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Message-ID: <35457asstr$1014883807@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sam Cornell" <cornell525@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} An Aphrodite Rising Part 2 by Sam Cornell
Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2002 03:10:07 -0500
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An Aphrodite Rising (FF) by Sam Cornell

Part 2

I lie on the beach. Before I was hot sweating. Now even the waves are still.

"What do you want to see?" From anyone else, in any other circumstances, the 
question would tease, flirt. But you just want to know. What do I want to 
see?

"Anything." I'm pathetic. For a start there isn't too much to be revealed. 
Yes I'd like an invitation to explore your exposed too-broad-too-dark 
nipples, but that would be with my tongue and that doesn't, however much I 
plead, come within "see".

"Show me your..." God now I'm tongue-tied with stupid desire. I can't look you 
in the eye but in my peripheral vision I see you blink lazily. "Take them 
off." All these taunted minutes and that's all I can manage? Or maybe all 
these taunted minutes and that's all I can manage.

"Okay," you say, "but you know," and I can see that your thumbs have already 
snuck under the elastic waistband of your knickers, "that I couldn't fuck 
you."

And you're pulling them down slipping your tired cotton panties down to the 
bottom of your skinny brown legs and I see the magic, the hidden kingdom, 
terra incognita, pale pale flesh (cotton beats UV that's one for the stats) 
smartly planted with the dark brown triangle of your pubic forest.

And, oh, at the bottom, always hitherto hidden, the thin slash of your cunt. 
Make your way through the enchanted forest to the holy grotto.

You do this all by lifting your hip lazily, dropping your final clothing 
after all this time with a casual shake of your lower body. I think, 
briefly, in our ill-defined private universe, you haven't even named your 
price. Then I realise you have no figure or item in mind, only an idea that 
you have proved a point and won.

You electrify me. Why is naked nude stripped bare so much different from the 
slightly covered body I've always known before? Is it because you lie there, 
still, motionless, your legs slightly parted, allowing my need to devour 
every shade and slope and hair?

Then something more surprising happens. All I can think is you have 
somewhere picked up the idea that there are two not one naked pose. You've 
agreed to show me and that's a simple contract. You roll quickly away from 
me and I briefly think "fuck you" but before I can build into my usual 
pointless unexpressed anger you push yourself onto your knees.

You're being sexy. First lying on your side hinting at your cunt sexy. Now 
kneeling on all fours exposing everything sexy. Finally Playboy managed to 
make something right.

For the first time since I saw you disturb the waves I move, rolling quickly 
into position behind you. Your body arches back up and I sense you are 
regretting your instinctive porn mag posing.

Too bad too little too late. You've made you're defensive gesture which 
makes it easy for me to relax with what's still being offered.

Pure and simple. Cream buttocks, divided by the shady slash of your crack. 
Faintly hidden, faintly visible, your ring. I don't want to fuck you, but 
here's my butt anyway. Yeah right okay.

Below, the sparse beginning of your pubes and the wetness of your slash. 
Wetness? Possibly my imagination.

You seem curiously static. Maybe, having offered sight of your body, you are 
happy to let me feast. Happy. Feast. Appreciate all this skinny bod has to 
offer. Cool, disdainful. Or maybe once I'm finished you'll roll off to your 
basher and frig yourself to your own quiet rest. Maybe, because the only 
thing I know as my gaze flicks between your slit and your skinny white bum 
is that we have a long long time to go.

***

The End. I love to get your comments, Sam.




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