Message-ID: <58121asstr$1221484201@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: Vivian Darkbloom <vdkblm-OBLITERATE-SPAM@yahoo.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <gal14v$2ds$1@aioe.org> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7Bit User-Agent: KNode/0.9.0 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sun, 14 Sep 2008 23:59:42 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Journey to Sxtlan - Synapse eNth (purple, ped) Lines: 529 Date: Mon, 15 Sep 2008 09:10:01 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2008/58121> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, emigabe To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML, please visit our website at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/vivian/www Now offering over 190,000 words of pure prurience! -------------------------------------------------------- Journey to Sxtlan by Vivian Darkbloom Synapse eNth Knitting my brow, I reflected that the newly awakened inner voice of prophecy bespoke of but one thing: the grim eventuality of intractable doom. A gruesome fate awaiting as the consequence of extremes. Had I been lukewarm, amid the cushy center of the bloated bulge in the bell curve, the monstrous chasm would have spit me out. But no, that path straight along the center failed to show up on my map. It was the fringe that I chose to walk. The edges of perception and reality. The hot and cold. And now that she was back, I knew that it was ready. My mascot, my emblem, my totem. "You know," said the older girl, "you could really take advantage." "Of what?" I asked. She gazed skyward with consternation. It was then that I first heard it, softly beneath us. "Can you hear that?" I asked. "Hear what?" she asked, amused. The poor sweet innocents. No use alarming them -- they would hear it soon enough. The scraping sound, now barely audible beneath us. An eldrich horror lurking in the very bedrock of the the foundation below everything. How foolishly one takes for granted the seeming solidity of the earth we walk on, that it will not collapse around you, hurling you down into the terrible darkness of a deep dusty well to gaze longingly up at a thin shaft of dim light that the blazing daylight has diminished into. With nothing left but to wait agonizingly for the devouring worms: gnawing blind creatures, ceaselessly chewing with razor-sharp incisors diamond-hardened from the endless crushing of rock, the venomous prick of their teeth, sharp, slime-covered, mindless, the relentless degradation of chaos. Seated beside me now, the younger girl delicately ran the eraser- end of her drawing pencil along my shaft of light which had infuriatingly begun to respond to the sight and scent of raw femininity through the all-too thin cloth covering of my shorts. Couldn't they understand the desperate seriousness of our situation? The harrowing consequences on the brink of closing in around us? My hummingbird chortled with delight as it straightened. I cringed. "Hey now!" cried her older sister. "Stop that! You know," she said, "What we need for this project is two models. The combination of gestures and angles can make for a greater variety in composition." "Indeed," I replied. "But isn't it you who are studying drawing?" "I am," she replied, "from a model's perspective. Something you can do too." "Me? Why I suppose it could be conceivable," I replied tentatively as she edged closer. I was still grasping mentally for what she was getting at, my mind terribly distracted by the growing sound of that awful scraping inside the very structural support of the planet below us. Couldn't they hear it?! It must have been my highly attuned awakening state that enabled my ears to apprehend it so clearly while these poor naive innocents basked in the illusory sunlight of blissful ignorance. "A juxtaposition of lines," she continued, turning to face us, legs wide. My eye caught on the tangle of blonde where her thighs met, in contemplation of the moist mysteries concealed. Perhaps it was because she perceived my perceptual lingering on this sensitive spot so seldom revealed, that her slender fingers too found brief dalliance there as she reached down to separate one or two of the strands that had gotten stuck together. She emitted a quiet "Ah!" as they were liberated from each other, the knot untied to let the fullness of sensuality pour forth unimpeded. A sound that struck a chord up and down my tingling spine, a power chord from the cosmic electric stratocaster. A garden, fertile of blossoms springing forth. And yet beneath it all, the dreadful gnawing of gnashing teeth, the impending incursion of chaos. The peril of extremes. For it must have been my shameless shamanic explorations that had magnetized the sinister creatures, had drawn them upon us. As I had seen so clearly in my foolishly disregarded dreams. But how little had I yet realized at that point, regarding the true nature of the peril. My mind snapped back to the physical realm. There before me were two breasts, nipples pert. Between them, a shroud of alabaster skin, smooth as porcelain but soft as silky down. The river of taut skin led down to the lopsided knot of an elegant belly button. And below that. . . The tip of my fingernail gently traced along the course of the river. The stream rippled with tense laughter, belying the tension as if of a bubble waiting to be pierced, waiting to pop. "First, you have to take off your shirt. Put your arms up." "My shirt?" I replied, instinctively obeying, as she lifted the lower hem. "That's right," she cooed. "I'm taking an art class. They taught us all about it." "Art class," I repeated, my mind adrift from its moorings. Was she referring to the category of art, as in art which might have associated with it qualities signifying lesser or greater degrees of what we might loosely refer to as "class?" Or to a regularly scheduled gathering during which instruction in art took place? "I could study art," I concluded. I felt two tiny hands reaching between the elastic of my shorts and the skin. From behind, my little companion leaned into me. Helpless I was, kneeling, my arms bound up in the shirt, twin bare breasts against my naked chest, and I moved but with futility to protest the removal of my lower garment. For my throbbing erection refused to subside, and now the two girls would be exposed in all their innocence to the shamefully dirty arrow of dark, raw animal urges. As the little one behind me was tugging the stretchy ring of elastic downwards, it caught on the very arrow of which I felt such terrible shame. And it was at that same moment, while she was wiggling my shorts to free them of the obstacle, that her sister before me bumped softly against it, with who-knows-what portion of her anatomy. The tension I felt, caught between them, pulled like an elegant string sculpture, a suspension bridge to beyond imagination. Then it all broke free. My lips pressed inadvertently a bulging breast as I felt my shorts drop to reveal the ridiculous rocket, bouncing ludicrously as it hung between my legs. "I see," remarked the older girl, simply, as she knelt before me. "Now stand up so I can get your pants off." It was at this point that I complied with my part in the bargain, but not she with hers. For, rather than removing my shorts, she reached out with her finger to touch the object of her fascination. The younger one was playing with my testicles, cradling them in her palm. "A one-eyed monk. Or a blind worm," said the elder. How close to the awful truth she had come! But now she leaned forward, and soon I felt the warmth of her moist oral aperture around me. Stars exploded before my eyes. I melted into oblivion of forgetfulness, so intense was the sensation of her tongue as it drew lines of ecstasy across my sensitivity. She took me in as I thrust myself deeper into her, placing my palms behind her head to force her beautiful face into my crotch. She made "Mm-ing" sounds of approval, almost gagging involuntarily but not quite. Her beautiful breasts heaved gently with the movement. The little one was still tracing lines in the lower penduluae, gazing with rapt attention. Oh, such feelings that stirred inside of me as I forcefully shoved my shaft into her soft cavity. Then she backed out, to where it was solely her lips against my tip. She spoke to her younger sister, holding my shaft like a lever: "This is our first pose. Get out the pad and draw." The younger one complied, crawling over, picking up the pad, and commencing to draw what she saw, with the lines of a six-year- old. The older one's hand took the place of the younger beneath and behind me, with deft swiftness and certainty. She toyed with the rear opening, re-immersing herself around me. Soon, I could hold back no longer, but sprayed forth the love welling from within me into her. She had sensed what would take place, and had pulled out my wet sloppiness so that she could joyfully observe the large white globs of liquid hitting her graceful nose, lips, and breasts. Then she re-immersed me into her mouth, sucking up the leftovers with her ever vigilant tongue. "Here," said the artist, revealing her handiwork, a child's line drawing of a me with my penis in her sister's mouth as she knelt before me. Astonishingly, the straightness of my member refused to subside. Seeing this, The older girl lay back in the soft grass, pulling me back down to my knees, and pinching my horn between her breasts. "OK, here's our second pose," she said. "Wait --" the artist struggled to fold over the gigantic sheet of paper for the next piece. We spent some time in that pose, as I pushed my driving dark desire into the purity of her beating heart. Our breaths sounded harshly together, as she reached down to toy with herself. But that caused one breast to lose support, leaving me halfway in the cold. "Hey, sis. Come here." "What?" Our artist had commenced on her second masterwork, but she looked up nonetheless. "Come hold these two together," she gestured to her breasts. "Um, alright." The little one got up and sat with her panties pressed up against the top of her sister's blonde head, reaching out to squeeze the two breasts around me, as the older girl reached down to finger herself, moaning. As I gently gyrated back and forth, I found my lips close to the mouth of my sweet angel. I reached out, puckering slightly, and she caught my meaning, leaning forward to grant me the dearest of gentle kisses, as our lips and tongues met with familiar intimacy. Momentarily her hands were busy elsewhere, and when they returned to bracing her sister's breasts around me, I saw that she had extracted herself from her panties, which now lay in a careless heap beside her. I kissed her lips once more, then my mouth traveled downward on her body, her chest (still shirt-clad), her belly button, until finally I was facing the beautiful smooth pink juicy folds. She commenced to pee. She giggled. The older one felt the warm liquid against the back of her head. "Ugh. Must you pee in my hair?" She was still frantically fingering herself and moaning, accelerating the tempo and pitch. "No," said the younger, jerkily lifting up her pelvis so a burst of the stream arced momentarily across her sister's face. I felt the warm drops as they landed on me in the midst of her cleavage. At that moment, the older girl shuddered with the most profound orgasm, shoving her hips into the air again and again, face mussed and smeared with liquids from both of us. Sharing together our darkest filthy secrets. As the stream of the younger ceased, I lunged forward and gently bit the salty folds. Looking up, I could see her expression of recognition, as her consciousness of things other than my mouth on her receded, and her eyes closed. I thrust out my tongue, searching for her tiny button. Her recognition intensified as I found it, and teased mercilessly. Now the older had me between her breasts. Now I could see her evil goal, to have my juices again, this time pressing into her heartbeat. There was my fullness, between her mammaries, her sweet besmirched face gazing up at me with clarity. And each time I kissed the juicy younger folds, she moaned with intensity. I could see that it really turned her on. I figured enough time had gone by since her last orgasm, maybe the sensitivity had died down enough so I could be inside her. I lifted up, and shimmied down to where my tip pressed against the tangle of blonde between her thighs. Rough prickles lashed me gently, until she guided me to her lair, the sweet cave of soft mysteries which I had contemplated just recently. I pushed. "Oh, yes!" she said. "All the way!" I thrust the sword to the hilt, then withdrew, again and again playing her strings with my bow, drawing out the lyrical melody of pure sexual beauty. My little one had walked on her knees to follow my mouth downward with her crotch, and she now kneeled over her supine sibling, my face between her thighs, with her little flower poised before my lips. Every time I sipped sweetly from the little one's tender morsels, I could feel her sister shivering with delight below me, as if it were her that I were kissing. Now and then I would kiss the salty lips of the one I was fucking, so she could taste the juices of her sister's little vagina on my lips. Then back between the tiny thighs. So I teased one with the other, and both came nearer and near to the bursting point. The little one had a few tiny moments of contraction against my mouth, and then finally I felt the elder rising in feverish pitch to the pinnacle. I drew her up to it, then paused only the tip of my sword inside her, maintaining just enough motion to keep her suspended. She gasped with desperation. Then I gently kissed the tiny lips as I thrust forward with all my might. Looking down, I could see her eyes widen with disbelief at the intensity of the throbbing pulses that surged through her, as I held myself locked inside her and let go myself. I felt like a priest gathering my flock, as we crawled over one by one to collapse together on the soft blanket they had brought. ____________________________________________________________ The memory had nearly lapsed of that terrible gnashing sound, of hearing the ceaseless gnawing of chaos. What little that remained, I foolishly shoved from my mind. We lay there, dozing for some while, until gradually I was awakened by the sound of slurping. Gradually through the haze I pieced together where I was, and how I had gotten there. I looked up to see the older girl still on her back, the younger one bucking and crying out in passion as she pressed her crotch into her sister's face. The one on the bottom had her finger thrust into the younger vagina, and was playing it to good effect. My hand fell on my own instrument, and I found it pumped up and ready to join in. How odd that, before this event, I had felt so lost and uncertain. Now I knew exactly what I must do. There was no turning back now. At what point had a whimsical flirtation with fate metamorphosed into unyielding destiny? Who could say for sure? Quietly, I raised up and crawled up to where my prow was ready to dive into the unoccupied opening. Neither girl seemed to have noticed my arrival. Then I plunged into the juicy cavern, feeling my own fluids from the time before, steeping around me. The other two did not break rhythm, but their intensified activity reflected awareness of my entry. Fore and aft we alternated, the tiny buns I loved so dearly right before my eyes. I reached down to kiss them several times. Then I felt knew what must come next. And here is where the terrible transition took place. I withdrew, dripping, from my initial conquest, and worked my way up to where the tip my presence was right between the tiny buns. The older girl, below, understood my meaning, and withdrew her finger, taking me between forefinger and thumb, guiding my ship into the harbor I now sought. The tip found purchase in its tiny opening, and as my tiny angel realized what was happening she pushed back towards me as I pushed myself inside of her. It took several minutes for the opening to expand sufficiently for my girth, but soon I was able to thrust myself inwards fully. It was then that the awful rasping returned full force to my ears. Yet, remorselessly, I could not find it in my spirit to withdraw from my current position. The gnashing of teeth grew louder. But then, something queer and out of the ordinary took place. It turned out that the effect of the terrible gnawing was not as expected -- a collapse into a dark cavern. Indeed, I felt lighter. It seemed, rather, that the abscesses directly below us had actually altered the gravity that held us down to the earth. I felt a sense of lifting, as we began to drift upward gently, like a helium balloon adrift of its moorings. Then a little higher, and more freely as weightlessness set in. Soon we were rising at a frightening speed, still conjoined with an unswervingly relentless sexual passion that refused to cease. Rising on rapidly fluttering wings. ____________________________________________________________ Upwards spinning, we were. With one wing of an angel, the other of a devil, one in feathery pristine snow white, the other a dark leathery loathesome fluttering degenerate appendage, seeping with gruesome slime. One light with the purest radiance of divine unconditional love, the other driven by insatiable primal animal urges. Mighty wings beating together in unified opposition. And which was which? Between good and evil -- the pious purity with its dark currents of guilt and cruel crusading, the primal forces being the source of all life. Like a double helix we spiraled as we climbed, making love on palpitating cosmic feathery membrane, she and I locked in sweet penetration through the impenetrable mists of the atmosphere, veering lecherously to the obscene heights of infinite space beyond time and galaxy, leering lasciviously like Aqualung, upward into the perilous justice of impartial eternity. With naught but each other, and the whispering flutter of susurrous wings, dragonfly and hummingbird conjoined in hovering ascent, her clear gemstone eyes locked in loving gaze with mine as the gauzy shrouds of mist gusted by, cascading like filmy moist veils of a waterfall as we rose, curling clumps and translucent wisps forming dreadful wondrous hieroglyphs in eldrich tongues long forgotten, whose words were the horrible utterances both guttural and obscene, as we rose together on the mercurial twined serpents' wings of Hermes' sacred caduceus. The colors played in phosphorescant rainbow swirls, like animated tie-tye fluttering psychedelically in the wind, or the opalescent prismatic unnatural glow of laser disk refractions. A fractalized full-spectrum Tesla's ladder powered by the electromagnetic capacitance generated from our spiraling differential of potential, the antagonistic opposites of every duality known to the universe, merging with relativistic abandon to join as a coin the two perpetually acrimonious foes, the spiraling rope ladder of DNA converting mass into energy, yet an order of magnitude higher in the concentric rings of power. The cosmic atomic fusion of spirit with matter, forming from the two halves a perfect whole: male and female, young and old, good and evil, light and dark. Despairingly I gazed up into the cloudy heavens into which we steadily ascended on beating wings of true and false. How can we determine with true certainty which side of the coin is which? An indeterministic flip. For those whom we condemn as terrifying and evil will condemn us as the same. Both will claim to have God on our side, but who can prove with irrefutable certainty to know the will of God? Or even the existence? Were it irrefutable after all, wouldn't we all by definition agree? Alone I felt beneath the approaching watery vaporous dust of destiny, wondering who could hear in such a remote and forlorn corner of the grandiose galaxy? How could the great and glorious Supreme Being find time in its hectic day for me on it's calendar filled with wars and floods and supernovae? How could the great Preoccupied One possibly make time to hear the pitiful plaintive cries of such a miniscule insignificant speck such as myself in the turbulent unending universe of starvation and infectious decay? But such loneliness was ameliorated by my loving six-year-old partner and the shared pleasure of our sex as I felt my sturdy enormous curving horn in the wet slimy grasp of her filthy pee-hole, and as I watched her eyes glaze with absorption, so lost was she in the joy of our fucking. Our eyes held locked in a pure crystal gaze of sweet and saintly divinity, cherishing the sanctity of spirits united in love, while our bodies twined and turned, descending as we rose into decadent and depraved brutish writhing, sinister liquids oozing into a horrid unspeakable swamp of craving, as our bodies merged and parted in savage animalistic lurchings; cavorting in a perverted seething ancient jerking dance, floundering limbs wallowing amid the putrid stench. Probing excremental caverns where lurk nameless horrors so dreadful that even the boldest and most brave dare not utter slight mention of them in the daylight of civilized conversation, but only speak of them in hushed whispers confined to the deepest most secret shadows of night. Steadily we climbed into the dreamlike starry caverns of infinite celestial heavens, breaking finally through the mist to rise in luxurious weightlessness above the great and ponderously spinning green planet. What goes up must come down, yet for us there was no fall from grace. Merely naked loving conjoined weightlessness, rocking with universal orgasm. As finally her welcoming thin thighs received between their smooth soft folds to cherish deep within, the delightful explosion of seed. How sweet her mouth, pursed in semi-astonished wonder at the emergence of liquid within her, the buttery, sticky sensation, and how lovely her rapture as she gazed into the distance unknown while her pulsating cavern responded in blissful release. And how sacred our mutual admiration as we dreamily wavered between wakefulness and the restless tranquil chaos of subconscious stirrings. As above, so below, for the stars above found reflection in a still silent mountain lake of long ago, cold and pure. Hovering on humming electrofluorescence, like fireflies we played and wafted drifting in languor on the warm gentle breeze. Until somehow we found ourselves lying on soft sweet-smelling gossamer and down in unfamiliar surroundings, warm cozy and friendly in the colorless shadows of crescent moonlight. The walls were laid out in stone of unfamiliar origin and masonry, odd rectangles of cyclopean design, chiseled with weird writing and terrible reliefs, incoherent yet vaguely meaningful to some lost distant hoary fragment of my disintegrating consciousness. With a yawn and fitful, fully satiated satisfied sigh, she fell deep into the seductively even breathing of slumber, and though I felt the pricking of desire to know better this point of arrival to which we had evidently emerged, I found myself so overcome by languid indolence that I merely closed my eyes and was soon transported to the realm of my beloved, the land of shared dreams and serpentine imaginings. _______________________________________________________ For more stories, please visit our site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/vivian/www -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+