The Witch's Want Ch. 05

Well, if his life depended on it.

The music quickened and it took Farah along with it. She closed her eyes for a moment as she began to feel herself letting go to it and the ancient undercurrents began to carry her along. Her body slid into perfect synchronization with those undercurrents.

It was what she wanted now, and she felt a little wonder at herself as her body seemed to know the ways to move with no conscious effort or thought from her mind.

Her mind became more of an observer in this, feeling the delight and bliss of her body's motions and deriving pleasure as the tempo increased subtly.

And it was pleasure, she decided, to do this for him this well. She glanced and saw that she had his undivided attention. Not such a great leap, to be sure, the thought came to her.

This was what the purpose was, after all, to dance for the pleasure of a man, to make her promise to him and to receive his. Her next glance, as quick as it was as she twirled around, had given her a perfect view of his manhood.

He was spellbound, and it was a spell, after all, though only the simple one that women have always had and worked. That gorgeous rod of his stood straining straight up and to her it cast its own ancient spell.

She managed another stolen glance and despite the low light in the room, she could have sworn that she could just see the thing throb and twitch just a little, teasing her in its own way, making its answer to the promise of her dance.

When this part of their strange courtship was over, there wouldn't be any half-hearted two minute, completely forgettable and weak coital act to get back to the TV, or the bar, or the white powder as she'd had before from the useless little prick that she'd had the misfortune to fall for, the one whose name she was well on the way to forgetting.

This was going to be something.

She didn't really have the words in her mind for it as she danced. All of the ones which came to her didn't quite fit. She felt her lips pull into a smile in spite of herself.

This was going to be an event.

Yes, she thought. That was it. This was what she now felt that she was for, an act of completion for them both. Her next lustful thought almost made her grin and she had to force herself to hold it back. She could almost hear the announcer speaking to the crowds through the PA system in a packed arena.

"And in this corner, ..."

So, she decided, knowing now that it would happen. This was going to be an event. Besides the completion of them both, she knew that it would be the promise of many things -- a long series of rematches for one.

An event.

A seismic one, beyond any doubt that she might have earlier had.

Farah smiled.

So mote it be.

Her skin felt superheated, though she wasn't sweating. As her body turned in one direction and she kept her face looking at him, surely showing her feelings as she did, she felt the heat of her own arm as it passed her face for a split second. Her legs felt perfect under her and her hips had their own repertoire of movements, tied to the motions of her lower back as they undulated for only him, making the old and timeless suggestions to them both.

She was aroused herself -- as though she'd need anything more than only the sight of that incredible body to do that. She felt the currents of the air from her movements against her breasts like the lightest possible touch that left them aching for a more palpable one. Her nipples felt to her as though they'd turned into two light but very hot stones, and the way that it felt when the skin on the inside of her own forearm grazed one of them caused her mouth to open in a gasp that neither of them heard in the music.

Farah gave in to it and slid her hands over her breasts in a slow caress for a moment. As nice as it had felt, her breasts wanted more, and as much as she knew herself and her own body, it came as something of a surprise to her just how hard her own nipples had become.

She had no desire to test the playful little theory which came to her, but right then it wouldn't have surprised her at all to find that she could likely cut glass with them.

As long as it wasn't cold.

The motions of her hips and legs worked their timeless magic and her lips muttered the incantations that she'd memorized in a respectfully hopeful and lusty prayer as she asked that what was to come be what they both wished for. The same motions worked on her as well, and she felt her need of him deep in her loins. Her slick lips there rubbed against each other in motions which likely couldn't be seen with a microscope, but they were there all the same.

Farah knew what this was, though she was sure that she'd never felt it like this, what she felt beginning there now. She wondered for a moment if it was something that he was doing somehow. She knew that he had some sort of abilities that she couldn't fathom.

Well, she thought, maybe he did, and maybe it was nothing more than the forces that she'd offered her prayer to giving their assent. Either way, she felt proud of herself for what she felt beginning. It hadn't happened to her in a long time, not anything like this, and the thought came to her to show him just what they'd managed to work between them to this point without even touching yet.

She slowed her motions to half of the tempo of the music, coming closer to him as she did. Farah raised her arms above her head as she stood before him, undulating her hips for him in a subtly blatant way, helping this with her thighs so that he could see it -- and she had no doubt in her mind whatsoever that he'd know what it signaled.

She just wanted to let him see what it was that she had for him now.

The last of the features of Bart's face disappeared as Ur-Nammu sat staring. His penis twitched and throbbed of its own accord as his eyes narrowed their view to her henna-painted lips as they seemed to float before him there, covered in her sweet honey. He could see it as they glistened softly.

They were a wonder to him. As far back as his mind could take his memory, he'd never seen lips like this.

They were full and plump in their way, her mound offering him a place where he could lose himself. If there was a heaven on this earthly plane, then this lovely witch was surely showing him the softly-petaled gate now. There was nothing lewd or dirty to her display of this little wonder. He could clearly see that she was showing him this view because of the way that she felt for him, her wild dance coming down to this set of gentle motions.

He began to stare after a second as he looked for her nub. It was there, peeking at him like an almost bashful little thing, but as he watched, he could see that it was becoming a little bit bolder in its own hopeful way. As he watched it bob a little before him, being carried as it was by those wonderful hips and their mysterious motions, he saw the top of that cleft widen and the hooded pearl began to come forth for him.

This was what she'd wanted for him to see, knowing that it would, but not to the extent that it had. She couldn't remember that it had ever been this pronounced, so needing of fulfillment, this small wonder of the softer sex.

He glanced up and he saw the same slightly shy, though hope-filled emotion in the eyes which looked down at him. The music stopped between tracks, and before the next song began a second or so later, he knew that besides her obvious hope and the promise that she'd made, she was feeling proud of herself as she stood, hiding nothing from him, so that he might see just how much she meant it beyond her need.

As the next selection of music began, a slower quiet piece with a haunting melody, he came to a few little certitudes in his mind.

He knew that this was the moment during which he must make his answer, while that wetly glistening miracle was at its zenith in this show, and before any self-doubt could come to her -- even before another of his heartbeats had occurred.

There was the danger of a real crime happening here and that was that he'd allowed this instant of time to pass.

He looked up again and smiled for a moment, and then he reached out for her hips as he rose to his knees. She watched his head come to her sex, those dark eyes locked on her offering. She reached for him too, very tentatively, not knowing, but hoping that her gift would be sufficient for one such as him.

For all of this, what she'd done for him in preparing the place and the meals, it all came down to her wanting now to know if this was just a woman offering herself to a man, or whether she'd been right all along in this -- that one day, she'd be right here -- just as it looked to be coming to pass -- offering herself to this man and trying with all of the will and want and need and desire in her to give herself to him, this one strange man, risen from out of the mists of time.

Farah sighed as she felt the first soft contact of his face against her. Without even being able to see, she felt it as he licked his lips to moisten them for her. The skin of her mound told her that his tongue was reaching past, underneath that pearl, and then she felt it as he placed the tip against her lips and began to draw it back, closer to the underside of her nub.

She felt his mouth open further and then she felt the first gentle thrill as his acceptance came to her.

She placed her hands on his head and she sighed as his lips closed over her clitoris to begin his tender worship there.

That he was doing this for her in this way settled a lot of things for her in an instant. But other than recognizing the thought, she set it aside as his mouth began to take her away.

Farah stood, her motions gone from her now as she held herself still for him, feeling the way that his hands held her so gently.

She sighed and opened her eyes for a moment to look down on his head, but her eyelids closed again in rapture at what he was doing for her with his mouth.

She wasn't even sure how it was possible, but she did manage to hold a thought in her mind, because when it came to her, it was just a little profound.

She considered how long it had been since he'd been in a position to hold a woman and perform such an intimate act for her. Thousands of years of him wanting a woman, she decided, and not having the means to find even the satisfaction of masturbation for himself, let alone have the ability to sate his need to mate. She imagined that a man in a situation such as that would want to just, ...

But he hadn't. And the thought came to her as she slipped her fingers into his long dark hair to hold him close in as tender a way as she could that he was trying to show her something. He wasn't even going at this with the desperation that she'd imagine him having inside of him for this.

He was trying to tell her something.

Farah opened her eyes again and she began to whisper slowly. So slowly and softly that she wondered if he could hear her, but she had to tell him that she knew. Considering what he was doing to her, it was a rather difficult thing for her to do, but she did it anyway, gasping a little and sighing a lot.

"In case it is not, ... obvious," she sighed, "I want, ... for you to know that I - I, ... love you, Ur-Nammu."

He stopped the slow and gentle increase that he'd been putting into this for her for a moment. The sigh that she felt was a thrill all by itself.

"I know this," the one-time warrior and conqueror said in his own hoarse whisper to her. He kissed her there for a moment, and said, "I accept your tribute and offer you my own, Witch. I love you as well."

Farah wanted to weep in happiness only to have heard it, but there were reasons going against weeping, she realized, happy or otherwise. Doing that would mean that she'd have to stop.

The dance wasn't over yet.

He felt her fingers in his hair and the motions that she made there came to him as requests, so he allowed them to direct his efforts as she began to move her sweet hips to the music once more.

She remained in contact with him though, thrusting herself to him slowly, humping herself on him gently so that he'd know that she wanted him to continue for a while yet. This dance was for them both, but to her heart, it was for him more than it was for her, no matter how much she was enjoying his attentions.

She'd had to show him that she was so aroused for him. She knew that under these circumstances, there likely wasn't a hetero human male anywhere who would have shown her any indication that what she was offering wasn't good enough. That wasn't the point.

She'd wanted him to know that she was offering herself to someone so singular here. Her offering had to be better, to her mind, for that reason alone. One doesn't have the chance to do this for someone like him more than once, because no one would ever know him well enough to want to.

She sighed, and it turned into a little moan for him when she remembered their earlier conversation about the many women who had been brought for him.

She didn't know for certain, but Farah was pretty sure that when the one who'd just told her plainly that he loved her had been a normal man so long ago, he'd only accepted the very best for himself. The cat-girl changeling that he'd taken as his wife had devoted herself to him once they'd begun, and later, when she'd chosen partners for him out of politics and diplomacy from among the no-doubt multitudes who'd been offered, ...

Well she knew that Dimme had chosen only the very best and most beautiful for her mate. Dimme had allowed him this -- even forced him into it because it was what his legend needed for their people. She'd never have shared him lightly. Not even once.

Farah sent a silent blessing to the spirit who had come to her, and she offered her heartfelt thanks because that spirit had decided that Farah was worthy of the one who she still loved and ached for.

That placed Farah into a rather select minority of women over thousands of years of time. She'd known what this was from the outset, once she'd known who he'd been.

Even though he'd told her, Farah would do what the female in her demanded that she do to build this into a great love, if she could manage it, because right here, right now, ...

The humble witch, Farah LaMontagne, had the chance at the love of one in billions of lifetimes right here, kneeling before her with his face tightly against her, lapping softly at her sex.

She felt the music, as slow and soft as it was, and pushing him away slowly so as not to give him the wrong impression, she began to move for only him again, her hips holding his gaze more attentively than any target tracking system which man might have invented to this point.

She had no trouble now as she doubled the pace of her movements to the beat of the music. Her skin felt even hotter now and she could feel the beginnings of sweat. That didn't matter now, she'd bathed for him before this in sweetly aromatic oils, knowing that this might happen, and when this heat in her body reached the traces of those oils on her, it for damn sure wouldn't offend him.

She chose her moment, knowing that it was coming long before it arrived. The slow, sensuous beat of this song would end in a quiet crescendo and she'd be right where she wanted to be, undulating her haunches there before his face, her legs spread just enough so that he couldn't be looking at anything other than what she had for him there if he looked just past her cheeks.

Just a little ahead of that, he'd have to see her slightly parted lips, painted so beautifully by her lovely friend, Padma just for this one moment. The next song would begin with only drums and she was counting on the moment coming to him just after that.

The song ended, and Farah stood there trembling in her want of him, her body sending its hungry signals to him for all that it was worth as she bent ever so slightly to allow her back to get into the movement of her hips as she thrust the perfect haunches that she was now so proud and thankful to have in her arsenal back at him just a little.

She felt herself smile as her first reward came to her from his soft kiss against them. She felt his tongue slip in to graze her labia in a long, quick stroke which ended with its tip against her anus. Well, she thought, that part of her had been bathed as meticulously as the rest of her for this. He could have this too if he wanted. For the amount of work that she'd put into preparing herself even there as Dimme had coached her, she now wanted him there as well, now that she knew a little of how it would feel to have him there.

That little jewel was safe for the moment anyway. Dimme had told her so. Farah knew that she had to offer it to him -- that he'd never just take her like that.

But when the drums began in the next song, Farah found that she couldn't do much more than thrust herself back a little more. His tongue was everywhere down there now.

And it felt so good, ...

She felt his hands on her hips, holding her there and allowing her only the slightest freedom to writhe for him and herself at the same time. She was a prisoner now of her need and his, able to do little more than pant and wait.

Dimme had told her that this would come too, that the time for dancing had passed.

He pulled her backwards, easily keeping her from falling as he eased her down onto his lap. He held her to him and kissed her as his hand began to caress her breast. Almost all that she could manage was to whimper for him.

The only other thing that was left for her was to try to reach for his phallus. If he gave her just half a chance here, she knew that she'd happily get to her knees and worship him there.

But he didn't.

Instead, he laid her down and moved himself over her. Farah felt his kisses as she tried in vain to meet his mouth with her own. He was just too fast, kissing her so softly in so many places that her poor brain had no chance to direct her body in her attempts to chase his mouth. It was like trying to keep up with a tiny male fairy who was bent on loving as many parts of her at he could. She just felt the most delicious fleeting kisses on her lips and cheeks, her forehead, nose, just everywhere at once.

Then he took that incredible traveling road show lower on her. She was afraid that she'd react in her normally ticklish manner, but that reflex had no time for it either. He just went to town on her.

Her breasts rejoiced in her mind. Her nipples felt as though they were vibrating all on their own. When his mouth had gone by, she was thankful that he'd left his hands in charge of pleasing her now-aching breasts as he grazed on, lower and lower.

She felt her skin begin to tingle.

He only slowed his incredible pace as he neared the gate to her temple once more. His worship resumed then as she gasped for breath for just a moment and then Farah sighed and groaned as she relaxed, giving herself to him like this completely.

His tongue returned to its earlier labors and over a little time, Farah found herself fighting to retain enough conscious ability to even hold her legs up with. Ur-Nammu wasn't bothered at all and moved her legs for her as he needed or desired as he kissed and licked. Sometimes, he was so low down on her that she wondered how she ought to move for him in order to offer herself to him a little better, but he managed all of this for himself.

She felt his tongue brush her anus again and tried to lift herself, assuming that it was what he wanted, but by the time that she did, he was gone again, elsewhere on her geography and busily so.

The only time that she was certain of what to do was when he was at her mound. She thrust it out to him then and he's slow then for a few moments as he accepted what she offered him from between those lips. But he seemed to know just how he wanted to do this, so he never stayed there for long. Somewhere during his travels, he taught her that she had nerves with which to appreciate him that she'd never really been all that aware of.