Jory Strong: Spirit Flight

Her clit was swollen, as rigid as his cock, its hood pulled back just as his foreskin was. Its head nearly purple.

«Please,» Marisa said, her voice hoarse, her back bowed as though she could force him to swallow her whole, her hands trying to guide him to her clit. «Please,» she begged again. Her skin coated with a sheen of sweat. Her heart racing, pounding so fast that it made her think of drums beating on a dark night, of ancient fertility rites and gods so old they were no longer named.

Ukiah licked over her swollen knob and she convulsed with pleasure, the icy-hot shards of it spearing through her, making her buttocks clench and her breath so scarce that she felt lightheaded. He closed his mouth around her clit and the tears came. Mixed with whimpers and cries as he sucked, hard and fast, aggressive now, somehow knowing she needed a violent release in order to cleanse her of the horror of what had happened to her.

He pinned her to the fur. Held her down as if she was his captive. The feathers and beads and silk of his hair making him seem primitive, savage. The shadows on the wall dancing like some ancient people around a timeless campfire.

Over and over again he swirled his tongue across her clit as he sucked. His lips firm, resistant, driving her higher and higher until she came, shuddering and writhing. Ecstasy rolled through her like a fierce storm and Marisa rode the pleasure until the last of it passed into distant rumbles and short bursts of lightning, leaving her feeling cleansed, calm, like the earth after a rain.

Color flooded her cheeks when she finally forced her eyes open. A sudden shyness at having taken so much from him but given nothing in return.

Ukiah's skin felt stretched tight and his cock ached with the need to sheathe itself in her wet heat. He could feel the dampness against his flushed foreskin where the head had leaked in preparation for coupling with Marisa.

For long moments his chest rose and fell in sharp pants, only gradually did his heart slow as the drum beats and singing faded, leaving him the choice as to when to join with her.

He kissed his way up her body, stroked her heated flesh as he did so, cupped her breasts, lingered to suck before once again claiming her mouth. This time sharing the taste of her pleasure with her.

She wound her arms around his neck and even that simple gesture filled him with a contentment he'd never known before. A sense that all would be well. That there was no need to hurry or rush.

He rose to his knees and lifted her into his arms before standing. Carried her to the cavern next to the one they were in and settled her into a small indentation in the floor that was filled with heated water.

Ukiah smiled when she squeaked, her eyes widening with surprise and confusion. «There are still volcanoes in this range,» he reminded her, though in truth the water running down the wall and into the shallow pool was heated at his command, as was the cavern itself. Everything within created and maintained for her safety and comfort.

They were not abilities he had in his mortal form, only in this one. When he was both thunderbird and man, a creation of magic and belief.

Ukiah squatted by the natural bath, grimaced as his cock and balls pressed against the loincloth. He dipped his hands into the water before reaching for a crudely made bar of soap. Tumbled it over and over until lather coated his fingers.

«I can do it,» Marisa said, her voice husky, low, nearly breathless.

«But I will do it,» he said, his tone telling her it was his right and nothing she said would dissuade him.

Heat stole into her cheeks and remained there as he smoothed his palms over her neck, her shoulders, the slopes of her breasts, her arms.

He stroked every inch of her. Claimed every inch of her.

His touch was possessive, caring, so erotic that by the time he'd rinsed the last of the lather from her skin, Marisa was shaking with need. Her labia flushed and swollen. Her nipples and clit tight hard knots.

Nervousness fluttered through her and she licked her lips. He inhaled sharply and her gaze went to his face. Confidence returned in a heated rush at the sight of his taut features, the coal black eyes focused completely on her, the erection that strained against his loincloth, framed by thighs strung tight with tension and self-control.

She touched him then. Slid her hand along the muscle of his thigh, watched through lowered eyelashes as his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. Felt the silent command to move higher, to free him from the loincloth in the way he held himself completely still.

Anxiety pitted in her stomach when her fingers arrived at the suede-like material stretched tightly over his cock. Its construction unfamiliar.

Ukiah's fingers covered hers, gently guiding them, explaining without words how to remove the loincloth. Her breath caught when the garment fell away, revealing his length and thickness, his penis-uncircumcised, his testicles heavy sacs underneath it, making her think of a stallion.

She stared in fascination, licked her lips again, only barely aware of his groan when she did so. Tentatively she reached out to touch him. To stroke his foreskin, to explore what she'd only seen in studio models and in finished art, untouchable examples of man as he'd been created by nature or god or maybe both.

Ukiah's masculine beauty appealed to her on so many levels. But as she stroked his shaft, it wasn't the artist who prevailed, but the woman.

Desire shivered through her at how soft he was. Her cunt throbbed, clenching and unclenching when arousal escaped the blood-filled tip of his cock. She grasped him in her hand and he hunched forward, burying his fingers in her hair as she'd done earlier. Pulling her to him.

She rose from the shallow basin of steamy water and kissed his chest. His nipples. Laughed softly when they became hard, tiny peaks on a sculpted chest.

«Marisa,» he whispered, and her name sounded like a prayer on his lips.

Happiness filled her. Joy. Something more than lust.

Her kisses trailed downward. One hand going to cup his testicles, to weigh them like sacs of gold, to explore them while the fingers of her other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking up and down until his hips were moving to the rhythm she imposed on him. His breath coming in short pants.

His fingers tightened on her hair and Marisa didn't resist when he guided her mouth to his erection. She nuzzled it, her tongue darting out. Tasting. Feeling. Learning him as he'd learned her.

Waves of jagged pleasure rippled through Ukiah. Spikes of painful ecstasy like fractured bolts of lightning with each touch of her tongue to his heated flesh. He was helpless in her hands. Unable to do anything more that pant, and shake, and hold her to him as she tortured him with her tongue, with her fingers and lips.

Beads of sweat rolled down his neck and chest. Every muscle in his body strained to remain still, afraid that any movement would shatter the last of his control and he would hold her to him and spew his seed in the wet depths of her mouth instead of her cunt.

He cried out when her soft mouth left his shaft, her tongue like the kiss of the sun against his sac, burning him with heat, then immersing him in a river of fiery sensation when she sucked first one testicle and then the other.

Ukiah bucked against her, his body strung so tightly that between one heartbeat and the next he knew he'd reached his limit. «No,» he said, the word so guttural it was barely recognizable. «No more.»

He used the grip on Marisa's hair to pull her away from him, his buttocks clenching when his testicle slid from between her firm lips. The drumbeats which had faded began again, only this time they were the thunder of his own heart.