Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "carnal-relations"

The following evening I am slightly later than usual, in two thousand years I have never had the nervousness I have tonight. I stand outside the door for a brief moment before entering. Inside it is quiet and I don’t hear anything or anyone. I begin to feel like déjà vous has befallen me but I detect slight movement upstairs.

I climb the stairs as quietly as possible, at the top Babet’s room door is open, and she, Henri and Scarlet are asleep in the cannon style bed. Scarlet is covered by the duvet; Henri has made himself the middle of an “H” between his mother and sister, half under the covers; half out.

Babet is on her side uncovered, her legs draped one over the other. She is wearing an oversized blue pinstripe man’s dress shirt and white boy-shorts. I approach her in the bed and see on the side table there is a stamped out joint, the window by the bed is cracked. I roll my eyes and gently close the window. This jars her and she rolls to see me standing there.

“Hey.” She says groggily, “What time is it?”

“It’s just after dusk.” I say, my tone is chastising.

She gets to her feet and stretches, arching her back. The pinstripe shirt rises, shifting up her frame, revealing that her boy shorts had also shifted and the lower part of her alabaster rear-end peeked out beneath them.

I begin to avert my eyes when she tucked her index fingers into the seams on either side, covering the tiny bulges of delicate flesh, but I can’t look away. She seems not to care, still sleepily moving about. She slips her feet into a pair of moccasins and waves for me to follow her. After we crest the doorframe she gingerly closes the door. We are stealth down the stairs to avoid waking the children. I stop and turn halfway down the steps to face her, “You didn’t have to get up…” she cuts me off by pressing her fingers on my shoulder to force me down the stairs.

We reach the bottom and she finally speaks, “I guess hanging out with you has caught up with me.”

I don’t let her get away that easy, “You sure it wasn’t your afternoon activities?” I make a motion of smoking with my thumb and index finger.

“Hardly, it’s not that good.” She says smiling plopping her body down on the chaise. She slips off her moccasins, gathering her knees together, laying them to one side. She lays her head on the armrest and like Estella in my haven; she looks like an ironic painting.

Her hair flows over her shoulder like a black cherry river. I sit on the matching couch, not taking my eyes off her. She closes her eyes and re-adjusts them. She locks on to me, we sit this way momentarily yet it seems like longer and I honestly want it to last forever. Gaze upon her steadfast beauty for an eternity but she interrupts my desires when her lips part, “Will you make me some coffee?” She asks breaking from my gaze, rubbing her eyes and forehead.

I rise, “Of course”, and I think as I walk into the kitchen, “I would cross the Earth on ashen coals for you dear, sweet; intoxicating Babet.”

The task of coffee preparation is executed and replaced with the sounds and smell of percolation. I round the corner, “Thank you.” She says.

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry to push you down the stairs, but Scarlet has ears like a bat.”

“Understandable.” I say smiling.

She takes a deep breath, “I got Tom’s report on the fire this morning. I drove over and handed it straight to my insurance agent. They should have a check for me by the end of the week. I was thinking of looking for another space, another building.”

“Do you have an area in mind?”
“Yes.”

“Oh?”

“I want to buy your warehouse from the city.” She says, as serious as a heart attack. I laugh, but she doesn’t mirror me, “I’m serious.” Her eyes grow wide.

“I’m speechless.” I say.

“It is the perfect size, overly perfect to be honest.”

“It would cost a pretty penny.”

“Turns out I will be receiving quite a few pretty pennies from insurance. It’s unfathomable, my father was very thorough. But…that can wait,” She hops up from her seat, “I want to go down there.” She points to the door to the basement, Madliene’s space impenetrable by light. “Scarlet says she hears running water when she walks by the door and if you’re going to be down there anyway; do you mind?”

“Not at all, I’m ready when you are.”

She takes a deep breath, “Okay.” She says opening the door, recessed lights guide us down. She peeks around the frame. Instantly I hear running water. She places one bare foot on the dark stone steps to descend them. She turns back to smile at me and I am watching her closely.

“It’s all lit up down there.” She says and I think, “Of course the lights come on when the door is opened,” modernization.

I follow behind the scent of lavender and rose hips until I halt her, “Wait, let me go ahead of you.” I suggest partly as a joke, but mostly serious. Who knows what is down here, but I keep it lighthearted passing her on the narrow staircase, “There may be something down here.” My eyes widen and she is playful right along with me. Jokingly gasping and grabbing my shoulders, hiding behind me. We reach the bottom of the stairs and I am hardly shocked at the extravagance down here, but Babet is.

“Holy shit!” She exclaims before covering her mouth in humorous embarrassment. She looks at me, her bright gleaming smile, before being distracted back to the insanely decorated room.

The source of the water is staring us in the face, two stone statues, one behind the other. Two Roman soldiers, the taller statue is slitting the throat of the soldier statue in front of him and the water is pouring like blood into a rectangle Roman style mosaic reflecting pool, each corner adorned with a stone pillar. We step onto the marble tile floor, Babet exclaims again, “Ooh, that is cold.” She begins rubbing her bare legs, the long sleeves of her shirt hiding the majority of her hand, only her fingertips are visible.

She continues to look around; I am right behind her as she does so. She is drawn to the floor to ceiling murals painted on all four walls of the room; illuminated by more recessed lighting overhead. She inspects them, gliding her hand across the wall, singling out certain colors with her fingers. The wall closest to us is olive trees through the seasons; in front of it a lush giant blue chaise which matches the metallic blue tiles in the pool. The chaise is covered with multicolored pillows which have spilled over and are dangerously close to one of the four entrances to the pool. The second wall that flanks the statues is a depiction of war, Trojan to be specific; “The Taking of Briseis” is clearly distinguishable.

The third and farthest wall shows a Bacchanal scene. The art along the extra long wall leads to a domed alcove inside the room. Nestled within the alcove is a tiered platform; a grand bed sits atop the platform, ornate curtains draped over the head of the bed. Babet and I stand staring at the scene and what it leads to. She smiles sweetly but I can feel her emotions mounting to desire and it truly is too much to take. I give in, placing my hands on either side of her shoulders, slowly tracing my hands down her arms, she lets out a light whimper and it’s my undoing.

I reach her fingertips, and slowly graze each one as I nuzzle into her black cherry hair. This sends a rush through her and her skin is radiating fire as her back arcs slightly. I emit a low growl and she takes in a short breath while I run a cold hand across her stomach under the dress shirt. It’s almost as if I am on vampire auto pilot all the motions coming back to me, the seduction of a human. But I have to remember she isn’t just any human. And for right now, she is my human. I firmly grasp her to me and she gasps again, my fingers flicking each button out of its binding.

Once her shirt is open I slip it off her alabaster shoulders. She is standing back to my front and I draw my finger down the length of her spine over her tattoo. I reach the seam of her boy shorts around her waist and trace my finger inside the seam. I stop and she is stone still waiting for what is next. I turn her to face me and her green eyes are slits staring into mine, she breaks from my gaze and begins to gather the fabric of my t-shirt, pulling it up. I take it from her and remove it, throwing it on top of hers. I place a cold hand in the center of her chest, her breasts rise from the initial shock.

She glances at me before treating me like the murals on the wall. She glides her hand across my chest, pinpointing the permanent battle wounds I now harbor. I don’t speak, I just watch her as she inspects me, rounding to my back. She grazes her warm face against my cold flesh, her lips like hot silk as they form a kiss on the backside of my ribcage, where I took a decent stab from invaders. I feel my teeth run out but I have to keep them concealed and my face intact. She too runs her finger inside the seam of my jeans, returning to face me. I am still under her tutelage as she begins to unbuckle my belt, she then removes the button of my jeans from it’s binding. The zipper automatically moves down and once my jeans are open she stops, staring into me, I can’t help but part my lips. The bottoms of my K-9’s hit my bottom lip. She sees this and smiles enticingly, she begins to run her hands up my forearms and heavily tattooed biceps, drawing over the tribal emblems with her fingernail. She digs a nail into my flesh, like lightning I grab her wrist, halting her. She smiles again, clearly wanting.

I am watching her and I…It, wants to throw her half naked ass down, rip off the cotton sheath between me and her perfection. Engulf her on the domed bed and ravage her; hold her down while I fuck her and drink her blood until she is a lifeless husk beside me.

Me, the real me, wants nothing more than to worship every single inch of her, taste her in every way, feel her in every way before burying my manhood inside her. It’s almost as if she is reading me like a book, shaking my grip loose. I release her and she turns on her heel, sauntering over to the domed space. I watch her climb the two steps and then place a knee on the bed, turning to sit on the edge. She leans back; her hands firmly placed behind her making her shoulders touch her ears.

Auto-pilot, indeed; it’s like I am not me but I am watching me slowly walk over to her. She shifts and takes my waist in her hands, her thumbs hitting my hips. She lightly caresses me down there and I feel my desires mounting further. She moves her thumbs to push the denim down, they slip from my frame, and I step out of them. I am standing before her stark and aroused; she places her hands back on my naked hips. She smiles, her teeth are so pristine. She then licks her bottom lip and inserts me into her mouth slowly pressing me to the back of her throat, I call out. She continues, tickling the end with the tip of her tongue before pressing me back in, further, deeper and her rhythm is steadily increasing.
I can hear and feel a slight giggle come from her as I run my hand gently into her hair, I grasp it and she moans. The sound of her ecstasy invokes the same in me. I tug her hair when I feel the scathe of her teeth on my member, she looks up at me her mouth agape but smiling. I bend to her, hair still firmly in my hand. I tilt her head to me and engulf her mouth with mine. Our tongues swirl around each other until I feel her pull from me. I don’t let up until I am ready and when I do she is receptive. I leave her mouth and trail my tongue to her ear and down to her throat, she begins to inch back further onto the bed and I follow. We are beneath the curtain and I lift from the crawl to gaze down at her. She is watching me carefully as I hook my fingers into the seams of her boy shorts, sliding them down her leg’s delicate flesh. I don’t take my eyes off her as I drop her panties on the floor beside the bed.

I begin at her bare foot; lightly tracing her little appendages across my lips. From her baby toe to the tip of the biggest one I savor her scent. My mouth working up her ankle, to the inside of her calf; I pass her knee and truly I am possessed as I ascend her inner thigh. Her natural scent mixing with the sweetness of the erotic sweat I have provoked within her. She is moderately still as she watches me, I gaze up to see her smiling but I want to pull another sound out of her, which I do as my teeth run completely out grazing her flesh.

“Ah…, Cian.” My name is breathless off her lips.

I look up at her. My teeth very apparent, I whisper, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I hear a tiny giggle from her and in her next breath she says, “You could hurt me a little.”

I am so close to her femoral artery, its enchanting rhythm pulsating in my ear almost calling me. She runs her fingers through my raven mop and I am pulled from the reverie of diving into her inner thigh.

I look up at her and I know I don’t look like the person she came down here with, she parts her lips, “It is you.” I feel it, the relief, flushes through her and elation flows through me when she smiles and says, “Show me.”

“I won’t hurt you.” I breathe down at her, my tone is earnest.

“I know, I trust you.” She runs another hand through my hair.

I reach up and take the arm of the hand twisted in my hair, then the other. I gather them both in my clutches and thrust them above her head, slight fear rushes through her but I feel it transform to erotic thrill. I bear my teeth and dart down at her, but instead of striking and drinking I bury into her neck taking in her sensual aroma. She breathes heavily as I work my way from her neck to her clavicles, down to her heaving breasts; kissing the supple meat around her nipples which I clamp down on, rolling my tongue over them, flicking them. She calls out and I can’t help but emit a low growl.

I release her wrists, but she keeps them in place above her head. I brace my hands on either side of her body, breathing down her torso before I kiss the flesh under her navel. She tenses as I trace my tongue over her hip into her groin and I detect her erotic scent again. It’s more than I can bear and I find myself betwixt her thighs at the apex, taunting her clitoris. With each swipe of my tongue she sighs; her interior muscles contracting with my rhythm. I collapse on the bed beside her and insert my long fingers into her sweltering oasis and she grasps the pillows behind her before letting out euphoric vibrations.

Suddenly I feel her contract around my fingers and her body completely erupts but I don’t stop until she grabs my hair and pulls it. She and I are face to face, eye to eye and she leans over to kiss me, both her hands are swimming in my hair as she rolls over to straddle me. I am in my own euphoric state as I gaze up at her. I run my hand up her torso; she lifts and slides down onto my manhood. I am salivating as each inch of my girth gains entry to her pink inferno.
Up and down, slipping in and sliding out I open my eyes to see her staring down at me; an almost demonic seduction exudes her as she collapses onto my chest. I wrap my arms around her and sit up; still connected I rise and carry her to the giant chaise. She lightly kisses my neck as I do so, with one I arm I hold her to me lowering her down on the tufted material, tossing the pillows aside. I don’t exit her; I just continue the rhythm we had come accustom to. I hover over her, watching in awe as she climaxes once and then again.

I follow suit and soon we are immersed in each other, spiraling down the rabbit hole of sensuousness. I rest my head on her torso, stroking her warm skin as she swirls her fingers in my raven hair. She giggles and I abruptly raise my head to see her smiling from ear to ear, her arm draped over her eyes. Her cherry hair spills around above her and over the few pillows left on the chaise.

She is so fucking exquisite but our reverie can’t last and she takes a deep breath propping herself up on her hands, “I guess I didn’t need coffee after all, thank you.” She falls back to the chaise giggling.

“My pleasure,” I say and the sentiment is intended to suggest more than that. I get up from the lounger and hold my hand out to her. She sits up crossing her legs and taking my hand she stands. There in front of me stark, glorious and in the Romanesque setting she is The Venus De Milo incarnate. She steps down from the chaise, dipping to throw a couple of pillows back onto it.

She dips again to gather her shirt and she grabs my t-shirt along with, “Here,” she hands it to me still naked and before I take it I am still engrossed in her but I quickly snap back; holding my hand out to receive it. She smiles, I wasn’t quick enough.

I pull my jeans up and walk over to where her panties lay, mirroring her gesture, “Here,” I smile. After we are dressed we are met with the fourth wall depicting Medusa, her snaked hair flailing about as she turns some poor nave to stone.

“Medusa.” Babet says.

I turn to her, “Hmm, Madliene’s idol.” I suggest.

Babet swats me, “Cian.” She says chastising me humorously.

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