The air flowed over her body, like a wave of cool ocean water is released onto warm sandy coastline. That fan had been on for some time now, but had she noticed it before? It was so hard to pay attention to anything outside of her own emotional toil. It was even harder to pay attention to what was happening to her body.
She knew the love that was being imparted to her. It had a familiar stench to it, reminded her of lovers long gone. To be fair, Marchéline really did love her. From the glistening sweat that had broken out all over her body as a result of the arduous fervor with which she licked, kissed, tugged, scratched and caressed, to the numerous amorous whisperings that she uttered. “Est-ce bien comme ça?” “Mon dieu, je pouvais mort en raison de ton beauté.” It was beyond clear.
It didn’t really make sense, then, that these tears would be running down her face in a torrent of some emotion that she couldn’t be exactly sure of. From that first kiss, as the two women lay naked in her bed, Elise had been weeping. A certain amount of credit ought be attributed here, for Marchéline was not deterred in the slightest by her crying, carrying on in spite of the twin rivers that streaked down her face.
Through the gentle but purposed removal of her clothes by a glowingly exuberant lover, Elise sobbed. At the first meeting of quivering lips to sloping neck, punctuated by the matching of kisses to the deep throbbing of her heartbeat through her neck. During the vigorously laborious oral gratification of her seemingly delighted nipples. As a determined tongue slid down the cavern created by her heaving bosom. When that same moistened organ made its way through independently slick lips that protected that source of intimate heat between Elise’s legs. Once that was followed by first one, then two, then three fingers, each of which explored her core as though in search of some long-forgotten truth. In response to the kneading of flesh between those same digits, and the gentle stroking of that inexplicably fascinating area at the small of a woman’s back by Marchéline’s luxuriously cold nose. Those salty manifestations of deep-seeded emotions poured out from her eyes in a torrent at every pull, tug, kiss and caress.
As the intensity of the erotic dance between the two women grew more elaborate and more intense, Elise began to focus on the bare walls of the room, in a futile attempt to calm herself and stop her tears and in a naive hope that the impassivity of the decor would bring some kind of understanding. Why was she so possessed? Why could she not control herself? And why could she not enjoy this more? Deep within her, she felt an undulation of passion that so desperately wanted to express itself.
But something was blocking her, something was keeping that held that part of her down, as would an enormous weight.
Marchéline’s heartbeat was imitating the rapid beating of hummingbird wings. She positioned her body between Elise’s legs, and, as she tongued the streams of tears from her face, began to cavort her body against her lover’s. They lay chest to chest, stomach to stomach, mons to labia. The pacific bucking of one to the other produced a nearly electric reaction in Elise, and she stopped. Ceased to move, to hold, to cry. Looking up at Marchéline’s spent face, she said, “Je suis désolé. Je t’aime. Avec tout mon coeur.”
What resulted was greater than elation, greater than ecstasy, greater than any sort of bliss imaginable. The two women, in that moment, became one.
The question remains, why was Elise so sad for so long? Was it her inability to get over her lover’s gender, an attempt to avoid the obvious femininity of Marchéline? Or was it an engendered repulsion, resulting from an inability to find that part of Marchéline that screamed female, and a fear laced to the idea that it was a man that did these things to her?
Regardless of the why, the story ends well. They loved each other, in a microcosmic sphere consisting of only themselves. Selfish? Maybe. But after the ordeal, it would appear that Marchéline had been trying to organize Elise’s freedom from her fear. It would also appear that she succeeded.
**This started out as a dream I had. Special thanks to Kicy for helping inspire me to turn it into a story.**
Filed under: programs
Found this nifty little tip on EscapeLogic today, as I was consolidating my multiple email boxes. If you have gmail, aren’t that into archiving, and have a crap-ton of unread emails, here’s how to eliminate that annoying problem:
So, you’ve just imported thousands of emails into your GMail account with the POP function? Well you now have thousands of messages marked “Unread” in your inbox. This is annoying. You could go page by page (25 to 100 at a time) marking your messages as “Read,” but here is the “All in one swoop” approach:
-In the search box, enter the following “is:unread” (without the quotes).
-In the “Select:” area, Click “All”
-A new link appears, Click it: “Select all conversations that match this search”
-Click the drop down box “More actions…” and select “Mark as Read.”
-Click OK on the confirmation box that says “This action will affect all messages in the search. Are you sure you want to apply the action?”
That’s it. You’re done.
That’s helpful, man.
OK, so this isn’t quite a formal review, but I just really needed to rave about a few things.
First off, just bough the H-K Soundsticks II. At present, I am listening to “Mindwalking” by Astral Matrix, with the bass all the way up and the Bass Booster EQ setting. It is phenomenal. My walls are shaking just a little bit.
Secondly, I took a little trip today. Went over to South Beach and just kind of rode around on my board (in flip flops, which is an error I don’t plan to make again). My camera is my favorite thing on this earth. Canon Digital Rebel XTi, with an EF 28-135mm lens. Fantastic, and it’s becoming a new favorite pastime to shoot in monochrome, because switching takes like 1.3 seconds.
Thirdly, and this is just my being weird…I have this thing where I need to have something in my hands to get me focused. It used to be a balled-up wad of paper, but I went to Sports Authority a few months ago and got a pack of three Penn Ultra-Blue raquet-balls. I throw them against the wall when I’m stuck on an idea.
Fourthly, I am kind of a bag person. And a shoe/trainer person, but for the sake of this post’s longevity, I’ll just be a bag person. Latest additions include a Triple Five Soul carry-all bag, the sort with a drawstring at the top and a single strap, and a Spy Sentry Bag. The carry-all is a rough black canvas, but the amount of pockets (12 in all, inside AND out) are obscene. I predict that this will be absolutely vital when I go to Europe next year. I have this ridiculous vision of myself walking around with this glazed-yet-cultured look on my face. The Sentry is really a more day-to-day backpack. With a 17-inch MacBook Pro, it’s a bit tricky trying to find a way to carry it around. Classes are starting up again (my senior year) and trekking back and forth to campus with the one-hour commute is already no picnic. I tried this sucker out today, and I was oddly enough rather satisfied. This is another bag with a lot of pockets, including a rather large compartment on the top that is supposed to be for cold beverages (it works perfectly as a camera compartment for the aforementioned monstrosity), and four side pockets, one of which hold an Ethos water bottle PERFECTLY. The inner laptop sleeve is not nearly long enough for my computer, but my Incase Canvas sleeve fits rather well, with no complications. And there is still room for a variety of other items, which today included my notepad, LSAT prep book and sunglass case. It also has really cool military-style patches on it. And the logo is primo.
Fifthly, I just wanted to take a moment to wax about how awesome the Bose TriPort headphones are. I bought these something like a year ago, as a birthday present to myself last year. They are still going strong, and the bass in them is still top-notch. In the course of writing this post, I had to shift from Soundsticks to TriPorts for the benefit of the others in my house, but let me just say, this is NOT a downgrade.
Sixthly (and lastly), I just finished reading Ayn Rand’s Anthem. I have avoided Ayn Rand for most of my life. I have had Atlas Shrugged on my bookshelf forever (an old college book of my mom’s) and I can remember when I first noticed it. I wanted to read it, but my mom told me not to, because the woman who wrote it “was an atheist.” At age 7, already a rather prodigious reader, this was really disconcerting, and so I avoided it. A few years later, I picked up and began to plow through. But I don’t think I recognized how good Rand was until a couple of days ago, when I picked up Anthem. My favorite line is the first: “It is a sin to write this. It is a sin to think words no others think and to put them down upon a paper no others are to see. It is base and evil. It is as if we are speaking alone to no ears but our own. And we know well that there is no transgression blacker that to do or think alone. We have broken the laws.”
Until next time, when I have less energy…
