenware plaque of the 'Green Man' who looked back with his unchanging expression of stern benevolence over the garden behind me.

The waxing moon glowed over us as we settled back comfortably to pillow our heads on the thick grass and stretch out under the branches which whispered among themselves while Tracy took a long drink from the bottle and I sucked on a mint leaf. We savoured the sibilant murmurings of the night and watched a moth dancing hectically in the lanterns glow; a faint rustling in the undergrowth suggested that the field mice were hunting - or being hunted - and I asked Tracy if she'd seen the Barn Owl recently to which she shook her head and offered me a drink, I reciprocated the gesture and opened my tin while she put the cap back on the bottle before putting it back in the basket beside her.

"The stars look beautiful tonight," she commented, lifting a leg to point her foot towards them as I fished out a joint. "What's that up there?"

"Your big toe," I responded sarcastically, glancing up as I cupped my hands around the flickering flame to light it.

"Funny bugger," she said, slapping my arm. "I meant that odd looking light. It doesn't look like a star, is it a plane?"

"Nope, it's not a plane...or a bird...or even Superman rushing off to save the world!" I replied, through a cloud of smoke that drifted around the gathering of insects at the lantern. "That looks like a satellite."

The sheen of moonlight and the low glow around the lantern softly shone on our bodies as we cuddled closer to admire the astral show; passing the joint between us while pointing out the various constellations around the Pole star on Ursa Minor's tail: Perseus to the right and Ursa Major, then Cassiopeia, Andromeda before finding Draco the dragon lurking behind a thin layer of Cirrus cloud.

"There's MY star!" Tracy declared, waggling her foot around the tail where I'd named the star after her for a birthday present the year before. "I wonder if anything's looking back at us."

"They'd need a bloody big telescope," I said dryly.

"You know what I mean, don't be obtuse."

"Maybe there is," I mused, passing her the joint.

"I thought that'd got stuck to your fingers," she muttered sarcastically, accepting it and taking a long pull to give her gentle face a demonic aspect in the fiery gleam.

I ignored the jibe and leaned over her supine body to grab the water bottle, and then tweak her nipple playfully. "But until the little green men actually show up on the lawn of the White House and demand to be 'taken to our leader', then your opinion's as good as anybody else's. I still think Roswell and all the other sightings are horse shit, and why a supposedly more advanced species travels thousands of light-years to capture Mr. and Mrs. Average on a lonely road in the middle of nowhere to conduct experiments on them instead of finding a scientist or someone with more insight is beyond me." I spat out the mint leaf and took a deep draught of the water as Tracy sent a smoke ring into the air which swirled within the breeze before breaking up in the branches.

"Who's to say what they'll discover in the next century," she said. "I mean, a hundred years ago it was considered an impossibility to fly in the air, let alone go to the moon."

"True, true; ever since Galileo told the Inquisition'epi si muove', we've reached the stars by bringing our understanding of the cosmos down to Earth. Incidentally, do you know when the Church accepted that he was right after all?"

She shook her head through a cloud of smoke as she passed the duchie from the left hand side.

"It wasn't until 1983. Can you believe that? Nineteen Eighty Fuckin' Three! If God's in his heaven then he must be pissin' himself laughin' at us sometimes."

"You don't believe in God though."

"Not that white robed, white bearded version which always reminds me of Charlton Heston as Moses in 'The Ten Commandments', no. But you know I feel that we all have a spark of the divine within our souls and whenever people can go beyond the religious dogmas and bigotry they've built up over the centuries, maybe then we'll see that God is simply an elevated reflection of ourselves. As above, so below. I've just started reading Pierre de Chardin's cosmological theories and can see why the Church freaked out over them."

"You read too much."

"Maybe so," I replied, sending another smoke ring into the breeze and folding an arm behind my head more comfortably as she rolled onto her side to run a finger along the tattoo down my upper arm.

"When are you goin' to put that star over this dragon?" she asked, tracing her fingernail down the tail.

"As soon as I've built my time machine and found the era where travelling through space is as easy as taking a flight to New York or Tokyo." I replied owlishly as I took another long drag on the shrinking joint.

"Isn't it supposed to be easier to go back rather than forward in time?"

"It is, yes... If you could choose a time, which would you go back to?" I asked, rolling over to face her.

She thought for a moment and accepted the butt-end to help her think. "I reckon I'd like to have been in the Seraglio of Suleiman the Magnificent." she said, passing the joint back. "Gimme a blowback babe." I gingerly placed it between my lips and gently blew some back before she continued. "That would've suited me down to the ground, plotting how to get into his bed and making damn sure I stayed in his favour until my son ruled the Empire, then ruling the harem and making all those who crossed my path sorry they were born." she declared with an evil chuckle. But you know that contrary to popular belief, the harems weren't places where women lolled about eating Turkish Delight and having their nails done."

"Were they not?" I replied, finishing off the last toke and flicking it over the wall in a glowing arc. Do tell, oh sacred fount of all knowledge."

"If you insist, sarcastic seeker of wisdom," she retorted tartly.

I merely grinned at her and reached over to grab the box of biscuits which we dipped into while snuggling closer.

"Women of the Turkish harems were well educated, being able to read and write Turkish, French, Latin, Greek, and many other languages." She said. "They were instructed in art, music, history, court customs and etiquette, as well as the arts of physical pleasure. Each was assigned some sort of housekeeping task according to her ability or talent, and additionally there were structured times for eating, bathing, and exercise. The harems evolved into structured and hierarchical systems, with a distinct pecking order. The expectation was that any woman who entered the harem as a possible companion for the Sultan would try to ascend this ladder of power and position. There were many women in the harems, of course: Slaves, dancers and other entertainers, educators, retired concubines, and many more. But my fascination is with those women who were destined, if they were lucky enough, smart enough, and beautiful enough, to attract the notice of the Sultan. The women slept, ate, and studied in one large room under the supervision of an older woman, usually one of the Sultan's favourites who had grown old in his service. Should a maiden attract the attention of the Sultan in some way, she was immediately given her own apartments and slaves. Her allowance was increased, and her status in the harem increased proportionately. If a woman was summoned to the bed of the Sultan and pleased him, she became favoured with larger quarters and received a larger allowance which made the competition among them fierce; for once a favourite of the Sultan, the next step was to become a wife. They attained their titles by being the first women to bear living children to the Sultan and only the death of a child led to her demotion; but the ultimate aim was to become mother of the heir. She was supreme in the harem, deferring only to the Sultan's mother who controlled the harem treasury and was often an advisor to the Sultan and held great power. Give me twenty years in there and I'd rule an Empire!"

"You'd be a well tasty Sultana," I chuckled around a mouthful of cheese crumbs. "A very juicy one indeed." I appended, squeezing a firm handful of her ample haunches.

"I'm sure you'draisin to the occasion upon my Imperial demand my dear." she quipped, gripping my balls meaningfully.

I groaned at the terrible pun and rolled over to look up once more at the night sky: "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars," I quoted.

"Actually, some of us are lookin' at the jewels," she giggled, leaning over to rest her head on my chest and run her fingers through the tangled curls over my sensitive flesh.

"Hey, that tickle's!" I laughed, making her head bob up and down as my fingers twirled through the lush mane of red hair. "I reckon it'd be fun to be at one of Oscar Wilde's soirées - especially the one where he met Bosie."

"Who?"

"Alfred Douglas, known to all his friends as Bosie." I said, stroking her hair as she caressed my stomach. "In 1891 a guest of the Wilde's brought the foppish, poet son of the Marquess of Queensberry to tea. They were immediately attracted to each other, as Bosie was taken with the brilliance of Oscar's witty conversation, and he was entranced by young Queensberry's good looks and title.

"Didn't Queensbury have something to do with boxing?"

"That's the chap. He legislated the laws for the art of pugilism – bare-knuckle boxing. I think Gentleman Jim Corbett was the champion then...the last Englishman to be the heavyweight world champion too."

"And his son was queer - there's irony!"

"Don't be misled by the pink and fluffy image of people like Quentin Crisp, my dear heart." I said, reaching for another drink. "In the days of Plato, the Greeks had an elite corps of warriors that were exclusively homosexual; the poet Siegfried Sassoon won the Military Cross on the Somme in 1916 and there are rumours concerning T.E Lawrence (of Arabia) with a young Arab boy that were unsubstantiated...but you know what English Public Schools were like back then."

"Book-learning and buggery," she sniggered.

"Very witty - I'm sure Oscar would've liked that one." I chuckled, putting the bottle back down and fishing another spliff from the tin, "but it was usually a platonic love that they held for each other...I wonder if that's where the American term for gays comes from? As the younger one would do menial tasks for the elder boy which was termed 'fagging,' Robert Graves described it as such in his autobiography:Goodbye to all that. But Bosie put it best inThe Chameleon when he wrote: 'I am the love that dare not speak its name,' and I'd love to take a newspaper of today which shows that not only dare it speak, but actually shouts its name from the rooftops!"

"But back then the Marquess of Queensberry was outraged by his son's association with Oscar and left a visiting card at his stylish London club, the Albemarle, upon which he had written,'To Oscar Wilde posing as a somdomite' [sic]. Encouraged by Bosie whose hatred for his own father obscured his affection for his friend, Wilde pressed suit for criminal libel. The case was lost at a second trial and he was found guilty and sentenced to two years in Reading Gaol, where he was forced to labour on a treadmill. While in prison, poor Oscar was declared bankrupt; his house and possessions were sold to pay his debts."

"It's ironic that a man like Wilde was jailed for two years of hard labour on a for his peccadilloes as he'd probably enjoy bantering with someone like Stephen Fry on a late-night chat show today - and make a decent living too."

"Didn't he play him in that film?"

"He did. Fry was born to play that role, and played it to perfection," I said, lighting the spliff as Tracy ran her tongue along my stomach.

"I can play this to perfection," she bragged, fondling my balls gently as her warm breath gently caressed my cock which nodded its head approvingly.

"You sure can my sweet," I sighed, settling back to look up through the gently swaying branches as I felt her tongue explore further.

"I bet you'd blow him at that soirée wouldn't you?" she murmured, before taking the swelling tip between her lips and softly kissing it.

"My dear, Oscar didn't blow y'know?" I drawled. "However he would've accepted a littleaprès-tea fellatio."

Her giggles rippled through the shaft which thickened further on her wandering tongue that grew livelier around my cock until it became stiffly attentive to every nuance of her warm, wet mouth.

I took a long, deep lungful of smoke and held it as I felt the cool air shiver along the moist trails left by her tongue as she languidly licked from tip to base, then hugging the shaft to her lips as they kissed up and down while trailing her fingernails over the soft underside of my balls to make me exhale slowly with a languorous groan of contentment.

A swirling cloud wreathed her head as she inhaled deeply and tenderly took the tip of my cock in her teeth to work the skin back until the sensitive flesh became fully exposed to her tongue which lovingly roamed over it while her hand stroked over my balls and up the slick shaft as a stream of spittle snaked down before it squeezed just behind the head as her lips pressed tightly together, forming an airtight seal for her mouth which began to suck harder with a slurping insistence.

I gasped and took a handful of hair to pull her mouth from me with an audible pop: "Not so hard babe. Suck on this instead." I said, handing her the spliff.

"I'm only swapping one addiction for another." she smiled, taking it in her lips for a deep drag as she reclined and stretched luxuriously before blowing it into the air.

I leaned up on my elbow to look down upon her gloriously nude body and my minds eye held the image mnemonically as the breeze stirred an earthy aroma of her desire within the heady cloud of smoke that drifted between us. Her back arched with cat-like grace as she spread her thighs invitingly and slipped one hand between them while cupping a breast up with the other: "Make love to me, my love," she whispered from the shadows of her hair, as I leaned over to bless my lips with her beauty, taking the proffered nipple tenderly between my thumb and forefinger while easing my thigh over hers as we swung our hips to roll together. The tip of my cock slid smoothly over her clit and her gasp deepened into a groan as I suckled on her nipple while sliding my hand over the curve of her hip to lovingly caress the gentle swell of her arse while she gripped my shaft to rub it harder into her moist flesh. I shifted my weight down and pulled her towards me, using my knee to support her leg that snaked across my thigh as I felt her cunt saturate my cock in a moist heat that made me shudder in pleasure and moan longingly onto her soft flesh while she stroked the back of my neck as I lightly kissed up her throat until we lay perfectly poised between heaven and earth, eye-to-eye, heart-to-heart as I whispered a single word upon her lips: "Always."

Her hair fell across my face as we kissed passionately and I felt her grab my hip to pull me in as I pushed up with a fluid stroke that brought us together completely. My free arm curled around her neck as I stroked down her spine while she trailed a fingernail up mine and we held each other tightly within the moment; savouring the warmth of our love spreading through every nerve without feeling the need to rush or push ourselves in the helter-skelter urge to sexual satisfaction, but relishing the slow spiral of loving bliss towards an ultimate ecstasy. Neither one of us sought control, preferring a balance that was maintained on the cusp of each upward stroke as the delicious friction aroused more love juices to flow over us while the kiss deepened; my tongue sliding between her lips in mimicry of the sensual rhythm that floated us further along each rippling wave of pleasure as I reached up to brush her hair back.

The expression on her face was heart-stoppingly beautiful and I adored the rapt attention of her eyes as our lips danced, tongues writhing sinuously while a hand squeezed here and caressed there, building wave upon wave of sheer bliss that washed over us as I clasped her to me and pressed my pubis onto her clit while holding myself deep within the clenching heat of her body, relinquishing the sweet temptation of her tongue as I reached up to capture her breast in a firm grip and lick along the curve of her neck before tenderly making a willing prisoner of her nipple, interrogating it thoroughly with tongue, lips and teeth until it was as hard and wet as my cock that throbbed with every beat of desire we felt bursting over us.

I lay my head on her breast and listened closely to her hearts content in feeling my fingers slide along the juicy cleft in-between her cheeks before slipping one alongside my cock to get it slick and then feed it between her gasping lips which sucked greedily as she reached down to squeeze my balls, gently fondling the soft flesh as I took that slimy digit and slid it down her crack, then into the nether hole while slowly pulling my prick to the outer lips of her pouting cunt; she sighed my name and sweetly came as my fingertip stroked into the thin membrane while I filled her hot cunt with a swift thrust when I rose up to crush her lips to mine; she massaged my balls with her love crème while I finger-fucked her arse and stroked my cock as it lay poised once more within the molten heat of her cunt that sucked enticingly on my flesh, tasting each others desires with cries that were more eloquent than any mere words.