Chapter 4
What hour can it be? I don't know and I even care less. There are no longer any hours. There is no longer the frustrating object of time. Only night exists.
The slow dying embers of the fire and the lamps seem to flash out in their agony distress signals. They dance across the wall which have become somber and gray.
The darkening shadows creep across the sleek body of my Clara...
She appears to be sleeping and maybe dead.
I look at her at every inch. She is lovely. Too lovely to describe. Her pose is like a sketch that could be entitled "The Abandon". Her fight breathing makes her chest rise and fall giving her breasts an added roundedness and appeal. This lethargy is in my hands. She is without defense and I am there with all my motives and thirst. I have not been appeased as yet. Not from last night or this night or even for nights to come.
What demon invades her body? What is she dreaming of and who is she meeting in her lowly dreams? I thought that I had revealed many things to her. Could I be wrong? Maybe she already knew. She is never surprised and knows how to clutch my flesh with ardor and fear. She is always ahead of what I wish.
Ah, I see that she is watching me. Her eyes narrow and I can see the immense blue stare up at me under her eyelids fixed and nonchalant. Her leg falls leisurely while her head rolls to the side.
I am not a machine. I am twenty-nine with certain resources a healthy imagination and an ardent love for her.
Is this enough? What more can she want?
She knows little about men and probably thinks that they can go on forever.
I leave the bed in order to avoid her caresses which already appear to be precise and professional. I am a bit suspicious of those lips already half-way open.
Clara can not take her eyes away from the object that I have taken from the Chippendale drawer. "Your brother?" she asks with a certain sense of humor.
Indeed, in a way, it is a sort of a brother. Or perhaps a brother-in-law, black, provided with attributes of another nature and maybe more con-fort able.
I have others and Clara does not doubt it. For those, we will wait, perhaps later on.
I approach and lean on the bed. Clara questions we with a look, because she is not as yet sure where the "brother" is going to lodge.
With one finger, she becomes familiar with the new item. Her face livens up and she smiles.
"This is for the tuft of hair you should choose, my darling wife." I said this all the while rubbing the object against her stomach.
"Give it to me. I want to feel the sensation of it." She did not hesitate to spread back on her vertebrae and fling her legs apart. She is admirable, my Clara.
She brushes back her hair before placing the object at the lips of her vagina.
"Yours is the most important, Parry." She placed the item between her legs but her eyes were glued on my penis which she seemed to wish to provoke a new response. I lower myself to my knees and brush her face with my cock. Her mouth quickly swallows it up.
A moment goes by and I remain in that position while she sticks the leather miracle up her halve which she has already stimulated with a regular cadence. I let myself slip down although holding my favorite position in order to see the tempestuous movement below.
She manages to synchronize it with her sucking and produces a rhythmic sound from her two orifices.
I have the wonderful sensation of penetrating her two times. With one look I can see her plugging away with the false leather dick and when I turn I can see her eyes crossed in desire as she licks on the real one. A superb relaxed feeling runs through my body and I give way to the cerebral pleasure as well as the physical one.
Faster than I believed, I grew strong in her mouth and reached the astounding proportions of my substitute which was going and coming within Clara's private parts.
Rapidly her nature comes to the fore. She moans and wails demonstrating the pleasure that stirring within. Every once in a while her gests become violent and her hips buck toward the ceiling as she tangles with the imperfect male within who is but a symbol for her torment.
My hand touches the object and replaces her tired frenetic hand. With great care I accomplish the same brisk movements and push all the way in. Sometimes I do so brutally and other times progressively and slowly to register the finer reactions. I take great joy in watching the instrument disappear.
"I want you... please... I want you." she asks suddenly.
She has thought that I too also have a desire for her. She changes place and now I have her over me like a large vault. I penetrate her sex while the leather sausage taps around her rear-end and looks for her small opening.
She helps me find it with her hand. The stiff erroneous dick wiggles in and she winces in pain. With my free hand I press her back and I glide further in to her nest.
From one end she site back and groans in pain as the leather implement increases its plunge toward the vortex then she rocks forward as my live penis buries itself in her splashing cunt. Leaning on her two elbows she permits me to see the pleasure written in her eyes.
And she also watches me to understand my delight all the better.
"It hurts so much. I'm suffering so and I have the impression that I'm going to break open. But I don't care, because I love it and you... so much."
Her stomach beats down against mine and as she sinks into my prick she bounces into a circular motion with her rump to gain the added thrill of the morsel behind her. She puffs away like a beast in heat and her eyes roll in her head. I can only see the white parts of them. Her mouth spreads apart and her teeth break out showing the savagery of her gums.
In spite of the terrible desire that I felt I knew that I wasn't quite ready to come and it would still be many minutes more.
It would be fine this way. This would allow me to watch and sense her pleasure climb bit by bit. I would be able to feel everything.
All my mental forces concurred to polarize this unique object and the diverse attractions which exhalted her gests. I hummed in the odors of her skin and her entrails. I felt the life of this woman by her perfume. This was my wife and I was beginning to know the multiplicity of this outstanding woman.
"Let's change." she said suddenly. "You'll see it will be just as good and then we can go back to the start if yon like."
This time I let her be my guide.
She moved back and my sex slipped out wet and throbbing. I understood what she wanted. She throbbing. I understood what she wanted. She placed herself on all fours and introduced the false sex into her vagina.
It did not take me long to determine the gest and how to engage in the act without letting up on my forces. I stepped behind her and gauged my aim before harpooning the delicious morsel that hides between her two dappled cheeks.
The sensation became extraordinary. Perhaps it is because she had taken the initiative for the first time and I found myself stepping into the unplanned. I bit her back for this loving piece of devotion.
She kept her hand active and I kept my cock embedded. It was like riding a bucking bronco. But it was much finer. It was Clara, after all, my golden wife and the charm of my life.
I heard her sing with joy and her notes became extremely high and the seemed to trill in her throat. She did not reason at all. Clara was a feeling being.
Then a vast clamor shook her and it seemed to take its toll. A flow of words drained off from her mouth. They were not unfortunately the words that I wished to hear, but they were an emanation of true sensuality and physical aptitude.
"Darling, darling... ass-fuck me for a long time. Take me from the behind and in front I want... oh... how I want all of your sex in my... in my... anus... Ah, Ah... it... is... so... good: I'm coming my darling, I'm comminnnggggg... Ahhhhhhhhh."
She came. Yes it's true. However I had not yet had my pleasure. And my desire was particularly strong and I wanted a Satan's pleasure.
I let her come by herself. But I hung on to her as her gests slowly came to a halt. She did not come to a complete standstill. Her hips still wiggled somewhat and I felt her pussy hug my cock.
I myself stopped to gather steam and Clara continued to die in the fine throes of her sublime conditions. She shivered, wriggled and sighed.
Suddenly I turned her over and nailed her back against the bed. I ran to the bureau and came back as quickly. She had not moved. She looked bewildered, but with one sharp look of the eye she knew that I had another surprise in store for her. A second or rather a third instrument was invading her skin. This time it was a rubber dick with sharp prickly stubbles at the tip. They were supple but rigid.
I dug into her. I stiffened against her body and our stomachs collided and made a slapping sound. I penetrated her with the new tickler and she groaned with pain.
She did not dare to look up at me this time. Her head went from side to side. A cold sweat trickled down her forehead and her hair stood while on top her head. Her fingers clawed into the bed sheets. I had to take her by the shoulders to force her to lie still. She was terribly active and I didn't want her to kick me away.
Daring these bounds of excitement she let you many words that wounded me and delighted me at the same time. Her springs were furious and her words almost senseless. I could only gather that she wanted me to enter further for her desire was increasing with each inch. I complied to the muffled request and shot in with victorious strokes.
Her thin vaginal lips became swollen and red and she gave in to the sensation of possession. We sweltered underneath this trying test.
Clara was mine and I was hers.
I perceived that the confused noise that seemed to hum in the room was a combination of childish blurting and the painful cry of a mature woman.
Her joy came from deep down within her guts and crept toward her throat. They cluttered around her mouth and then filled the eerie room. Her lips seemed to be discolored from the sudden attack. So man Ah's... and Oh's came from Clara's chords that I thought she would never finish muttering the strange language of women. However, I was pleased by every second and every little sound shot a thrill threw me. My breathing became unsteady and unduly rapid.
I felt that I too was going to violate my own terms and spring upon her and with her attain the heavenly delight of sensual love.
This troublesome burning appeared to grind in our very souls. Our bodies were locked together now. We behaved like two baby volcanoes who were on the verge of erupting.
Then with an explosive gasp the spilled her fluid and I felt the warms burning sensation spread over the head of my enormously swollen cock.
She hummed a tune of sheer delight and slowly lost conscious of all. Her eyes rolled in her head like two tiny marbles.
The erotic, the sublime pitch, lives in the criteria of those that enjoy it. Everyone is responsible for his or her own joy. It can be only registered by the self alone. The domain, is too vast to explore and much to difficult to be grasped in its totality.
The excesses of love merely a driving need to reproduce the fervors of love in all its aspects and at the same time increasing the intensity.
The great surge of emotions mixed with the will of destruction and the desire for greater affection of self to reach the realms of perfection are at the roots of violent love. Let each one explain this to himself. Away with measurements and speculation. The rites of love are secret and often strangely intense.
The chaos of sexual thought along with biological orders and cosmic orders can only be appreciated after a long road of experiences. It has to be drawn across the labyrinth of whims.
How is it possible to make rich this domain without an exhaustive enrichment of oneself. Theories have to be left aside and the perpetual agitation of sexual cravings must be given went to. The sexual conscience comes to life when experience becomes a state of pure being.
When one thinks he has enjoyed all the acts and knows as much as he is ever going to know, then there comes a trace of something that escapes him. Something immaterial, impalpable and residing in an inaccessible dimension. Only those who have run the garnet of experience will know what I mean and they will continue to experiment right down to the end of their days.
Science is of little help to the matter for often it is as deceiving as incomprehensible. Science can only point out certain grains and eccentricities.
Society is another factor which poorly determines the sexual comportment of the individual.
Our own sexual country is our private domain and here science can not pay its incomplete Up service and society is shut out due to its bad manners and excessive pressures.
Literature stirs us to action but words are meaningless next to sensations.
Truth on sexual matters can only be settled by a long painstaking research and what passes as truth for one will certainly not pass as such to another. I can say no more along this line.